by Kai Juniper
"I need to be with my dad."
"Kid, you know I've never really been a father to you. I took you to the park a few times. Sent you birthday cards when I'd remember. Sent you a gift every Christmas. That's not a father. That's just a man who came in and out of your life. You would've been better off without me."
"But you're all I have left. With Mom gone, you're all I have left for family."
"Brock is your family. And those boys of his."
"They're not my family! YOU are!" I pause to calm down because I'm getting really angry and frustrated with him.
"I know you don't want this but it's the right thing to do. Brock will take care of you. Give you whatever you need. Make sure you have a good life."
"Good life? Are you saying this is it? You're cutting me out of your life?"
"This isn't a life. I'm just trying to survive."
"I don't understand. Are you drinking again? Doing drugs?"
He sighs. "Don't ask me that."
"You are, aren't you? You're on something right now. That's why you're acting like you don't care. Your emotions are numbed from the drugs. I get it, Dad, but this isn't you. Just wait until you come down from it. You'll realize I need to be with you, not Brock. I'm going to talk to Brock tomorrow and tell him I'm leaving. I don't care what's going on with you, Dad. If you're drunk, high, whatever, I'll help you. I'll help you get off that stuff and I'll get a job so I can get us an apartment. I'll—"
"Listen to me," he says in an urgent tone. "I need you to stop this right now. You're staying with Brock. You hear me?"
"That doesn't make sense. Why would I stay here with strangers when I could be with my dad?"
"Kid, I wish I could explain but I can't. I shouldn't have even called but I knew if I didn't you'd keep looking for me."
"Did you try to call me before tonight?"
"I did, but the connection was bad. I was hiding out in the desert."
"Hiding? From what?"
"Not hiding," he rushes to say. "Staying. I was staying at a motel in the desert."
He meant hiding. He wouldn't have said it if he didn't mean it. But what is he hiding from? Does he owe someone money? Drug dealers?
"Dad, are you in trouble? Is that why you don't want me staying with you?"
"You gotta let this go, kid. You live in a mansion, go to a fancy school, and can have whatever you want. Why isn't that enough?"
"I don't care about that stuff. I want to be with my family. I want to be with you."
"It's not going to happen. I'm taking off. Getting out of here. Going someplace where I can lay low. Stay out of trouble."
Tears stream down my face. "You don't want me, do you? You never did."
"Kid, if you knew my past, if you knew what I've done, you wouldn't want to be with me."
"What do you mean? The drinking? The drugs? I don't care about that. At least you didn't kill someone."
"Kill someone?" he says. "What are you talking about?"
"Brock's second wife? Falling down the stairs? You really believe that? And what about that girl? Andrea. She fell too. You don't think it's a little odd that both Brock and Braden were with women who died by falling? The cops think Braden might've killed Andrea. What if he did? And what if Brock killed his wife?"
He doesn't respond but I hear him breathing hard on the phone.
"Dad, did you hear me? I'm living with two possible killers. I'd take you any day over them."
"Last call for El Centro," a voice says in the background.
"What was that?" I say. "Are you at a bus station? Where are you going?"
"Goddammit, kid! Stop looking for me! I'm sorry about your mom but I can't take her place. You barely even know me. You got everything a kid could ask for. Just enjoy it and live your damn life and leave me the hell out of it."
I'm crying now, feeling like I've just lost another parent. Why is he being like this? He's never talked to me this way. Even when he was drunk, he was never this mean. And he doesn't sound drunk at all right now.
"Don't start crying on me." He blows out a breath. "This isn't about you. There's shit you don't know and never will. It's how it has to be."
"Last boarding call," the voice in the background says over a speaker.
"Could we at least meet?" I ask, sniffling. "One last time?"
"I'm already gone and I'm not coming back. I never belonged there. Never wanted to be an actor. That was Brock's thing."
"Then why'd you do it?"
He huffs. "You ever try to say no to my brother? The guy could convince anyone to do anything. When we were kids I looked up to him. Wanted to be him. So I did whatever HE did. Did whatever he told me. The only time I didn't is when I went into theater while he was going into TV. He told me theater didn't pay enough, but I wasn't doing it for the money."
"Why'd you do it?"
"For the people. I made a lot of friends in the theater. I liked New York. I didn't want to leave."
"But you did." I pause. "Because you didn't want to raise a kid."
"It wasn't about that. I left because Brock told me to. He told me I'd make millions living in LA, working in TV. It worked for him but not for me. And I hated it. I hated the fake people and my agent always lying to me. My manager taking all my money. Drugs were being handed out like candy. Brock could say no but I couldn't, and he knew that. He knew I had an addictive personality."
"You blame Brock for your addictions?"
"I blame my brother for a lot of things, but it needs to stop. That's why I need to go. I'm done living Brock's life. It's time to live my own."
"Living Brock's life? I don't understand. Your life is nothing like Brock's."
"Yeah.” He lets out a humorless laugh. "It sure isn't."
"Dad, would you please just let me see you one last time?"
"No. And this is our last phone call. Don't try calling me back. I'm ditching this phone after tonight. I won't have this number anymore."
