11. Daddy Dearest
The next morning, I sneak out of bed just as the sun rays are beginning to poke through the windows. I can hear Blake’s breathing, deep and peaceful, reassuring me that he’s not going to wake up soon.
It should give me enough time.
I tiptoe across the floor of the bedroom and slip past the half-open door. Emerging into the living area, I head straight for the phone. I’m sure Blake won’t mind my using it, but I would much rather have this conversation in private.
I don’t even have to think before dialing. It’s the first and only phone number, apart from mine, that I have committed to memory. It’s just six in the morning, and there’s every likelihood I’ll be stuck with leaving a message. Still, I’m willing to bet the call is going to be answered.
He answers on the first ring.
“Hello?” His voice is groggy, like he woke up the moment the phone rang.
“It’s me.”
He’s silent. Tension sparkles between us.
I hear rustling on the other end of the line that probably means he’s getting out of bed and heading away from my stepmother, likely downstairs to his den, where he can speak freely. The mansion my dad lives in is roomy enough for him to not be overheard.
Thinking of his luxurious house, my stomach brims with indignation. The overpriced home, like every one of his properties, was bought by the salary he paid himself for managing me. I’m newly aware of the fact that I’ve let my father control every aspect of my career, so much so that no one else on our team has even thought to come out against him.
Finally, he says, “Expected to hear from you much sooner.”
I’ve been silent for almost a week, and there’s no joy in his voice now that he knows I’m alright. In fact, he’s exuding less emotion than a reporter would if I turned up in front of their office.
“I didn’t know you wanted to hear from me. Especially since you’ve been having so much fun running various stories by the press.”
There’s a sharp intake of breath on his end, and I understand why. I have never spoken to him this way before. For the most part, I rarely talk to him at all, except to agree to his orders.
Guess that explains why my life is in such disarray now.
“I did what I had to do as your manager.” He recovers quite nicely from his shock, voice stoic again.
“The right thing to do would have been to tell the truth.” My fingers are trembling on the phone, and I have to pause and take a deep breath. I have seen my father win countless arguments with staff all because he managed to rile them up into hysteria while he maintained a cool head. I can’t give him the same satisfaction.
“The truth, Faye, is that you’re going to marry Ben. When you eventually return from wherever you are hiding, you’re going to realize you’ve got no other choice. Your fans know that, even if it sounds like you haven’t accepted it.”
“You’d rather I marry a cheating asshole than be happy?”
Another sharp intake of breath. “That’s the difficult call I’ve got to make as your manager.”
“As my manager, you should realize that I hired you, not the other way around. You should wait for me to give you directions and not do whatever you think is best. This is my career, not yours.”
It feels like I have been waiting all my life to say that. When those words finally burst out of me, my shoulders sag with relief. For the first time, I’m standing up to him.
He remains speechless for a good minute. And then he finally says, with a sneer in his voice, “That’s one way to be an ungrateful brat. I tried everything to make you happy. Got your lazy ass fiancé to organize a romantic proposal. Got your stepmother to?—”
“And you wanted me to marry him even after you found out he was cheating.”
I’ve gotten over the fact that Blake thinks my romantic dreams are foolish but hearing that my dad feels the same way comes with a different kind of hurt. Especially since he used this knowledge to manipulate me into staying in a fruitless relationship.
“That’s the tough call I had to make if you were going to be successful. Like organizing that silly wedding. You think I liked running around checking for flowers and whatever else? But those are the tough decisions I had to make, and it gave you this career. You wouldn’t be half as successful at belting out cringey love songs if it weren’t for me.”
I’ve heard a variation of that statement on repeat ever since I became famous. This time, I have an answer ready. “Well, I guess now’s as good a time as ever to find out if that’s true.”
“What do you mean by that?” He sounds almost apprehensive.
“You’re fired.” Damn, that felt good.
Another few seconds of silence. And then, he says, “No, I’m not.”
“That’s not your call to make. And if you liked your job so much, you should have thought of that before announcing to the world that I’m mentally ill.”
“I did it for you,” he spits through gritted teeth.
“Is that what you tell yourself?” Even though I resist it, my hurt at his behavior is breaking through, causing me to raise my voice. “You shoved me into this industry and since then, you’ve used me to make yourself wealthy. I’m sick of you ruining my life.”
“I’ve made you wealthy. And famous,” he spits. “Every single thing you enjoy is because I took your career seriously from the time you were seventeen. It became my career, too. And if you think you’re going to get rid of me that easily, you’ve got another thing coming.”
Trepidation spills down my gut. He’s lying, I tell myself now. There’s absolutely nothing he can do to remain as my manager if I don’t want him to.
He seems to be reading my thoughts. “I take it you’re considering going online to share your own side of the story? About how Ben is nothing but a horrible cheat.”
“The true side of the story.”
“Well, let me explain why that’ll be a bad idea.” I can almost see his leer. “When you disappeared and failed to reach out, I knew that I had a blank check. I could paint any picture I liked. I could have told them pitiful things about you, things that would be valid reasons to call off the wedding. But I had a feeling you were going to do this, so . . .”
