Fast Glamour Part 16

Chapter 21.

Sterling.

Amanda's face was a mask of shock at hearing my news. "Are you absolutely certain?"

"Dad sat there like the huge star he is and acted as though there was nothing wrong-that he had done nothing wrong. To be honest, I think he was surprised at my reaction."

Amanda sank into one of the lush leather chairs in her living room. Her legs couldn't support her. The weight of the family secrets I'd just exposed had clearly shocked her. "I'd always suspected there was something between Mom and Tom," she said. "But the fact that Dad has an entire separate family? Two daughters and a son?" Her face turned to mine. "Twins? How could this possibly have remained under the radar all this time?"

"Apparently they don't want the publicity, or the spotlight. Except maybe the oldest." I handed her a sheaf of papers about Rhett Legend Delgado. "The internet is a blessing and a curse." The guy who stared back at Amanda was too cool for school. Tattoos decorated his shirtless torso.

"It would appear he's got the Legend charisma," Amanda said. She c.o.c.ked an eyebrow.

Rhett had a dark olive complexion and, instead of the Legend piercing blue eyes, his eyes were dark brown. He had dad's good looks and he also had the unmistakable Steve Legend att.i.tude. He looked like trouble to me.

"I loved Anita so much," Amanda said as she rifled through the pages I'd printed off that told of Rhett's band Translucent Paradise, which toured along the California coast. I'd also had one of our investigators do a quick check on Rhett's name a couple of hours ago. He came back with pages upon pages of arrests.

Amanda skimmed his rap sheet. "He seems to be particularly fond of drunk and disorderly," she said.

"That and indecent exposure," I said. I'd often dealt with actors who were addicts. I didn't need an addicted half-brother rock and roller, as well.

"Is the band any good?" Amanda asked.

"Have a listen," I said. I pressed my iPhone and a hard-core beat with a deep bluesy voice played out over my phone.

"He's the singer?"

"And the guitarist."

"He's good," Amanda said. She looked up at me.

As much as I was loath to agree with Amanda, it seemed that my father's other son had some talent. "Why haven't they ever reached out?" I asked.

"Would you?" Amanda raised her eyebrow. "They probably hate us. I would."

"Why?"

"We get the Legend life that from the outside looks pretty d.a.m.n plush and, really, let's be honest, once you get past the addictions, the narcissism, the divorces, the dead mother, and the microscope under which we live, it is pretty plush." Amanda cracked a half smile. She didn't often complain. Complaining wasn't her way, but what could look like a d.a.m.ned good existence to the outside world had its own challenges and problems, just like any other life.

"I'm sure they hate us," Amanda mumbled. She stopped at the picture of the twins. They were a year younger than Amanda. They had long lush black hair like Amanda's, but where Amanda's complexion was porcelain theirs was a much darker tone, more exotic looking. Their eyes were very like their brother's. "I've always wanted a sister," she said. She glanced up at me. "And now I have two."

"Or more," I said, letting out a breath I didn't know I was holding.

"What? Did he say there were more?"

"I mean, seriously, Amanda? How would we know? The man has slept with nearly every woman he's worked with. I can't believe I've never put all this together before. I've been his producer on five films; I've been to three of his weddings. I'm not certain why I thought all that started after Mom died."

"Because you wanted to believe it," Amanda said. "I did, too." She looked from me back at the picture of Rhett and Sophia and Ellen. "I wanted to believe the Legend fairytale. The story where Daddy met Mom at the wrap party and they fell in love, got married, had us and lived happily ever after. Even that summer when our world was falling apart, I wanted to believe it. I pretended to myself that what I saw"-she turned away from me and closed her eyes-"what I saw between Anita and Daddy had to be a one-time thing. Not an ongoing affair in which he'd created a whole other family." She lifted the pages and held them toward me. "But there was no fairytale-not even when Dad found out she was dying and Mom let him come back for those last six weeks."

Amanda looked at me; her eyes were slick with tears. "Do you remember how magical those weeks were? How we traveled the world? How Mom got sicker and sicker but she seemed happier and happier? I only wanted to remember that time together. The days on the beach in France, the nights in Monaco, the evenings in Austria. I wanted to remember only those moments, because they were perfect. I cloaked myself in those memories, especially after we got back and Daddy turned into a raging drunk."

