“She said leave her alone,” Garrick commanded, trying to shoulder his way through the vultures, taking photo after photo. I fought tears as the cameras loomed closer.
“So you are dating?”
“You’re awfully protective of her, Garrick. Why is that?”
“He doesn’t need to protect me!” I snapped, the copious amounts of alcohol talking for me. “No. We’re not together. That’s all rumors. My career will always come first. And it’s not your business! We’re just friends. Now, go away!”
Only when I felt Garrick staring at me did I realize how what I had just said must have felt for him to hear. Unable to meet his eyes, my courageousness turned to cowardice, I searched for an opening to dash away and hide.
Then, like magic, the sea parted… and in barged…
My father.
The magic morphed into a nightmare.
He wore a terrifyingly blank expression as flat ironed as his suit in spite of the glacial fire in his eyes. He gave me a once-over, taking note of my attire and the way I clutched the flaps of Garrick’s coat closed around me. They had come open when I tripped, but I had managed to secure them again. Surely, someone had snapped a picture. Stephanie’s clothes were about to be famous.
His silence, like a thunderhead before the hurricane, or the eye of the storm itself, conveyed an unmistakable message—
I was in so much trouble.
What I had experienced of my father’s wrath thus far would be nothing in comparison to what lurked on the near horizon.
“Dad,” I choked, feeling the color bleed out of my face. New questions erupted from our onlookers. For the life of me, I couldn’t make any sense of them.
Surging forward, he seized me by the arm and practically dragged me out of the frenzy and I dragged Garrick behind us, refusing to let him go and leave him to the camera toting sharks. Dad, considerably bigger built than any of the microphone wielding army, crassly knocked several of them out of the way. The rest parted ways for him, some reeling back to do so, and others bowled over in their haste. Dad yanked us into Nativo Lodge, ushered in by the four security guards who had just amassed at the entrance.
“Incompetent idiots!” he roared. “Don’t you have protocol to follow in situations like this! Good God, man!”
“We sincerely apologize, sir,” said the oldest of the four through his mustache. “A commotion had drawn our staff out back—”
“A distraction you mean!” Dad sneered. “Make yourselves useful now and clear those morons out! My daughter could have been hurt! And I would have sued you for every penny you own!”
The guards scurried away just as we turned the corner, safely out of camera range. Then, Dad rounded on Garrick. “And
you
,” he growled, appearing more akin to a bear than a man at the moment. “How dare you corrupt my angel? You’re never to see my daughter again!”
“Sir, if I could explain—” Garrick started.
Panic climbed my spine as I realized he was going to try to hold his ground in a battle I didn’t think he could win.
“Explain?” Dad echoed mockingly.
“It’s fine. He’s right. It’s fine,” I said quickly, moving to step between them, accidentally slurring the last sentence. I gulped.
“Is that tobacco I smell?” Dad locked eyes on me like lasers. “Have you been
smoking? And
drinking?” he hissed. In my haste to be the buffer, I had forgotten to keep the coat closed, so Dad could see the full picture of me in Stephanie’s little shorts and tee while it hung open.
“What are you wearing, Gwendolyn? Where have you been?”
“I was—” I stammered, feeling smaller by the second. “We were at a friend’s house.”
“I thought you were at the mandatory cast party,” he countered, glowering down at me.
“We were. I was,” I promised, fighting not to stutter in the shadow of his ire. “But after that, we went to hang out with some other friends and I was extremely overdressed. They gave me some extra clothes so that I could be comfortable.”
“After you, in your drunkenness took the other ones off, no doubt! I knew this would happen. You’re still an irresponsible little girl. You’re not ready for this career or the pressure of something like
Straightlaced
!” My father’s fists clenched, his knuckles whitening, and I instinctively braced myself.
“Don’t touch her,” Garrick commanded. Laying his hand on my shoulder, Garrick ushered me out of the way and took my place. Paralyzed by my father’s last sentence, I could only gawk.
