The F List - Alessandra Torre Page 0,67

definitely my girlfriend, was not going to be a fan of my mother. Not as Adel, not as Jocelyn, and certainly not as a person.

Emma's mother jostled into place behind her daughter, chiming in with gushing praise, and if either of them pulled out an autograph pen or selfie stick, I was going to walk out.

"This is so wonderful," my mother said, leaning forward to plant a kiss on Emma's father's cheek. "A true family affair. It's wonderful, isn't it? Everyone together." She rubbed the side of his arm, and if Emma's mother didn't watch that closely, it would turn into a problem. Not that Emma's father was a prize, but she couldn't help herself—just like my father couldn't help but leave the room whenever she opened her mouth.

I looked for my dad and found him by a production assistant, his head tilted down, his attention on the peek of cleavage visible above the buttons of her collared shirt. Dana nudged him forward, and he entered with the reluctant gait of a man forced to be here. Yeah, Dad. You and me both.

Introductions were made while my mother continued to stand in the middle of the room, her coat still on, and I almost wished for Marissa. In fact, I was surprised Dana didn't have her here, a bucket of red paint in hand, screaming at my mother about fur rights as she dumped it over her head.

"I can't believe your mother is here." Emma whispered out of the side of her mouth. "You have no idea what this is doing to my mom. No offense, but you could screw me on the couch right now, and she wouldn't notice."

My mom was doing that thing where she clasped someone's hand in between both of her palms and petted the top of it. Mrs. Ripplestine was sucking it up, watching my mother with rapt attention as bullshit spewed out from her fat-injected lips. The problem with Emma and her mom, and half of America, was that they fell in love with Adel's character. They spent twelve years watching her every week. They cried when she lost the baby. They gasped when she almost died. They rooted for her and ranted at the television screen and gripped the remote with sweaty hands as she ran away from her abusive husband and into the arms of her sexy and heartbroken personal trainer. They couldn't combat twelve years of history with the truth, even if they read whispers of it in the tabloids, or heard a first-hand account of the reality. If my relationship with Emma continued, she'd have to learn for herself what my mother was like. I could tell her stories—but she wouldn't understand it until my mother put her hand on Emma's pregnant stomach and advised her to drown the baby in the tub when no one was looking. That was the sort of thing my mother said and did when the press wasn't around.

“We should have drowned you when you were born,” she spat at Wesley, jabbing a finger in the direction of his high chair. His face crumpled and I stood.

“Mom,” I whispered, “don’t say that. He’s—”

“A mistake,” she shot back. She threw back another shot of liquor and walked off, knocking a chair over on her exit.

I reached out and pulled Emma to me. Burying my face in her hair, I inhaled her scent as I wrapped my arms around her and stole a quick moment.

"Cash," my mother chided, and I felt a sharp burn of pain as she twisted the skin on my inner bicep into a tight knot. "You haven't seen me in weeks. Stop hanging all over Emma and come sit with me." She beamed at Emma. "You don't mind if I borrow him, dear, do you?"

"Hell no," I said tightly.

Both of them flinched, but I didn't care because the crew had parted around the end of the living room. Stumbling forward, his eyes wide and confused, was Wesley.

Out of the Ranch.

Away from his safe areas.

A stranger's hand on his back, guiding him into the living room and in sight of the cameras. He looked over his shoulder, then at Emma's father. He hadn't found me yet, and probably didn't even know I was here.

I grabbed my mother’s arm. “What is he doing here?” I gritted out. “You have to get him away from the cameras and this crew. You know better than to—”

"Missy!" His shriek pierced through the room, and I looked up in