Kade. My stepbrother, who I had tried so hard to make a good relationship with. I mean, it wasn’t his fault that he was Derek Prescott’s only son. In high school, I’d always looked up to Kade as he studied his way through USC and then Stanford, before going up to Portland and starting his own law office.
There was only one problem. In public, at least when Derek or my mother were around, he was polite, charming, and really very friendly. But as soon as it was the two of us, he would mercilessly taunt me. When I showed him one of my test shots from a new photographer I had been working with, he’d said I looked like a zombie. When I was interviewed by a magazine, he’d made fun of some of my answers, saying I was the epitome of a Valley Girl blonde. After I’d done one, and it was the only, photo shoot with Khloe K, he was so brutal with his taunts and jibes that I’d thrown myself into my pillow crying after he left.
I didn’t even know why, because I was never mean or snippy with him. I honestly tried to be nice, but for some reason he kept pushing me away. I’d almost given up on him, which made me kind of sad. I didn’t want to have nothing good come out of my mother’s marriage to Derek Prescott.
After a moment of silence, I finally replied. “I see. Well, I hope he has some good stories about life in Portland. I haven’t had a chance to go up there yet.”
“I know, it’s been a long time for me too. Okay, honey, thank you so much for agreeing to come over to the house and give up your weekend. I know you must have a busy social schedule and everything, I really appreciate it. Love you.”
I smiled despite myself. “Talk to you later, Mom.”
* * *
Friday morning, I felt ready to put the past behind me. I had a new shoot going, and was heading over to have a hopefully relaxing weekend afterwards. If anything, even if I couldn’t stand either my mother or her husband, the Prescott mansion was more than capable of giving a girl a great place to relax. In addition to four-poster beds and mattresses that were made for a queen, there was a half-Olympic-sized pool and a full-sized Jacuzzi for relaxing. I had to admit, the few years I lived at the Prescott home before I turned eighteen were surreal. Since moving out on my own, supposedly because of the business of my modeling career, I’d come to miss it.
Walking into the studio where the shoot was supposed to take place, my heart froze when I saw the camera equipment that had been set up. Every photographer has a certain way they like to set things up, a tendency to favor certain types of equipment. Looking at the setup, I knew, even before he walked out of the back room, that Sydney was shooting the series.
“Sydney,” I said when he came out. He looked at me and smiled, like he hadn’t torn my heart out and crushed it just a few weeks prior. “When did you get this assignment? My agent didn’t say anything.”
“Oh, it was last minute, just yesterday, in fact,” he replied, coming closer. “You know, Alix, I’ve really missed you.”
“Guess you should’ve thought of that before you had what’s-her-name on her knees,” I replied, shuddering at the way he looked at me. “Listen, I’m not going to walk out, but realize this. This is the last time you and I work together. I don’t care if it costs me some shoots, but I’m telling my agent after today that you and I are not to work together again.”
“Alix, come on. I forgive you for the way you acted at the party, you know,” Sydney said. “The least you can do is get over yourself and come back to me.”
I stared at him, unable, or perhaps just too shocked, to speak. Finally I turned and went into the wardrobe area before I hit him. I nearly threw my bag into my chair, not even noticing that Karla was already in her chair, getting ready.
“G’day luv,” she said in her thick Aussie accent. “I see you’re rarin’ to go.”
“Hey, Karla,” I replied. “Listen, no offense today, but just, I’m in like a really bad mood, okay? So while I normally appreciate the little jokes and humorous insights you make, not today, please?”
“What’s going on?” Karla asked, her accent cutting by a third. I had always suspected she played up her Aussieness to have a unique advantage. I know it helped her on her Instagram account, where she had nearly half a million followers. The girl made a lot of money off that account, too. “I thought you’d be excited to work with your boyfriend for a shoot like this.”
“Ex-boyfriend,” I replied shortly. “Didn’t the word get out?”
Karla shook her head. “I’ve been back home until this past Tuesday, doing some shoots for companies and sponsors in Sydney and Adelaide. What happened?”
“He did,” I replied simply. “I don’t really want to talk about it right now though, okay?”