Page 77 of Rowdy Hearts

She paused, like she was reconsidering her confession, though what this woman would have to confess, I couldn’t imagine. Maybe she was married. Maybe she had a steady boyfriend. Maybe Krista’s father?—

“I used to be famous.”

Okay, not what I was expecting. “Um, okay?”

“I mean, not like worldwide famous. I’m not Beyonce or Taylor famous but… I was well-known as a kid.”

“For what?”

“I was an actress. I was on a TV show that blew up overnight. It was a fluke, a lightning strike. But it made me—well, it made my character a household name.”

I waited her out, knowing she was choosing her words. The day was beautiful, the sun shining through the leaves that were left on the branches. Oak and maple leaves littered the ground, hiding the edges of the trail. But I could walk to our destination with my eyes closed.

Finally, she said, “Did you ever hear of the show, ‘Broad Street’?”

“Hasn’t everyone? Isn’t that where Denee Hennings got her start?”

Something blipped at the back of my brain, something important. But it was lost in the realization of who Tressy was.

“Holyshit.” I stopped in my tracks. “You’re Mabel Ann.”

She nodded, staring straight ahead as she continued to walk, as if she hadn’t just blown my mind. “I was. That role kept my family off the streets. It came along at a time when we were struggling and weren’t sure if we were going to have a roof over our heads the next week.”

Well, shit. That sounded scary as hell. And something I knew nothing about. Most people would say I’d led a charmed life, and I couldn’t argue. My biggest worries growing up had been hockey and girls. And sometimes, grades, ’cause, you know, hockey and girls.

But even if my parents had had money problems, they damn sure wouldn’t have used their children to make more.

“That’s a hell of a lot to put on a— Wait, how old were you then?”

“Ten.”

What the actual fuck? Ten years old and carrying the weight of her family’s survival on her shoulders. Jesus, no wonder she had issues with her mom.

“That sounds an awful lot like child labor.”

Shrugging, she shook her head, not meeting my gaze.

“My mom didn’t think of it that way. And neither did I, really. I loved to act. Loved going to the set and working with different people and not having to go to school. And for a kid who maybe didn’t always have cookies or chips at home, craft services was heaven.”

I didn’t know what to say to that. She’d said her early life had been tough. I don’t think I realized just how tough.

“I’d done commercials before that,” she continued. “Not a lot, but my mom kept putting me up for sitcoms. She was relentless. I think sometimes I got the show just so they wouldn’t have to hear from her anymore. No one expected that show to hit as hardas it did. And it exploded after the first season. And Denee took off with it.”

I thought about the little I remembered about Denee, most of it revolving around her early tragic death.

“Was she a good friend?”

Now, Tressy glanced at me with a sad smile. “The very best. The kind that only comes around once or twice in your life.”

“I’m really sorry. I know she died.”

Nodding, Tressy’s mouth flat-lined. “She did. It was devastating. I felt like I lost my only family.”

“Your relationship’s that bad with your mom and sister?”

Another quick shrug. “It’s better when we don’t spend a lot of time together. And I have a lot of guilt about that. So,” she took a deep breath, like this was the hard part, “when she asked me to appear at Tiff’s concert in the city Thursday night, I agreed. I just didn’t realize she wanted me to duet with my ex.”

Ex-boyfriend? Ex-husband? Ex-what?

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