The Truth about My Success (7 page)

BOOK: The Truth about My Success
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You’ll be living the dream…
Jack Silk told her. Or she could continue to live the nightmare.

She goes into her room and takes Jack Silk’s card from her desk and her phone out of her pocket. “Hello?” she says when he answers. “It’s Oona. Oona Ginness. I guess you have a deal.”

Paloma is about to leave her room. She’s been in her room since last night, sulking and – ironically since she’s spent the last several months escaping from it – refusing to come out. Poor Paloma. What with one thing and another, she’s had a day or two that, really, should have belonged to someone else. Someone terminally ordinary. Someone who only comes near the word “special” when she goes shopping.

Who would ever have imagined that anyone would try to arrest
her
? And not only did that stupid clerk try to have her arrested, he didn’t even know who she was at first. A clerk in a deli, and he didn’t recognize her. Oh, give her a break. And his name’s Julio, so he’s Mexican. Or something like that. Which is part of her target audience. The producers and writers of
Angel in the House
make a special point of including Spanish-speaking ethnics in the stories. So instead of grabbing her and screaming for the police, he should have screamed, “
Dios mío
, it’s Faith Cross,” and begged for her autograph. But, oh no. He wouldn’t even let her explain. She tried again and again, but he refused to listen. He was so obsessed with “getting those boys” he didn’t even really look at her. “You can’t treat me like this,” she kept saying. But he treated her like that anyway. “You’ll be sorry when you find out who I am,” she threatened. But he wasn’t. All he cared about was his stupid beer. You’d think the world was going to end because he was out a few bucks. What a loser.

At least that one cop, Officer What’s-his-name – the one with the gut and the ear hair – at least he was really nice. He recognized her right away and was really excited to meet her. Luckily for Paloma he was one of those people who confuse the actor with the part, and he totally believed she was innocent. Angels don’t steal. And they absolutely don’t steal alcoholic beverages. But the other one – the one with the chipped tooth and the double chin – wasn’t convinced. If it was up to him he would’ve taken her in like she was a runaway shoplifter. Being lead into a police station in handcuffs is not a good look for a popular TV star. Being driven home in the back of a cop car was bad enough. For the first time in a long time, Paloma was actually glad to get home. Better than glad. She couldn’t have been happier if she’d been adrift on the ocean in a rubber raft for two weeks and was suddenly rescued (
Angel in the House
: Season Three, Episode Four). She and Leone flung themselves into each other’s arms. It was a touching and emotional scene. It is, of course, one that Paloma has played any number of times – though not with her mother – but it has to be said that she has never done it better. It’s a pity no one was filming them.

Unfortunately, happy endings don’t last long if they’re not part of a TV show. When the policemen left, Leone’s tears dried faster than a drop of water on a hot iron and her good mood went with them. Officer What’s-his-name with the fuzzy ears might believe that Paloma was innocent, but her own mother didn’t. “Beer!” she shrieked. “My daughter was stealing beer! And you reek of it! Like some common street urchin!” Paloma wasn’t completely sure what the word “urchin” meant, but she could tell it wasn’t good. She retaliated by calling her mother a selfish, money-grabbing bitch, words with which they are both familiar. During the fairly hysterical fight that followed, Paloma broke a three-thousand-dollar vase by throwing it at her mother, Leone knocked Paloma to the floor, and Maria had to pull them apart. Leone locked Paloma in her room, screaming, “You’re not coming out till I say you can! This time you’ve really gone too far!” Within the hour, Paloma was in a cab heading back to Venice, where Micah and the others had fled after she was caught.

Going back to her new friends didn’t make Paloma any happier. They all thought it was hilarious that she was almost arrested. Micah said it was her own fault. She was supposed to act sexy and flirt to distract the clerk, not concoct a long-winded, complicated story like something out of a soap opera. Which was when Paloma forgot that these weren’t people she yelled at, and she yelled at him. For not telling her that they’d used the scam before about a hundred times. For being stupid enough to use it again in a store they’d already hit.

“What do you care, Suze?” Micah sneered. “Your parents probably bleed hundred dollar bills when you cut them. They can buy you out of anything.”

Only a few hours before, Paloma was mad because she was being treated like everyone else. Now, in one of those classic examples of how inconsistent human behaviour can be, she was mad because Micah thought she wasn’t like everyone else, that it didn’t matter what she went through. So she came home again, and has been in her room ever since.