Dread settles in me. Of course. I don’t even need to hear the rest of his explanation to know what he is driving at.
My father’s interviews to the media were deliberately planned. He started off by painting me as a brat, before giving me a mental illness. The public has taken his words as the truth. If I reveal my side of the story now, I’d be judged as being a nutcase.
And if people believe I’m crazy, my dad could file for conservatorship. I would be under his care for a long time, possibly forever.
My fingers are trembling again, and this time, I can’t stop them.
“No,” I mutter, cutting him short mid-sentence.
“Glad you figured it out,” my father says smugly. “Now, I don’t know where you’re at—I’ve called every single person who could know and have gotten nothing—but I trust you’re going to be making it back home soon.”
Home. I think of my own huge, white-washed apartment, complete with a personal recording studio requested by my father. And then, I think of my father’s house on Long Island. A sickening feeling rises up within me. I don’t belong there. In fact, Blake’s cabin feels more like home than they’ve ever been.
My palms are sweaty. “I’m not coming back to Brooklyn.” It’s a last-ditch effort to contradict him, but I can tell how limp my words sound.
My father lets out a low chuckle, like he’s speaking to a toddler about to commit mischief and not to a grown adult he’s threatening to swindle. That chills me to the bone. I’ve tried to ignore, for years, the burning feeling that my dad does not care for me much.
Right now, I’m forced to realize that he doesn’t care for me at all, in and outside of my career. All he wants is to maintain complete control.
“You can take as much time as you want,” he says, his tone honeyed. “As long as whoever’s got you stashed away still wants you around. But if you’ve started to realize the futility of you hiding and you want to come back to the city, you can call me back. In the afternoon next time, because I won’t be getting out of bed for you anymore.”
The line goes dead.
I stare at the receiver, tears forming in my eyes. Yesterday, after Kevin’s call, I knew things were dire. They were bad enough that I considered leaving the cabin this morning. But I decided on a last-ditch effort to call my father to see if I could work things.
It turns out that I was wrong. From that conversation, it does not even seem as if me going back into society would change a thing. Even if Blake would agree to get me a phone so I could put up a message on social media, my father has the passwords to all my accounts. He’d have changed all of them by now. Maybe he was preparing to release a message on my behalf in the near future.
The long and short of it is that I’m screwed.
I rise up and make my way back to the bedroom, my chest heaving. Blake is still beneath the covers, fast asleep. For a fraction of a second, I want to crawl underneath them with him and bury my face in his chest, forgetting the world.
Don’t be stupid, I scream internally at myself. I desire Blake sexually, but that’s about it. His behavior is still repugnant, and he can be an asshole every time he chooses to be. I can’t let the boundaries get muddled up.
I reach into the drawer for my bikini. Even now, I feel a spark of excitement deep in my belly as I remember Blake’s words, how affected he claimed to be when he saw me wearing it. I’m not going to be modeling it for him today, though. I need to swim for a bit and figure out a strategy to outsmart my father.
The lake is biting cold when I step into it, but I barely notice. My head is still messed up, and every time I think of my father’s threats, tears start stinging.
I dive into the water, closing my eyes, blocking out everything but my thoughts.
Maybe I kind of deserve it. I’d known from the moment I started singing songs about Ben that I was lying. To myself and to my fans. I knew I was only doing it to please my dad in the hopes that one day, he would look at me and not have that distant expression in his eyes.
That one day, he would love me.
I should have stood my ground back at the wedding instead of just running away. Should have told my father to his face I wasn’t going through with it. Better still, I should have walked up that aisle and told the guests that the wedding was off.
Blake was right after all. Love does make people pathetic.
I come up for air as my thoughts switch to the man inside the cabin. The phone call from Kevin dulled a lot of things, and after I came to the conclusion that I needed to leave, everything else was shoved in the past. Still, as I recall the memories of the previous evening, my thighs ache with a distinct longing.
I’m probably going to be out of here soon. I can’t figure out a good plan, much less by myself. There’s a lot to do: decide which city I want to live in, hire a PR team, probably get a few lawyers, figure out the best way to relaunch myself. All I know for sure is that I’m not going back to New York and that I won’t let my father bully me. Getting back together with Ben is not an option either.
I sink back into the water. If I’m being perfectly honest with myself, I wish I got to explore Blake like he did me before the curtain closed on my stay with him. In a couple of days, we’re going to go back to being strangers, and I’ll be another popstar who annoys him with her love songs.
My face breaks the surface of the water again. I’m aware something is different from the moment I gulp my first breath of air. Goosebumps rising on my arms, I look around.
I don’t need to look too closely, though.
Blake, whose mussed hair tells the story of his recent awakening, is standing on the bank. He looks like he just came out of the house in search of me.
Swimming to the edge, I raise my torso out of the lake. I’m about to apologize for possibly startling him when I notice something.
He’s not looking at my face. He’s staring at my body, a look in his eyes that incites a mix of apprehension and fear. He doesn’t just look aroused. He looks annoyed. Like he’s given me one too many warnings, and he’s about to punish me for my insubordination.
His gaze returns to my face. I stare back at him, my heart beating fast in my chest.
It’s fairly evident what’s about to happen.