I feel blindsided.
Thrown.
Lex didn’t just tell his story…
He took ours.
And shattered it.
Chapter 19
Lex
Mom’s face fills the phone screen as my driver pulls into the Hollywood Hills neighborhood, passing by a stream of sleek high-rise condos and modern mansions perched on the hillside.
She props the phone on something and takes three steps back, swapping two dresses out in front of her. “Which one? Champagne or red?”
“Red.”
“I don’t know. I think champagne will pair better with the red lipstick.” Her nose wrinkles as she continues to deliberate over the herculean decision of celebrity fashion choices. “Anthony said red too.”
“Champagne then.” Anthony is my mother’s new boy toy. Shortly after we picked up and moved back to California, Mom finally had the balls to hand my father divorce papers after she discovered him piledriving his paralegal at a law conference. Ironically, the quickie took place behind a banner advertising “Ethics in Legal Practice.”
I’ll never understand why two decades of abuse weren’t enough to kick him to the curb, yet this affair—one of many, I’d presume—seemed to be the tipping point. Truthfully, I wonder if it wasn’t about the affair itself but about how public it became. It was easier to live with the bruises when they were hidden. But that was a scandal that came with an audience, and my mother would rather die than be publicly humiliated.
I can’t imagine how he’s feeling now, watching my success from the sidelines, calculating every dollar he thinks he’s missing out on. Not that I would have shared a dime with him. Thankfully, the cocksucker has never tried to reach out—his pride won’t let him grovel. And severing that toxic tie is the only real peace to have come out of this new life.
Glancing out the window, I watch streaks of amber uplighting whiz by in a blur. Dusk paints the sky in gray and navy while the setting sun splashes remnants of dying light across landscaped gardens and luxury cars.
“It is Armani,” she states, glancing between the two dresses. “Maybe I’ll ask Luda.”
“Luda knows best.”
We move closer to my complex, and my attention catches on a dog sitting by itself at the curb. It’s a little white froufrou thing with a neon-pink collar around its neck. Our eyes meet the second before we pass, and I wonder why it’s sitting there alone, no owner in sight. Maybe it’s waiting for the stars to appear, to outshine the faux glitter sprinkled all across this town. Relatable.
I should get a dog. A big, lazy, slobbery one.
Someday.
“Lexington?”
I blink back to the cell phone loosely tucked inside my hand. “Sorry. Busy day.”
“How did that shoot go with Billy?”
“Fine. Nothing special.”
Mom calls me every night, just as the sun begins to set. She’s only a few neighborhoods away in Bel Air, but with my hectic schedule and work commitments, we hardly ever see each other in person. But she always insists on these damn video calls, claiming voice calls are too impersonal. I go with it. I’ve become proficient in the art of conforming and following orders while never being fully present. It’s easier to just roll over these days.
Like a dog.
Adrian, my driver, drops me off in front of my building, and I shuffle out of the limousine, loosening my paisley tie when my shoes hit the pavement. “Thanks, A,” I tell him, returning the wave he sends me through the half-open window.
“I can’t wait to see the pictures,” Mom says, picking up her phone and smiling wide into the lens as she traipses through her giant closet. “You and Willa photograph so well together.”
Willa is my costar inCome What May. We’re still running around doing promotional shoots and soaking up the postshow buzz, along with the rest of the cast. My life has been a whirlwind ever since I set foot back in this town four years ago, but those early days were nothing compared to this, to right now. I had no idea how big the show would become, how the story would resonate with millions, or how I’d rise to A-list celebrity status in under a week’s time.
It’s draining. Soul-sucking. A cold feeling hollowing out my bones.
