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CHAPTER13
Iwas lying around having a lazy day thinking about all the shit I had been avoiding since my life went to crapdom. In the beginning, just the thought of facing people made me sick, things weren't much better, but at least I was entertaining the notion of going to my premier. The first one was about three weeks away; maybe by then, someone would've found my balls and returned them to me. I wasn't afraid to face the public; I just didn't want to answer any stupid fucking questions about how the fuck I was feeling. What the fuck? How do you think I feel? You have pictures all over the world of my girl in a car getting hot and heavy with some fucktard, not to mention the speculation about whether or not they fucked. I promise the first motherfucker that asked me this shit was getting run the fuck over. Bloodsucking fucks had had enough of me to last me a lifetime.
I could give fuck-all about the public's right to know. No one needed to know how much this shit was making me bleed but me.
If I didn't calm down, I was going to give myself a coronary. Wouldn't that just be fucking aye perfect?
I rubbed my face in frustration, not sure what the fuck should be my next move when my mom came through the door to my sitting room.
Each of us kids had our own private suite in this monstrosity. My floor held a studio where I kept the baby grand I'd had since childhood. A kickass master suite complete with a walk-in closet fit for a Prima Dona, just saying. The whole thing was done in blues and greens in varying shades.
" Hello, son."
She patted my leg as she sat next to me on my lounger.
"Hey, mom, what's up?" Who knows what fuckery she was up to now.
"Jane's here."
"The fuck...?"
"She kept calling son, and I just thought it would be better if we had her come out so you guys could hash out a plan of action. You have responsibilities, yes?"
"Yeaaaah...Mom...but."
"This is the life you chose, no?"
I just looked at her. No reply needed.
"Tell me this, Gage, are you giving up acting? Do you plan on retiring, or are you going back to work?"
"Of course, I'm not giving up acting; you know I love that shit." What the hell?
"Well then, you treat this situation like a band-aid and tear it off fast one time. The longer you put it off, the harder it's going to become. Just get out there and get it out of the way once and for all. And son, please remember you did nothing wrong; you have nothing to be ashamed of. There's no reason for you to hide yourself away like this any longer.
Jane says your next premier is three weeks away; that's plenty of time to come up with a strategy. No more hiding away and licking your wounds; my boy is made of sturdier stuff than that." She ruffled my hair like a toddler, Hitler's little henchman. I wanted to argue with her, but what was the point? She would just end up getting her way in the end anyway. For someone who was so tiny compared to the men in the family, she sure knew how to get her way. In fact, that was pretty much true for all the women; they ruled the roost.
"Okay, mom, I'll talk to her, but I'm not making any promises." What? I could always try right.
"That's all I ask, son." She gave me that I'm so proud of you look that was guaranteed to have me doing exactly what she wanted.
Fuck me six ways from Sunday.
I met with Jane for two hours before she headed back to LA. As things stood, I hadn't agreed to anything major as yet. There had been a bit of a rough moment there in the beginning when I wondered how the fuck she could let me get blindsided like that, but she convinced me that from what her people could gather so far, the whole thing had been pretty much on lockdown until the shit exploded. Go figure, the first time in the history of the Wood, someone was able to keep something under wraps, and it just happened to bring about the destruction of my life. Fuck my life. I guess I couldn't blame her this time but there better not be a next time.
She had printouts from every newspaper and rag on the market; we were the headlines and front page on all of them. The fuck? Weren't people getting slaughtered in Syria? How about that Darfur situation fixed that shit yet? No, but these fucks had all kinds of ideas of how I could fix my shit, suck a dick bitches.
When she showed me the one of that fuck Terry Poole strolling down the street wearing his wedding ring without a care in the world, I lost my shit. Oh no, you don't, motherfucker. You fucked my life, and you get to walk down the street with not a care in the world like cock of the block while I hid away in bumfuck U.S.A? I
don't think so. I'm gonna fuck that old douche up; just saying. James was already making noises about putting something together, but he didn't want to jump the gun until he got all his facts straight, so I would wait. But either way, no matter what he found, I’m going after that fuck.
After she left, I spent the rest of the day in the exercise room, working off some steam. I only thought of Suzette about fifty times on the treadmill. I thought about that sweet little ass of hers that I liked to slap every chance I got, or the way we used to laugh in bed at night, or playing tug of war with Rex, shit like that. The happy times we shared with friends and family.
Was it worth hanging onto? I don't know. Could I live with what she'd done? Fuck no, could I give her up? Not in this lifetime.
Fuck me sideways.
