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She hugs the photo to her chest. Her voice grows louder, sharper. “You could turn on the charm then as well as you can turn it on now. I don’t mean ‘now now,’ but you know what I mean. She thought she had found her Prince Charming. Especially since you came from Hollywood royalty. She was in awe of your parents, especially your mother. She couldn’t believe that Isabelle Laurent, the legendary French actress, was your mother. She was in love with you. I still have the letters she sent to my mother. Let me read you one.”
I watch as she strides back to the suitcase and slides the photo back inside the outer pocket before retrieving a folded piece of lined yellow paper. The kind a schoolgirl might use to write a composition. She unfolds it and casts her eyes at the words.
Dearest Mama~
I am so, so happy. I met this really cute, super smart guy. And guess who his mother is? That beautiful French actress we both love. Isabelle Laurent! He promises he’s going to introduce me to her and her director husband, Edward Sinclair. And their agent too!
This could be my big break! I’m so excited and I think I’m in love too!
The stars are shining brightly.
Write back soon! And give my love to my little sister.
Forever~ Your loving daughter
She folds the letter back up and slides it into the waistband of her cutoffs.
“Mama wrote back and told her to be careful. Not to fall for men like you. Don’t be a fool for a tool. But my sister was naive. Gullible. A starstruck virgin. You led her on and took advantage of her.”
In my spinning head, I remember she was an easy, compliant, convenient lay. And it was consensual.
“I know it was consensual, Ned, but she was only seventeen. Practically a child.”
She told me she was nineteen.
“You were twenty-one. Do you know what that means?”
I don’t have the physical wherewithal to shake my head. Or the capability to do any mental calculations. Or figure out the implications.
“It means you committed statutory rape. A felony. You should have gone to jail for that…maybe you still can.” She tugs at her lower lip. “But I’m going to spare you that and send you straight to hell. Where you really belong.”
God save me.
“Ned, you knocked her up. Impregnated her.”
I didn’t mean to. She told me she was using birth control. Maybe she was lying about that too.
“My sister was a churchgoing girl and wanted to keep the baby. She begged you to help pay for her medical expenses…and give a little child support until she got discovered. She was convinced she had a big career ahead of her. And she did! My sister was mega talented!” A pause. Her eyes narrow at me. “Do you know what you told her?”
I do, but I can’t utter a word. My tongue is tied and my jaw is locked. And not a single word can get past the raging fire at the base of my throat. She reminds me.
“‘Get rid of the baby!’ Then, ‘get lost,’ you told her. And then you ran to Daddy dearest. And begged him to help you. So pathetic.”
Gabe’s clever I-need-a-tutor ploy to get my father to wire money or write a check.
“Daddy gave you a check for five grand that you used to get her off your back. Make her disappear. You threatened if she ever harassed you again, she’d never work in this town. That you had connections.”
I did. That girl was a thorn in my side. Part of me even thought—the good actress she was—that she was fabricating the pregnancy to extort money out of me. A con artist. I never saw her again until…
Marley continues, her voice unwavering. “My mother was poor…a hardworking housekeeper. My sister was struggling. Five thousand dollars didn’t go far. She had no choice but to go to some derelict birthing clinic filled with rats and rusty equipment and illegal drugs. The doctor who performed her delivery was a butcher. He butchered both her and the baby. She hemorrhaged and the baby, a girl, died of strangulation. Her umbilical cord wrapped around her neck. Six months later my poor grieving mother was also taken away from me and I, at the age of six, went into foster care.”
Fury fills her voice. Her eyes glint with madness. “You destroyed their lives! And you destroyed mine! You selfish arrogant bastard!”
She slinks closer to me, like a predator moving in on its prey.
“My sister, had she lived, would have achieved her dream. Become a big star…who knows, even have been represented by IMAGE.”
Her face darkens. “It’s all your fault she died! If you had given her more money for decent medical care, taken some responsibility, you wouldn’t be lying here.”
