Page 80 of The Holiday Fakers
“But …” His eyes find mine, and he looks genuinely confused. “Is this online? Has anyone else seen it?”
I shake my head. “You’re the first person I’ve ever shown these drawings to.”
He looks stunned.
Panic is beginning to strangle me. I’ve miscalculated.
Brody turns back to the tablet, swiping through the pictures like he needs to know how many there are. He stops when he gets to the one of him sending his pet wolf after Colin.
“Who’s that?”
“The guy who dumped me. The one who was supposed to be coming home for Christmas with me. The one I’m going to be fighting with for my job next year.”
His jaw tenses. “I wish I had a wolf to hunt him down.”
I stay silent. The elephant in the room is growing bigger by the second. I’m just waiting for Brody to notice it.
He takes a breath, like he’s about to say something, then stops. I just know he’s trying to work out how to ask, “Have you been in love with me for years?” or “Are you a mad, crazy stalker lady and I need to jump in my ride and head out of Hideaway, stat?”
“You’ve drawn me in every role I’ve ever played,” he says slowly. “And every commercial.”
“Yeah,” I reply, not sure if he thinks that’s a good or a bad thing. My palms are clammy, which tells me it’s probablyextremelybad that I’ve followed his career closer than anyone else.
“I have a Google Alert set up for your name,” I say, as if that explains everything, although I’m sure I just made the situation worse.
A pause, then: “How long have you had it?”
“Twelve years.”
Brody’s silent, clearly realizingjusthow obsessed I am with him.
“So you know about every one of my fuck-ups,” he says quietly.
Oh, shit. I never thought he’d be thinking about that.
He gazes at me, his expression bleak. “I didn’t cheat on Marisa, but most of the other stories are half-truths.”
“A half-truth is an untruth because it’s not the whole picture. If youdidhit that guy, then I bet he deserved it.”
Brody nods. “He was sexually harassing female actors in the films his studio was producing. But it got hushed up and spun like I was the bad guy, then he blacklisted me.”
“Well, there we are then,” I say firmly.
How has it not clicked that I’ve been secretly in love with him for years?
“But the drinking, that’s a fact.”
My mind flips through a carousel of online images, each one worse than the last, all of Brody looking wasted.
“I never touched drugs, but the booze …” He gazes at me. “I’ve been sober for over a year now. It makes some things harder, as there’s no cushion between me and the world, but it’s better. I don’t want to be that guy anymore.”
Relief washes through me. I know this is the truth and he’s still the Brody I remember.
“How many years do you think you had an issue with alcohol for?”
He shakes his head, his mouth twisting. “Four years, maybe, if I’m honest?”
“Well, in terms of your adult life, that’s less than a third.”
