Star Struck (31 page)

“No.” The only thing she regretted was that Seth wasn’t in her life anymore. “I miss him, Lexie.” Her voice caught. “Like, so much.”

Lexie pulled her into another hug. She tucked Heather’s blonde hair behind her ear and out of the way of her fresh tears. “If you think about it, it was kind of romantic. Taking a job with a pay cut in order to be near you.”

“You don’t think that’s, like, stalkerish?”

“It could be, if the guy was a freak. But it’s Seth.”

“Yeah.”
Seth
. God, just thinking his name made her heart beat faster. There was no one like Seth. Never would be, she was sure of it. “But he lied.”

“You don’t always make it easy for people to love you,” Lexie said. “Can you really blame the guy for having to play games to get to see the real you?”

“Am I really that awful of a person?”

“No, sweetie. You’re really not.” She wiped at Heather’s tears with her thumb. “But you put up a lot of extra stuff that people have to look past in order to find that out.”

“I do do that, don’t I?” If Seth had been honest from the beginning, there was a good chance things wouldn’t have gone down between them like they did. They’d probably have had a one-night fling and that was all. By keeping the truth from her, she’d been forced to deal with things about herself that she never would have dealt with otherwise.

She’d never have been able to love him like she did. Or had. No, did. She still loved him. She couldn’t deny that, even to herself.

Heather took a Kleenex from Lexie and wiped her nose. “I kind of liked myself better when I was with him.”

“Me too.”

She laughed. “Now you’re just being mean.”

“Okay, maybe I am.” Lexie stood and moved back around the couch. “All right, I’m leaving for the store. You’ll be okay?”

“Yep. Take your time. Enjoy the fresh air.” The alone time would give her time to figure out what to do about Seth.

“You’re sure?”

“Yep. Besides, I bet you’re tired of being cooped up with my crazy ass.”

“Bitchy ass is more like it. And I won’t answer for fear of keeping my job.”

Heather turned to lean her face on the back of the couch. “You always act like I’m on the verge of firing you. You know you can’t get rid of me that easy, don’t you?”

“Yes.” Lexie sighed, her hand at the door. “But a girl can dream.”

Heather laughed—her first genuine laugh in weeks, and kept chuckling after Lexie had left. It was good to feel something besides depressed. Did she feel good because she’d had a good moment with Lexie or because she was finally moving past her heartache?

Or was her better mood because she knew Seth would be at the plays?

She let herself daydream about it for a few minutes—imagined rehearsing the plays, bumping into him backstage. Would he try to talk to her? Would she want to talk to him? Would they end up making out against the wall, their bodies pressed together in all the right places?

And that was why she was afraid of working with him. Because she wanted to talk to him and touch him and kiss him and lick him as much as she wanted to never see him again. At least the never seeing him again option protected her from further heartache—but she was so hurt already, could there really be a “further”?

Maybe she should cancel her participation in the plays. Lexie would be disappointed, but—

A rapping at the door jolted her from her increasingly tormented thoughts. She jumped up, glancing at the table by the closet where she knew Lexie had left her keycard earlier. Yep, just as she suspected—the keycard was there.

She picked up the card and opened the door to hand it to her assistant. “Damn it, Lex, when are you going to remember…”

Except it wasn’t Lexie.

Heather’s mouth went dry and a lump caught in her throat. “Daddy.” She was stunned, to say the least. When she’d seen Dean on the set of
Girl Fight
, she’d told him she was done with the handouts. That didn’t mean she didn’t expect to see him again, but certainly she thought her generous check bought her a couple of years reprieve.

Dean brushed past her, swinging the door open as he did.

“I didn’t say you could come in.”

“But you’d never turn me away.”

“Yes, I would. I told you last time no more.” She turned to face him, aware that the door hadn’t closed completely behind him, but unwilling to take her eyes off him to shut it herself. Besides, being alone with her father was never the best option, though habit kept her from wanting their encounter to be broadcast to whoever might be in the hall.

She watched as he crossed to the windows and whistled at the view. “Nice crib,” he said. “Definitely a step up from your fancy trailer.”

Heather ignored his comments and adopted a defensive posture, crossing her arms over her chest. “How did you know where to find me?” It was one of the first questions she asked every time she saw him even though it didn’t really matter how he found her, just that he had.

He evaded her like he invariably always did when she asked. “I always know where you are baby doll. I’m your daddy.”

She cringed at his parental declaration. Was she too old to be emancipated from him? Because it wouldn’t bother her much if she never saw him and his yellow-toothed grin again. “What do you want, Dean? Let’s skip the bullshit this time and you just tell me.”

His eyes narrowed slightly at her use of his name. It was the first time she’d called him anything but Daddy, and though she’d rather not have to call him anything at all, the departure felt good.

“Well, you see, life was going along just fine.” He turned away from the view and began inspecting the minibar. “The money you gave us was helping your mama, and I even managed to find a good job.” He pulled a few bottles out and stuffed them in his pocket without reading the labels.

“That’s fabulous.” Her tone couldn’t be any drier if she tried.

“But see”—he pocketed another handful of bottles—“then some report came out where you told the world I was a bad father.”

Her heart skipped a beat, but she refused to let her father know he’d affected her. “And your point is?”

He shut the fridge door and turned to pin his eyes on his daughter. “Why would you tell people lies like that?”

“Because they aren’t lies.” She’d wondered how her father would take her tell-all exclusive, but she’d been more concerned about her own life post-Jenna interview than his. Even with him standing in front of her, she still didn’t care about his reaction. She just wanted him to go. “If that’s all you came to talk about, you need to leave. Actually, you need to leave period.”

“But, Heather, you don’t understand the consequences of your lies.” He took a couple of steps toward her. “I lost my job because of the things you been saying.”