But now she’s been summoned. Not by Leone – she wouldn’t come out for her if she offered Paloma her own country – and not by Arthur – who only seeks her out when he wants something – but by Jack Silk. Unlike her closest relatives, Jack Silk has always been sympathetic and kind to Paloma. He is, she believes, the only person in the world who understands her at all. If he wants to talk to her, it won’t be because he has another five hundred rules she’s supposed to follow like she’s still a little girl, or because he can’t find his keys or needs a loan. It’ll be because he has something important to say.

Jack stands up as she enters the room. “Paloma, my dear, please have a seat.” He gestures to the chair across from his.

Her mother is on the sofa, looking as comfortable as someone waiting for the results of an X-ray and expecting bad news. She doesn’t stand up and greet Paloma warmly, but she smiles in her straight-from-the-fridge way. Paloma doesn’t smile back.
Eat gravel, you old witch
. Either Arthur wasn’t invited to this meeting, or he has something more important to do.

Jack, instead of attacking her like some people did, is full of sympathy. “I hope you’ve recovered from your ordeal.” His voice is like a lullaby. “What a terrible thing to have happen to you. Imagine anyone thinking
you
– you of all people – would be involved in petty theft with lowlife scum like that. I can’t tell you how shocked I was. The Police Commissioner has already heard about this.”

Paloma directs a laser-sharp glare at her mother, then turns her crumpling face back to him. “It was terrible, Jack. Really terrible.” Her lower lip trembles. “The way they treated me…” She doesn’t so much sit down as collapse into the armchair. “It wasn’t even human.” Several large, perfectly formed tears slide down her cheek. “I didn’t know what to do. I felt so—so awesomely alone. I thought they were going to put me in jail.” A sob lets loose a few more tears. “Nobody even wanted to listen to me.” Her head is bowed, her shoulders shake. “They acted like I was some homeless person or something.”

That would be a homeless person who wasn’t arrested but was asked for her autograph.

This is also a scene that Paloma has played before, but although no stranger to it, Jack Silk says, “Don’t upset yourself, darling, it’s all over now.” He sits down, mindful of the crease in his trousers. “There won’t be anything in the press, and the studio knows nothing about the incident.” His smile is so warm that Paloma, carefully wiping the tears from her eyes, believes he’s actually patted her hand. “And I’ll see what I can do about the YouTube clip. With a little luck, no one will believe that’s really you. So we can all put it behind us and carry on as if the whole dreadful misunderstanding never happened.”

“Thank you,” says Paloma – which might surprise the many people in Los Angeles who think those are two words of which Paloma Rose has never heard. She glances at her mother again. “So is that it? Is that what you wanted to talk to me about?”

“No… no… Not quite. I—We—” Jack gestures to Leone. “We have something important we need to discuss. Together.”

Paloma automatically hugs herself. “About me?”

“Not entirely.” Jack leans slightly forward, serious and earnest. But also kind. So very, very kind. “I’m afraid that Audrey’s been in a rather serious automobile accident.”

“Audrey?” Audrey Hepplewhite plays Paloma’s mother in
Angel in the House
, but it takes Paloma a second to identify her. She never thinks of her as Audrey. She thinks of her as Lard Ass, or, on good days, The Hepple. Though not now, of course. “Oh, Poor Audrey, that’s awful. Is she OK?”

Jack sighs. Heavy is the heart that bears bad news. “The doctors are hopeful that she’ll make a full recovery, but right now she’s in a coma and it’s still pretty touch and go.”

“Oh gosh… Poor Audrey…” Real distress suddenly makes an appearance on Paloma’s face. She isn’t acting any more. As little as she likes Audrey Hepplewhite – she’s almost as much of a control freak as Leone – her character is central to most of the plots. “Then the show—”

“Is going to miss a season,” finishes Jack. He makes an empty-handed, what-can-you-do-against-the-forces-of-Fate gesture.

You may remember that only yesterday Paloma said that she didn’t care if she was replaced as Faith Cross, so you might think this news wouldn’t exactly ruin her week. But you’d be wrong. Yet another classic example of how inconsistent human behaviour can be.