"And Rhiannon was gone."

Amanda nodded. "And Rhiannon was gone. We had Gayle." Amanda's eyes flew open. "Oh, my G.o.d, we had Gayle the last two weeks Mom was alive and then afterwards when Daddy left." Amanda looked at me. "That woman must be a saint, because I couldn't do what Gayle did. Imagine if Lane was with Ryan and then she got sick-I could never help my best friend the way Gayle helped our mom."

I said nothing. I'd already rummaged through my mind trying to understand what Gayle had done for us and why. The only conclusion I could come to was that she'd loved Mom, and she'd wanted to try and help two good young people who were coping with the destruction of their family.

"I want to meet them," Amanda said.

"You're kidding? That's a mess waiting to happen," I said.

"I don't care. They're family, and I want to meet them. The girls are still in college. One is at Berkeley and the other at UCLA."

"Obviously smarter than we are," I said.

"Or at the very least more studious." Amanda flipped through the papers still in her hand. "And it looks like our brother is playing the roadhouse in Oxnard this weekend."

"Oxnard? Who wants to go to Oxnard?"

"I do and you're coming with me. Ryan has night shoots all weekend long." Amanda looked up at me through her eyelashes. "So, big brother, looks like we've got a date to meet some family."

"I'm not ready for this," I said.

"What do you mean?"

"Look," I said. "I'm still processing the fact that Dad was sleeping with women before Mom died. Now I find out the b.a.s.t.a.r.d has an entirely different family that he's kept hidden from us, and not only have they been hidden, but other people knew about them all this time and never said a word. I'm not coming to terms with this as quickly as you are."

Amanda's lips flattened into a thin line. "Those feelings aren't just about our newfound siblings," she said. "Those feelings are also about Rhiannon."

"She knew," I said.

"What do you mean? How could she know? Rhiannon was fifteen when mom died."

"Before she died, Mom wrote a note to Anita and gave it to Gayle and insisted she deliver it to Anita. Supposedly Rhiannon went with her."

"That doesn't mean she knew anything. Come on, Sterling, there is no way that Rhiannon would have kept this secret all these years-if she even knew it in the first place. Why? She would have told you or, at the very least, me. We've talked and emailed since the day she left Los Angeles."

"Yeah," I said. "Thanks for letting me in on that. My heart was breaking and you never once mentioned you were still in touch with Rhiannon."

"You didn't ask, big brother. Why would I bring up that kind of heartache if you didn't ask? Rhiannon could have easily accompanied Gayle to Anita's and not known the reasons behind the visit. You can't possibly blame her. She was a teenager," Amanda said. She looked at me as though I'd lost my mind.

"I can't blame her for what she did then, but I can certainly blame her for what she knows now and refused to tell us."

"You better get your facts straight, brother. You lost Rhiannon once, and I'm not certain she'll come back to you if you chase her away again."

I'd arrived back home after speaking with Amanda to find Rhiannon on my doorstep. She followed me inside, neither of us speaking.

"Is it true?" I asked. I had to know. I needed to know.

She dropped her gaze. Her eyes drifted from the floor to the window. "What part do you want to know about?" she asked.

"I now know I have a half-brother and two half-sisters. I know they are Dad and Anita's children. He confirmed that. What I don't know is when did you find out about them? Did you meet them and, if so, when?"

Rhiannon walked to the back of the couch. Her hand trailed along the leather. She stopped and turned to me. "Yes, I did meet them, right before your mom died and just before I left to go to Ireland." She twisted a long lock of her white-blonde hair in her hand.

I was crushed by the knowledge that Rhiannon had kept this secret from me.

"All I remember is we drove to a house north of Los Angeles. There were two young girls about twelve who were sitting on the front porch. Then, from around the corner, came this boy. I remember not liking him, and definitely not wanting to be alone with him. I waited on the front step while Mama went inside. We were there for about half an hour."

Rhiannon's gaze bore the weight of her admission. "I knew," she said. "I knew then they were related to you. I could see it in their faces, their hair, and the way they moved and held their bodies. I knew they were related to your family."

"And you didn't say anything or ask your mom about this?"

