Rose nodded but stayed silent. I summoned up the courage to keep going.
“I was just fifteen. Still a virgin, and, despite having worked in Hollywood for a number of years, I was still fairly innocent. Mum saw to that. I was even more sheltered than typical teenagers, because once I started acting, I was home schooled, so I wasn’t around other kids much unless we worked together.”
“Sounds lonely,” Rose commented.
“It was, but then again, I’ve always been a natural loner. I mean, I like people, I just feel a bit drained if I have to be around them all the time. That’s why I was so adamant about going home this weekend. I needed a break.”
“Tell me about your dad,” she prompted gently, obviously aware that I was veering off topic.
I exhaled heavily, feeling ill as the memory resurfaced. “We lived in a house he was renting in the Hollywood Hills – with my money, of course. The parties seemed to go on all day and all night sometimes, but I mostly kept to my room.”
I paused, remembering that shy lad, the one who could put on another skin and make audiences feel a world of emotions, but then when he had to be himself again, he was painfully introverted. Self-conscious and timid. Still waters. Not much had changed, only now I wasn’t so timid. I was stronger, more in control of my own destiny. Rose studied me sadly.
“After a while he got into hiring prostitutes,” I blurted, and heard her shocked intake of breath. “It was easy to pay for things like that when you could afford it. I felt sick every time they visited the house, sometimes several of them at once. One Christmas when I got home after being on set, I found him in the living room with three scantily clad women.
“There were drugs scattered all over the table, and my dad was off his face. I tried going to my bedroom, but he was having none of it. Insisted I do a line to celebrate the holiday with them. I couldn’t get away, and in the end he practically forced my head down until I snorted the white powder. Must’ve been cocaine, but really, it could’ve been anything. Next he announced that one of the prostitutes, I can’t even remember her name, I was so traumatised, was to be my Christmas present.
“She climbed astride me on the couch and began taking off her clothes. It’s such a weird thing to remember, but I have this distinct recollection of her talking about one of my recent films, saying how sexy I was in it.” I paused, gripping the steering wheel so hard my knuckles hurt. “I was a fucking child.” I ground my teeth, angry at the memory, as Rose set a soothing hand on my shoulder.
“We can stop talking about this if it’s too much,” she said, her voice wavering like she was feeling just as emotional as I was right then.
I shook my head. “No, it’s okay. If I don’t tell you now I never will.”
“All right,” she whispered, keeping her hand on my shoulder.
“My…my dad took the other two women and went into his bedroom. I was left alone with that one prostitute. My head felt fuzzy from the drugs. I’d barely taken a drop of alcohol in my entire life, so obviously the coke hit me hard. Before I knew it, she’d taken my virginity. I can barely even remember because I was so high. The next morning, I woke up still in that same spot on the couch, my dad in the kitchen cooking breakfast and going on about me finally becoming a man. How he was so proud.”
I fell silent then, letting the stark horror of the memory wash over me. I heard Rose hitch a small, watery breath before I continued. “I didn’t touch a woman for two years after that, could barely even stomach the idea of sex. It all just felt like badness. In my late teens, just before I was granted my emancipation from my dad, I starting dating someone. Her name was Jennifer and she was an aspiring actress, but unlike me she was wild. Confident. I felt excited whenever I was around her, thought I was in love with her. In the end, it became clear she was only with me for my money and fame so I broke up with her. It was like Dad all fucking over again. I