After two hours, a catering crew arrived to serve lunch. Jenna again disappeared into the guesthouse so Seth and Heather joined Lexie at a table near the pool. Even though everything seemed to be going well, Seth could hardly eat. Jenna hadn’t asked about him yet, and he knew that she was planning to. He noticed Heather barely touched her meal as well.
It was after lunch that the interview really took off. Jenna’s questions became more pointed and direct, less the standard variety. Each new word out of her mouth made his chest tighten and his body go more rigid as she asked Heather about her diva reputation, her ex-boyfriend, Collin and about rumors of other affairs.
Then the conversation turned to Heather’s charity involvements, and Seth stopped breathing altogether.
“You’ve done a lot of work with the Urban Arts Foundation,” Jenna said.
Half of her questions weren’t even really questions, but statements that elicited a response from Heather. It was quite crafty.
“Mostly the 24-Hour Play Events,” Heather said. “But I’ve done a lot of school visits as well.”
“Why this group? What is it about Urban Arts that you’re attracted to?”
Seth leaned forward in the director’s chair that he’d commandeered once filming began. He sat where Heather could look over at him if she needed to, though she’d kept her eyes off him most of the interview. Now her eyes flicked to him and he suddenly realized that Jenna’s question could lead to Heather’s past as easily as it could lead to him.
“Well.” Heather’s eyes returned to her host. “They’re a fantastic organization. Their goal is to keep arts in schools and bring arts to schools that can’t afford it. The people who are involved are the most generous, giving, dedicated people I’ve ever met.”
Seth had to cover his mouth to suppress his sigh. Heather had successfully escaped having to talk about her life growing up. Lexie surely must have given Jenna guidelines about what was and wasn’t off-limits. Not that he’d mind if Heather did talk about her past, but he didn’t think she was ready for that. Not quite.
“Sounds like there might be someone special in the bunch?”
Here it was—the moment when she’d mention him. God, he was almost giddy.
“There is someone special. Seth Rafferty.” She smiled and he melted.
Melted? Dude, what was going on with him?
Whatever it was, it was pretty f**kin’ perfect.
“Is Seth your…”
“Boyfriend,” Heather finished for her. “We’ve been seeing each other, um, well, since the plays in L.A.” She paused. Then with a deep breath, she sat up straight. “But he’s not the reason I’ve been so dedicated to the foundation.”
The hairs on his arms stood up as he suddenly understood what Heather had planned, why she’d agreed to this interview. It wasn’t for him.
“What is that reason then, Heather?”
It wasn’t for him and that made him damn ecstatic.
“Because those kids—those kids who only survive their poverty because they’ve got something good to look forward to. I get those kids.”
Seth closed his eyes so he could hear her next words without any visual distractions. So he could savor them with her.
“I was one of them.”
Chapter Eighteen
There it was. She’d said it. It was out there for the world to know now.
And it totally felt good.
They’d planned it, of course. Jenna Markham wouldn’t allow an interview without hitting all the hard topics, and Heather knew that going in. But she’d wanted to talk about her past. Was finally ready.
“Your father,” Jenna said now in that compassionate tone she put on for deep subjects. Man, the way she played the emotions, she could have been an actress herself. “He was a recovering coke addict.”
Heather let out a pfft—half sigh, half laugh. “He was never recovering. Recovering implies he was trying to get better. He never tried to get better. Anytime he was clean, it was just because he hadn’t landed the next score yet.”
“And your mother?”
She shrugged. “Drunk usually. Daddy was more functional than her. I don’t know what was worse. At least I knew what to expect from Mama. I didn’t know what version of my father I’d get from one minute until the next.”
Heather hadn’t prepared any of her answers—she’d tried, but thinking about it beforehand made her edgy. Instead, she’d decided to go with the flow. She was surprised at how easily her words came. That wasn’t to say that talking about her family was a picnic. It was more like throwing up—it felt terrible while you were retching, but afterward, you felt kind of good.
“Did he hit you?”
Memories of slaps and shoves ran through her mind in a flash. “Not…um, sometimes. Not on a regular basis. Not like I feel like I was an abused child.” Most of her father’s hits had been when he was jonesing, when he hadn’t had a hit in days. When he was desperate. She just happened to be in the way.
“You didn’t feel abused,” Jenna said, her words slow and drawn out. “Weren’t you, though? Abused and neglected by the people who were supposed to care for you?”
Damn it. Jenna was going to make her cry. “Yes, I guess I was.”
“And now? Are you close to your parents now?”
Hell no. “I’m not.”
“Do you wish you were?”
Hell no times ten. “No.” She paused, deciding how honest she wanted to be. What was that they said about no guts, no glory? Well, she’d already had a lot of glory. Maybe it was time for the guts. “I wish they weren’t around at all. I wish they didn’t know how to find me. I wish they were dead.” She choked on the last word, but didn’t regret it. It was honest. It was real.
“Why is that?”
Heather shook her head, unable to speak.
“Why have you kept your family hidden from the media?”
Tears burned at the corners of her eyes. “Because I was ashamed.” Then the tears were streaming down her cheeks. “I’m ashamed of them. I’m ashamed of me.”
The next several questions were a blur. Heather knew Jenna asked stuff and that she’d said stuff, but the specifics weren’t clear. It didn’t really matter anymore. The point was that her biggest secret was out and she was fine. Better than fine. She no longer had to fear the press finding out. Her father couldn’t swindle money out of her. His threats wouldn’t hold water anymore.