8. Gracie
Chapter 8
Gracie
I watched through my window as Tark left the building, Sharga riding on his shoulder. He strode out into the street and while moonlight outlined his big frame, he released a low, whoop, whoop, whoop sound from his throat.
Pressing my face against the glass, I stared, knowing I should turn away and brush my teeth, put on my nightie, lounge on the bed with a good book. I could not look away. The story unfolding down on the street held me captive.
Thunder rang out but the dark sky remained scattered with only twinkling stars. Not a cloud in sight.
A sorhox roared past the big red barn at the end of the road. It lowered its head, its enormous, curved horns aiming right for Tark.
Gasping, I struggled to undo the latch to lift the window so I could scream for him to watch out. I couldn’t get the darn thing to turn, and my heart slammed against the inside of my ribs as the beast drew near, its long, clawed feet stirring up dirt that flew up behind it.
But before it could impact with Tark and before I broke all my nails trying to claw through the window, the beast came to a skidding stop, sending dirt across Tark’s tall frame. The creature lowered its head and blew flaming smoke from its nostrils as Tark took the sorhox’s head in his big hands and stroked the beast’s cheeks. The creature pretty much wriggled with pleasure and blew more fiery smoke while Tark continued to rub, moving around to the side of the enormous creature to scratch behind its ear.
It acted like a fluffy cat purring while being patted, coiling its spine and even stretching out a yawn.
He leaped onto the beast’s back, and when he looked up, toward my window, I shrunk back, hiding behind the curtain, though I wasn’t sure why. He stared for a long while before nudging the sorhox’s side with his heel. The creature lumbered around and started trotting, taking Tark out of town and from my view.
I sagged against the wall, my legs shaking more than they should be from such a simple encounter. I traced my finger across my lips and my eyes slid closed. In a flash, I was back beneath Tark again, lying on the floor without thinking once about what in the world I was doing.
Finally, I made myself leave my hiding spot. I unpacked and then washed up and put on my nightgown in the bathroom, opting not to use the tub tonight. I was about to lounge on the bed and scroll my social media feeds when my phone buzzed on the nightstand.
I didn’t even have to look to see who was calling. Mom and Dad. They loved three-way conversations and they must feel it was time for another. Maybe this would be a simple check-in. We’d talk about nothing and then they’d hang up.
And maybe that sorhox down there would propose marriage to me.
I girded myself for an unpleasant encounter.
Scooping up my phone, I chose to sit in the sturdy chair by the small table instead of the soft-appearing bed. I couldn’t hold back my scowl.
My thumb hovered over the power button—so tempting, so easy to just not answer—but guilt won out. It always did. Plus my worry they’d escalate things if I didn’t answer.
After grabbing a tissue from the box I’d set on the table before going to the bathroom, I clicked to answer their call.
“Hi, Mom. Hi, Dad,” I said, tucking the faint tremor in my voice underneath a layer of calm I didn’t feel.
“Gracie, sweetie! Oh, it’s so good to hear your voice,” Mom cooed, her words dripping with honey so thick I felt myself sticking to it already.
“Darling, it’s been forever ,” Dad chimed in with his usual TV-ready enthusiasm.
“We spoke last week.”
“Yes, well. You sound well,” he said. “So well. Are you eating enough? You don’t sound like you’re eating enough.”
If I rolled my eyes any harder, they'd be halfway out of Lonesome Creek by now. I took a steadying breath. “I’m fine, Dad. Busy, but fine. I'm eating well.” I was not going to tell them about the amazing meal Tark had prepared for me. Or about Tark, who was my…nothing—so far.
“You’re always busy these days.” Mom released a well-practiced sigh. “We barely see you anymore. You know, your father and I were just talking about the old days. How much fun we all used to have filming together. Do you remember, sweetie? All the laughs, all the adventures?”
“Sure, I remember,” I said lightly, even as my stomach twisted itself into a perfect square knot. Cold mornings under hot lights. Fake smiles stretched so thin they burned. Cameras capturing every slip of my teenage insecurities. My plump days. My too-skinny days—per the never-ending paparazzi watch. Each pimple on my face. I swear, even every time I had my freakin' period. They wanted to know it all, and they’d dig and dig until they exposed it. Then laugh when I cringed and slunk away. “Lots of adventures.”