I wipe the tears from my face. "Why are you doing this? I don't understand. Please. Tell me why."
The phone goes silent and I panic, thinking he hung up. I check my phone and see his name is still on the screen.
"If I tell you this," he says in a low voice, "you need to promise me you'll leave me alone."
I nod. "Yeah. Okay."
"You also need to promise me this stays between us. Can you do that?"
"Yes." I sniffle. "What is it?"
"When I say I was never a father to you, it's not just because I wasn't around. It's because I wasn't. I'm not."
"Not what?"
"I'm not your father, Rumor. I just pretended to be."
I grip the phone. "Then who is?"
"The man you're living with." He pauses. "Brock is your father."
Chapter Twenty-Four
I'm shaking, barely able to hold the phone in my hand.
He's lying. Brock is NOT my father. I hate him. And he's a horrible person. He might even be a murderer!
"No," I say. "It's not true."
The phone is silent.
"Dad, say something! Tell me it's not true!"
He doesn't, and when I look at the phone, I see he's gone. He hung up.
I call right back but it goes straight to a message telling me the caller is unavailable. I call again and again and keep getting that same message. He's not going to pick up. He's done with me.
Because he's not my real father.
How is that possible? My mom wouldn't have lied to me. There's no way she would do that. Why would she tell me I'm Devon's kid if I'm really Brock's kid? And why would she be with Brock? He's not her type at all, not that Devon is either, but Brock? Not in a million years would I put them together. Plus, he was married back then. Married to Miranda, Braden and Trystan's mom. Miranda would've been pregnant with Braden. There's no way my mom would have sex with a married man who had a child on the way. It would never happen.
I'm out of bed now, pacing the floor, feeling like I'm about to throw u
p. I go in the bathroom and splash cold water on my face over and over but it doesn't help. I get in the shower, which helps for a minute, but then I think about Brock being my dad and the sick feeling returns.
After drying off, I put on shorts and a t-shirt and go outside, hoping the cool air will make me feel better. It doesn't. The only thing that'll make me feel better is seeing Jackson, and he isn't talking to me. But if he really cares about me like I thought he did, he'll be there for me, despite what happened.
Ignoring the cameras watching me, I go down the stairs to the beach. As I'm walking, I hear a ding on my phone. It's a text from Jackson.
On my way to see you. Can you sneak down to the beach?
Already on it, I text back.
When I look up, I see someone coming toward me.
"Rumor?" I hear him yell.
I run to him, sand kicking up everywhere. I'm angry he didn't believe me about Kristen, but right now all I care about is being with him again. I need him now more than ever.
"Rumor." He pulls me into his arms, lifting me off the ground. "I'm a fucking idiot. I'm so fucking sorry."
"For what?"
He sets me down. "For not believing you. I can't explain what you saw with Kristen and her dad but I know you'd never make that up."
"I wouldn't. I would never even think to do that. Jackson, we need to talk about something else," I say, breathless from running so fast. "My dad."
"What about him?"
"He called me." I take a breath. "Just now. He said he's left town and wouldn't tell me where he's going. He said this was our last phone call. He was ditching his phone and—"
"Wait—stop." Jackson grips my shoulders. "Slow down. Your dad called but he wouldn't tell you where he was?"
"No,” I say, tears sliding down my face. "He doesn't want me to know. He doesn't want to see me or talk to me ever again." I sniffle and wipe my eyes.
"I don't understand. Why would he say that?"
I look up at Jackson. "Because he's not really my dad."
Jackson stares back at me, and from the look on his face, I think he already knows.
"Brock," we both say at the same time.
"How'd you know?" I ask.
"I didn't. But honestly, I never saw any resemblance between you and Devon. I just assumed you looked more like your mom. But the other day when I was flipping through channels I saw Brock on one of his old TV shows and I instantly saw the resemblance. It would make sense if Devon was his real brother but if Devon was really adopted, like you said, then..."
"Then it's true. Brock is my dad. But if it's true, it means my mom lied to me. It means she's not who I thought she was." I sniffle. "It means I didn't really know her."
"That's not what it means." Jackson pulls me into his chest, holding me tight. "Your mom had a reason for not telling you. You may not know what that reason is but I'm sure she only did it because she thought it was best for you."
"Lying to me is what's best for me? Making me believe someone else is my dad? An alcoholic drug addict who never came to see me? I would've been better off if she told me my dad was just some random guy."
Jackson lets me go and takes my hand. "Let's go back to my place. We can't stay out here."
"Brock's still awake. He might notice I'm gone."
"Yeah? So?" Jackson smiles. "You know his secret. You can use it to blackmail him into letting you do stuff."
"My dad said I'm not supposed to tell anyone."
"Why would you listen to him? Did he threaten you if you told?"
"No. I just—" I look at Jackson. "You really think I should tell Brock I know?"
"Not yet. I think you should wait until you need to. He obviously didn't want you—or anyone else—to know this, which means this is your ticket to get whatever you want from him. Money. Your freedom. Maybe you could stop going to Twisted Pine."
"Except then I wouldn't be able to spy on Braden and his friends." I sigh. "I don't know what to do. I need to think about it."
