Page 50 of Sixty Days Of Summer

I can’t help but smirk as I lean forward to pass him the bottle, taking note of the firm, no-nonsense tone Scarlet used with Theo. It’s impressive how she manages to get him to listen, especially given how often he brushes everyone else off. But with her, he actually pays attention.

I’m sprawled out on the bed in my hotel room, trying to figure out how to kill time. I could hit up Xander, but he’s out with Neil, heading to the airport to pick up Poppy and Alex. They’re flying in to be with him tonight.

A knock at the door breaks my boredom. I swing it open to find Theo standing there, decked out in shorts and a t-shirt, a towel draped around his neck.

“Put your dick away,” he says, barging into the room and forcing me to step back. “Want to go for a swim?”

I shut the door, feeling relieved for the distraction. A swim sounds like just what I need. I head over to grab my swim shorts.

“Scarlet’s meeting us there,” Theo adds, flopping down on the couch like he’s got all the time in the world, waiting for me to get ready.

I pause, turning to face Theo, my mind racing. There’s no way I can go now. I need to keep my distance. Seeing Scarlet in a bikini is a fucking disaster waiting to happen. I can alreadypicture it: me in the water, pressed against the wall, trying to hide the boner that’s bound to spring up the moment she walks in. The temptation of seeing her like that, knowing I can’t touch her, will be way too much to handle.

“You know what? I think I might just crash here,” I say, trying to sound casual. “Got a headache from staying up most of the night talking shit with you.”

“Nah, come on, fuck that. We never do anything together,” Theo insists.

I keep my cool, shrugging it off. “Nah, I’m tired. You go ahead. I might go later if I feel like it.”

He gives me a look that says he can see right through my bullshit, but then he just shrugs and gets up from the couch. “Okay,” he says, heading for the door. “Catch ya later, asshole,” he yells over his shoulder just before stepping out.

With Theo gone, the silence in the room wraps around me like a heavy blanket, and boredom creeps in. I grab the remote, flop down onto the bed, and flick the TV on. Some show Xander likes is playing—some Housewives shit where bitches keep tearing each other down. I’ve sat through this garbage at his place a few times, and it never fails to piss me off. I start channel surfing, hoping to find something that doesn’t involve these bitches.

After flipping through about ten channels, my heart skips a beat. As I hit the back button, my mother’s face appears on the screen, sending chills down my spine. The sight hits me like a punch to the gut, dragging me right back to that scared, broken kid with all the scars. Kit never mentioned when the interview would air, and I sure as hell didn’t ask—I didn’t want to know what kind of shit she might spew. But now, seeing her face up close on the screen, I can’t bring myself to change the channel. Something about it keeps me frozen, unable to look away, even though every part of me is screaming to shut it off.

She looks older now, her hair streaked with gray, her face etched with the hard lines of a life wasted on drugs. Those deep creases around her mouth tell stories of every cigarette she’s smoked. When I was younger, I thought she was beautiful, but now all I feel is a deep, seething hate. Hate for the woman who could never love me.

As the camera pulls back, it reveals Jerry Goldman, the hard-hitting interviewer, with his usual no-nonsense expression, ready to tackle the tough questions. But it’s the asshole next to my mother that really grabs my attention—the wannabe biker still dressed like he’s ready for a bar fight. I remember him all too well; the way he pressed his hand against my neck, pinning me to the wall. I can still see Xander clawing at his grip, desperation etched across his face as he fought to pull him off me.

Goldman’s voice slices through my thoughts like a razor. “So, can you tell me why you’ve decided now to come out and set the record straight?” he asks, his tone dripping with curiosity and just the right amount of skepticism.

“With all the attention about the camera incident, I thought it was time that everyone knew the real Ace Roberts,” my so-called mother replies, her voice smug and dripping with insincerity.

My grip on the remote tightens, causing my knuckles to turn white as I listen to her words. Each syllable feels like a punch to the gut.

Goldman leans in closer, his voice probing like a predator stalking its prey. “And what is it that everyone should know?” he asks, as if he’s ready to pry open every dark corner of my life.

The close-up of my mother on the screen leaves a bitter taste in my mouth. How could she possibly know the real me when she never even bothered to give me a second glance? To her, I was just a nuisance, an obstacle in her life. The cruel, fucked upthings her boyfriends did to me didn’t matter—she laughed them off like they were some kind of joke, completely oblivious to the pain I endured. From the age of five, they’d beat me mercilessly, shoving me aside as if I were nothing more than a piece of furniture. To her, it was all just a sick form of entertainment.

“Everyone knows Ace Roberts, the rockstar. But nobody knows the person I’ve feared my whole life. The violent, unpredictable son who—” She takes a breath, relishing the moment before delivering the final blow, “who is capable of anything.”

My chest tightens with anger and disbelief. The room feels like it's shrinking, the walls closing in around me, trapping me in this fucking nightmare.

Goldman raises an eyebrow, leaning in even closer. “Anything? That’s a serious accusation, Mrs. Fletcher. Can you provide an example of this “anything” you’re claiming?”

My mother sighs, sliding right into her victim act like it’s second nature. “There was an incident when he was seventeen. His stepfather, Larry,” she glances at the scumbag sitting next to her, “tried to protect me, and Ace didn’t take it well. There was this moment when he grabbed me and wouldn’t let go. That was the day I genuinely feared for my life, truly believing it could be my last. A boy should never lay a hand on his mother like that. I just can’t understand where I went wrong, raising a son with so much hatred in his heart. If Larry hadn’t been there, I don’t know what I would’ve done.”

She’s fucking lying. Twisting the truth to put on a show, just like she always does. My pulse pounds in my ears, a relentless beat fueling the anger already building inside me. I can feel it rising, heat creeping up my neck, and the rage clawing at me, begging to be unleashed as I stare at the screen, watching her spin her web of lies.

“So what you’re saying is that Ace has always been an abusive person?” Goldman asks, looking straight into the camera.

My mother keeps going, her voice trembling just enough to sell the lie. “I’ve always been terrified of what he might do to me. His father, and his sister, not being able to cope with Ace's violent outbursts, ended up leaving.”

“Really? His father and sister left because of how violent Ace Roberts was?” The camera zooms in on Goldman’s face, and I can see the wheels turning in his mind. He smells the blood in the water, ready to expose me as the monster she’s making me out to be. My anger boils over, yet I can’t look away from the screen.

Goldman shifts his gaze to that smug bastard, sitting next to my mother. “Larry,” he says, “is it true that Ace Roberts, a well-known member of the most successful band on the planet, is a dangerous man?”

The smirk on Larry’s face widens. “You know, Jerry,” he starts, leaning in like he’s about to drop some juicy gossip. “Ace has always had a temper, even as a kid. He’s got a wild streak a mile wide, and fame just made it worse. I’ve seen him snap, and when he does, it’s like a switch flips. I’ve had to step in more than once to keep him from doing something he’d regret. So yeah, I’d say he’s dangerous. You never know what he’s capable of when he loses it.”

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