His mom Risa and my mom Adele had grown up the same way. Same town. Same schools. But from opposite ends of all of it. Risa finished college, became a Pettyfer wife, had a son. Adele insisted on chasing her dreams in Hollywood and came back six months later with a rounded belly.
She knew all about the casting couch and accepted it as part of the system. What she didn't know until it was too late was that some couches were just that. Couches. She never got over that, and the whole town didn't make it any easier for her to forget. I was just twenty when she died from a drug overdose, but deep in my heart, I've always thought it was the weight of all her shattered dreams that robbed her of life.
This is a cruel world.
I've known that since I was born.
But what I never really had to confront was how terrifying it could also be...
Like now.
Because one moment I'm rolling the housekeeping cart in the stock room, and then the next moment, Jerry is charging inside, and God, dear God—
I can't remember the last time I prayed like this.
While crying out for help, struggling with all my might, grabbing anything I can to hit him—
Please.
Please.
Please help me.
Jerry still manages to corner me, and I start to sob as he shoves me against the wall.
No, no, no, this can't be, this can't, this—
And then nothing.
Chapter Nine
"ALL GOOD," DR. THURMANsays with a smile as he hands us the latest scans and test results. "Another week of rest is recommended, but other than that, she's good to go."
My mother looks at me immediately upon hearing this. She's still pale under her makeup, and there's a butterfly bandage at her hairline she keeps trying to cover with her fringe.
"Did you hear that, Chase? I'm healthy and fit as a fiddle."
"That's not what he says at all," I say dryly.
"But you know it means the same thing." Ruth looks at her doctor. "Right, Dr. Thurman?"
She doesn't wait for an answer. She's already leapt to the next topic, and of course it has to do with her next charity project.
"I already have my next tournament all planned out," she tells me as we get into the backseat of the limo.
"Just be sure you work behind the scenes."
"Oh, what a worrywart you are."
Chimney, who's been driving for my family for over ten years now, takes his place behind the wheel while my mother huffs and puffs. Chimney is ex-military. Doesn't speak much. When he does, it's like hearing thunder rumble. He's also the one who told me about Ruth's accident. The only one my mother can't gently bully into keeping secrets from me.
"Can you keep an eye on my mother, Chimney? Let me know if she does anything crazy?"
"Of course, sir."
Ruth makes a face. "Why must you always take this boy's side, Chimney? You never have pity on a poor old lady like me."
I nearly snort at that.