He tugs on my hand. "Let's go."
When we're back at his house I curl up on his couch, grabbing the blanket that's on it and covering myself because I'm freezing. His house isn't cold but knowing Brock is my dad and my mom is a liar sent a chill through me that won't go away.
"The worst part of this," I say, "is finding out my mom lied to me."
Jackson sits beside me. "Come here." I move over and snuggle into his arms. "From what you've told me about your mom, she loved you more than anything, which tells me she wouldn't do this unless she was trying to protect you."
"Protect me from what?"
"Brock's fame, and all that comes with it. He was a huge star back then. When you get that kind of fame, you can't even leave your house without cameras following you around. If people found out about you back then, cameras would've been following you and your mom around New York. Your mom wouldn't have wanted that, would she?"
"No, she would've hated that. She was an introvert. She didn't even like going out. She expressed herself through her art. She said that's how she communicated with people."
"So maybe that's the reason. She didn't want you being part of Brock's world."
"But it was also Devon's world. He wasn't a big star when I was born but he could've been later. What if his career took off and he ended up being a bigger celebrity than Brock? People knew I was Devon's daughter so the fame excuse doesn't really hold up."
Jackson and I sit quietly as I think about this. I'm still upset, but no longer feel sick or like I can't breathe. Instead I feel safe. Calm. Even a little sleepy, despite being wired just an hour ago. Being in Jackson's arms, feeling the warmth of his body against mine, feeling him hold me—it makes everything better.
It's proof that I love him. I'm afraid to admit that because I loved Axl and he broke my heart. I love Jackson even more than Axl so I'm terrified of how much it'll hurt if things end between us. But my heart's already made the decision and my mind can't change it.
"Brock was married, right?" Jackson says. "When you were born?"
"Yeah. To Miranda. She was pregnant with Braden. He's a couple months older than me."
"Then maybe that's it. Maybe Brock forced your mom not to tell you because he didn't want anyone finding out."
"Celebrities cheat all the time. Why would anyone care?"
"Because back then he had an image to protect. He was playing a minister with a wife and six kids."
"That was a TV show, not real life."
"When you're on a show that big, people think the character is the person. It happens to celebrities all the time. In the movies my dad directs, the actors that play villains get hate mail. People think they're like that in real life. So yeah, if people thought Brock was a wholesome family man and then found out he cheated on his pregnant wife, he would've been fired. The show would've ended and it would've taken Brock years to get back on TV, or it could've ended his career entirely."
"My mom wouldn't have listened to him. She wouldn't let Brock tell her what to do."
"She would if he threatened her. Or you."
I turn to face him. "You think he did?"
"If he was worried about keeping his job, then yeah. Brock would do anything to protect his celebrity status."
I look out the windows at the dark sky. "All this time he knew. But he wouldn't tell me. It's all making sense now. Why I'm here. Why he insisted on taking me in instead of letting me live with his brother. Insisting I go to private school." I pause. "It's almost like he was giving me clues. Either that or he just slipped and said stuff he didn't mean to say."
"Like what?"
"When we first met, I told him I wanted to go to public school and he said celebrities send their kids to private school, like it wasn't even up for debate. I told him he wasn't my dad so it shouldn't matter. I didn't think anything about it at the time but now I think he said it because in his head, he thinks of me as his daughter. Then the other day, he signed the paperwork for driver's ed and signed
on the parent line. It's almost like he was trying to tell me the truth."
"I doubt it. I think it's like you said and he sees you as a daughter and unconsciously does stuff a dad would do or say without even thinking about it."
"How would he have threatened my mom? What do you think he did?"
"I don't know. And if you asked, he wouldn't tell you."
"What about Devon? Would he know?"
"Probably. I'm sure Brock threatened Devon too. How else would he convince him to go along with this?"
"You're right. He had to have threatened him. Or bribed him." I toss the blanket off me and turn to Jackson. "We have to ask him."
"Brock's not going to tell you. No way in hell that's happening. He'll deny the whole thing."
"I'm not talking about Brock. I'm talking about Devon. We need to find him and talk to him. He's the only person who knows what was going on."
"He's not going to tell us. Even if he did, you said he left town."
"We'll find him. You could hire that guy who was looking for him before."
"He was only searching rehab places. He doesn't have the resources to search for whole country for him. Maybe Devon's not even in the country anymore. Maybe he left the US."
"I don't think so. He made it sound like he'd just left California."
"He didn't give you any clues about where he might be going?"
"No, but I could hear someone talking on a speaker. It sounded like he was at a train station, or bus station."
"Did they say a location?"
"I think so, but I don't remember what she said. I should've been paying more attention. My dad kept talking over her, but I swear I heard her say the name of a town. I just don't remember what it was. Even if I did, it doesn't mean my dad's going there."
The doorbell rings.
I look at Jackson. "It's Brock. I bet he saw me on the cameras."
"The cameras can't see that far." Jackson gets up.
"Then who is it? It's almost midnight. Who would be here this late?"
We hear the door opening.
"Shit," Jackson mutters.
"What?" I ask, searching his face. "Who is it?"
"The only person who has a key," he says with a sigh.