Total pages in book: 139
Estimated words: 138072 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 690(@200wpm)___ 552(@250wpm)___ 460(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 138072 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 690(@200wpm)___ 552(@250wpm)___ 460(@300wpm)
So I tell my story, not sugarcoating. I tell them how much of a fuck-up I was. My daughter went the first few years of her life without a father because I chose it all over her. The drugs. The alcohol. The movies. The red carpets and the parties and the people I didn’t even like, but I humored them because they were famous.
The meeting ends a few minutes after I finish.
As we’re leaving, Jack turns to me and says, “So, how about a drink?”
I laugh, shoving him. “I don’t think I could’ve chosen a worse sponsor.”
“Yeah, you suck at making decisions.”
“I’m getting better, though.”
“Are you?”
My phone starts ringing. I glance at it. Kennedy.
“I’m gonna prove it right now,” I say, shaking the phone at him, “by choosing my family over a drink with your dumb ass.”
We go our separate ways as I answer the call. “Hello?”
“Hey, you,” Kennedy says, her voice quiet. “How was your day?”
“Long,” I say. “Yours?”
“It was okay,” she says. “Sorry I didn’t answer when you called earlier. I wanted to, but Maddie insisted I didn’t.”
My stomach drops. “Is she still mad?”
“No.” She sighs. “She heard Meghan say you should always play hard to get, because it’ll make a guy want you more if he has to wait. So she said not to answer yet and then you’ll love us even more.”
“Well, who can argue with that?”
“Right? Which means I can’t talk long. I just wanted to see how you were doing.”
“I appreciate it,” I say. “I’m actually heading back to the hotel to get some sleep. Just got out of a meeting.”
“A meeting-meeting or like… a meeting?”
“Whichever of those is for alcoholics.”
“Ah, well, that’s good.” She pauses. “I’m gonna go before she catches me. Have a good night.”
“Goodnight, baby.”
I look up when I reach the hotel, pocketing the phone, my footsteps slowing when I see a handful of people lurking. They spot me, so I stop, signing some autographs and chatting, taking a few pictures before going inside.
Instinctively, I look around, always on alert. And for the second time in a week, I see a familiar face in the lobby bar.
This time, though, it’s Cliff.
He’s sitting alone at a small table with what looks like a glass of scotch. Never have I known Cliff to drink alcohol. I take a few steps that direction, curious, when a guy slips into the chair across from him and picks up the glass.
Something strikes me as familiar about him, but I’ve seen a lot of faces in my life, so it’s not always easy to place them. I watch for a moment, the two men casually chatting, before the guy downs the rest of the scotch and stands up to leave.
He makes it halfway through the lobby before his eyes flicker my way. He looks surprised to see me, which is funny, because in that moment I remember where I saw him.
He followed me that morning when I walked Madison to school. He works for Hollywood Chronicles.
The guy turns away and keeps on going, which makes this whole thing even funnier, because I’ve never known any of them to pass up the chance to provoke me.
“Hey, Daddy!”
Madison’s grinning face takes up my whole phone screen. Guess the self-imposed ‘make him wait’ strategy has been abandoned, considering she’s FaceTiming me at seven-thirty in the morning.
“Good morning, beautiful,” I say. “You getting ready for school?”
She nods, shaking the phone as she does. “I already got my clothes all on, and Mommy said we had some minutes, ‘cuz I got my backpack ready early.”
“So you decided to call?”
“Uh-huh, to remind you so you didn’t forget.”
“Forget what?”
“Me, duh.”
“You don’t have to worry about that, but I’m glad you called. I miss you.”
“Miss you,” she says. “Guess what! Yesterday it was Aunt Meghan’s birthday and Mommy got her cupcakes, but Aunt Meghan didn’t eat none, ‘cuz she says cake don’t like her thighs, but I dunno why. So we can have them all, and I saved one for you, but Mommy says it won’t be good in thirty days so I ate it.”
“You ate it.”
She nods. “For breakfast.”
I laugh, because I have no idea what to even say to that. Her eyes narrow, like she doesn’t know what I find so funny.
In the background, I hear Kennedy yelling, something about it being Tuesday.
“Uh-oh,” Madison says, her face flashing with panic seconds before she drops the phone to the floor and runs off.
I stare at a view of the ceiling. “Madison? Madison! Pick the phone back up!”
There’s a knock on my trailer door behind me. It opens without invitation. Cliff steps inside, looking at me incredulously. I’m sitting here with my feet propped up, relaxing.
“Wardrobe’s waiting,” he says. “You should be in costume.”
“Tell them I’ll be there in a minute.”
“You know, maybe if you hired a personal assistant…”