I delicately tore the tissue in half, laying one to the side while I attacked the other, biting bits off with the tips of my fingers.
“The fans still remember you,” Dad jumped in. “The producers were telling us yesterday how much people still adore you.”
Yesterday?
“You’re a natural in front of the camera,” he said. “You always were.”
I hummed noncommittally. Behind my calm facade, a flood of irritation surged, hot and sour in the back of my throat. I set aside the now shredded tissue half and started in on the other. Bits rained down on the floor, but I could clean them up later.
“Of course, you’re doing fine on your own now,” Mom added breezily. “We’ve kept up with your…influencer thing. It’s so creative, so modern. But it must be exhausting, isn’t it? Constantly creating content, keeping sponsors happy. Traveling to those…Well, you know I don't like to put anyone down?—”
Yes, she did. All the time, and including me.
“But you know those people,” she said. “They're nothing like us .”
Us? Stars, she meant. People who were the same as everyone else in my opinion. Never hers.
“I can’t imagine this job of yours pays very much,” Mom said. “But you’ve always been a hard worker.”
The familiar barbs were soft, but no less sharp. I clenched my teeth and turned my gaze to the room’s freshly painted walls, the new but authentically appearing western-styled furniture. Quaint and cute. The guests were going to be stunningly happy here.
And I grabbed another tissue from the box.
“I'm successful,” I said, forcing my voice to stay steady. I mean, I would be successful, eventually. I only needed a little more time to solidify the rest of my contracts, and the success of this orc ranch venture, and I'd be turning potential clients away. “I really enjoy what I do.”
“Of course, sweetie,” Mom said, Saturday-morning talk show warmth cranked up to ten. “But for a moment, imagine… What if you didn’t have to just get by anymore?”
“If you hadn't locked my money up in that trust—” I bit my tongue to keep from spilling any more of my irritation. I'd be thirty in a few years. The money was there, waiting for me to collect it. I'd verified that fact myself. In a few short years, I wouldn't have to rely so much on their stipend.
“The producers have offered you an incredible payout for the reunion special,” Dad said in a tempting voice, something he did very well.
“I told you I don't want to do the reunion special. At least three times. No means no.”
“But Gracie,” Mom said, “it would be enough to really build your brand or start a new one, if you wanted. This could set you up for life. You wouldn’t have to scrape by anymore.”
Scrape by. Interesting choice of words from two people who’d locked away every dime I earned in a trust account and handed out only enough to keep me dependent until I’d finally rebelled.
“One time,” Dad said. “That’s all we’re asking for. A single reunion series.”
“Series.”
“Twelve shows. We'd film them over a few months and then you'd be done.”
For now. There would always be more cajoling, more telling me that I only had to step beneath those lights “one more time”.
“You wouldn’t have to commit to more than that,” Mom said. “You could treat it like a farewell tour. Closure for all those fans who loved growing up with you.”
“I don’t think the fans are losing sleep over me,” I said dryly, and a part of me wished I was that important in my current career.
It was coming. I was gaining more views all the time. I needed to be patient.
My mother’s laugh tinkled down the line. “Oh, nonsense. They adore you. Besides, it could be good for you. Getting closure, that is. Leaving the show the way you did was so abrupt. You never got to say goodbye properly.”
Closure. Right. Because smiling through a fake engagement and a round of staged “where are they now” montages would be healing. I balled a new tissue before I started shredding it.
“You mean the same closure I tried to get when I left at twenty-one?” My voice came out clipped, and frankly, that was the best I could do. “The one you talked me into with promises you never kept?” The one where they’d set up the contract so they were paid, not me. Oh, my share was there, but still under their control.
I would not blindly sign a contract ever again. I’d just wanted them to back off and stop harassing me to do yet another show.
Silence. Then, my father chuckled, a low sound meant to smooth over anything unpleasant. “Oh, Gracie. We did what we thought was best for you. And look at you now. You turned out more amazing than we could’ve imagined.”
“That’s because I’m doing this my way,” I shot back before the words could stick in my throat. “I’m happy now. I’ve moved on from all of that. The show, the cameras, Gregory. All of it.” My parents too, actually. I'd be happy if I only saw them during the holidays, and maybe not even then. We could meet up at a restaurant. Neat and clean and with fake air kisses by their cheeks as I said goodbye. “I have no desire to go back to all that.” My voice wavered, but I kept my spine tight. No means no, I reminded myself, even if they refused to hear it.
