Chapter 42 Lex
Lex
Age nine
“Oh wow!”
I feel like I’m in Disney World.
I’ve never been to Disney World—Mom says it’s a circus created for children with simple minds and wild imaginations.
I guess I’ll never know, but this feels exactly how I imagined it.
She squeezes my sweaty hand and crouches down to my level. Taking me by the shoulders, she spins me around to face her, her green eyes wide and starlike. “Lexington, this is the set you’ll be working on. What do you think?”
Blinking, I glance around the busy set. It’s a madhouse of color and motion—vivid backdrops, towering lighting rigs, and bustling crew members darting around like bees. Everything is loud, from the whir of cameras to the chatter of actors and directors.
The juice box commercial I was in was nothing like this.
“I love it.” I can hardly catch my breath, and the words fall out like whispers. “It doesn’t feel real.”
“It’s real.” Mom swoops back my honey-blond bangs, dusting her thumb along my forehead. “You’ve earned this. You’ve worked so hard.”
The sitcom is supposed to be a modern-day Full House with a mystical element. When the director told me about the parallel, I spent weeks watching every single episode, taking notes.
I’m the lead role—a boy named Jack who discovers he has the rare ability to communicate with animals. Each episode revolves around Jack’s adventures with his new furry friends, who often help him solve mysteries and navigate the challenges of growing up.
Pulling me into her arms, my mother rubs my back, pressing a kiss to my cheek. “I’m so proud of you. This is the start of something big.”
I nod because I feel it too.
This is going to change my life.
I see it now: walking down a red carpet with flashing cameras and cheering fans.
I imagine winning awards and giving interviews, where everyone asks about my favorite superhero and my favorite movie scenes.
I picture myself on a big stage, accepting an Oscar, with Mom clapping and crying in the front row.
I don’t know if my dad will be there. He’s hardly ever around, and when he is, he’s grumpy.
But Mom will be there. She’s my number one fan.
I wouldn’t be here without her.
As we linger just off the set, a woman approaches us and ruffles my hair. “Lexington Hall,” she says, greeting me with a wide grin. “Aren’t you the cutest thing I’ve ever seen?”
My cheeks flush warm.
Mom looks up, smiling brightly. “Thank you.”
“He’s so handsome.” The woman’s eyes flick over me, from my mop of sunny hair to my freshly polished shoes. “Just beautiful.”
I wrinkle my nose.
Beautiful.
What a funny thing to say. That’s what strange men say to my mom when she wears pretty dresses and puts curls in her hair.
When the lady disappears with a clipboard in hand, I turn back to my mother. A sharp stab of anxiety eats at my stomach.
I don’t know any of these people.
They’re all strangers.
Mom’s eyes shrink to nothing but long, black eyelashes. “Everything okay?”
I’m embarrassed when tears begin to sprout. I don’t let them fall though—I never cry. Even when I fall off my bike or skin my knee in the driveway, or that one time when I rammed into a utility pole while trying out my new Rollerblades. That hurt.
But this doesn’t hurt, so I don’t know why my eyes feel so itchy.
Mom swallows, her pretty face twisting with the same emotions pressing down on my chest. She takes my hands again. “I promise I’ll visit you. I have my own TV show I’m working on, so Bianca will act as your guardian on set.”
“What if I get lonely?” It’s a weird thought because there are so many people here, more than I’ve ever seen in one small place before. But I think I’ll miss seeing my mom all the time. I’ll miss her songs and lullabies.
She smiles, pinching my clammy fingers. “You have that cell phone I gave you. Call me if you get lonely.”
“Will you sing to me?”
“Of course.”
My nerves scatter when she tugs me into a firm hug.
I close my eyes as her breath brushes the side of my neck, billowing my shaggy hair.
We stay like that for a while, for a stopped moment in time as people whoosh past us and noises ring out with loud clatters.
But I don’t really notice the things around me.
All I feel are my mother’s arms, holding me tight.
And then her voice fills my ears.
A song.
My favorite song.
“Don’t Dream It’s Over” by a band about a house. She sings it to me every night when my mind is alive with scripts and ink and I struggle to make my way to peaceful dreams.
I feel like I’m back home, tucked inside my bed.
I feel warm.
I feel…
Safe.
“Do you feel better now?” she whispers when the song is over.
“A little. But what if I forget my lines, or what if the director doesn’t like me?”
Inching up, she pecks a kiss to my hairline. “Don’t worry about that. Bianca will be here every day. She’ll take good care of you, okay?”
I nod.
