Plot Twist(75)

As laughter trickled up, more of the tension he’d felt began to ease. The speech was going well. He’d been worried for nothing. He glanced back to his notes, which is when he heard a voice from the crowd.

“When did you get out of rehab?”

He kept his eyes on the paper and breathed in, then out, even though his heart pounded in his ears. He wouldn’t let that person, whoever they were, derail him. He just had to find Sophie again and deliver the speech and then he could go home. He searched for her spot, but his gaze landed on his mother instead, whose lips had turned into a thin and seething line. Then he caught Poppy next to her, who looked more confused than anything. Dash’s palms turned clammy, and he glanced down to his notes again.

“I’ve never worked with my dad on a film, but I felt like he brought our family with him to every project. Sometimes, we would travel to set in order to spend time together.” He wiped the back of his hand across his forehead without thinking, then winced as he realized just how nervous he was. As he peered up at the crowd, desperate to see Sophie’s face, he heard another question.

“Dash, are you drunk right now?” the same voice shouted.

Dash’s hands gripped the sides of the podium as the tip of his tongue trailed across his teeth. He felt the heat from the overhead sun so intensely that he wondered if he might pass out. He’d lost his place in the speech but decided to skip ahead. He needed to get this over with. “My dad has always been deeply committed not only to his job as an actor but to being a wonderful father to us. Hollywood is part of him now, despite the British accent you may hear. My father loves this industry, and in awarding him this star, he will continue to be the legend he already is. I cannot think of anyone more deserving of this recognition than him.” Dash turned to face his dad, and realized his voice had a tremor to it. He steadied himself as he took a deep breath and said, “Dad, congratulations.”

Then Dash began to clap so hard that his hands ached from pounding them together. There was a ringing in his ears as his father brought him in for a hug and mumbled something. Then he released him and stepped up to the microphone. Dash’s whole body was numb, and a white noise filled him as he walked offstage. He was meant to take a seat next to his mom but walked to the greenroom tent instead. He needed to stop the blaring hum that grew ever louder and get out of the space as quickly as possible.

But as he moved toward the exit, a hand gripped his bicep to stop him. He turned, and there was Kitty, her brows knit tightly together as she said, “Where are you going?”

“I need...” His whole body shook as the words bubbled up within him. “I can’t do this. I told you I couldn’t do this.”

“You are my son. You can do anything. Montroses don’t quit.” His mom stomped her foot, as if calling him to action.

But he had nothing left. “I gave the speech. I did what you asked.”

“How do you think it will look if you just leave in the middle of your father’s speech?” Her voice was hushed but still terse.

But he didn’t care how Kitty felt because he was feeling so much that he couldn’t keep his emotions in any longer. “I don’t care how it will look, Mom. A reporter just asked if I was drunk. A stalker leaked my story—”

“I leaked the story,” Kitty said.

He frowned, and the silence around them was almost as strange as the words she’d just said.

“What?” Dash’s voice was so loud it filled the tent. “You did what?”

Kitty didn’t so much as flinch but kept her gaze trained on Dash as she said, “You needed a push. I’d hoped that the pressure of a story leaking would get you back to work. You think I didn’t know about your stay at a rehab center as soon as it happened? I was hoping you’d tell me in your own time. But then months went by, and nothing. And you have been doing nothing except for passing up perfectly good jobs. You know how secrets are in this town. They always come out. The best thing I could do was get the story out there before someone else did. And then you’d get back to work. Back to filming. And everyone would be able to see that you’d moved past this problem.”

All the air seemed to leave Dash’s body as he realized what his mother was saying: she was the person who’d tipped off a reporter about his rehab stay. And of course she’d known about his addiction struggles, the way she always knew everything about her children. And over lunch, she’d encouraged him to take a role to bury the gossip.

But Dash was done acting, on camera and off.

“How could you do this to me?” Tears stung his eyes, and he didn’t bother to wipe them away. “I’m not one of your clients who you can just fix with some good press. I’m your son. This is my life. You don’t get to decide how I live it.”

“Your life is our life, too, Dash,” Kitty said in a voice so measured it was unsettling. “Don’t pretend like we’re not all connected. And for what it’s worth, I didn’t think the reporters would have to continue asking you this question. I thought you’d have said yes to a role by now. Problem solved. I told you at lunch to take a script, didn’t I? Or write one? You not working is the problem, not whether a reporter knows.”

And there was the inevitable, sinking feeling he had whenever he was reminded that he wasn’t just a person but a Montrose.