by Tara Leigh
But I hadn’t been able to wait for very long, an inexplicable force pulling me to Verity, to her pain and strength and vulnerability. Wanting to share the burden, shelter her from its impact.
“Dax?” My sister’s voice, quiet and tentative, blared at me.
I blinked, and the image was gone.
Scrubbing my hands over my face, I pressed my palms against my eyes for a moment before dropping them into my lap. “Yeah?”
“I’ll text Mom and Dad if you tell me what’s going on between you and Verity.”
A wry smile twisted my lips as I let my head fall back against the cushion of my chair, feeling the sun warm my skin. “I don’t work on a barter system.”
“Fine. There are two sides to every story. If you only want me to hear hers—”
I twisted my neck to face left. “Verity gave you her number?”
“Mmm-hmm. When we went to the ladies’ room, I told her I wanted to get into acting. And she said if I was serious, I could call her to talk about it.”
Like me, Aria was a musical prodigy. And even though I was her brother, I knew she was beautiful. The thought of her getting wrapped up the world Verity had described was terrifying. It might not be a bad idea if Verity shared even a fraction of what she’d been through. Maybe then Aria wouldn’t be in such a rush to leave home.
And then something else occurred to me. “Your interest in Hollywood is pretty sudden…Has anyone approached you?”
“Sudden? I’ve wanted to move to L.A. for months.”
I squinted at her. “Who? Who suggested it?”
“No one. Don’t be ridiculous.” Her denial was too fast, accompanied by bright pink patches on her cheeks.
“What the fuck, Aria?” I exploded. “Do you know how many assholes are out there who would say anything just to get in your pants?”
“I’m not an idiot! I—I know someone.”
“Who?”
“I can’t say.”
Gripping the arms of the chair, I bolted upright. “Yeah, you can. And you will.”
Aria jumped to her feet, her hair lifted by the wind and trailing behind her like ribbons as she scurried back into my house. “You wouldn’t want to hear it, anyway.”
Chasing after Aria, I grabbed her by the arm before she could get to the stairs. “Are you talking about Amelia?”
“What if I am?” The flash of guilt that raced across her features before transitioning into rebellion was like a punch to the gut.
“She’s just using you to get to me. You know that, right?”
She wrenched her arm from my hold. “Not everything is about you, Dax. We live in a big world, and I’m sick of being overshadowed by our parents, by you, by everybody. Amelia understands that, and she wants to help me.”
“Help you how?” Whatever deadbeat had promised Amelia he’d make her a star clearly hadn’t followed through. Was she getting Aria’s hopes up for nothing?
“Are you kidding me? Amelia works for the producer of The Show. She said she could get me an audition with him. They’re casting for something new right now.”
And as my jaw dropped, muscles weighted down by a devastating combination of horror and regret, all I could do was watch Aria run up the stairs and straight out my front door.
Jack Lester’s assistant. Verity had said her name. What the fuck was it?
Not Amelia. I would have noticed that.
There was a woman. Millie. She was the producer’s assistant. She coordinated his auditions—the ones he oversaw personally.
The memory roared into my brain like a migraine.
Was my Amelia the same person as Verity’s Millie?
It was too awful to contemplate.
And then I remembered the look on Verity’s face—before Amelia had called herself my wife.
Her sculpted features had pinched together in a mask of horrified recognition.
Recognition.
Chapter Twenty-Six
Verity
You shouldn’t be carrying that.” I rushed to swipe the cardboard box from Piper’s hands. She looked ready to tip over from the weight of her belly protruding from her otherwise still thin frame. The last thing she should be doing was carrying a heavy box filled with my stuff.
After much back-and-forth negotiation, Travis had finally arranged, through my mother’s lawyer, for me to have two hours in the Beverly Hills house for me to pack my things.
“Don’t worry. It’s empty.”
She relinquished it into my grasp, and I realized she was right. It was empty.
“Where’s the—”
“Bathroom’s down that way, on your left.” Piper flashed a grateful smile as she walked away. She’d finally stopped wearing heels, and her Tory Burch flip-flops slapped the marble floor.
I brought the empty box up to my bedroom. Truthfully, there wasn’t much I wanted, but I did have a memory box I’d filled with letters from my grandparents and some trinket jewelry and photographs they had given me over the years. My passport, vintage T-shirts I couldn’t replace, comfy pajamas. Not a lot, but nothing I wanted my mother digging through either.
“Hey, Verity?”
I stepped back out onto the landing. “You don’t have to come up.” Piper had been running around a lot for me today, and she was making me nervous.
I’d signed the lease on a new apartment this morning. Well, technically, Travis had signed it. I was quickly learning that just about everything had to be done through shell companies to keep my name off things like home addresses, phone numbers, and bank accounts. Information was a currency these days, and celebrity information was more valuable than gold.
He’d insisted on sending Piper to pick up the keys and meet me at my mother’s house even though I’d told him it wouldn’t be a secret for long since I had no plans to enter and leave the building wearing an opaque veil.
“Why don’t you find a place to sit and rest. I’ll be right down.”
She leaned an elbow on the banister. “Where’s your mom’s office?”