I love Bianca—she reminds me of my mom. She reads me storybooks after school and makes me tomato soup when I’m sick. “Okay.”
“Wonderful. She’s right over there.”
I follow Mom’s finger as she points across the grassy outdoor set toward Bianca. Tar-black hair swishes around with the breeze as she sends me a wave.
My feet stay rooted in place, the funny feeling in my stomach still there.
I don’t know what it means.
I guess these things take time, and I’ll get the hang of it soon.
“Go on now.” Mom stands up straight and taps me on the shoulder. “You’re going to change the world, Lexington—my strong, brave boy. This opportunity is going to open doors you never knew existed.”
I soak up her words, allowing the excitement to replace my nerves. This is more than an opportunity.
It’s a dream come true.
Glancing up, I send her a crooked smile and take a deep breath.
“I love you,” she whispers softly.
With a swell of courage, I force my feet into action and take off across the grass, beelining toward Bianca. I call back over my shoulder, “I know.”
***
That feeling returns.
The sharp pang in my gut, hollowing out my insides. I couldn’t place it then, but I understand it now.
Dissolution.
It creeps in like a slow-burning fuse, unraveling everything I thought I knew. Lighting it on fire and charring it to smoky remains.
Mom peers up at me from ten feet away. I’m hardly holding myself up. My fingers clench and splay, limbs shaking like I was just electrocuted, struck by lightning, and split in half.
She parts her lips to speak, then snaps them shut.
For once, she has nothing to say.
“You knew.” I grit my teeth as a cannonball of heartbreak funnels through me. “You knew I was assaulted.”
“Assaulted?” She rears back. “Please. She was an attractive older woman. It was far from a hardship,” she dismisses. “And of course I knew. Bianca was my best friend. I figured you’d get over yourself eventually, and I didn’t want to humiliate you.”
“Get the fuck out.”
A disbelieving huff. “You’re being dramatic.”
“Dramatic?” Eyebrows lifting to my hairline, I take a methodical step forward. “You were privy to the night I was violated by a forty-year-old woman and still did everything you could to push me further into her reach.”
Mom’s face hardens with frustration. “That’s your version of events.
You’re a big boy, and you were always aware of the compromises you’d need to make to get ahead,” she argues.
“I did that. I gave you the tools. I’ve been in many situations where I had to choose my future over my dignity.
You put your virtues aside and take a look at the bigger picture. ”
The bigger picture.
This was always about money, about who held the power, and it was never about what was right.
It was never about me. Her own child.
“You sold me out,” I whisper brokenly.
She scoffs. “You’re overreacting. That’s not what it was.”
“Then what was it?” My voice cracks as I step closer, bile rising in my throat. “Because it sure as hell feels like you sold me out to keep your dream alive.”
“It was your dream,” she volleys back. “You worked for it. I just made sure you stayed on track.”
“At what cost?” The room spins around me, everything blurring. “At what cost to me?”
Her jaw tightens, but she doesn’t answer. Just looks down at the floor, the silence stretching, thick and suffocating.
“Tell me,” I demand, my voice barely above a breath. “What did it cost you to watch me burn alive while you pushed me into the flames?”
“You need to stop thinking with your heart and start thinking with this .” She taps a firm finger to her temple. “It’s the only way to survive. The sacrifices are always worth it.”
I stagger back, the weight of her indifference crushing me. “Worth it?”
“You have everything, Lexington. Fame. Fortune. The entire world is at your disposal.” Her lips press into a thin line. “Don’t act like you’re some helpless victim.”
“I was barely seventeen years old.” My stomach pitches with outrage as I stare at the woman who’s supposed to love me yet sided with a predator instead of her own son. Because I was a product—her most coveted investment.
“You were going to have those experiences anyway,” she says. “It was inevitable. Bianca was somebody I trusted—who you trusted—and it made sense to let her guide you through it.”
Disgust boils in my blood, leaving me blackened and sick. “She watched me grow up,” I grit out, teeth clenched tight. “She took me to baseball games. Baked me birthday cakes. She taught me how to tie my fucking shoes.”
“You’re only proving my point. You trusted her.”
“She was a second mother to me!” I yell, pressure burning behind my eyes. “She objectified me. Poured alcohol down my throat until I was barely coherent and put her hand down my—”
“My God,” Mom mutters, rubbing her forehead with two fingers. “Yes, you were young. That doesn’t change anything. She had strong connections, opportunity at her fingertips.”
“Listen to yourself.” Emotion plugs my throat. Horror. Betrayal. Utter devastation. “Who even are you?”