"How could I? The subject was closed and right after that my parents moved us to Ireland. I wasn't to see you again. Can you understand how scared I was at that point? How utterly terrified I was of everything that had to do with you and your family? At the same time, I watched my own family completely disintegrate. It was only by piecing together little bits of conversations that I was able to understand why, and even then I barely understood it all. All I could figure out was that my father fell in love, your mother got sick and then she went back to your Dad. The entire thing was so unreal, like a living nightmare that no one talked about.

"You know Papa came back to my mother? He came back and begged Mama to take him back. He wanted to rebuild our family, but it was too late. He'd been gone too long and, by then, Mama was taking care of Joanne and Mama didn't want anything more to do with him. Then I found out that your father had an entire other family."

Rhiannon clasped her arms around her body. "It was a really terrible time for me and Maeve. We were so young and I couldn't understand how any of it was happening. Then my parents told me I had to move. That I had to get away from all the crazy that was swirling around me."

Tears glistened in her eyes. I didn't know if they were tears of regret for the past decisions she'd made or tears for now, this moment, where we sat across from one another and realized that this was all simply too much. All of it. We couldn't overcome this kind of hurt. How many roadblocks did the universe have to throw in our path before we understood that we weren't meant to be together? We simply weren't meant to be a couple.

"We can't do this," I said. "I can't do this." I stood and walked across my living room toward the picture window. There, beyond us, was the never-ending Pacific. The waves constantly churned up the ocean floor, the tides came in and out, and the roaring never ceased. Yet it could look so peaceful when you stared out at the bright blue water, dappled with sun. But beneath the peaceful facade was turmoil much like what Rhiannon and I shared. We could both appear so peaceful, and we could think that we would get beyond our history and be together, that we could be a serene couple, but every time we tried something ugly came to the surface. A past regret, a memory, and poor decisions that still haunted us.

"Sterling, no, please." Rhiannon pressed her fingertips to her mouth.

"There have been too many lies, Rhiannon. Too much heartbreak. How can we build something beautiful if we constantly have to deal with the ugliness of the past? I can't do it. Neither of us can."

Her face was wracked with pain and I could feel the reverberation of the end in my core. A deep horrible pain wrenched my heart. I loved her. I might always love Rhiannon, but we couldn't be together. Not then, not now, and not ever.

Chapter 22.

Rhiannon Sterling held me in his arms beneath the stars. His body pressed against mine. We lay on the flannel blanket that had comforted us late into the nights of summer. Mama hadn't been home in nearly a week and while our housekeeper stayed with us there was a deep hole caused by her absence. Our parents were so torn with their own drama they rarely noticed our absence. "She's going to die." His eyes nearly glowed in the darkness.

My heart beat faster at hearing Sterling's words. Joanne was going to die? They'd only just returned from their family trip. When they left, Joanne had looked vibrant and strong but when they returned she looked weak, and fatigue clung in dark circles around her eyes. She'd spent what little energy she had on the trip with her family. Mama said, when Joanne finally lay down on the giant bed in her bedroom and had settled, she felt as though she would never stand again. A chill raced up my spine. I couldn't imagine losing my own mother.

"Sterling, maybe she'll get better, maybe she'll-"

"No," Sterling said. He closed his eyes. "She won't. She's leaving us and she's leaving us soon." His lips thinned. A silver trickle of a tear fell from his eyes and down over his cheeks. He brushed the tear away and I wrapped my arms around him. I pulled him close. His sobs choked out against my neck. My shoulder grew wet with his tears. The time pa.s.sed and I rubbed his back, not knowing what else I could possibly do. There was nothing to be said. Not one word could fix this loss.

He pulled his face from my neck. There was so much pain and so much loss in his eyes. My heart swelled for him. I wanted to see Sterling smile, to take away this burden, this pain, this moment that I knew was the worst moment of his life.

He leaned forward and I felt the soft press of his lips on mine. My heart exploded and a deep thick want circled in my belly as Sterling's kisses deepened and unfurled. His tongue brushed against the seam of my lips and my mouth opened to him. A tentative kiss as Sterling's tongue explored my mouth. His arms wrapped around me and pulled me closer. He was hard and I could feel his hardness against me. He pressed closer. His kisses were long and languid and filled with promises. Long forever kisses that caused me melt into him, hoping that the pain in his mind could be erased for just this moment. Just for now.