“Out of the way, Maze. How I discipline my daughter is none of your business.”
“With all due respect sir, which I infer isn’t much, your daughter is an adult. A very smart, capable, wonderful person. I think it’ll be best for everyone if you leave.”
Dad countered with a shove. Garrick faltered slightly, but managed to hold his ground and dig his heels in. A brutal flashback of Sean and my father surged into my memory. This could turn ugly so fast.
No, no, no, no!
Throat dry as a California sidewalk, my heart dropped into my gut. It felt as though my skin had been overrun by a horde of ants, my hands too stiff and clammy to brush them off.
My father leered, growing more livid by the second. The muscles in his arms coiled, rallying for action underneath his suit. He lifted his massive hands, planted them on Garrick’s chest and shoved again—hard.
Garrick staggered backward.
Dad advanced. “How dare you speak to me this way, you low-life, half-witted ingrate! You think because you stand in front of a camera and talk a good game that you can stand up to me? You’re nothing but a scoundrel. My daughter is far too good for the likes of you! Well… on
most
occasions,” he scoffed, shooting me a pointedly poisonous look of disapproval.
“She’s far too good for me
all
the time,” Garrick corrected.
My heart hammered. I lost feeling in my knees. Half convinced I would faint at any moment, I locked them.
“But you’re making a scene,” Garrick accused. “And if you haven’t noticed, Gwen is shaking. This isn’t the place to do this.”
Dad glanced at me again. I felt like I was going to vomit.
“Good, prudent children fear their fathers, boy,” Dad snarled. “If you need me to teach you a lesson, and instill that sense in you, then I’ll gladly do so.” His features, sharpened by the whetstone of rage, seemed to have been cut from marble. Like a mountain, he would never yield. “If you had any brains in that empty head of yours, you’d follow her example.”
My common sense, though clouded, slowly came back. I knew Garrick had had a lot to drink—more than I had, most likely. And even in spite of the differences in our tolerance levels, he couldn't he completely unaffected. Plus, when he stepped in, I noticed that Garrick's demeanor was missing the adorable element he had shown that night he stood outside my door and caught me in my lingerie. Now, he just looked primed for battle. I had to stop them!
“Maybe you’re right, Mr. Vickers. But that’s not my experience. Not like this,” Garrick declared, inclining his chin to demonstrate his bravado. “Good fathers don’t demand fear from their children. Gwen has done nothing wrong. She has been scared enough tonight. Your approval is all she talks about. It’s all she strives for. You know, when you arrived on set earlier, she didn’t even—”
“That’s enough, Garrick,” I forced out, unable to look at him. Any moment, I knew this could turn into a physical altercation. And I couldn’t bear the thought of my lover fighting my father. If my dad beat Garrick the way he had Sean all those years ago, the press would eat Garrick alive. He was an action hero. That kind of humiliation would taint his image. I had to remove Garrick from the line of fire, and I could think of only one way to accomplish that. “He’s right.”
“Of course I am!” Dad growled. Clamping one hand around my arm, he jerked me away from Garrick and positioned himself between us.
“What?” Garrick stammered.
I swayed slightly, aching all over. “We can’t be together, Garrick. I’ve screwed up again. But it’s the last time it’s going to happen.”
“Gwen!” Garrick exclaimed, daring a step closer.
I tensed.
“Stop this,” Garrick begged. “Listen to me.”
“Shut up, boy!” Dad gnashed back.
“Don’t do this to yourself!” Garrick pleaded, ignoring my father. “Please. I meant to tell you. I started reading
Straightlaced
.
We can be that, Gwen. I want that with you.”
“You are on dangerous ground, Maze. You will not entertain this nonsense, Gwendolyn!”
“This isn’t your fault,” Garrick insisted, trying to snatch my attention from the floor. “Don’t you dare shut me out after everything! We’ve come so far! Let me help, dammit! I’m falling in love with you.”
