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“She’s so sweet and smart and cute. Honestly, I’m amazed you’ve had a hard time finding someone to take care of her.”
“You’d be surprised,” I muttered to myself, thinking of all the nannies we’d been through so far. The accidental brushes in the halls. How many of them tried to slip into my bed at night. The seductive poses when I was in the room. The blatant come-ons.
I really hoped Briar was different.
And above all, I had to remember that she was here for Zoe.
Not me.
* * *
While Zoe napped later that afternoon, I finally got around to returning a few phone calls to Adam, my agent, and my publicist. And then there were two names left on my list.
My ex-mother-in-law and my brother, Phoenix.
My ex’s family was a dumpster fire. Hell, Karen had sold out her daughter’s funeral to the papsandsplashed a bunch of untrue bullshit all over the tabloids. I had nothing against my daughter getting to know her mother’s side of the family—if they weren’t all a bunch of scheming psychopaths. Karen could talk to my lawyer. I wasn’t calling her back any time this decade.
Of course my brother, Phoenix, was a whole different kind of headache. He’d gone off the rails after a few years living the Hollywood lifestyle. He’d been drinking, drugging, and running wild until the only job he could land was the front page ofThe Babblerbecause he’d turned into such a trainwreck. But after some shit had gone down with Rome, we’d finally convinced him to go to rehab. And to his credit, Phoenix had turned it around. He’d completed a thirty-day program, then turned around and signed up for a six-month stint. Now, he was one year sober. My little brother had turned it around; I was proud of him.
The reason I’d put off calling him had nothing to do with his past. It had everything to do with where he’d decided to live after rehab—with our mom.
I hadn’t talked to her in years. Ever since she’d sold out our life story and gave a very in-depth house tour to that tabloid show,Off the Record. Apparently both of Zoe’s grandmas were cut from the same cloth.
Despite the fact that she’d be hovering in the background of our call, I picked up my phone. I loved Phoenix, so I called him back.
He answered on the third ring. “Hey, bro.”
“Hey, Nix. What’s going on? I saw I’d missed your call.”
“Yeah, um, shit. I feel like an ass asking you this, but I kinda need a place to stay.”
I was taken aback for a second. Last I’d heard, everything was going great for Nix back in Oregon. He was working his program and getting along with our mom. “Why? What’s going on? Is someone giving you a hard time?”
I hated talking about her, and I really didn’t want to call her Mom.
“Nah, it’s not that. I’ve, uh, got a few appointments with some agents in town, and I kinda need a place to stay.”
I could hear the unease in his voice. We’d agreed during his intervention not to enable him and let him live on our dime, so I understood some of his apprehension. But this was the first I’d heard of him moving back to LA.
I cleared my throat. “You’re thinking of working as an actor again?”
“Yeah. I’ve been clean for over a year, and I can’t keep living on mommy’s dime. I gotta get back to my life again.”
“Are you sure this is the best place for you? I mean, the whole reason you moved to Oregon was because everything’s so fucked up here. If you start working around the kinda people you knew before, you could be using again in no time.”
“I won’t. I’ve thought this through, King. I have a program and a sponsor to lean on. I won’t be the first recovering addict to work in Hollywood. I’ve got this.”
His sponsor being the VP of one of the most notorious motorcycle gangs on the west coast. That little nugget didn’t exactly give me confidence.
I sighed. “You can stay in the guesthouse. But if I see anything that makes me think you’re using again, you’re out, and I won’t give a shit if you have nowhere to go. Zoe comes first. She cannot be around any of that bullshit.”
“Thanks, bro. You won’t regret this. I swear. But um, there’s one more thing.”
I groaned. “What now? You can’t have my firstborn. I’m more than a little attached to the little turd.”
“You’re an awesome dad. You know that, right?”
“Stop trying to butter me up. Just tell me already.”
