Page 44 of Professional Consult

“Of course I am.”

“It didn’t seem that obvious to me.”

“I’m just a poor little rich kid that doesn’t like it when the world stops revolving around me.”

I regret my words as soon as they tumble past my lips.

“I’m real sorry about what I said.”

“I was directing the snark more at myself than you.”

“I’d really like to talk to you. Hear what you have to say.”

“Why? So you can fix my problem like you do with everything else in your town?”

“Because I’m embarrassed about how I’ve treated you.”

“Don’t be. You’re a perfect person. And I’m—”

“Sweet. Funny. Vibrant. Beautiful. Full of life.”

“Yeah, all of those things because I don’t have a care in the world.”

“It kind of looked like you did in that classroom,” he says. “I saw you while I was reading. You didn’t look happy. I didn’t want to believe you were a monster, but plotting against children’s story time sets you firmly in villain territory.”

I smile at his joke.

“What made you so upset?”

“It’s just that…I never got to have what those kids did. At three, my mom was taking me from audition to audition. At four, I got my first leading role. My story time consisted of someone trying to help me memorize my lines and me getting critiqued afterward. There was no school. No real school. Just tutors and online curriculum. Old men that were more interested in gazing down my shirt at my barely developed breasts than teaching me US history. I don’t think you want to hear how I lost my virginity. Funny how things got betterafterI emancipated from my parents at sixteen.”

Luke says nothing.

“I’m not trying to get pity. Like I said, I’m a poor little rich kid—”

“Stop that—now,” Luke grinds out.

“But it’s the truth.”

“You didn’t get to have a childhood, and the people that were supposed to protect you, well…it sounds like they exploited you.”

“I had my first real kiss at twelve. My married tutor had heard that I was in a teenage romance and said it was part of his job to teach me to kiss.” I swallow hard. “It wasn’t.”

His fists tighten around the steering wheel.

“Don’t get mad. Not for me. I’m well paid for what I’ve been through.”

“That’s bullshit.”

“Again with the pity. It’s what I wanted. The high-life. Fame and fortune.”

“You mentioned you hate acting.”

“I do.”

“Then why act?”

“It’s what’s expected of me, plus, I’m good at it. Imagine being given a talent that so few people have, and then hating everything having to do with it. I employ so many people that if I quit, it would be a disaster for them. So I figure I’ll just keep going until the roles dry up, then I’ll have an excuse to leave.”