Page 74 of For The Record

In a risky and possibly career-ending move, I say, “Like I said before… what’s it to you?”

Well, now that I think about it, it probably wouldn’t end my career. Maybe. I’m not an actress, at least, not like Isabelle. Not like my sister, who called me in tears, asking me to help her tell the truth. The thought of this man hurting my sister hurts my insides.

“Tell my son to return my calls,” he says flatly, green eyes narrowed. With that, he turns his attention to a waiting Rolls Royce phantom that I hadn’t even noticed.

“I can’t make him do anything,” I say. “And I heard about your sexual assault allegations. I hope you go to jail and stay far, far away from my sister and anyone else who you hurt.”

Antonio pauses while picking up his coffee. He almost looks surprised, but composes himself well. “You know nothing about me or my son, Skye Holland.”

“Then why did you invite me to your wedding?” I say.

He stares at me for a moment, like he’s trying to place me. “So you’re that Skye Holland. Daughter of Samuel Holland, sister of Isabelle and Aaron Holland.”

“Don’t you run a background check on your children’s significant others?” I say.And we’ve met before.

That’s exactly what he seems like: the sort of wealthy, privileged man who tries to control his offspring’s lives despite their desire to run far, far away from him. From what I know, his daughter from his first marriage is now a wildlife photographer in South Africa while his second daughter is working in Canada as an actress. I can extrapolate the rest. But then again… maybe Leo isn’t a son to him. Maybe he only cares about Leo when it’s convenient for him.

He doesn’t respond, but a scoff slips from his mouth. “You may think what you want about me, Miss Holland. But don’t doubt for a moment that my son has succeeded in getting with you, and he’s using you to climb to the top. Because him and I—we’re exactly the same.”

With that, he takes his coffee and leaves.

Leo is nothing like his father. Nothing. One of them is kind and actually cares about his family. The other abandoned his pregnant girlfriend and got married to the heiress of a tequila company. Leo would do anything for his family. Antonio seems like he would do anything for himself.

Yet as I make my way back to Volume’s offices, I can’t help but think of the tabloids comparing them, putting their faces side by side. Like father, like son! The bruises on Leo’s knuckles, after he punched Naoya. The cold utility with which he fired Mark, all brutal efficiency and ruthlessness on his face.

We’re not like our parents. But we have the potential to resemble them in more ways than one, and we can run from that, or embrace the best parts of them.

#

I think I accidentally summoned my estranged mother like she’s a demon or an ancestral spirit. After my run-in with Antonio Perez, I had, well, mixed feelings, to say the least. Predatory, awful, and abhorrent as he might be… In his own twisted way, he cared about his son. I could see it in his eyes, see the hurt in them from what he saw as rejection. I could sense that he wanted to reconcile with Leo, even if the gap between them had widened until it couldn’t be bridged.

Part of me wondered and still wonders if my own mother would ever care about me that way. If she would ever stalk my boyfriend and ask him to tell me to talk to her. If she’d go to any effort at all to be in my life. But I haven’t seen her in well over a year. She never shows up for Thanksgiving or Christmas, and forget expecting her to be present at any minor holidays… Mother’s Day included.

Yet speak of the devil and she will appear. Because when I’m window shopping with Poppy on Rodeo Drive in mid-December, my mother stops us in the street.

She’s met Poppy once or twice. In the time that I was at UCLA, she visited me in the dorms a grand total of one time, and showed up to my graduation. I think she was disappointed that unlike my older sister, I didn’t go into acting like she did.

What she didn’t know, and still doesn’t know, is that I no longer regret that decision as much as she might have. I don’t want to be like her.

“Skye! It’s so good to see you.” This is L.A., though, so Leticia Holland, nee Scott, hugs me and air-kisses my cheeks like she loves me more than her career. “And your friend…”

“Poppy Black,” my best friend says, clearing her throat. “We’ve met.”

“Of course, we have,” Leticia says, her smile at a minimum. She must have done Botox recently and gotten lip fillers. Nothing too extreme, but I can see the stiffness in her face. “How are you, darling? I overheard from Olivia Harvey that you were seeing someone.”

“How did Olivia Harvey overhear anything about my love life?” I say, a frown pinching my brows. Olivia is my parents’ divorce lawyer and she’s had a hand in every single high-profile celebrity divorce, well, ever. Kelly Clarkson and Brandon Blackstock? Yep. Brangelina? Yep. Kimye? Also yep.

But Leo and I aren’t even married. It’s not like she would be hunting for another client.

My mother waves a beringed hand, tucking a blonde curl behind her ear. “Oh, well, you know the Hollywood grapevine. She must have heard it from Antonio Perez’s ex-wife, who heard it from her ex-husband, who heard it from his son. You didn’t tell me you were dating Antonio Perez’s son.”

At her last words, she grabs my free hand with both of hers. Poppy looks worriedly over at us, her expression like do you need me to fake a heart attack to get out of this conversation? I appreciate her dedication and try to give her a side-eye that says no, thanks, but I love you.

“As far as the world was concerned recently, Antonio Perez didn’t have any sons,” I say, trying to wrench my hand from her cold grasp.

“Well, now, that’s all in the past.” She takes the hint and drops my hand. “Although of course, it is unfortunate to hear that nasty business about Antonio’s… infidelities.”

“Infidelities?” I repeat. She’s going to treat half a dozen legitimate accusations like some tawdry affair? “Mother, he assaulted your daughter.”

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