One Day His (The Someday Series Book 2) Page 10

  “You have a daughter. Now, I know you’re a private person, so not a whole lot of people know about her, but I’ve known this kid since she was a baby, practically. She’s here tonight. Cat, where are you?”

  Um…would “Hiding underneath my seat” be a viable response?

  Nope. Probably not.

  On autopilot I stood and gave the crowd and the cameras a little wave and a smile, praying that it wouldn’t go any further.

  My prayers weren’t answered.

  “Cat, why don’t you come on up here for a second? Yeah, that’s right. Come join us on the couch!”

  No. No. No. This can’t be happening!

  The audience erupted in encouraging applause in what I was sure was the soundtrack to my demise.

  Knowing that I didn’t have a choice, with every eye and camera focused on me, my knees started shaking uncontrollably and I prayed that they wouldn’t buckle beneath me as I forced myself to put one foot in front of the other and make my way to the stage. I prayed that this prayer would be answered more effectively than the one before it.

  My hands were trembling. In fact, my entire body was trembling like a leaf. If I would have had the calm foresight to see the situation clearly, I could have reminded myself to just relax, because that would have helped me perform better in the situation. Of course, if I were the kind of person who had calm foresight under those circumstances, I probably wouldn’t have needed to remind myself to relax in the first place.

  Even though I could feel the thought draining away my ability to think clearly in a fog of stress and fear, the words running through my head in a loop as I approached the couch were, She’s going to blame me. She’s going to think I arranged this. She’s going to blame me. She’s going to think I arranged this. She’s going to blame me. She’s going to think I arranged this.

  By the time I actually planted my ass on that couch, I was, truly, a total basket case mess behind the smile that was plastered on my face.

  As I was seated, Byron turned to me and said, faux concern written all over his face, “Now, Cat, where were you when you got the news that your mom had been in an accident?”

  I swallowed around the lump in my throat. “College,” I answered shakily.

  There was dead silence in the room.

  Byron chuckled uncomfortably. “Come on, now, Cat. Give the folks a little more.”

  My cheeks burned. Oh, God. Just say something. Just. Say. Something. “I…uh…I was…um…”

  Byron’s laughter turned even more uncomfortable. “Wow, Cat, we’re not asking about state secrets. Makes me wonder what you were doing. Know what I mean?”

  The audience exploded with laughter, and I stared down at my hands which were folded on my lap. I tried desperately to keep my breathing even, but it was coming in shallow pants. I could tell from the tone of the collective laughter that they were definitely laughing at me and not with me, and that made me tense up even further.

  My efforts were fruitless as my breathing remained short and hitchy, and I felt tears threatening. It was all I could do to the resist the urge to run off the stage crying hysterically. Aside from the fact that I knew that Jerry would abso-freaking-lutely lose his shit if I did that, I was also held back by the memory of my mother’s voice in the therapy session, mocking me. I heard her chanting, “Poor, poor pitiful Cat,” over and over in my head. I heard it again and again until it was actually louder than the laughter from the audience.

  When it died down, I tried to salvage my mistake. “No, it wasn’t like… I mean, I was just…” I stammered.

  Why can’t I just speak?

  Why am I so awkward?

  What is wrong with me?

  Byron smiled cruelly. He had been all concern when he thought that the sympathy-for-the-poor-daughter-who-must-have-been-so-worried-about-her-mother card was the way to go, but now that I had become a liability, he was going to use the cutting power of his wit to throw me under the bus. I was sure his thinking was, Hey, if only one of us can come out of this interview looking good, it is sure as hell is going to be me.

  “What’s the matter, Cat? Got your own tongue?”

  The audience roared as if that were the funniest joke they’d ever heard. I suppose it was clever. At least it had been the first thousand or so times I’d heard it in various forms. To be honest, it was wearing a little thin by now.

