Page 93 of Dirty Rich Cinderella Story

“They can’t know,” she says.

“But you assumed they did last night,” Cole rebuts.

“I don’t know what they can see on their own,” she replies. “Is there a database of some sort? I don’t know what the police know, but if they ask, and I lie, I’m screwed. If they ask, and I tell the truth, they hate my father. I have to assume they’ll leak the information.”

“What kind of addiction?” I ask.

“Pain pills,” she says. “I got hurt on the set of a movie, and the damn things just got the best of me. I didn’t realize I was in trouble until it was too late.”

“I need a list of every medication you’re on now,” Cole says. “They’re going to want it.” He slides a piece of paper and pencil to her.

“I’m on an antidepressant. I really don’t want that to get out. Do I have to give them this list?”

“They can subpoena it and we can fight it, right up until the toxicology report returns. We’ll win unless he OD’d on something other than an over-the-counter medication or one of his own prescriptions, and we’ll make damn sure they prove that before we turn it over. But I need to know what I’m dealing with. I need medication names and what they are used for.”

She hesitates and writes down a list of ten drugs and then slides the paper toward us. “I have MS,” she says. “My father doesn’t know. No one knows, not even my agent and managers, in this case. It’s probably the reason I got hurt on the job. It’s definitely what made me susceptible to the pills. Hollywood is brutal. If this gets out, I’m done. And again, my father doesn’t know. He can’t know. I have a lot that we disagree on, but I love him. I won’t let him take the fall for me, and while I doubt he would now, if he knew the real reason for my rehab, I think he might.”

Suddenly, her diva persona shows itself as a warrior’s shield, but I have to think about the case, so I stay focused. “Does your mother know?”

“No,” she says. “My mother is in love and in another country. Why ruin that for her?”

Cole stands up and motions for me to do the same. “Ms. Havens and I are going to step out of the room and call the detective,” Cole says.

Tara stands up. “Are you formally representing me?”

“No,” Cole says. “I’ll decide after the police interview. I want you to think about your story. I don’t like surprises. Is there anything else I need to know?”

“No,” she says. “There’s nothing.”

Cole motions me forward and when he joins me in the hallway, he says, “Office.”

We head that direction, and once we step inside, we stand face to face. “Tell me your assessment,” he orders.

“I believe her,” I say, “but I don’t like her.”

“Same,” he says. “And she’s right. Her father is not my father. If her father finds out about the MS, he might go down for her.”

I think of my father in that moment, and what my mother said about always feeling loved. He did love me. He would have gone down for me, and I realize now, that maybe, just maybe, it’s time to offer him a little forgiveness. Cole, though, he hasn’t forgiven his father, and it hits me now how new that loss is for both of us. He said he needed to be saved. Maybe he does.

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