“It’s right there,” I said, pointing at the closed set of French doors off the foyer. “But I don’t think I’ve ever been in there.”
There was a mischievous gleam to Piper’s eyes as she grinned up at me. “First time for everything.”
I went back into my bedroom and retrieved the box, then carried it down the stairs. Piper was already in my mother’s office, sitting in her chair, the drawers of her desk open. “Anything in particular we’re looking for?”
“Technically, anything with your name on it is fair game.”
I rolled my eyes. “Not sure that you’ll find too much of that.”
I set the box down on the floor and went to stand beside Piper. My mother’s desk was one of those large executive monstrosities, with a set of file drawers on either side. Piper’s manicured fingernails quickly flipped through the tabbed folders. “Ah,” she said, pulling one out. “Birth certificate.”
“Yes, a very exciting discovery,” I teased. “Thank you.”
“Wait. There’s something else.” She pulled out a few sheets of letter-sized paper stapled together. “Oh, I never even thought to ask, but I guess Verity isn’t your given name.”
“I was born Victoria, but I guess Vicky was a pretty popular name when I was a kid. My mom changed it to Verity when I was in kindergarten, or maybe first grade. She said an unusual name would make me stand out at auditions.” I shrugged, leaning back against a bookcase.
Piper set both documents on the desk. “And before I forget,” she opened her purse, “I have the keys to your new place and your phone.”
The phone I’d left at Dax’s house. Keys to a new apartment because I wouldn’t be going back to Dax’s house. Ever.
“Thanks.” I hid the quiver in my chin by turning away and tossing them with the rest of my things.
I pivoted back at the sound of Piper’s groan. “I might not be able to get out of this chair. If you have to hire a crane, make sure you put i
t on Travis’s credit card. This is a work expense. After I take a nap first.”
I looked over at her rounded belly. “What’s going on in there?” I asked, as it seemed to twitch.
“Ugh.” Piper smoothed a hand over the fabric of her shirt. “Baby has the hiccups. She had them all last night, too, which is why I’m so exhausted.” A naughty smile pulled at her lips. “Well, that and I read that sex was a way to get them to stop. Something about female orgasms soothing—”
I clapped my hands over my ears. Her baby shower had been last week, and the craziest part was when Landon showed up—mostly because Piper had been more surprised to see him than anyone else there. “Please stop. Major TMI, Piper. If you can’t get up from a chair without help, I don’t even want to think about you having sex.”
She laughed. “Fine, but just you wait. I’m storing up all my advice for when you need it.”
“I don’t think I’ll be needing it anytime soon, and even then, I’m not sure I’ll want to hear it.”
“Well, never say never.” She nodded at my box. “Is that all you’re taking?”
“Yeah.”
“Okay, then. Add these…” Her voice trailed off as she peered at the other papers arranged on the surface of the desk. “Uh, Verity. You might want to take a look. Your name’s not the only thing that was changed.”
Dax
My parents’ worried faces filled the screen of my phone. “Is Aria with you?” my mom asked. “She said she wanted to do a little shopping before we leave tomorrow, but it’s been hours and she’s not answering our calls.”
“Yeah, she was here.”
They immediately appeared relieved. “Oh good…Wait. What? Did you say she was there? Or she is there?”
“Was.” I felt too guilty to bluff my way through their interrogation. “We had an argument. She stormed off. I’m leaving right now. I’ll find her.”
I hated the worry that crept back onto their faces. Especially knowing they had every reason for it. “Did you know Aria was in touch with Amelia?”
“No.” My father’s reply was immediate.
My mother’s reply was nonexistent.
A fact my dad and I realized at the same time. I watched as he looked her way. “Aria was talking to Amelia? You knew…and you didn’t say anything?”
“It wasn’t a big deal. And it was months ago. Aria and I were shopping, and we bumped into Amelia in Saks. She said she was in New York for work. We went out to lunch together, caught up. It was nice.”
Nice?
As if she heard me, my mom looked back into the camera lens, directly at me. “Amelia was like a daughter to me, to us. When she left, it was as if we lost a child. Again. And then you left and…” Her voice trailed off as she reached for the necklace at her throat and began twisting it. “I was just heartbroken. That’s why I didn’t push for you to come back to New York, even to finish Juilliard. I knew you were hurting and I didn’t want you to know that I was, too.”
My father’s hand curved over her shoulder. “It was a tough time for your mother, Dax. A tough time for us all.”
There was something I was missing, something they weren’t telling me. “I don’t—”
Her chin trembled. “I…I had a bit of a breakdown. Just like after your sister.”
Just like after my sister. And then I remembered. “That place upstate—the apple orchard.”
“Yes. I was there that fall. Your father would bring you up on weekends. The Center was on a farm. We would have fresh apple cider and sometimes we would make sugar cookies. Do you remember?”
Vanilla and cloves. “I remember.”
On-screen, my mother turned to my father. “That’s why I didn’t tell you about running into Amelia. I didn’t want you to worry about me.”
He kissed her forehead. “I want to worry about you. It comes with the job description.”
