Nodding, I fold my arms behind my head. “She came to Hollywood at the ripe old age of sixteen.” I cast a sharp glance at her out of the corner of my eye. “Sound familiar?”
Her bright green eyes dim as she swallows what I assume is her pride. I’m not trying to be a dick. She wanted honesty, so I’m giving it to her. Nobody said it’d be pretty.
“She was innocent,” I continue, turning my gaze back toward the ceiling. “Just like most girls who come here with dreams of making it big. She met a director who took an interest in her. A real up and coming guy. When he talked, people listened.”
I have to pause here and take a few calming breaths. If I don’t, I’ll never get through this without putting my fist through the wall. Angel doesn’t say a word, and after a few silent moments, I continue. “He told her about a project he thought she’d be perfect for and instructed her to come in for a screen test.” I can’t help but spit the words out with venom.
Angel’s face falls. “Oh Dominic.”
But I can’t stop. I’ve kept the door to the past locked for so long, now that it’s been ripped open, thirty-two years of skeletons come pouring out. “Only when she got there, the screen test was behind closed doors. She was offered the part all right, but passing the test hinged more on her oral than acting skills.” I have no idea I’m shaking until Angel coils herself around me. “When Mom refused to suck his dick, he tried to rape her.”
She stills. “Oh my God.”
“Luckily, a production assistant interrupted, and Mom ran away. But the damage was done. He blackballed her. She couldn’t get an audition for a used car lot commercial much less a movie. She got a job at a deli and worked a few other odd jobs here and there, but eventually the pressure was too much for her. She cracked.”
She lifts her cheek from my chest. “What do you mean, ‘she cracked’?”
This is what I meant. The part that steals at least an hour from the countdown clock. An hour lost I’ll never have with her. But what’s done is done, so I hold her stare as I watch more time slip away. “She lost it, rook. Something up there snapped. Reality and fantasy switched roles and never switched back.”
CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR
ANGEL
I look away from his hardened stare, afraid he’ll see the fear in mine. “Maybe it can be switched back.”
“Yeah right,” he snorts, but there’s no amusement there, only raw hurt. “That’s why we never stayed in one place. Mom was convinced people were trying to kill us.”
“What people?”
“Aliens? The FBI? The people in the toothpaste commercials?” He rolls his eyes. “Who the hell knows? At ten years old, I was too busy hustling the streets, doing whatever I had to just to keep both of us from starving to death to care.”
My heart breaks thinking of little Dominic, alone on the streets of Hollywood. “I can’t imagine what you—”
“Don’t feel sorry for me.” He sits up and moves to the edge of the bed, his back to me. “We survived, and I turned out just fine. In the end, people got what they deserved.”
I know this part thanks to Milly, but I can’t exactly interrupt with a full confession now.
“That’s why you started BTN.” I tug the sheet over my chest as I kneel behind him. “To make men like that director pay. Men like Paulo Bellini. It all makes sense now.”
It makes sense, and a year’s worth of anger dissipates into thin air.
Dominic sighs and presses his thumb to his temple. “The point of telling you is to explain why all of this”—he waves his other hand around the bedroom—“whole damn thing happened.” Bracing both hands on the mattress, he turns around and rakes his eyes across my face. “A few days before we met, I was at Moss Valley Wellness Hospital visiting my mother. Well, technically I was visiting the director of the hospital. A man on Greg Rosten’s payroll.”
“What does Rosten have to do with this?”
“I went after him, and he sued me. Moss Valley isn’t cheap, and I was already behind on payments, so Rosten made sure to speed the process along. They gave me four weeks and then threatened to dismiss her.”
“But why would Rosten want to…” The rest of the words get lost as the picture becomes clear. “Oh God,” I gasp. “It was him, wasn’t it? Rosten was the director who assaulted your mother. That’s why you went after him.”
I’m going to be sick.
Dominic gives me a sad smile. “Isn’t it ironic that I never knew his name until six months ago? Dr. Everly, Moss Valley’s director, likes his experimental drugs, one of which, it seems, works as quite the truth serum.”
In a rush of confusion and truth, the shell I’ve hidden under the past week shatters. Shame and fear combine with a very unlikely source of solidarity. So, I make my decision right then and there.
“I want to meet her.”
As soon as we step off the elevator at Moss Valley, Dominic grabs my arm, glancing around like he expects someone to pop out from around the corner. “Are you sure you want to do this?”