Chapter Nineteen
NINETEEN
“I didn’t know he’d be here,” Theo whispers as we return to the main room. “I would have warned you.”
I barely hear him. All I see is that scorpion tail.
“Lil? Shit. Did I scare you?”
“What?” I shake it off. “No.”
“But he did. He cornered you. Did he touch you?”
I think of that hand over my mouth, of what could have happened if someone hadn’t banged on the fire door.
Theo’s voice rises. “Lil? He touched you? What—?”
“N-no,” I say. I’m safe now, and I can’t bring myself to tell Theo that his uncle grabbed me. “He just startled me. He was pretty out of it.”
“He’s always pretty out of it. Ogling you like that, though? I’m so sorry.”
“He mistook me for my mom.”
“Which makes it even creepier.”
“They went to Westdale together? That’s what it seemed like.”
“Yeah. I’d heard that. Which is why I would have warned you he was here.
When he found out you were at Westdale, he reached out for, like, the first time in years.
Asking me about you. I said he was being creepy.
He got pissed off and said he wanted to be sure you were doing okay because he and your mom were close.
” Theo leans down. “They were not close. At least not in the way he’s implying.
I asked a few more questions, which Charlie dodged, and my read is that he liked your mom, but she fell for your dad. ”
Theo starts to say something else and then a movement catches his eye. “And there’s my father. We’ll talk to him soon. First, let’s get you someplace to rest for a moment.”
I shake my head. “I’m fine. You need to introduce me to your dad.”
“Are you sure? We could sit down—”
“After we talk to him. Please.”
—
Bernard Dubois is looking for someone. Someone who isn’t us, because when he sees Theo, his mouth tightens, as if we’re an unwelcome interruption.
“Theo,” he says. “And…Lillian?”
“Liliana,” Theo corrects.
“The Chamberlain girl.”
Bernard barely glances at me, which I guess is better than his brother’s ogling, but I definitely feel that snub as his attention moves on without even a greeting.
Theo whistles and snaps his fingers. “Over here. Where I am introducing you to someone who is very important to me.”
That gets his father’s attention, but with an eye roll. “Of course she is. How long have you known her? A week?”
Theo’s holding my hand, and when his tightens, I squeeze back, asking him to let it go.
“I just wanted to say hello,” Theo says. “Introduce Lil and…” Theo’s jaw goes rigid, eyes snapping as his dad resumes looking around, obviously done with us.
“If you’re looking for Mom, I saw her over by the ice sculptures.”
“Who?” Bernard’s attention swings to Theo, face scrunching in confusion.
“My mother? Your wife? That’s who you’re looking for, right?”
Bernard’s disgusted snort startles me.
Theo’s face hardens. “That was a joke, Dad. I know you aren’t looking for Mom. So who is it these days? Marguerite? Or has she been replaced already by some younger, more naive starlet?”
Bernard slowly turns to face Theo. “There is a saying, boy. Pots and kettles? Ever heard it?” He looks at me. “Dubois men aren’t good at monogamy, my dear. A little tidbit you might find helpful.”
Cold fury radiates from Theo. “Don’t compare me to you, Dad. In my case, all parties are aware, all parties are accepting, all parties are consenting. My mother is none of the above.”
With that, Theo turns on his heel and leads me away.
—
“Holy shit, did I just do that in front you?” Theo whispers as we walk, his voice strained. “I’m so sorry, Lil. I couldn’t even hold it together for two minutes.”
“It’s fine. Let’s just—”
“First my uncle and now my father.”
People are starting to look over. Theo’s face pales, his expression stricken as I lead him through clusters of partygoers.
“It’s fine, Theo,” I whisper. “But can we go sit someplace for a moment?”
“Oh. Yes. Sure. Just…” His eyes go to the bar. “I’ll get us some drinks.”
“Oh…um…”
“I know a place we can sit. I just really need a drink.”
I take a deep breath and remember Maddox’s warning. Theo is stressed, and I should let him have that drink and just make sure he doesn’t have more than two. “Go ahead.”
“Can I get you something? Maybe champagne?”
I smile at him and hope it looks reassuring. “Sure. I’ll take champagne.”
—
The bartender doesn’t bat an eye when Theo orders. Not even when he wants a whisky, straight.
“Thank you, man,” Theo says when he takes the drink.
“No problem.” Then, before Theo can back away, the bartender blurts, “I’ve seen your short films. Great work. Really. I mean that.”
Theo blazes his thousand-watt smile. “Thank you. Actor?”
“Y-yes.”
“If you see me casting, remind me I met you here.”
“Y-yes. Thank you. Really.”