“Seeing Amelia, it was like old times—just for the afternoon. Kind of like how we go to the farm at least once every fall and come back with gallons of fresh cider. Sometimes a little sadness makes you appreciate the sweet.”
It felt as if I was meeting my mother—both of my parents, actually—for the first time. I’d never looked at my situation from her point of view, and to do so now was jarring. But there was a more pressing problem I needed to resolve, and I wanted to do it without worrying my mother unnecessarily. I swallowed heavily. “So that’s—you haven’t seen or talked to Amelia since then?”
“Well, I think she and Aria may have texted occasionally. I’m not really sure. I didn’t want to pry. Amelia was like an older sister to Aria.”
The older sister she’d never had. “Okay, I’m going to track down Aria. I’ll call as soon as I find her.”
“Please hurry. This isn’t like her.”
It wasn’t. This was all Amelia’s bad influence. “I’ll do my best.”
I hung up before either of us could voice the unspoken thought that buzzed between us.
What if my best isn’t good enough?
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Verity
I pushed off the bookcase and looked over Piper’s shoulder. She extended a fingernail, pointing at the different years given for my birth date. According to my birth certificate, I was twenty-three. But my name-change document said I was twenty-four.
I checked my passport. It said I was twenty-four.
“So…” I stared at Piper in confusion. “Which is it?”
Piper already had her phone out of her bag, quickly snapping pictures and e-mailing them to Travis. “There’s got to be some sort of explanation. I’m sure he’ll have a paralegal track it down in no time.”
While she was doing that, I ran out to my car and grabbed the purse I’d left on my front seat. Flipping open my wallet, I confirmed what I already knew. My driver’s license had me as twenty-four, too.
Whatever the explanation was, I knew it wasn’t an accident.
I returned to my mother’s office to find Piper staring intently at the name-change document. “Do you remember anything that was going on around the time you went from Vicky to Verity?”
I threw myself into the small settee across from the desk. “Not really,” I said. “I was auditioning a lot, but I wasn’t getting anything except an occasional commercial. My mom really wanted me to book a TV show. I almost did…” I ran my fingertips over my lips, remembering.
“You almost…” Piper prodded.
“Yes. There was this show I auditioned for at least a dozen times—sort of like The Sound of Music, but set in present-day American suburbia.”
“I remember that show. I loved it.”
“Me too. Anyway, I got to the very last round of casting. But they went with someone else, and I remember my mom being really angry. She told me I didn’t get the part because I was too young.”
Piper frowned at me, then began pecking at her phone again. “California labor laws regulate the number of hour minors can work. The older you are, the more you can work.”
“I wonder how old the girl that—”
“She’s your age—well, the same age you are on everything but your actual birth certificate,” Piper announced, showing me her phone with the Wikipedia entry for the actress who’d landed the role I auditioned for. “I don’t even know how it’s possible to alter the age of someone on a legal document, but for argument’s sake let’s say it can be done. Would your mother make you older so you would have a better chance of being cast in the future?”
The call from the studio had come while I was home. I’d been coloring in one of those dime-store coloring books my grandmother had bought for me. I remembered looking up from the page to see my mother’s face turning bright red, her eyes brimming with hate as she glared at me. One minute the phone had been in her hand, and the next, it was flying through the air. It slammed into my arm, the one holding the yellow crayon, and I’d had a bruise for weeks.
“Absolutely,” I said, my vocal chords tight. “She would hav
e done anything.”
Piper shot me an empathetic glance. I couldn’t look away fast enough. Clearing my throat, I powered on the phone Piper had returned to me. “I’m just going to check…something.” Had the device been a swimming pool, I would’ve dived right in, hiding beneath the water until my lungs felt like they were about to explode. Until my heart was aching from lack of oxygen.
Until a nearly twenty-year-old memory wasn’t as painfully vivid as if had happened yesterday.
I stared at the screen, using it as a diversion until I managed to blink the words into focus. I scrolled through the social media notifications, Google Alerts, missed calls, and texts…until one in particular caught my attention. I read it once, twice, a third time. Hoping I was reading it wrong. That the horrifying collection of letters didn’t spell what I thought it did.
But I wasn’t.
And it did.
The blood that had been running so hot just a moment ago turned to ice in my veins. My thoughts focused on only one thing. One incredible girl who was about to walk into a terrible situation.
I couldn’t erase my past, but I’d be damned if anyone else had to repeat it.
“I have to go. Now.”
Dax
Most Manhattan residents don’t bother getting their driver’s license, and my sister was no exception. The last time she came to visit, I’d set her up with an Uber account so she wasn’t completely dependent on me to take her places. Hoping Aria hadn’t thought to establish one of her own, I pulled up the app and breathed a sigh of relief when the details of my most recent ride appeared on my screen. A ride that originated at my house and ended in Beverly Hills.
I zoomed in on the map. The intersection of Wilshire and Santa Monica Boulevard.
The Peninsula Hotel.
Stuffy and pretentious, it was where my parents often stayed when they were in town. Was Aria cooling her heels in the lobby? But no, I remembered that my parents had decided to stay at the Beverly Wilshire this time around.