When It’s Real by Erin Watt
31
HER
Kat Ford joins Weisenberg’s all-star lineup!
Another A-lister has come on board for Oscar-winning director Mick Weisenberg’s upcoming thriller, set to begin production this summer. Katrina Ford, star of such romcoms as Mr. Right Now and Hopeful Romantic, has just signed on to join the cast of Weisenberg’s newest nail-biter. Ford will be putting her comedic chops on the shelf and bringing her former scream queen experience (Machete Head 2, Dead Night 1-3) to this much-anticipated film.
Also attached to the untitled project are Julie Drake, Oscar winner Freddie Herrera, and up-and-comer Natalie Gale.
“Is your mom wearing an embroidered sweat suit?” I gawk as Oak’s mom steps gingerly into our backyard.
Katrina has brought a few people with her—two big muscly guys who I peg as bodyguards and a black-clad assistant carrying two phones, a huge bag under her arm and a giant white box. Kat is clad, head to toe, in a Kelly-green sweat suit with flowers all over it. It’s one of those things you’d see in a store window and know that you’re supposed to like it, but don’t. Somehow, Oak’s mom pulls it off.
“Who knows,” he mutters.
Clearly he’s still not superhappy his mother is here, as if her arrival signals the end of his fun. I’m a little astonished at how much he’s enjoyed himself these past couple of months, just hanging out with me and the family.
If he’s not in the studio, he wants to be here. And the boys can’t get enough of him. They’ve missed having Dad around more than I ever realized, and Oak is the big brother they’ve always wanted. It helps that his toys are out of this world, but they’d be following him like little ducks even if he showed up with empty arms.
Oakley is a kid at heart, and I suspect he’s never had a lot of playtime. Oh, he has tons of people who want to be with him, but his guard is up. And that has to be stressful.
“Hopefully Ty comes back with more food. I didn’t buy enough meat for all these people,” Paisley frets.
“My mom doesn’t eat meat,” Oak assures her. “Whatever you have is fine.”
“Do you think you should say hello?” I ask him.
“You invited her here.”
Yup, still grumpy. I grab his hand and drag him toward Katrina. I’ve been doing that more and more lately—holding his hand. It feels…right.
W was never into public displays of affection. Holding my hand in public was a pretentious form of love, he’d said. Real couples don’t need to brag about their relationship. I agreed, of course, because I never felt like rocking the boat with W. I needed him more than I needed to have my hand held.
But gosh, it always sends tingles up my spine when Oak’s hand immediately closes around mine. He holds me tight in his clasp, like he never wants to let me go.
He does that when we’re making out, too. And when we’re doing…other things. Just thinking about all the naughty things we’ve done sets my cheeks on fire. Oak hasn’t pushed me to go further than I’m comfortable with, but the kissing…and the touching…it’s…incredible.
I force away my inappropriate thoughts as I greet Oak’s mother. “Hi, Katrina. Thanks for coming.”
“Oh, no, thank you for allowing me to come.” Katrina leans down to give me a hug. She’s four inches taller than me without shoes. In heels, she’s nearly as tall as Oak. “I brought something for our meal.” She waves her hand toward her assistant, who offers me the white box. “When I was in Small Wonders, my character always brought food and flowers whenever she was invited to a person’s house. Flowers were her signature item. It’s why, at the end of the movie, it’s so meaningful when Sassy—that’s the stepdaughter—gives her flowers from Sassy’s mother’s garden. It’s such a beautiful scene. Did you see it?”
I shake my head and then regret it immediately when her face falls.
“Vaughn’s more of an action girl,” Oak interjects. “Let me take that. Vaughn, this is Amanda, Mom’s assistant. And the guys behind her are Gary and Tobias.”
He lets go of my hand to take the box and carry it over to the table that is already full of food. Paisley went kind of crazy at the grocery store, wanting to make sure that Oak wouldn’t be unhappy with the food at our house. I shouldn’t judge, though, because I made three desserts last night.
I shake hands with everyone, even Gary and Tobias, who look at my hand like it’s a snake’s head. “Come and meet my family.” I lead Katrina over to my sister. “This is my sister, Paisley. She keeps us all together.”
“God, I can’t believe I look like a sweaty line cook in front of Katrina Ford,” Paisley laments. She wipes her hand on her apron before holding it out.
Katrina bats the hand away and hauls Paisley into her arms, meat-stained apron and all. “Goodness, aren’t you beautiful. Why are you working behind the scenes instead of in front of a camera?” Kat exclaims as she draws away.
Paisley blushes. “I like working at Diamond,” she mumbles.
Katrina’s attention is a little intimidating, but fortunately, I’m able to distract her from my sister by directing her toward the twins, who are now tossing the ball with Big D.
“These are my brothers, Spencer and Shane.”
“Oh, oh, my heart.” Kat pats her chest. “Your family is so adorable. I want to gather you all up and take you to Malibu with me to live full-time.”
“Do you live on the beach?” Spencer asks. “Because we’d be down with that.”
Shane nods his head eagerly.
“Of course! It’s a public access beach, but you can certainly walk right from my deck to the sand.”
