The order form had a spot for a note. He went back and forth, agonizing over every word, and finally hit send. With that taken care of, he focused on learning his lines so he could do his best on this film, because Cindy deserved that—that and so much more.
Chapter 11
Cindy’s birthday dawned the same as any other day in Atlanta—muggy and hot, with a cloud of humidity. She was out of bed at six to make protein smoothies for Patricia and her stepsisters. Once they were on the treadmills, she made their beds and vacuumed their rooms. While they showered, she started a load of laundry and emptied the dishwasher. When they came down the stairs, dressed, glossed, and bright-eyed, she ran upstairs to eke out any remaining hot water for a shower.
As she was wrapping a towel around her, the bathroom door creaked open. Startled, she jumped. “Stepmother! You startled me.”
Patricia laughed. “Who did you think it would be?” All traces of laughter disappeared. “Beau Mckay?”
“Of course not!” Cindy was properly scandalized at the thought. Beau may be a player, butshewasn’t that kind of a girl. Besides their first encounter, he’d been nothing but a gentleman, his hands staying in all the proper places when they kissed.
“That’s good to hear. I wouldn’t want you getting your hopes up.”
The steam sucked out the open door, and a draft chilled Cindy’s exposed shoulders. She shivered and tucked her towel tighter around her chest. “Why do you say that?” Patricia’s attempts at intimidation were wearing on her—especially where Beau was concerned.
He’d kissed her. That may not mean much to Patricia and the film world, but it meant something to the two of them.
Patricia offered her phone to Cindy. She scrolled through image after image of Beau and Drusilla on the dance floor, their bodies too close to be more than casual. In the last one, Beau’s hands were on Drusilla’s bony hips.
“What you thought you had with him—whatever that was—you don’t.” Patricia yanked her phone away. “This is the real thing.”
“I, I hardly know him,” replied Cindy, hating that the words felt true. She thought she’d known the real Beau Mckay. The man behind the playboy image. But pictures don’t lie. Anger and spite bittered her tongue. “Drusilla can have him, as long as she doesn’t care if she’s ex-wife number three.”
Patricia laughed. “Oh, honey—that’s the plan.”
Cindy bent forward as if she’d been sucker punched. “What?”
“It’s not aboutlove.” Patricia saidlovelike it was a child’s toy to leave behind when you grew into your training bra. “It’s about conquest. Beau is just the beginning for Drusilla.”
Cindy shook her head, her wet hair sending cold droplets down her back. “It won’t work. Beau’s too smart to fall for someone who doesn’t really love him.”
“Oh honey, your daddy did—and he was the smartest man I’d ever met.”
Cindy jerked back and slipped on the wet tile. She managed to catch herself on the counter by sheer luck. The adrenaline bursting through her veins burned away at Cindy’s resolve to absorb her stepmother’s venom. Patricia never loved Robert Knight. The knowledge was colder than the icy droplets falling from Cindy’s wet hair.
Did Daddy know?
There’s never an ever after,her father had said. She ached for him, that his final years were spent with an ice queen. He’d been the most caring father, a loving man who lavished her with all the important things in life—love, nurturing, and teaching—and he’d been shackled to this witch, too noble to abandon her and her daughters.
Cindy’s eyes narrowed. “He didn’t deserve you,Patricia. He deserved so much better.”
Patricia’s chin jerked back at Cindy’s use of her given name. Cindy didn’t care. She was done pandering to this awful woman. For just over two years, she’d hung on, thinking that even though they may not share love or friendship, they shared grief for someone they both loved deeply. With her cutting remarks and the revelation that she’d never loved Robert Knight, Patricia sliced the slim thread holding Cindy to the Knight home.
She vowed, as of this moment, to wash her hands of the vile woman. With her chin held high, she brushed past Patricia, who stumbled backward to avoid being knocked over.
“Where are you going?” Patricia asked in a panic.
“I don’t know.” Cindy smiled. “But it’s my birthday, and I’m going to enjoy it.”
“You can’t come into work—I won’t pay you.”
“Don’t worry, Patricia—I don’t want to be within ten miles of y’all today.” It was time to step out from under Patricia’s thumb. After all, she was thirty. The year she was supposed to put young fancies behind and make her statement to the world. According to her father, she was old enough to move into management. She still had contacts in the business, and despite what Patricia had done with Knight Studios, her father’s name held sway. She’d start her own production company, and she’d take the Knight Studios family with her.
Patricia calmed. “Fine.”
Cindy held the door open. “Get out of my room.”
“You can’t talk to me that way.”