The sun brightened the sky when I opened my eyes. Mama stood at my feet, her hands on her hips. Her face expressed determination. I looked from her to Sterling, who was asleep beside me. The flannel blanket on top of us shielded my unclothed body from Mama's gaze but she knew. My shorts were tossed beside us, my shirt tossed to the side. I wore only a pair of panties. Sterling was more naked than I.

"We need to get back. Sterling needs to go home. There isn't much time."

Sterling's eyes fluttered at hearing his name. He looked at me and stretched his arms over his head, a smile on his face until he turned his head and saw Mama. He jerked upward, nearly pulling the blanket from me. I clutched the fabric and pulled it tight to my chest.

"Gayle, we-"

"I know exactly what happened. Come to the house. We'll discuss it later. Sterling, you have to get home, and you have to get home now." Her eyes softened. "Your mother needs you."

His gaze fell on me and he closed his eyes. He didn't want to go, to face the inevitable, to see the end. This loss. He tilted his chin to his chest and his bottom lip quivered. I pressed my hand to his shoulder. He looked at me and I pressed a kiss to his lips. There were no words. Today would be the most horrible day of his life.

Big hot tears fell from my eyes. Tears that I couldn't stop, nor did I care to. Why, when I'd finally surrendered to the idea of being with Sterling, to settling in Los Angeles, to becoming part of a family again, to overcoming my fears, had all that I thought was mine slipped from my grasp?

The painting I'd nearly finished in the magical light of Montecito at Elizabeth Montgomery's guesthouse sat before me on my easel. There he was. Standing in front of me. My rendition of Sterling. Not exactly as he was now, and not exactly as he'd been then, but something in the middle. A picture that captured the boy I'd originally fallen in love with and the man I'd grown to love even more. I closed my eyes. I couldn't have him, but I could paint through my pain. I could use these feelings to show the emotions in my work. The painting in front of me was nearly finished and it revealed happiness and a brilliant love that glistened in Sterling's eyes.

I looked over at the second canvas. I'd been working on it for the last week and it was much darker than the first. Again, it was not the Sterling of my youth or my adulthood, but a creation of him as he'd appeared the last time I saw him. His face was grim, the solid line of his lips was unhappy, but he was not angry. It was the same face I'd seen when he'd lost his mother, and the face I'd seen just a week before when he'd turned away from my love, from the future I'd finally determined we would build together. The face revealed imminent grief, sure loss, and resigned finality.

This face was hard for me to look upon. Each time I stroked my brush against the canvas my heart shattered. I did not want this face staring back at me, but I was compelled to bring this vision to life.

"That's a very sad-looking Sterling," Maeve said.

"It's how I remember him," I said. I continued to press my brush into the paint. I didn't want company. I didn't want to spend time with Maeve or Mama or especially Papa. They'd each dropped by in turn and tried to pull from me some semblance of a story of what had happened between Sterling and me. I'd remained silent. My family, at least my parents, didn't deserve to know the details. They'd planted the seeds of this dissolution years before and they could feel nothing but glee over the fact that Sterling and I were no more. Why share my pain with them when they would be happy about an ending that had ripped me to shreds?

"I never wanted you and Sterling to end," Maeve said. She stood beside me. Her intensity and sincerity and her ability to say what she felt in the face of my introversion and silence was a blessing. I set the brush down and turned to her.

"I always thought you made a good couple," Maeve said. "It was our parents-theirs and ours-that were the idiots. Why should you two pay for that?"

I wasn't yet ready to discuss this, not even with Maeve. She rubbed her hands down the front of her jeans and sat down on the love seat not far from me.

"I'm not leaving," Maeve said. "You've been in here, alone, long enough. I know you have your work and I know you like your silence and seclusion, but at some point it becomes unhealthy. Look at Dad. You think being closeted away in Dublin, alone, has helped his ability to deal with people?"

A small smile cracked my face at Maeve's a.s.sessment of our father. No, he was becoming a dour and brittle man. He had little patience for anything but his books and his writing. "Is he still here? I would have thought Mama would have thrown him out by now."

"Throwing him out isn't the accurate a.s.sessment of what's going on in that house." Maeve raised one eyebrow and looked at me. "They're trying to be discreet, but the house is old and the floorboards make a lot of noise."

"No!" I said.