“Except Mandi was hardly trailer trash. She grew up in Beverly Hills.”
“Semantics. And you know how people love a good rags-to-riches story. Anyway, it’s not a biographical film. But Mandi would be perfect for the part with her being a talent-show winner. She has a huge following here and internationally. She can actually sing, so we wouldn’t need a voice-over. She’ll be perfect for the part.”
“And what does this have to do with me?”
“Well, the studio’s been struggling these last few years. We haven’t had a box office hit in a long time. A lot have been straight-to-DVD movies. You would know all of this if you paid attention to the business that will one day be yours instead of wasting your time out here, on the beach, playing with your little surfboard.”
“Were you in any of the films?” I ask her.
“A few. Why?”
“That’s why they flopped. You’re getting old, Ava. People don’t want to see you on-screen anymore.”
Her lips press together. So, tightly I’m surprised they haven’t turned blue.
Wow. What she needs from me, she must really need because she didn’t bite.
“The studio needs a big hit, and this film will be it. Your father had a meeting with Mandi and her people the other day, and she’s close to signing on for the film. But she has a condition…”
“Which is?”
“You.”
“Me?” I laugh. “What does she want me for?”
“Well, you know how she’s always had a thing for you...” She lifts a brow.
“You can’t be serious.” I push off the wall. “She wants me? For what?”
“To date, I’m guessing.”
“Why? I’m sure she’s not struggling for dates nowadays.”
Ava shrugs. “I have no clue. But she is fixated on having you. You always have been a beautiful boy, Adam. Maybe it’s that. But whatever it is, this girl wants you.”
“Oh my God.” I drag my hands over her face. “You seriously want to pimp me out to this nutjob singer, so she’ll do a movie for Eric.”
“I wouldn’t call it pimping out.”
“No?” I throw her a look. “What would you call it?”
“Oh, stop whining, Adam. Do you know how many boys your age would kill to be in your position? All I’m asking you to do is fuck a hot famous singer and keep her happy so that she’ll make the movie. Then, once she’s contractually bound to the movie, you can dump her ass and come back here to your little trailer-trash girlfriend. I don’t see the problem in that.”
“The fact that you don’t see a problem is the problem in itself. You do know that Mandi is sixteen, right? You’re basically asking me to fuck a minor—you know, commit a felony, statutory rape.” I give a humorless laugh. I should be surprised, but I’m not.
“So, don’t fuck her. Just keep her happy until she signs the contract.”
I stare at her for a long moment, wondering how this woman is actually my mother, how I grew inside her for nine months, and how I somehow managed to come out normal—well, as normal as I can be after growing up with this fucking monster.
“Are you seriously asking me to do this?”
She gives me a look, telling me that she is.
“You’re insane. I’m not doing it, Ava. No fucking way.” I turn from her, walking toward the kitchen.
I need a drink. And there is alcohol here. I lied before. She just looked in the wrong place.
“I think you’re forgetting your place in this family,” she snaps, cold and low.
I whirl on her. “I think you’ve forgotten yours!” The words burst from me.
Her eyes go wide.
I never yell at Ava like this, and I never tell her no. I just do what she asks to make my life easier.
But enough is fucking enough.