“Did you always call them by their names? Were they ever Mom and Dad to you?”
“I called them that, but only because they made me. Once when I was twelve I called Roger by his first name and I thought he was going to smack me. You know what he said? He said, ‘We paid enough money for you. The least you can do is be appreciative and call us Mom and Dad.’ So I did. I think it also embarrassed them to their low-life friends that we didn’t get on and I didn’t think of them as parents. They’d failed, and in a big way.”
It feels good and also scary to say all this out loud. Rex has listened so patiently, but I hope I haven’t freaked him out.
“Well, there are some things I can certainly understand,” Rex says. “Right now, if your adoptive father was in front of me…” he shakes his head and doesn’t finish the statement. “And if it’s what you want, I hope you never have to see either of them again.”
“Thanks. It’s weird. In some strange way, despite everything they did to me, they’re still the only parents I know,” I say. “Anyway, that’s why it feels a bit strange to me to have you be so nice to me. I’ve always had to be on my own. I had to put myself through college, and now if this acting thing doesn’t work out I have no idea what I’ll do. Going home is not an option because there is no home to go back to.”
Rex nods. “It’s weird when home doesn’t really feel like home. My parents sent us to boarding school the moment we were old enough. So I never felt like my parents’ house was where I lived either.”
“You grew up in boarding schools?” I ask. I knew he was an East Coast kid, but I didn’t know about not living with his parents, at least during the school years.
“Yeah,” he says. He pulls his eyes away from the sheets and looks up at me. “Now eat your breakfast, young lady.”
“Tell me something about your parents,” I say.
“Eat.”
“I’m serious,” I say. “I just unloaded on you about mine. You have to give me something, Rex. You can’t dodge the question forever.”
He smiles that forces smile again. “Some other time. I promise. But for now I’d rather talk to you about our day,” he says. “I have some things planned out, or we can do nothing at all. It’s up to you.”
Rex starts in on his ideas. He’s got the screener for a new drama that doesn’t come out until next Friday that we can watch in his private movie theater (“With movie theater–quality popcorn,” he assures me), or we can go for a hike in the hills above his house. We can even drive up to Big Bear to go skiing. “Fresh snowfall last night,” he says. “Three inches.”
In the end we stay at his house all weekend. We watch the screener, eat the popcorn, and then make love. He shows me the rest of his house, and then we make love. He heats up the pool and we go swimming, and then we make love.
“Love” might be a premature term, but I do know that it’s more than just sex between us. I can feel it. There’s something different, something special about Rex and me.
I just wish he’d open up to me more. He keeps dodging questions about his family, and he hardly ever talks about work, even though he spends a fair amount of time on his phone sending emails or taking calls (in between the sex, of course. In those times he’s all about me).
On Sunday evening he drives me back to my apartment, walking me up to the door and everything. When he kisses me, it’s not an end to the weekend; it’s a pause until next time.
Rex
Work is turning into a nightmare.
In the short time I’ve been with Addison I’ve slacked off on a thing or two, and when you’re at my level it doesn’t take long for shit to go sideways if it’s not taken care of quickly.
When I walk through the doors Monday morning at seven-thirty, I know I have to hit it hard. The last thing I need is for my brothers—especially know-it-all big brother Jackson—to see that anything might be anything other than perfect.
My executive assistant Julie arrives with my coffee, her notepad, and a pile of questions and problems to be solved.
“Mackenzie has called twice now and wants to meet up before she leaves town,” Julie begins. “She and her husband will be heading back to Paris in a couple of days and hopes you can fit her in.”
“Ugh, that’s a dig, huh?” I say. Mackenzie and I know each other from several work deals—our work paths often cross. She’s based in Paris but when she gets out west we like to meet up—strictly business-social, nothing sexual. Her husband is a stand-up guy who plays a mean game of tennis. Mackenzie always gives me shit for being too busy so I really have to make time for them this week, even though the timing is rotten.
“You blew her off last time,” Julie reminds me.
“That’s because I had—what was I doing again?”
“You had just broken up with Mandy.”
“Monica,” I correct her. What can I say, Julie knows many details of my life.
“Right. And Mackenzie knows you hate being a third wheel when Tommy is with her,” Julie says, and she’s totally right. “So you’ll have to deal with it and take them out to dinner anyway.”
“Fine. Tell her dinner tomorrow night,” I say.
“Dinner for three, you got it. How about that new French place in Santa Monica?”
“Sure. And it’s dinner for four,” I say. After all, I can be with Addison and see Mackenzie and Tommy plus get a little work in with Mack before she heads back to Paris. It’ll be perfect.
“Friday there’s the benefit which I know you’re dreading,” she quickly adds as I groan my disapproval. “You don’t have to stay long. Just through dinner, forget the dessert and all the drinks. The people from Stonewater are sitting at your table so I really think you should go.”
“Fine, I’ll go.”
“Great, I’ll make sure you’re sitting between Arnold and Devon,” she says, writing this down on her notepad. “They’re impossible to get in a meeting so this is as close as you’ll get.”
“Put me down for plus one,” I tell Julie. She looks at me curiously but doesn’t ask any questions. She knows better. She also knows I never take women to work functions, and I consider charity events to be work functions like necessary evils. It’s how Father raised us. “Also call Rachel and have her send over outfits for both occasions. She knows the address.”
“Shoes and accessories too?” Julie asks.
“Of course,” I say.
“Consider it done.”
“Anything else?” I ask her.
“That’s it, boss.” Julie looks down at her phone. “Looks like your nine o’clock is on his way up.”
That night, when I finally get a moment, I call Addison.
“Hey, how was your day?” I ask her.
“Crap. I missed an audition because I was stuck on the 405. It should have taken me twenty minutes to get there and I planned forty. It took me an hour to get there and by then they’d already booked the spot.”
“Well, I’m here to make your day a little better,” I tell her. “Rachel is sending some clothes over.”