“Hey, Dad.” Even from five feet away, I can hear the suspicion in Oak’s tone. “Nice of you to make it.”
“Where else would I be?” Dustin flashes a million-dollar smile, but I notice it’s aimed toward the crowd and not at his son. “This is a nice turnout. Small, but intimate. Where’s your mother?”
“In the kitchen,” Oak answers. “She’s talking to the chef.”
I cautiously join them. “Hi,” I say awkwardly.
“Dad, this is Vaughn.” Oak grabs my hand and drags me forward.
Dustin nods. “Ah, the girlfriend everyone is talking about.” He gives his son a pointed look. “I was wondering when you would get around to introducing us.”
One of Mr. Ford’s assistants walks over and whispers something in his ear. I make out the words cameras and outside and photo op.
Clearly, Oak picks up on the same words I do. “There’s paps outside?” he demands.
I swallow a frustrated groan. Crap. Katrina and I purposely arranged everything under pseudonyms so the press wouldn’t catch wind of this. We figured it would leak at some point during the night, but not right from the get-go.
Dustin heaves a big, what-can-you-do sigh. “I’m afraid so. We tried to lose them on the way here, but they tailed us from the mansion.” He turns to me. “Did Oakley tell you about the Brentwood mansion? I’d love to show it to you sometime. We’ve got three tennis courts, an indoor and outdoor pool, a bowling alley in the basement.”
“Oh.” I stare at him, dumbfounded. A bowling alley? In his house? Why? “That sounds…cool.”
Luckily, we’re interrupted before he can try to hammer down an exact time for me to visit his bowling alley mansion.
“Mr. Ford,” a tentative voice murmurs.
I’m startled to discover that it belongs to my friend Tracy. Since when does she murmur? The girl is all about ear-piercing squeeees! and omigods!
“Do you…Could you…Could I get a picture with you?” she finally manages to get out, thrusting her phone at him.
His straight white teeth gleam under the overhead lighting as he once again flashes his famous smile. “Of course, sweetheart.” He chuckles, and Tracy looks ready to faint. “Should we take a selfie?”
Tracy’s courage spurs a few of my other friends into action, and soon Oak’s dad is swarmed by admirers who are eager to tell him how much they love his movies and how he’s the best actor ever and will he please, please take a selfie with them, too?
Oak slinks away without a word, but before I can go after him, Jim Tolson sidles up to me.
“I’m guessing it was your idea to invite Dustin?” he mutters.
I nod.
“Well, I hope you have a good plan on how to reel Oak back from the edge of the cliff. He hates his father. His father hates him. There’s no way this ends well.”
And then he departs, leaving me to stand there alone like a fool.
The evening doesn’t get much better. Although it’s supposed to be Oak’s big night, Dustin Ford sucks up all the attention in the room. He regales the partygoers with anecdotes about his experiences on different film sets. He talks about what it felt like when he won the Oscar. He even plugs his upcoming movie by showing everyone a sneak peek of the trailer on his phone.
Not once does he talk about Oakley’s accomplishments or congratulate his son for finishing another album. To an onlooker, it would seem like this was Dustin Ford’s party. Oakley is all but invisible, and it breaks my heart every time I look at him. He tries to shutter his expression, but flashes of pain peek through. It kills me.
We don’t do any of the silly childhood games I had planned. They all seem ridiculous in the face of Dustin’s elegance and overpowering presence. Oak barely says more than a handful of words to anyone, and when the party breaks up three hours later, I’m grateful.
“Go home or to Oakley’s,” Paisley urges. “I’ll take care of the cleanup.”
“I don’t think he wants to talk to me.” He’s been staring at the back door ever since his dad got here.
“His father’s an attention hog,” my sister says with a sigh. “He’s probably embarrassed, and you need to be there for him. Tell him it’s okay and that you love him regardless.”
I swallow hard but force myself to Oak’s table. “Want to take off?”
“Sure,” he answers dully.
I signal Ty, who nods briskly and ducks out to get the car. Taking Oak’s hand, I lead him to the back door, where I pause for a beat.
“I’m sorry,” I say quietly.
“Yeah” is his sullen response.
It’s obvious he doesn’t feel like talking—or listening—so I just hold his hand tighter and push the door open.
The second we step into the back alley, there’s an explosion of light and noise. The incessant strobe of flashbulbs and the eager voices of the vultures that are always circling Oakley.
“Oakley! Are you and your father speaking again?”
“How was the family reunion?”
“What does Dusty think of your new girlfriend?”
“I love her,” a male voice booms, and suddenly Dustin himself appears behind us.
I almost jump three feet in the air when his muscular arm wraps around my shoulder. Oak’s dad squeezes me tight and then plants a loud kiss on my cheek. More flashbulbs go off. More shouts pierce the night air.
“Dusty! How was the party?”
“Are you giving Vaughn the Ford stamp of approval?”
“Will you be appearing at any of Oakley’s tour stops, Dusty?”
It’s chaos. The questions keep coming and coming and coming, and Oakley’s face gets darker and darker and darker. Dustin, however, is reveling in it all. He eats up the attention, smiling for the cameras and answering questions, all the while keeping his arm around me like we’re father and daughter and he couldn’t be happier that I’m dating his son.
“Vaughn! Is this the first time you’ve met Dusty?”
“Vaughn! How does it feel to be welcomed into such a distinguished family?”
“Bitch! Get your hands off my man!”
The last shout doesn’t just catch me off guard—it also brings a stunned silence to the paparazzi. I don’t know who the screamer is, but she’s not just content with screaming. Before I can blink, something smashes into the side of my head. Moisture drips down my face and splashes into my mouth. It’s bitter and gross and—an egg. Someone threw an egg at me!
I’m too stunned to move. Fortunately, Oak takes control, dragging me away from the back door and elbowing his way through the crowd until we clear the alley.
Ty and the Escalade wait at the curb, and we throw ourselves into the backseat. Oak slams the door and the SUV speeds off, while I sit there in horror, egg yolk sliding down my neck and into my shirt.
“Are you okay?” Oak finally asks. His voice sounds like gravel.
I manage a weak nod. “I’m…fine.”
Out of nowhere, he produces a pack of tissues. Neither of us says a word as he gently wipes the egg off my face. Or at least he tries to, but he can’t get it all off. My skin is sticky and there’s a gooey trail running between my breasts.
I don’t even know why she egged me. “Did April ever get treated like this?”
“No eggs that I can remember,” he says softly.
“So I’m special, huh?” I can’t keep the bitterness out of my voice. This night was a disaster. A total disaster. I wanted so desperately to do something nice for Oak, and it backfired in a way I never, ever expected.
“I’m so sorry,” I whisper.
“For getting egged?” he says tightly. “That’s not your fault. Some fans can be insane. Don’t take it personally.”
“No.” I take a breath. “I’m sorry I invited your dad. I thought…I thought it would be nice if your whole family was there for your party.”
His face tense, Oak tosses the wet napkins on the floor. “So you could see what a shit show my childhood was?”
“No. Because I thought you could reconnect.” I struggle to explain. “I did this for you.”