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go for an evening lesson before Eric

returned with pizza.

But if I thought the grief over my

relationship with Cooper ended with

Dickson, I quickly found out I was

mistaken.

The next afternoon Jessica, who hadn’t

spoken to me since before my birthday,

called to let me know that A, she thought

Cooper was “a delicious piece of

Australian goodness” and B, she was

calling dibs on him once I was through.

I told her I was busy and that I’d call

her back to avoid telling her to fuck off.

At the end of the week just when

Dickson had stopped looking at me like he

thought I’d crumble apart at any moment

and Kevin had stopped leaving voicemails

about tabloid damage control, I returned

home after a long day of filming to find an

Escalade with a Hertz rental sticker on the

rear window parked in my driveway. I

steadied myself before I climbed out of

the Kia, because I already knew who was

on the other side of the tinted windows.

Cadillac’s are my mother’s weakness.

I held my breath as she got out of the

SUV and walked toward me on tall heels

that hoisted her up to my height. Fun-sized

was what my dad had always called her

but there was nothing fun about her

expression right now. Even though she

was smiling I felt like she’d swallow me

whole at any moment. When Mom stopped

in front of me, she pulled me to her,

hugging me tight, and I coughed,

suffocated by the scent of her strong

perfume.

“I’ve missed you, Willow,” she said,

sighing.

I lifted my arms from my side and

awkwardly returned her embrace. When

she pulled back, she held my shoulders

and examined me closely. I studied her

too. With her dark, highlighted hair,

wrinkle-free skin, and toned arms thanks

to the scary trainer she worked with four

times a week, my mom hadn’t changed a

bit.

“Miller,” I said in a distant voice as I

heard his heavy footsteps coming nearer,

“this is Tiff . . . my mother.”

Miller flicked his hand in an

uncomfortable wave and gave me a

pitying look. “I’m just going to—” He

pointed up at the apartment over the

garage, and I lifted my chin, silently

praying he’d insist that he needed to stay

with me instead.

“I’ll call you if I need you,” I said.

As soon as Mom and I stepped inside

of my rental house, she decided to insult

him. “Well, he did a great job escorting us

in to make sure there wasn’t someone

who’d broken in to—”

“Don’t start,” I snapped. I counted to

twenty and then motioned to the couch.

She wobbled over to it, smoothing her

knee-length skirt as she sat. “Do you want

anything?”

Like to tell me why the hell you’re

here.

But in my heart I already knew, so

when she shook her head, I slid down

numbly on the edge of the recliner and

faced her with my palms rested on my

knees.

She started talking, reciting the same

spiel addicts’ families used on that

intervention TV show. “Your dad and I

are worried about you, Willow,” she said.

This wasn’t the first time she’d said as

much to me, but dammit, this time I hadn’t

done anything to deserve to hear it.

“You shouldn’t be,” I said calmly.

Mom’s back stiffened and she

released a heavy sigh. “Every time we

open an entertainment article online your

face is there with that actress’s son.”

I sucked in a hiss through my teeth.

Had she really just said that? Curling my

lips into a sneer, I said, “In case you

haven’t noticed it, I’m an actress too. And

if it bothers you so much, don’t read trashy

ass gossip magazines.”

“Don’t you think you should be

focusing on your career instead of

relationships right now? Do you want

what happened the last time to happen all

over again?”

I dragged my hand down my face,

frustrated. “You are unbelievable. I
am

working and focusing on my career but

that’s not the only thing in my life. You

can’t expect me not to date or have”—I

cringed before I said the next word—“sex

or fall in love and—”

Mom’s green eyes widened. “You

don’t love him, Willow.” She shook her

head slowly to each side, as if doing so

would convince me that she was right.

“How can you tell me what I care

about and love? You and dad have

avoided me like the plague since I fucked

up.”

Mom winced but effortlessly slid on

her poker face again. “We offered to fly

out here for the fourth of July,” she

reminded me.

“And I didn’t want you to because I

was fine and happy. I’m still happy. Why

would I want you here just so you can tell

me what I’m doing wrong every five

minutes?”

She threw her hands up in the air and

released a sound of frustration from the

back of her throat. “You would turn this

around on me and your dad, wouldn’t you?

You’re the one who’s unbelievable.”

I stood up, pacing the length of the

small living room frantically as I spoke.

“If you want to play the blame game, here

we go: Mom, what you did to me when I

needed you, sending me away so that

nobody had to find out about my little

problem, that was fucked up.” Mom began

to say something but then pressed her lips

together into a thin, colorless line.

I wished I had the energy to scream at

her, to cry.

The corners of Mom’s mouth

tightened. “You left out that you waited

several months to tell me and your dad.”

I dragged my hands through my hair.

“God, Mom. Seriously?”

She took a deep breath and then

another. “Willow, I’m sorry for hurting

you. I’m sorry for what happened, but

please don’t ruin yourself again over a

boy you barely know.”

I sat back down on the recliner, this

time relaxing all the way back. “I’m not

ruining myself,” I said, emphasizing each

word in a dangerous tone.

“I’m planning on staying at the Four

Seasons so I can—”

I knew exactly where this was going,

and I also realized that I needed to end it

right now.