“Radical.” He and Shane exchange fist bumps. “When’re we moving in?”
“You two aren’t moving anywhere,” I inform them. “Go inside and wash up. Paisley’s almost done cooking.”
The twins grumble a bit but know from past experience that they won’t get to eat if they don’t wash their hands. As they take off, Katrina’s smile turns to me. “And your parents?”
I shoot an awkward look at Oak, who grimaces in return. He doesn’t talk to his parents, so why would Katrina know about my past?
“They passed away a couple of years ago. Car accident,” I explain.
Her face falls. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t realize.”
“It’s okay.” I mean, it’s not okay. It’ll never be okay, but it’s getting easier to tell that story, easier to pass it off as one of those incidental facts about my life. Seventeen, went to Thomas Jefferson High and my parents died when I was fifteen.
“Mom, is that cashmere?” Oak interjects.
I sag with relief that we’re moving on from the sad and uncomfortable topic of my parents’ deaths.
“Isn’t it wonderfully obnoxious? Carlo sent it over from Gucci today.”
“It’s seventy.”
“It gets chilly at night,” she protests.
“You look great,” I tell her and then grab Oak’s hand again, this time to pinch the tender skin between his fingers. He shuts up and I almost regret that more.
Fortunately, Paisley calls for us to come over because dinner is done. The kitchen table has been carried out the patio doors so we have enough seating for everyone. My sister refuses to eat until everyone is seated, even the bodyguards and the assistant.
Katrina sits between the twins, who take turns staring at her in confused adoration and shoveling steak into their mouths.
“Be nice,” I mutter under my breath to Oak, who’s decided he needs to sit so close to me that we’re practically on top of each other. I’m not going to examine why I don’t move away even though there’s enough space for another family between me and Paisley.
“My mom makes me crazy.”
“You’ll miss her when she’s gone.”
Oak’s face grows somber. His hand skates up my back to rub lightly along my neck. “I know you’re right. I’ll try harder for you.”
“Do it for yourself.”
I have to give Oak credit. He tries. During dinner, he asks how her renovation is going and the two laugh about the number of times she’s redone her Malibu home, although there’s an underlying thread of sadness there, as if they both know she’s trying to rebuild something in her life but never achieves any satisfaction in it.
“Maybe I should put a slide in it? I saw the other day where someone had put in a slide for their kids.”
“We like slides,” Spencer says.
Both Paisley’s and my mouth drop open, because our twelve-year-old brothers would rather be dropped in acid than be caught on a playset.
“You do not,” Paisley accuses.
“Do, too.” Spencer glares. Shane nods in fierce agreement.
“Since when do you like slides? I asked if you wanted to go the park last weekend and you said it was for babies.”
“We do like them,” Spencer insists. “We just didn’t want to go to that shi—stupid one over on Fifth Street. It smells like a Dumpster.”
“That’s the nicest park in El Segundo,” she protests.
“Then El Segundo smells like a Dumpster.”
“Oh, well, I don’t need to put a slide in,” Katrina interjects. Her head bobs back and forth between Paisley and the twins.
“No. Slides are awesome. Paise doesn’t know what she’s talking about.”
Shane chimes in. “She’s getting old. She might need a hearing aid soon.”
“Shane Bennett, what are you talking about? I’m not even twenty-three!” Paisley cries. She looks to me for help, but I’m too busy giggling into my napkin.
Oak buries his face in my neck, trying to muffle his gales of laughter. “I love your family,” he says between gasps.
Me, too. Me, too.
After dinner, we all clear the table with Oak muttering something under his breath about how he hasn’t seen his mother lift a plate outside a movie since he was five. But Katrina helps as much as anyone else. Maybe one of her roles has helped her interact, but she comes off as sincere and sweet.
In the garage, Big D finds the ladder game, which he drags out into the backyard.
“What’s your point system?” Big D asks Paisley as he swings the tethered golf ball in his hand.
She shrugs. “One point for the bottom pipe, two for the middle and three for the top.”
Ty frowns. “No. You count how many bolas are left on the steps. Each one is a point.”
“What’s a bola?” Katrina asks nervously beside me. “I’ve never done this before.”
“The bola is the string with the two golf balls on either end,” I explain. “The goal is to get as many of the strings as possible to wrap around the three posts.”
“If we were at your house, you could set the rules, but you’re at mine so we’re keeping score the Bennett way.” Paisley juts out her chin.
“I recognize that look,” Oak says on the opposite side of me. “It’s the look that says we’re doing it this way and no other.” He cups his hands around his mouth. “Give in now, Ty. I can tell you from experience that there’s no point in arguing.”
I turn and punch Oak in the shoulder.
“Ow!” he fake cries. “Don’t damage the goods.”
“Your dad make this?” Big D asks, interrupting before I can punch Oak again.
“Yeah. It’s just PVC pipe.” The simple structure is about five feet high and consists of three rows of pipe on a stand. The goal is to get your two golf balls glued to the ends of a piece of rope, or bolas, wrapped around the pipes.
“And a lot of glue!” Spence adds. The twins exchange high fives.
I grin happily, glad that the memory of them putting the game together is a good one instead of a sad one.
