“Is that why you’re angry? You don’t want people knowing your business?”
I throw my arms out as I yell, “I’m not angry.” Okay, maybe I’m angry now.
“You are. You starve yourself. You don’t sleep. You’re miserable and unhappy. I just don’t understand why.”
“What could I possibly be unhappy about? You said it yourself. I have it all. I’m the poster boy for Hollywood success. What’s not to love?”
“LA is soul-sucking.” She scoffs. “There’s plenty not to love.”
“You’re jaded. Understandably so,” I add quickly as to not totally undo all the progress of last night. “Not everybody hates it here. You can’t just throw this away.”
“What?” she asks.
“This.” I gesture to my house. “This lifestyle. I can afford anything. People will do anything. Give me anything.”
“So?”
“So!” I hate that I’m yelling. Gotta calm myself down so I slap on an affable tone. “I owe it to the world to pass it on. To be grateful.”
“You don’t, though. You aren’t responsible for everybody else.” She’s so convinced of her own rightness.
“You don’t understand; I owe them everything. That town. They kept me and my family alive. My parents did whatever they could to keep us afloat.”
“You’ve more than returned the favor.” She shakes her head like the math still isn’t adding up. “What’s this really about?”
I stand up and she falls off my lap and lands in a heap. I’m speechless. She won’t let this go. I growl as I rub my hands through my hair.
She stands with a glare and leans against the counter, taking in my freak-out. I hate how calm she is. How crazy she’s making me feel. Such a different crazy than last night. She sighs.
“I don’t think you feel like you deserve it.”
Well, duh. “I don’t.”
“Why?” She crosses her arms.
“Why are you pushing this so hard?”
“Why are you avoiding the questions?”
“I do what I do and it’s nobody’s damn business.” I scoff and sound ridiculous. This interrogation sucks.
“I disagree.”
“With what?” I growl.
“I think it’s exactly my business.”
This stalls me; I stand gaping.
“I care about you and I’ve gotten to know you. We’ve been intimate.” She says this with only a hint of shyness. Very matter-of-factly. “And so I deserve to understand why someone I care about is hurting. Because that’s what you do when you care about someone. That’s what you did for me.” Her logic is sound but her voice cracks, giving away her emotion.
I soften. She really has shared so much with me. I clench my jaw.
“People don’t get this level of success for nothing.”
“What do you mean?” She lifts her chin.
“You’ve heard it all. I won the looks lottery. Don’t you know? I shouldn’t be here. I don’t deserve it. I lucked out. It’s going to go away as quickly as it came unless I pay some sort of penance.”