The guy flushes and stammers in a way that’d make sense if Theo was fifty-something Bernard Dubois and the bartender was a college kid.
But it’s eighteen-year-old Theo and a guy who has to be in his late twenties.
I don’t think this will ever make sense to me.
The power in play here. The power of power.
Theo finishes his drink before we get five steps. Then he grabs another from a tray as we pass, and my stomach flutters, but he doesn’t touch it, just leads me past a rope marked “No Entry” and into the gallery rotunda. When we see a guard, the guy only glances our way.
Theo calls over, “We’ll behave. If we don’t, I’m—”
“I know who you are, sir.”
Sir. From a guy twice Theo’s age.
Theo flashes his smile and tucks a bill into the guard’s hand as we pass. “I will behave.”
“I would appreciate that, sir.”
Theo leads me up two levels on the rotunda stairs, and then expertly weaves through galleries until we reach the Old Masters. There, he sets down his drink, takes mine, puts it aside, lays his hands on my shoulders and says, “I’m sorry.”
“Please stop apologizing.” I push past memories of my scare with his uncle and focus on the rest, on being with Theo. “I had a good time. An amazing time.”
“Until I fucked up.”
“Theo.” I take his hands and hold them as I look up at him. “I’m fine. The person I’m worried about is you. Are you okay?”
He drops onto a bench, and I sit beside him.
“I told myself everything would be all right, and then…” His shoulders slump. “Even with my mom. She worries about me and Maddox, and I can’t tell her the truth, and that feels…it feels cruel. She gets enough of that from—” He swallows.
“She’ll know soon. Once the term is done, you can tell her you guys made up.”
“And then Charlie. Here I am, worried about anyone being shitty to you, and who does it? My own uncle. And my dad never even said hello to you. I should have told Mom I couldn’t find him. But then she’d worry we were fighting, and sometimes, Lil?”
He twists to face me. “Sometimes I wish I did fight with my dad. Isn’t that what normal guys my age do? Butt heads with their fathers? My dad and I just snipe at each other and it feels…”
He runs his hands through his hair, some of the black flaking off. “I’d say it feels juvenile, but it actually feels the opposite. As if he doesn’t see me as his son. I’m another grown man he can push around. Or, worse, I’m a competitor, just like…” He drops his head. “Fuck.”
I inch closer and put my arm around him. He twists to face me, but it’s awkward, and then he scoops me up and says, “Okay?” and I nod and then I’m on his lap, and his arms are around me, his face against my shoulder. I put my arms around his neck and he exhales, his breath warm.
We sit like that for a minute, and then he says, “I don’t want to unload on you, Lil. I’m afraid I’ll scare you away.”
“I’m not going anywhere.” I glance at him. “You said your dad makes you feel like a competitor?”
“He was incredibly supportive with my first film. It felt like a breakthrough. Mom was so relieved, especially when he was proud of how well my film did. But then along came my second one, and I realized…”
He shifts so we’re facing each other. “He thought the first one was a fluke. I was thirteen, and I had a lot of help, and everyone thought it was cute, this little kid playing filmmaker, and Dad presumed that’s why it got into Sundance.
But then I did the second one with far less help, and it did even better, and suddenly… ”
“You’re competition.”
“Which is absurd. I’m a kid with two short films. He’s made twenty-six movies and shattered box office records. But he did the same thing with…” His voice hitches. “My mom.”
I lower my voice. “He sees her as competition.”
“Which is, again, absurd. He’s a director. She’s an actor. They shouldn’t be competing for anything.”
“Except fame.”
“It’s not even fame, Lil. It’s status. Success. Power. You’d think my dad has enough, but it’s never enough.”
He adjusts me, making sure I’m comfortable. “Dad gave Mom her first starring role. Not sure if you knew that.”
“I’d heard it.”
“He didn’t ‘discover’ her. She was making a name for herself, and he snagged her early on.
They fell in love. Got married. At first, Mom acted only in his movies, like in the old days, when you’d be under contract with one studio.
Then Dad ‘let’ her take a role in a friend’s film…
and she won her Supporting Actress Oscar.
After that, she was being offered leads and didn’t have time to play the girlfriend in Big Guns and Explosions Part Four, or whatever Dad was pumping out.
And then, all of a sudden, she’s unexpectedly pregnant. Whoops. Don’t know how that happened.”
Theo bites his lip. “I have my theories, obviously. I was born, and Mom had to slow down and take jobs with Dad again, because he’d accommodate her on set.
But then I get a few years older, and Mom finds an amazing nanny, and she can take us both on set, and she doesn’t want the roles Dad’s offering. ”
“The girlfriend in Big Guns and Explosions Part Seven?”