“Mom, I don’t want you here. You

want me to work? You want me to be

normal? Then let me do what normal

adults do; they don’t have their parents

overseeing every aspect of their life. I’m

not above asking Miller to remove you or

having you banned from coming anywhere

near the set.”

She gasped and her entire body

trembled. “You don’t mean that.”

I gave her a pointed look. “A long

time ago you told me I needed to learn to

make adult decisions,” I said. I

remembered the day well because it was a

phone conversation we’d had a few days

after I’d been released from the hospital

when I could barely move. “Let me do

that. And if you love me, if you really

want me to be happy, don’t try to get

custody of me. Because I know that’s what

you want to do next,” I said.

There were giant tears gliding down

Mom’s high cheeks, and when she swiped

them away she took a handful of makeup

along with it. “What happens when you get

hurt again?” she asked in a quiet voice.

“Do you go back to the drugs and the

partying?”

“I—” When I paused, my words

catching in the back of my throat, she gave

me a sad smile.

“That’s what I thought.” She stood

and hobbled to the front door, never

looking behind her when she said, “If you

want to grab lunch before I leave to go

back to Los Angeles tomorrow, call me.”

Then she left, and I curled up into the

corner of the couch, hugging myself close.

Wanting nothing more than to forget

this moment had ever happened.

Wanting to drown quickly.

***

later, and when I told her to go away, she

shook her head and held up a handful of

DVDs—a season of
Adventure Time
and

both volumes of
Kill Bill
. “Don’t ask me to leave or I’ll sit outside blasting the

Gears of War soundtrack.” I lifted my

eyebrow and she nodded slowly, her hazel

eyes gleaming. “And yes, I’ve actually got

it inside of my van.”

I shuffled aside so she could come in,

crossing my arms as she tossed the DVDs

on the coffee table and sat down in one

corner of the couch.

“Miller called you?” I asked, dragging

myself across the room to sit on the

opposite end of her.

She cricked her neck to one side and

then raced her fingers through her short

black hair. “Don’t be mad at him,” she

said.

My upper lip curled. “My bodyguard

is calling my friend to come sit with me to

make sure I won’t do something stupid and

you’re telling me not to be mad at him.

I’ve been burnt enough already by people

I trust and now he’s going behind my

back.” I clenched my hands by my side

and glared up at the ceiling, in the general

direction of Miller’s apartment. “I should

fire him.”

“Now you’re just being a bitch. He

called someone he knows won’t throw a

ninja star into your back the moment you

turn around. You should be thankful.”

I turned my dark gaze on her. She

narrowed her hazel eyes, challenging me.

Frustrated and dizzy, I raked both hands

through my brown hair. There was no

point telling her the entire story of what

had happened with Mom so I leaned

forward, burying my face in my hands, and

went for the Cliff Notes version. “My

mom brings out the worst in me,” I said,

my voice catching. “She likes to bring up

the very worst of me hoping it’ll help me

change.”

And like always, I’d let it get to me to

the point where I’d brought up her very

worse, hurling it back at her angrily. When

I told Paige she nibbled her lower lip

thoughtfully for a few seconds and then

stood up, disappeared into the kitchen, and

returned a moment later with two Diet

Cokes that she wrinkled her nose at. She

handed me one and then sat down, popped

hers open and took a long swig.

“You know that most people ask

before making themselves at home, right?”

I demanded, running the hem of my t-shirt

across my sweaty forehead.

She leaned forward, placed her can on

the coffee table, then sat back to scratch

one of the tattoos on her shoulder—a

vintage pinup on a surfboard. “Does it

work?” she asked.

“What? Not rifling through someone

else’s refrigerator?”

She snorted. “No. Turning the tables

on your parents.”

I shook my head slowly. “If anything it

just makes me realize what a fucked up

mess I’ve made of things.” When she

raised her eyebrow in concern, I released

a frustrated groan. “I’m not taking pills

again if that’s what you’re wondering. I

just—”

She released something that sounded

like a sigh and a groan. “What?”

“It’s hard. When they bring Cooper

into it. And it’s not just my parents—it’s

the paparazzi and my friend Jessica and

hell even my producer.”

Her lips curled downward

sympathetically. “Cooper told me what

happened with Dickson.”

“See. Shit like that just makes me want

to black out.”

Her breath caught and she moved

closer, trying to get a good look at my face

so that she could gauge my expression.

“Willow, it scares me when you say things

like that.”

“It’s the truth,” I said, dipping my head

so I didn’t have to meet her gaze. “That’s

what you wanted from me, right? I’ve

been acting since I was a kid. I’m tired of

the bullshit that comes along with it

sometimes. Ninety percent of the world

thinks I can handle anything they sling at

me and the rest— everyone who knows

me—believes I’ll relapse at any moment.”

“What do you think?”

“I think I’ll be alright,” I lied. “But it

still doesn’t make me feel any better that I

can’t even go for a fucking burger with my

boyfriend without getting my weight

picked apart. It doesn’t make me feel

better to see old pictures of myself sloppy

drunk and kissing some stranger reposted

on gossip sites for shits and giggles.”

“Quit acting then,” Paige suggested.

She took another sip of her Diet Coke and

shuddered. “At least for a little while until

you fix
you
.”

A bitter laugh came from my throat.

“The whole time I was in my last rehab I

kept promising myself that I wouldn’t do

any acting anymore and the day I came out

I accepted this role. I can’t let Dickson