  My mother put her arm around me. I knew that, to people watching, it would appear supportive, but they couldn’t see the way she was fiercely digging her fingernails into my flesh. “Oh, Byron, let’s not torture poor Cat anymore. She’s shy.”

  Byron laughed. “Well, it looks like a good time to take a break. When we come back, since this is a talk show and everything, we’ll try having a guest who actually talks!”

  The audience laughed, and Byron played into it.

  “I know, right!?” he shouted over their laughter. “Novel concept!”

  I wanted to die. I wanted to shrink into the tiniest ball imaginable so that I would be invisible. I wanted to be back in Arcata with people who didn’t humiliate me for fun and actively encourage large crowds of people to laugh at me while I was so embarrassed that I couldn’t even breathe. Although, who knew what my life would be after this aired on national television.

  Byron gestured at the band to play the show out into commercial, and when the red light went off, Byron turned angrily to my mother. “What the fuck, Angelica?”

  “Maybe if you didn’t go off script,” she hissed.

  “Maybe if your daughter wasn’t a retard,” he shot back. He threw his pen down on the desk, stood up, and stormed away.

  “That’s an insult to retards,” my mother muttered.

  Did I mention that these two used to sleep together?

  “It’s not okay to use that word,” I protested, but neither of them acknowledged me.

  Whatever. At least I’d said it. My conscience was as clear as I could get it. I wouldn’t be nominated for activist of the year or anything, but at least I’d made the statement.

  I got up and headed back into the audience, wishing I could just go back to the green room, but I knew I was expected to go back to my seat and paste on my “good sport” face in case Byron wanted to do a callback joke about me later and the camera cut to me.

  The rest of the show passed in a blur. Honestly, I wasn’t even sure if he did mention me during the last part of the taping. I was numb. The only part I was aware of was when it was finally (thank you God and all that is holy!) over and done with.

  Chapter 13

  Jace

  Cat piled into the limo ahead of me and scooted over to the far end of the bench seat before staring pensively out the window. I settled in next to her and put my hand on her knee.

  “You okay, baby?”

  She answered with a quick negative shake of the head. I could see there were tears in her eyes. “I messed up,” she whispered.

  “It wasn’t your fault and it wasn’t…that…bad,” I said, aiming for reassuring but landing on ambivalent. At least the statement did tease just the tiniest smile from the corners of her mouth. “That guy was a total asshole and he’s lucky I promised you what I did. Otherwise, he wouldn’t be walking around with that smug, arrogant look on his face. He wouldn’t be walking around at all.”

  I had never wanted to beat the shit out of anyone as much as that cocky host. It had taken every ounce of self-control not to knock that smirk off his face when he’d walked by us in the hall as we’d left the show. I knew it wouldn’t have made anything better. I knew it would have just upset Cat. Which was the only reason I hadn’t laid that motherfucker on his ass.

  Cat seemed nervous as she leaned forward a little and peeked out at her mother, who was still standing just outside the limo door. Angelica was putting on a good show, waving for the paparazzi while signing a few autographs. That woman was a piece of work. She was all smiles and graciousness as she charmed, flirted, and amped up her charisma to epic levels in
front of the public. But behind closed doors, she was mean, cruel, and ruthless to her own daughter. It killed me to see Cat treated like that.

  Cat watched her for a moment and then collapsed back on the seat, shuddering. “She’s gonna flip out on me,” she said miserably.

  I looked back out at Angelica, who seemed so happy in her interactions at that moment. “If she does, I’m right here, Cat. I won’t let he—”

  “No, Jace! Please.” Cat’s gripped my tightly as her eyes grew wide. “Please, just don’t say anything. It won’t help and I can take it. Really.”

  So many things were running through my mind. How could I protect Cat if she tied my hands? How could I take care of her if all I could do was sit by quietly keeping my mouth shut? What kind of man does nothing when the woman he loves is being hurt, emotionally or physically?