“They were silly on a glue high for a day,” I explain to Oak and his mom.
Ty and Paisley are still arguing about the rules when Big D separates us into teams. We decide it’s going to be the Bennetts against the Fords. Ty plays with us while Big D and Katrina’s bodyguards stand over on the Ford side.
Amanda offers to keep score, the Bennett way.
Halfway into the game, the Bennetts are kicking ass. Ty mutters it’s because we’re cheating.
“You’re on our team, Ty,” Paisley points out.
“It’s no fun winning when you’re cheating,” he grumbles.
“Throw the damn—darn bola,” Oak yells. “You’re holding the game up. You should get penalized for that.”
“See, you’re going to make us lose,” Paisley says, then pulls the bola from Ty’s hand and whips it across the lawn with perfect aim.
The bola knocks off one of Oak’s balls, which means we win again. The twins run around, high-fiving everyone while Paisley and I slap hands. We grew up playing this with our parents. There’s no way the Fords are going to beat us, no matter which way the game is scored.
“Come on, Mom, you got this,” Oak encourages when Kat steps up and swings her bola.
Oak’s behind her, so he doesn’t see her face tighten with emotion and her eyes flutter closed. She shuts her eyes as if to make a perfect mental imprint of this moment. When her son called her Mom, when he cheered for her, when they were in perfect harmony.
“Go, Katrina,” I yell.
“She’s on the other team.” Paisley scowls at me. “Between you and Ty, it’s like you want us to lose.”
I merely grin. I’m too happy to care about the outcome of this game because, as corny as it sounds, the day is a win.
After we defeat Team Ford three times in a row, the twins drag Katrina’s bodyguards inside to show off their gaming rig. Paisley and Ty bicker as they stow away the game. Big D trails behind them. Amanda has disappeared, leaving Oak, his mom and me out on the lawn.
Katrina and I settle into a couple of deck chairs, but Oak decides he’d rather sit on the ground, leaning against my leg.
“How’s everything going?” Katrina asks. The friendliness of the game has burned off a little, showing that the underlying tension between mother and son isn’t going to be erased with one game of ladder golf.
“Good,” Oak replies. He leans his head against the side of my leg, his soft hair rubbing against my bare leg. I reach down and smooth some of the hair out of his eyes. “You?”
She shrugs. “You know how it is. I’m old now so I’m only getting scraps, but there are a few things that interest me.”
“That sucks,” I say.
“What projects?” Oak wants to know.
“A couple small side roles in a few upcoming films. I just signed on for Weisenberg’s latest thriller. The others are mostly dramas and I’d be playing someone much older than myself.” She glances at her hands, almost in embarrassment. “I’m vain, dear. You know that.”
“They’d be lucky to have you,” Oak replies gruffly. The two speak to the ground, afraid to look at each other.
“Thank you. But enough about me. What are you working on?”
Silently, Oak makes circles with his finger on the stone pavers. When Katrina looks disappointed by his lack of response, I blurt out, “He’s working on new music.”
His mother’s eyes widen. “You are? That’s fantastic.”
He clears his throat. “Yeah, I’m trying out a new sound. Don’t know if it’s going to go anywhere. It will probably suck.”
“It does not suck. It’s awesome. I had shivers,” I proclaim.
He twists around to peer up at me. “This is the first I’ve heard of it.”
“You don’t need to get a bigger head. Your ego is threatening to take over the entire southern coast.” I squeeze his shoulder to let him know I’m joking before turning back to Katrina. “It’s wonderful. More of Oakley and less of everything else.”
“That does sound wonderful. I can’t believe Oak is letting you hear it as he creates it. He never does that. What does Jim think?” Katrina asks.
“I haven’t shared any of it with Jim,” Oak admits, rubbing his cheek against my hand.
Katrina’s eyes, so like Oak’s, miss nothing. “Whatever it is, I’m sure it’s marvelous.”
“I know you and Dad never wanted me to sign that contract,” he mutters.
“Oh, Oak. Your father was just concerned that you’d be taken advantage of and you were so young. There are so many people who wanted to exploit you.”
“We both know that’s not why Dad was against it.” There’s bitterness in his tone.
She bites her lip. “We just wanted what was best for you.”
“Really? Because both of you basically stopped talking to me after I signed it.” This time he does raise accusing eyes to Katrina.
“You filed those emancipation papers!” she cried. “What were we supposed to think? You didn’t want us as parents anymore.”
“No, I wanted to make my own decisions about my music and my career.”
At first, Katrina opens her mouth to protest, but then she wilts, her desire to reconnect with her son overcoming any feelings of self-righteousness. “Then we didn’t do right by you. I don’t think either of us quite realized what happened until our little boy had become Oakley Ford—a man in his own right at the tender age of sixteen. We didn’t handle it well, and I’m sorry for that. We love you and I miss you, Oak. I want to spend more time with you. Can we do that? Maybe a little?”
Her plea is so heartfelt that my throat thickens. I’d give anything to have another day with my parents. Oak tilts his head to look at me and I know he sees my envy and grief because he reaches out to clasp my hand in comfort. It’s not Katrina he gives his answer to. “Okay, because I know it’s important to you.”