“You did the best you could,” I said quietly. “There’s no telling whether I would have gotten that loving family.”
It was the closest thing to forgiveness I was willing to give him at this point in his story.
Appearing grateful for my small concession, Tucker nodded and continued with a sigh, “Anyway, after Marni spent time in jail or rehab, she’d just randomly show up on my doorstep unannounced, crying and asking to see you. And I allowed it. She seemed like she was getting her shit together. I trusted in her sobriety. She promised me, Bodhi. She promised I could trust her.”
He paused, pain and regret etched deep in the lines on his forehead. I leaned forward, wanting—no— demanding more. Was this what Marni had let slip in our meeting this morning?
“I let her move back in with the contingency that she stay off drugs and watch you during the days while I was working,” Tucker said dully. “It was working for the first few weeks and it saved me the childcare costs. But then one day when you were just over a year old, I came home and found her knocked out on the couch. Some guy was in there. You were screaming in your crib. I knew something was wrong when he tried to block me from going to you, saying you wouldn’t shut up and that he was just trying to get you to be quiet.”
Tucker broke down as if reliving a physical pain. Rising to my feet, I gripped his shoulder, offering what solace I could. I had no memory of the incident, no stake in the horror playing out in his mind.
“You’d been badly beaten. Broken ribs. Fractured jaw. I pressed charges and both the guy and Marni were arrested. I didn’t wait for her to work a plea deal and arrive back on my doorstep. I was never going to allow her to hurt you again. That’s when I packed us up and moved to Los Angeles. I changed our names to keep her from finding us. And, yes, once you were old enough to start asking about your mother, I didn’t want you tainted by the past. So I lied to you—told you she was dead. I figured it was better for you to think of her as an angel than the devil I knew her to be.”
“And Beth? What happened to her?”
“Beth.” Tucker released a weary breath, shaking his head. “Would you believe me if I told you I fired her because I was jealous? She was just your nanny, but you began to see her like a mother. The plain truth was, I hated that you loved her more than me.”
The two of us sat silent for a long while, caught up in the story of our shared past. For the first time in my life, I understood Tucker— maybe even admired his devotion to a baby that wasn’t even his. He’d given up his life in San Francisco to keep me safe. He may not have been a traditional father but at least he had kept me alive and healthy and gave me a future I wouldn’t have had with my mother.
“Are you paying her off?”
Tucker cringed. “Yes.”
“For how long?”
“About seven months.”
Of course, Marni hadn’t disclosed that piece of critical information.
“But if I’m legally adopted, she really has nothing to hold over you.”
“She has you, Bodhi—her trump card. I was paying her to spare you the truth.”
“Then, why did she reach out to me? Wouldn’t that end her paydays?”
“See, the problem with blackmail is, once you give it up once, the price goes up. She was squeezing me for more. I could see the writing on the wall. It was never going to end, so I had a ‘take it or leave it’ agreement set up for $5000 a month. She agreed to it and was cashing the checks, so I thought you were protected. Apparently not.”
“You think she’s looking for money from me too?”
Tucker hesitated for a long moment. “I’d like to say she’s changed her ways, but I’ve been dealing with her for the past few months and what you need to understand about Marni is that she’s the most important person in her life. I do think she loves you, I really do, but she’ll never be able to put you first, no matter what she promises. Just remember that.”
“By not telling me about her, you put me in a vulnerable position, you know that, right?”
He nodded. “Yes. I know. It was stupid. I haven’t been thinking like a father for a very long time. I sort of lost myself in the Hollywood trap.”
“Sort of?” I gaped. “It was a little more than ‘sort of’.”
“I know.” His lips fell into a deeper frown. “When you first started out in the business, it was a fun little pastime, but then real offers materialized and it became a job. Not only for you, but for me too. I got all caught up in the power. It wasn’t until you started pushing back a few months ago that I took a hard look at my behavior. I didn’t like what I was seeing. And then the fire.” He shivered. “I thought I’d have to live with that crushing regret forever, and it felt like a just punishment.”
I detected only remorse in my father’s words. The remorse that came with seeing the light under the worst possible circumstances.
“I’m firing you as my manager,” I said quietly. But for a slight twitch, my father remained stone faced and silent. “It’s not to punish you,” I was quick to assure. “But it’s a conflict of interest to have you managing me and being my boss. And my father.”
And Tucker was my father. He’d raised me. Sacrificed for me. All the things a parent should do.
He jerked a nod. “I get it. I do. It’s just a tough pill for me to swallow. You’re my life. I don’t know what to do with myself if I’m not micromanaging you.”
“Don’t I know? No offense, but you’re the stage dad from hell.”