“But can’t they just kill her off?” Though quite a few people consider Paloma to be dimmer than a one-watt bulb, she is more than capable of quick and logical thinking when she needs to be. “Couldn’t she have a car crash in the show?”

“I’m afraid not,” says Jack. “It’s too late to write her out, especially with—” He was about to say “especially with Seth gone”, but thinks better of mentioning Seth Drachman, sensing that that road probably leads directly to hell. “Especially because she’s such a popular character. And, of course, everyone does hope that she’ll recover.”

“Well so do I,” Paloma lies. “But what about me? What am I supposed to do while she’s getting better?”

“That’s the other thing we want to talk to you about,” says Jack.

And he explains how worried he and her parents are about her. How guilty they feel. How their hearts have been wrenched with anxiety by what happened with the police. She’s been working too hard; they’ve expected too much of her. Recent events have shown them how much Paloma needs a break. Needs a change of scene; a change of people. Needs a rest. Needs to have a good time. She’s a teenager, not a robot. “We haven’t been paying attention,” says Jack. “You work so hard that you have no friends. No real time to relax and be a kid. When do you have any fun?”

This is not a hard question to answer. Paloma never has any fun. She never has a good time. That’s all she wanted, hanging out with Micah and his friends. And what happened? She almost went to jail. How totally, epically unfair is that? Everything Jack says is so true – so exactly how Paloma feels – that her face sags with self-pity. Her mouth wobbles as if it’s made of jelly. “That’s right,” she murmurs. “I don’t ever have a good time. I’m practically a slave.”

Jack Silk might think that he’s never heard of any slave who lived in a mansion in Beverly Hills, but what he says is, “Exactly, darling. We couldn’t agree with you more. We’ve been inexcusably insensitive. We forgot that you’re not a machine, you’re a lovely young woman who needs to enjoy herself. That’s why we think you should take this opportunity to do something for yourself. To have a real vacation. A vacation with peers.”

Paloma frowns. “You mean like on a beach?”

“No, sweetheart.” Jack chuckles. “Not piers like on the sea. Peers like kids your own age and background.”

It sounds just a little too good to be true. “I don’t know…” Paloma’s wondering what the catch is. “What about
her
?” She looks over at her mother, the seeping, pus-filled blister on the foot of her life.

“This is just for
you
,” Jack assures her. “Nobody but you. You’ll be completely on your own, free as a bird. Your mom stays here.”

Jack Silk, who, he says, couldn’t care more about Paloma if she were his own flesh and blood, has found a wonderful dude ranch that caters to special teenagers. Girls and boys who can’t just hang out at the mall or go to the school dance like everybody else. It’s completely private. No reporters. No paparazzi. No fans. Just kids like her who need a little space.

Paloma still isn’t sure. Her mother is obviously for this plan, which automatically makes Paloma against it. “I don’t know if I want to go to a ranch.” She squidges up her nose as though she can smell the horses and cattle. “A ranch doesn’t really sound like a whole lot of fun, Jack. Aren’t they dusty and far away from everything?”

Leone jumps in to say that it isn’t as if Paloma’s going to be attacked by an Apache war party, but gets no further than “It’s not like—” before Jack silences her with a look.

“This isn’t that kind of ranch,” says Jack. “It has everything you can imagine or want.” His smile falls on Paloma like a prairie sun. “To tell you the truth, it’s more like a luxury liner than a ranch. You know, sweetheart, one of those massive cruise ships that are the size of a small city? Only, of course, it doesn’t move. And it’s not on water. But some of those boats have to be seen to be believed.”

And he begins to describe not the ranch but the yacht belonging to a billionaire of his acquaintance. Movie theatres. A bowling alley. Gym. Hot tubs. Squash and tennis courts. Pools. Boutique. Salon. Disco hall. Helicopter pad. A yacht Jack may never visit again if his luck doesn’t turn itself around very quickly.

Paloma, still trying to decide how she feels about this vacation, doesn’t realize that Jack is talking about a super-yacht currently docked in Dubai, but thinks he’s describing the dude ranch. Not a horse or cow is mentioned. Now what she smells are gourmet meals and the exotic herbal mixtures used in the spa and the beauty parlour. By the time Jack has finished, Paloma is so excited you’d think she’d been dreaming of this vacation for most of her life.

Until a less happy thought occurs to her.

BOOK: The Truth about My Success
4.33Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
ads

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