quest through the Andes. Of course, if you want to keep it simple, there’s always rehab. You know people eat that shit up. We’ve got options.”
My lips tilt at the corners, and I can’t help laughing a little. Same old Phillip. He has my best interest at heart, but I didn’t come here so he could save my reputation, and I think he senses it. That’s why he’s trying so hard.
“I don’t want to do damage control. That’s not why I’m here. I just wanted to talk to you face-to-face because I owe you that much.”
He walks around his desk and collapses onto his desk chair with a long sigh. Opening the bottom drawer, he pulls out a bottle of Crown Royal. “Should I be sober for this?”
“You do you.”
He takes a long pull, twisting the cap back on before he looks at me again. “Okay, hit me with it.”
“I’m done.” I meet his gaze, so he understands this isn’t one of those half-hearted tantrums celebrities often throw when things don’t go their way.
“Done, as in… done until graduation?” he asks hopefully.
I shake my head. “I’ve had a lot of time to think about it. This life, it’s just not for me.”
“I had a feeling it would be option D,” he grumbles. “Fading into obscurity.”
“That would be fine by me.”
He takes another long pull from the bottle and replaces the cap. Phillip wants to believe he won’t drink the poison anymore, but we all do. It’s the nature of the beast.
“You promised me you’d give it the year to think about it,” he reminds me.
“I did. But I know now. And I want you to know too.”
“Christ, Landon.” He rocks back in his chair and stares out the window. “I can’t say I’m not disappointed, but I understand. This life, it’s not for everyone. I think I realized that about you from the moment I took you on as a client. Hollywood just won’t be the same without you.”
“Thanks, Phil.” I nod to him. “I appreciate everything you’ve helped me with over the years. You’re a good man.”
There’s a long moment of silence as he comes to terms with the death of my career. “So, what will you do now?”
I tell him the truth. “I have no fucking clue.”
Fifty feet.
That’s all that separates me from Lane Silvestri. I only know his name because Suzy mumbled it once when she was too high to refer to him as something other than that fucker or the sperm donor.
If I’m being honest, I had my doubts she even knew who my real father was. But looking at him now, throwing the ball for his dog in a posh Los Angeles park, I know it without a doubt. I look just like him.
His wife and kids are sitting on a picnic blanket a few feet away, watching him with pure love and admiration. He was married when Suzy lured him in somehow, and his eldest son is already away at college. Something I learned from the dossier the investigator gathered for me.
It’s strange to think I have two brothers and a sister who don’t even know I exist. They never will. It’s what he wanted, and I have no intention of begging to be in his life. I just wanted to see for myself what he was like. I wanted to know the other half of my DNA, at least from a safe distance.
Lane seems like a decent man. By all accounts, that’s what his file says too. He works hard, and he makes a lot of money, so he enjoys the trappings that come with it. Fast cars, huge estates on both coasts, luxury vacations.
It’s hard not to feel a little bitter when I think about how different my life could have been. I never wanted his money. I just wanted to know him the way his other children do. But I was a mistake. A huge regret he probably always hoped would never come back to haunt him.
I never intended for him to see me here. But when the ball rolls under the bench and the dog comes barreling at me, he turns my way. His strides are long and powerful. He’s tall, like me. Strong and lean like he spends a lot of time in the gym. Gray peppers the sides of his hair, but otherwise, he looks healthy.
I’ve studied his photos, but it’s not the same as seeing someone in person. It’s not the same to witness your own eyes