The words pierced through me, and I had to stifle my instinctive cry of pain. Of longing. I wanted to throw myself into his arms. Beg him never to let me go. But one look at my father told me that Garrick would never be able to shelter me the way I wanted him to—the way I
needed
him to in order for us to have a chance at withstanding my father’s wrath, the press, the pressures of the business, all the girls, all the Rachels that would try to separate us… God the list was endless.
I’d thought love could overcome all obstacles, but with the litany of things standing in our way, I no longer believed it.
Garrick and I had switched places. He believed in the power of love. I no longer did.
After a shaky inhale, I licked my parched lips, and broke my own heart with a lie.
“I’m sorry, Garrick. I don’t want this. I don’t want you.”
Garrick staggered backward as though I had physically struck him. “Maybe I was wrong about you,” he whispered, his expression as lax and hopeless as a dead man. “You’re not even speaking for yourself. It’s like you’re a completely different person. Maybe you never actually wanted me. Maybe we
are
incompatible. Because you bet your ass I wouldn’t stand here and take this from anyone. I fought for you. I’d fight for you again. But how the hell am I supposed to win if you’re fighting against me too?”
“Just go,” I choked out tearfully. “Please.”
And just like that, Garrick turned and walked down the hall. I caught a glimpse of his devastated expression as the elevator doors closed.
My father gave his grunt of approval and released my arm. I could feel bruises in the shape of his large hand purpling under Garrick’s jacket like spring blossoms.
It wasn’t lost on me that only hours before, I’d assured Garrick that my father would never physically hurt me. Had I ever really believed that? Or had I just been too much of a coward to admit the possibility?
Giving a stiff tug to the hem of his coat, he straightened his appearance.
“As pleased as I am with the sensible choice you just made, dear, you’ve not only jeopardized your own reputation this evening, but mine as well. And I can’t let it go unpunished. You know I love you. You know I want what’s best for you. That boy is trouble. You’re not to see him again. This project is over. You’re not ready.”
A wave of hot, fresh tears sprang to my eyes. Gripped by the dilemma of fight or flight, a hidden strength, fueled by liquid courage, jumped out of my mouth. “I am perfectly responsible!” I exclaimed, balling up my hands. “I’m twenty-two years old, and perfectly
legally
allowed to have drinks too! And stay out late! And play as hard as I work! We took a cab home. We didn’t drive. I didn’t embarrass myself outside, or say anything incriminating! I lied to those people and hurt someone I cared about for
you
! I’ve made you proud my whole life! I’ve tried my hardest every moment of every day!”
“Clearly, you’re not trying hard enough. Look at the mess you’ve created for yourself, and for me! Getting out of a cab at three thirty in the morning, drunk and dressed for god knows what sort of activity! It’s disgraceful.”
“I have been a picture of grace since the time I could apply my own makeup!” I screamed.
Dad’s expression turned wry and impassive. “Let’s not get ahead of ourselves, dear. You’ve been poised at best. There will always be room for improvement.”
The tears spilled over, scalding my cheeks with shame and bitterness. “Tonight was a night to celebrate me! And my accomplishments as an actress! And the accomplishments of the cast as a unit!”
“Yes, and look how you’ve squandered it. I’m sure we’ll all be celebrating tomorrow when you wind up on the front page of
the National Enquirer
. I am so glad that sweet friend of yours called. Who knows what might have happened if I hadn’t arrived when I did.” He adjusted his tie.
“Sweet friend?” I repeated, spitting the words out like venom.
“Yes. That lovely Rachel girl. What an angel. She phoned me about half an hour ago to tip me off about the paparazzi, and your scandalous arrival.”
I balked, momentarily forgetting I’d been on the verge of throwing a very public tantrum. All of my focus narrowed to one distinctly despicable individual. I wanted to kill Rachel, a sensation I had never before experienced. I wanted to wrap my hands around her skinny little neck and wring it more than anything. This was her fault. She must have tipped the reporters off. Either she had a connection at the party we hit, or she had tailed us from the Convention Center.