  Even though I didn’t have the answers to any of those questions, I did know one thing: I never wanted my actions to hurt Cat. So, although it went against every instinct, every fiber of my being that was screaming to protect Cat, I heard myself saying through clenched teeth, “I’ll try.”

  It was the most I could promise her.

  A look of relief flashed in Cat’s beautiful eyes as she slumped back against the seat. I brushed her hair back from her face, feeling utterly helpless. I didn’t know what to say. This was a side of Cat I had never seen before. She was completely defeated and small, and I had no idea how to fix this, how to build her back up again.

  Before I got a chance to come up with a plan, bright flashes of light lit up the darkened limo as Jerry bundled Angelica into the car then slid in himself. The door closed and the car slid away from the frantic paparazzi. I watched as Angelica’s face underwent the most incredible transformation from happy and carefree to completely rage-filled, like a curtain had been pulled over it.

  Holy shit!

  I half-expected her head to spin around or for her to spew pea soup all over the car.

  “That was a major fuck-up,” Jerry spat.

  “Or, since my dear daughter is so concerned about everyone’s language, maybe we should say a major dick-up,” Angelica glared.

  Cat sat quietly, gazing down at her hands resting on her lap. I placed my arm across her and pulled her closer to me. I knew that my arm was no protection from the verbal bloodbath I was pretty sure we were about to be subjected to, but it was all I could do under the restrictions I’d agreed to for Cat’s sake.

  My eyes searched Cat’s face to see if she was scared, about to cry, or even overwhelmed by the tension building like a pressure cooker in this car. I was prepared for any of those reactions, but what I saw was worse than anything I could have anticipated. She just looked dead behind the eyes.

  “God, I can’t believe you’re so stupid. Do you realize how much worse you have made things for me? Now everyone’s going to know that my daughter is a stupid, ugly waste of space who can’t string three words together or form a coherent thought. You’re such a dumb bitch! You are such an embarrassment. I wish you’d never been born,” Angelica raged.

  All my life I’d taken whatever shit my foster parents, or the case workers that were assigned to me, had dished out. Then, in the military I’d remained quiet when I’d been berated and chastised in boot camp. I knew I could take it, hell I might have even deserved it. But, Cat didn’t. Hearing her own mother say those cruel words to her snapped something inside of me, my blood was boiling and I felt like a volcano that had been dormant and was about to explode. I couldn’t hold myself back.

  “That’s enough,” my tone deadly calm as I turned and stared down the two assholes who were lucky they had Cat to protect them.

  Angelica narrowed her gaze in what felt like a challenge, looking at me as if I were nothing more than a cockroach to be stepped on. “No, it’s not. Nothing has been enough since the day that thing”—she motioned to Cat—“was born. God! The second I saw her ugly face, I knew she wasn’t enough. I should have aborted her on the spot. I would have if it would have been legal.”

  What the fuck? Obviously, I had zero experience with mothers, but I knew that this was not how they were supposed to talk.

  “What the fuck is wrong with you? You crazy bi—”

  “Jace.” Cat’s small, quiet voice interrupted my rant. My pulse was racing and I had so much adrenaline running through me that I could feel myself shaking. I was so mad that I could barely think straight. “Jace, please.” Cat’s plea drew me out of my rage and I turned to find her looking like the poster child of cool, calm, and collected complete with a small smile on her perfect face. “Please don’t,” she said in a tiny voice, her large doe eyes begging me to listen. “I love you for trying, but it’s not worth it.”

  I searched her gaze and didn’t like what I saw. Under the blank, placid surface, she looked scared, sad, devastated.

  I shook my head in frustration. This was so fucked up. I knew that I should do what Cat wanted and shut the fuck up. That would be the right thing to do. Unfortunately, I had a habit of doing the wrong thing. And no matter how badly I didn’t want to upset Cat, I couldn’t sit back and say nothing.

  Inhaling deeply through my nose I shifted my attention back to Angelica and Jerry and leaned forward, resting my elbows on my knees. When I did, they both sat farther back in their seats.