“Sweetie, don’t be so rash.” Steel lined Mom's tone. “This isn’t only about you. It’s about the whole family. The reunion special could be a beautiful moment for all of us, something we can all cherish forever.”
“The whole family?” I laughed softly, but there was no humor in it. “You mean the three of us, pretending to be some picture-perfect family unit on camera for a paycheck? We never were that, Mom. Not when the cameras shut off.” They'd go do their star thing, attending shows and posing for the paparazzi while I'd scurry back to our estate and into my room, shutting the door so I could finally find blessed silence.
I remembered the silence after the director yelled cut. It used to coat everything in a numb hush. That was when I knew I had no dialogue, no place in the room.
“Oh, Gracie,” she sighed. “You’ve always been a bit sensitive, haven’t you? You don’t see the bigger picture. This isn’t about money?—”
“It’s always about money,” I barked, my patience thinner than the tissue bits floating down around my bare feet. “It always has been. And while we’re on the subject, why don’t you tell me how much of this enormous payout you’re both so excited about actually goes to me?”
“Gracie,” Dad huffed, his cheerful tone dropping like always. “That’s uncalled for.”
“Is it?” My frustration bubbled past my carefully constructed calm. I stood up and started pacing the room, the hiss of my feet on the wide floorboards reminding me I was here, and they were not. I could hang up. End the call and not answer when they redialed, which they would. “You really want to talk uncalled for? How about keeping me under your thumb for all those years?”
I’d lived so long inside a frame they chose for me that I’d forgotten what it felt like to speak without whatever they’d written being shoved in front of me to be memorized. Every step I took now still carried an echo of their choreography.
“That’s enough,” Mom growled before smoothing her voice. “This is always about money for you.”
No, but it sure was for them.
“You’ll have access to your trust in a few years. We’ve always told you that. We only wanted to make sure you didn’t squander it.”
“Squander it?” My laugh was harsh and bitter this time. “Right, because paying for an education or starting my career would’ve been such a waste.”
“Let’s not let emotions take over here,” Dad cut in, his voice smoothing back into salesman silk. “We’re trying to have a pleasant conversation. We still want what’s best for you. Always have. This would be good for everyone. It would bring us all closer together.”
“I don’t need us to be closer, Dad,” I said flatly, sinking back into the chair and forcing my tone to even out again. “I need to keep moving forward, and that doesn’t include going back to the life I’ve already left behind.”
Silence rang through the line.
Then Mom spoke, her voice brimming with carefully manufactured sorrow. “Please think about it, sweetie. That’s all we’re asking. No pressure. This would be such a wonderful opportunity for you.”
For them . Never for me.
“I’ve already thought about it. More than you realize. And my answer is still no.”
“Gregory sends his best, by the way,” Mom added abruptly, as if the faux-fiancé card was her ace in the hole. “He’s excited about the thought of seeing you again. That man is such a charmer.”
“Gregory.” The taste of his name on my tongue turned all the heat in my body to ice. Years of fake smiles, staged romantic moments, and his constant condescending tone echoed in my mind. A charmer? If you’re into slimy reptiles in slick suits with hands that wandered where they shouldn't too often. He'd thought we should be the real deal. Sleep together and all that.
I’d refused.
I pressed my fingers to my temples, trying to rub away the headache pounding through my brain. “Tell Gregory I’d be as thrilled about reuniting with him as I’d be about stepping in wet cement barefoot.” And once your foot sinks, you don’t even scream. You just learn to get comfortable with the weight. Pretend it’s a choice.
“Don’t be dramatic.” Strain cracked my father's voice. “This isn’t personal. Remember how well you two worked together on camera. You had chemistry.”
“Goodnight, Mom. Goodnight, Dad. I'm hanging up now. Bye.” I ended the call before they could pile on any more sugar-coated guilt. As the room fell silent, I leaned back in the chair, puffing out a long breath.
After dropping my phone on the bedside table, I slunk to bed, turned off the light, and lay in the dark.
The quiet pressed its teeth into me slowly. No lights, no lines, no smile waiting for the next cue. Only my thoughts prowling the room, circling, trying to find a way out of this latest trap.
I dreamed of something better.
Of course, my thoughts kept slipping to Tark.