Jace
“Why haven’t you taken my calls?” my mother can’t help herself, she’s totally unhinged right now.
“I’ve been filming.” I leave it simple because I don’t want to have to admit that I’ve been avoiding her. She hates that I decided to do this film and she tells me every moment she gets. Of course, I’m going to ignore her.
“Is that what this is?” She tosses a magazine in my direction and the pages flop open spreading out over the floor at my feet.
My eyes flicker over to Gordon whose arms are crossed over his chest as he stands rigid next to me.
As I lean down to pick it up, it flips open to the page that sent her here in a fit of rage.
I’m instantly warped back into the moment when Lennox was on top of me after I fell out of his piggyback hold and the hot-blooded look he was giving me.
I just had no idea my expression was chock full of the same intensity.
Using the years of my acting experience I remain nonchalant and look over at her. “We were rehearsing, you know how the media likes to spin this stuff.” I close the magazine and lob it on the dining table in between us.
“Rehearsing or not, I don’t like it. It’s portraying you in a bad light.” She pauses, taking a breath and steps closer to me, whispering, “He’s just like him and I’ve worked too hard to rebuild an image that—”
“That, what mother? Makes you look good?” I’ve avoided her since filming started for this exact reason.
My compliance in doing everything she’s ever wanted and patience with her needs are completely non-existent.
I’ve always done what she asks and I’m tired of doing everything she thinks is right for me.
This is the first role I’ve taken that she was vehemently against and her true colors are showing.
“I’ve always put you first. Always put your career first. How can you not respect my decision on this and how have you not even considered how damaging this could be?”
“Damaging for who?” I pinch my brows glaring back at her. “This is one thing that’s not your decision.”
Her mouth drops open in shock at my defiance further displaying the temper tantrum she’s trying hard to control. “I talked to an attorney. You can still back out of this production.”
“I’m not.” I stand tall. I feel bad talking to her like this but she’s been so unapproachable and so difficult ever since this role came up. I suppose she’s always been that way. I’ve just been too accommodating to notice.
She sucks in a deep breath, straightens out her already pristine jacket, resetting herself before walking toward me. “You’re going to ruin everything I’ve built for you,” she whispers, her eyes bouncing between me and Gordon.
We stay silent as she passes between us, finally relenting, and leaves the room. I huff out an exasperated breath palming my face. The frustration and anger is building behind my ribcage and I can’t help but rub my tight chest.
“You’re making the right decision,” Gordon says in an attempt to make me feel better.
“Am I?” I question.
“You know you are.” He takes a step toward me, placing a hand on my shoulder. “Have you talked to her about relinquishing the power of your conservatorship yet?”
I shake my head. Why would she? She’s my court-appointed boss in every aspect of my life and loves that job more than just being my mother. It’s the power she holds over me.
The courts approved it during a very brief time in my teens; I was sixteen years old and made one wrong decision. She convinced a judge that I was not of sound mind and completely incapable of making my own decisions—that she needed it for my own well-being—and they granted it to her.
For almost ten years she has had control over all of my financial decisions and even day to day actions. If she tells me I need to make an appearance somewhere or represent someone, I’m obligated by the conservatorship to listen to her.
Fortunately, Gordon found a bit of a loophole, so when it came to movies or shows I wanted to play, that’s always been my choice since I turned eighteen.
Even after I became an adult, I always listened to her and took on the roles she wanted.
Agreeing to play James Davis was the first time I’ve ever made a choice of my own free will, and I’m not going to stop now.
“File a petition with the court,” I tell Gordon. “I want the conservatorship removed.”
I leave the room with purpose because I have only one thought right now.
As I step through the door and back into the studio, I spot Lennox on his way toward the exit. I speed walk, catching up to him and spit the words out before I change my mind, “I’ll be ready by eight.”