  I could feel hot rage simmering just under the surface. My tone was low and cold as I spoke. “I get that you guys are angry. And I get that Cat’s your daughter and you feel like that gives you the right to speak to her how you want. I have no idea why you think it’s okay to say something so vile and cruel to your own daughter, but that’s not the point. The point is you’ve said whatever you want and put all your fucked-up shit on Cat for eighteen years, but that time is over. You will not speak to her that way again. Ever. I don’t give a shit who you are, or if she’s your daughter or not. No one is going to talk to Cat like that.”

  My heart pounded loudly in my chest and my hands were actually shaking with suppressed fury. Not from fear—I wanted one of them to say something, anything, to give me a reason to knock Jerry’s fucking teeth out. I wouldn’t hit a woman, but I would beat the shit out of any man who stood up for a woman I did want to hit. I was primed for a fight; I wanted one. Every day that we stayed here, I felt the darkness in me growing stronger and stronger. My jaw ticked as my stare shot between Jerry and Angelica, who each appeared equal parts shocked and scared.

  I purposely didn’t look over at Cat. She’d been trying to smooth things over and keep me from getting into a full-blown confrontation since we’d gotten here. I knew that this wasn’t what she’d wanted to happen. But right now, I didn’t care. All I cared about was making sure that these two pieces of shit knew how serious I was. It wasn’t like I’d given in to the anger and the rage the way I’d wanted to. I hadn’t let myself cross that line, but I kept feeling myself getting closer and closer to it. I couldn’t let that happen. Not again.

  Just thinking about it made me feel hollow inside. Empty. I knew that I needed to tell Cat about my past. I’d skimmed the surface, but there were major details I’d left out, and she deserved to know. It just seemed like shit kept getting piled on top of us that we had to shovel our way out of, and the few times that things had been smooth sailing, I selfishly hadn’t wanted to rock the boat. I would ask—beg, even—for Cat to forgive me later, make her understand that I hadn’t had a choice.

  Then something happened that told me that I might not have to grovel after all. I felt Cat’s thin arms snake around my waist, holding on tight, and her head snuggle into the crook of my neck. I slipped my arms around her as well and kissed the top of her head but kept my eyes trained on Angelica and Jerry.

  We rode that way, the four of us, in tense silence the whole forty-five minutes back to Malibu.

  Chapter 14

  Cat

  Trust only

  Me

  Trusting only

  Self

  Trusting nobody

&nbs
p; All of those mean pretty much the same

  Push/shove

  When those come together

  There is only one

  Only me

  That I can count on

  One person who will protect me

  Whom I can depend on without fail

  Where the rubber meets the road

  When the stakes are at their highest point

  It’s just me

  Only me

  And that’s fine

  Not really, but I make it be

  No other choice

  Cat Nichols, Age 14

  The moment the front door opened, my mother and Jerry immediately moved into the office. Probably working on damage control or a press release for the show that would be airing anytime now. Or trying to figure out a way to destroy Jace after what he’d just done in the limousine.

  I walked up the stairs barely even feeling my legs beneath me. Jace followed behind me. I could still feel the rage radiating off his body.

  So many feelings that I had no idea how to process were battling for my full attention. Embarrassment. Fear. Love. Fear. Rejection. Fear. Anger. Fear. Gratitude. Fear.

  Okay, so fear was definitely winning in the war on most pressing emotion.

  I wasn’t scared for myself. I was scared, petrified, for Jace. My mother had no qualms about destroying someone’s life when she considered them an enemy. And she had friends in powerful places. With the snap of her fingers, people’s lives crumbled.

  I’d seen it happen before—several times. Whether it was an ingénue she felt was getting too much attention, a fellow actress who’d gotten a role she wanted, a man who she felt had done her wrong. She’d systematically ruined person after person. She had no morals. No remorse. No soul.