“You lost your job because you show up stoned out of your mind.”
Unbelievable.
He’d never kept a job more than a few months at a time, and he was blaming this termination on her? He might not have even been fired. He might not have even had a job. He wasn’t exactly the poster boy for honesty.

Which was why she was done with him—done with him the moment she’d said on national television that she’d wished he was dead. If he couldn’t be dead for real, he could at least be dead to her. “Dean, I’m not doing this anymore. Seriously. You need to leave.”

“I ain’t leaving until I get some compensation.”

“Compensation?” Her voice rose. “What about my compensation? Who’s going to compensate me for all the time and money I’ve given to you?”

He gestured to the luxurious suite. “I think you’ve gotten the better end of the stick.”

“I made my end of the stick myself.” She was pissed now. Seriously pissed. How dare he claim what she’d busted her ass to achieve? “All of this you see here? It’s mine because I earned it. I don’t owe you anything. I’m not giving you anything else. Last time was the end.”

“Now don’t be like that, Heather. Just give me what I deserve and I’ll be going.” He started a slow saunter toward her that she found more than a bit creepy.

Still, she played brave. “Or what? Do you think you have something over me? The only thing I’ve been embarrassed about is you and you’re not a secret anymore.” Surprisingly, she was pissed enough to play brave convincingly.

“Don’t fucking tell me you’re embarrassed by me.” He continued his approach, each step he took backing her up until she’d reached the wall. “It’s me who’s embarrassed to have a whore for a daughter—a famous whore. You think that makes me proud?”

“Get out of here!” she screamed, her fear now too strong to keep suppressed.

“It’s my turn to say, or what?” He put a hand on each side of her, caging her in. His breath was foul and his voice low and snakelike. “We both know you aren’t going to call security.”

Now she remembered another reason she always gave Dean what he wanted—because he scared her. Legitimately scared her. She knew he wasn’t above roughing her up. He could hit her. Push her around. He was skinny from drug use, but he was still strong.

Her heart pounded so loudly she was certain Dean could hear it. Or maybe that wasn’t her heart, but the door.

“Excuse me, miss? Are you okay in here?”

She glanced over to see a bellhop sticking his head in the doorway. His eyes darted from Heather to Dean then back to Heather, surmising the situation. “Do you need some help?”

The Heather of three months ago would have said
no
, would have done anything to keep attention away from her and her crack-head father.

But the Heather of today was a completely different person. “Yes! Please! I do need help.”

“No, she doesn’t,” Dean said. “We’re fine here. Just a personal matter.”

“We’re not fine here!” Heather took advantage of Dean’s distraction to duck out under his arms. She ran to the bellhop’s side, wanting a person between her and the man she used to call
Daddy
. “He’s here uninvited and I want him to leave.”

“She’s being dramatic. I’m her father.”

“I want him to leave!”

The bellhop stepped inside and picked up the phone on the occasional table. “Hi, this is Wes Lang. We need a manager and security to this room, please. There’s a situation.”

“There’s no situation.” Dean turned to his daughter, eyes pleading. “Heather, come on, now.”

“No, you come on!” Maybe because she felt less frightened with the bellhop with her, or maybe just because she’d finally reached her limit of Dean Hutchins’s shit, Heather suddenly felt her rage welling up inside her like a geyser.

Then the geyser blew. “I am sick and tired of you manipulating me and pushing me around. You’ve caused me nothing but pain and humiliation my whole life—when you were supposed to care for me and love me. I’m through. Do you hear me? I’m through being ashamed. It’s not my fault that you’re messed up. And it’s not my fault that you are a horrible excuse for a father. Just because I grew up with you doesn’t mean I have to be anything like you. So I’m not enabling you anymore. I’m done. As soon as I get back to L.A., I’m filing for a restraining order, something I should have done years ago. And so help me God, if you come near me again, I will throw you in the slammer without a second thought.”

“Baby doll—”

“I don’t want to hear anything you have to say.” She turned to the bellhop, her body shaking. “Can you get him out of here?”

“Don’t bother,” Dean said gruffly. “I’m leaving.”

But that wasn’t good enough. He couldn’t just walk out on his own accord. Heather was determined to finally make a stand where her father was concerned. Laying it on him had been cathartic, but she craved more. She wanted him banned from the hotel, thrown out on his ass. Wanted photographers to take his picture and report the situation so that maybe,
just maybe
, her public would understand who he was and make it harder for him to find her again.

Wow.
Wasn’t that a complete one-eighty from the woman she’d been before?

Before Seth.

Thank God security arrived before she had to explain her thoughts to the baby-faced bellhop/hero in her suite. And with them was Lexie.

When Lexie saw Dean, she dropped the bag of Cheetos and the bottle of Diet Coke and ran to Heather’s side. “Oh my God! Are you okay? I shouldn’t have left you!”

Heather stared at the pop bottle as it rolled down the hall. “I guess I’ll wait on drinking the Diet Coke.”

“She’s in shock,” Lexie exclaimed to the hotel manager. “I think she’s in shock. Heather, are you in shock?”

“I don’t think so.” She was still shaking from her outburst, but other than that, she felt pretty damn good. She’d stood up for herself—stood up to her father. She’d been scared as shit, but then she let herself go and now she felt invincible. Now she could do anything.

The security guard and hotel manager had Dean out of her room within minutes. Heather smiled to herself when she caught the bellhop taking a picture of the scene on his smartphone. If her father wanted what she had, why shouldn’t he have the press that went with it?

After the door clicked and the lock was bolted, Lexie buzzed around with adrenaline. “I can’t believe he was here! I can’t believe he found you. He didn’t hurt you, did he?”