Ouch. If I thought I sensed a bit of animosity before, now, I’m drowning it.
“Are they still together?” I ask.
“My parents?”
“Yeah.”
He scoffs. “They were never together. They hooked up for like three months when my mom was in a rebellious stage even though my dad was in love with her. Anyway, since I was such a…,” he pauses to search for the right word before giving me a wry grin, “pretty kid, she started to show interest when I was three or so and would make me prance around like a prized pony at all the celebrity parties. My dad couldn’t handle seeing me used as a pawn, so he got a lawyer and took full custody.”
“And she lost?”
“She didn’t have a leg to stand on. She was always knee-deep in drugs and orgies.” That same venomous tone snakes itself through every word. “She let me go before my fourth birthday and only checks on me when it’s convenient for her or when she’s searching for a new publicity stunt and is hoping I’ll step into the limelight to help make her relevant again.”
“That must be hard. To feel used like that.”
“The lady’s a washed-up actor who can’t accept it,” he admits. “She tries to throw money at me every once in a while in hopes of getting me on her side, but I refuse to take it. Well, except for this house anyway.”
Digging my teeth into my lower lip, I ask, “What got you into modeling then? Sounds like you would want to stay away from all of that.”
“I dunno. Maybe I got my work ethic from her,” he quips, his voice dripping with sarcasm. “But modeling is easy, and it pays well. Besides, might as well milk my good looks for as long as I can, right? Once they’re gone…that’s it. I’m not going to chase the newest aging serum or spend my days cheating wrinkles with Botox and shit like my mom does.”
“And what about acting?” I press. “Do you honestly think you can hide your identity from all the paparazzi and stuff?”
He shrugs. “In the long run? Probably not, but I want to make it on my own in this industry if I make it at all. I don’t want to piggyback off her success, especially when I’m pretty sure she slept her way to the top. I’ve been able to keep my identity hidden for this long in the industry, which means that if I get this part, it’s because of me and my hard work. My natural talent. My good looks. Although, I guess I can’t take full credit for that last one,” he clarifies with a smirk. “Good genes and all that shit. Still. It’s my sweat in the gym every morning. It’s my self-discipline at the restaurants that keep me in shape. Me. It has nothing to do with my mom or how many awards she’s earned or what kind of strings she could pull.”
The passion in his voice is hypnotic, almost lulling me to sleep if I weren’t so invested in his words.
“I get it. I would want to look back at my success, whatever success that might be, and claim it as my own too,” I admit. “I wouldn’t ever want to question if the only reason I found success is because someone handed it to me.”
“Then, I guess I shouldn’t suggest hooking you up with my agent, huh?”
I laugh. “And why would you do that?”
“You mentioned that you wanted to be an actress, remember?”
“Not for real, though,” I hedge. “I mean, come on, right? I’m a nobody, trailer trash, tossed aside girl with no degree. No talents. And no future. I’m not exactly someone you’d want to place your bet on, ya know?”
His eyes widen in surprise. “Whoa there. This conversation just took a dark turn.”
The glass from the passenger window is cool as I rest my head against it in defeat. “Sorry.”
“Don’t apologize. But I do feel the need to correct you on a few things. First, I’d bet my entire life savings on you if it would prove to you that you’re amazing. You’re not a nobody. You’re Reese Anders. Gorgeous. Smart. Sassy. The whole nine yards, babe. And trailer trash? Everyone has their pasts. Do you think I enjoy telling people that my mom tried to get me to snort coke at an afterparty as some kind of messed up party trick before a real adult intervened and called my dad?”
I gasp.
He shakes his head and squeezes my knee. “We all have our shit, Reese. But it’s our choice whether or not we let it hold us back. And don’t get me started on the fact that your asshole ex didn’t see what he had in front of him. Any guy would be lucky to have you. And trust me…I’m not just saying that.” He leans closer, making sure he has my full attention and reiterates, “I’m not. But that’s not the point. My point is that if you want to be an actress, be an actress. If you want to be a clown and join the circus, then be a freaking clown. I guarantee that Milo, Jake, Sonny, and I will buy front row tickets to cheer you on. Just…be you. And own that shit.”
Digging my teeth into my bottom lip, I stare blankly at my hands, unsure what to say.
“So, tell me,” River prods. “If you don’t want to be an actress, then what is your dream? Jake mentioned you want to be an accountant?”
“Just because I’m good with numbers doesn’t mean I like them,” I clarify. “And I definitely don’t want to drown myself in debt by going to college for something I hate.”
“Then what do you like? What do you want?”
Wringing my hands in my lap, I peek over at him. “Honestly?”
“Yeah.”
“I don’t think I know what I want. And it’s terrifying. In high school, I was so desperate to get away from my parents that I grabbed on to the first guy who gave me attention after I graduated.”
“Ian?”
“Yeah. And then, I guess I was so used to being treated like crap that I didn’t even care about how he treated me as long as he said he still wanted me. Even when they were just words and his actions proved the opposite,” I ramble. “I bent over backward for him. I built my life around him. And now that it’s all fallen apart, I’m expected to pick up the pieces. Alone. But I couldn’t even do that. I had to run to my big brother to save me. I don’t know how to stand on my own. I don’t know how to stand up for myself. I feel like I don’t know how to do anything.”
River’s warm hand tightens his hold on my knee, grounding me in the moment when I’m so close to getting lost in my guilt and regret.
“Tell me something, Reese. If Milo was ever in trouble, would you stand up for him and give him everything you have if it would help his situation?”
“Of course, I would––”
“And would you look at him as weak for asking for your help?”
“I know where you’re going with this––”
“Then you know that I’m right. Learning to accept help when you need it isn’t a weakness. It’s a strength. Give yourself a little more credit. The fact that you realized you deserve better in a relationship and in your own personal life, that you’re willing to fight for those things…that’s success.”
I open my mouth to argue, but it snaps closed just as quickly. Maybe he’s right. Maybe all those self-deprecating thoughts were planted by Ian, and I need to tell them to shut the heck up. Maybe I need to recognize my own strengths instead of focusing on my weaknesses even when I feel like I’m drowning from them.