I give him a deadpan look, but say, “Of course.”
“Is your first name really Menace, or did you change it?”
Steepling my fingers, I answer, “No, it’s my real name.” Hill waves his hand for me to continue, so I say, “My father didn’t want my mother pregnant, but she wouldn’t hear about getting an abortion. She tried to give him an out, telling him that she could do it on her own, but he said he’d do right by her and marry her. The entire time she was pregnant, my father said I was the menace that came between him and his freedom. So that’s what he named me.”
Hill squirms in his seat, his face a mask of disgust. “That’s…I’m sorry.”
“It’s okay. It’s a good name. How many people do you know has a badass first name without going through all the paperwork to change it?”
He stares at me for a few beats before he says, “So, Menace Grant. How did you get your start? Did you wake up one morning and decide you wanted to walk the runway?”
After a slight chuckle, I shake my head and tell him how I was discovered. I gloss over why I was in the mall but give him the standard answer I’ve given to a few other journalists that have interviewed me. I do add, “Sya saved my life. I don’t think I would have lasted long in the trailer park where I was raised. It was…it was soul sucking. She saw something in me that I didn’t see in myself and made my dreams come true. She made it possible for me to start my charities, to give other men and women what my mother wasn’t able to get for herself: help.”
Hill leans forward. “What do you mean by that?”
Finally, I’ll tell the world the reason why my charity for domestic violence victims is so important. If anyone has dug intomy background even a little, they’ll find that my mother was killed by my father, but I’ve never talked about it.
Not until Hill.
He makes me feel safe enough to give up that information, like when he prints my words, it won’t be to make me look bad. He’ll make the piece powerful, so victims can come forward, knowing that someone like me will be able to help them get away and get back on their feet. He’ll give victims the choice.
Pulling in a deep breath, I say, “My mother was killed by my father, then he killed himself.” Hill nods, prodding me gently to continue. “I didn’t spend a lot of time at home. My father was a violent man, bad when he was sober, even worse when he was drunk. And he dranka lot. My mother and I walked on eggshells every day, afraid that anything we said or did would set him off.”
“Did she ever try to get away?” Hill asks—a question that’s not on his list, but I answer anyway.
“Once. But she ended up going back when she struggled too hard. I have no family and my mother was a stay-at-home parent. She had no friends. We were gone for a week. It was the happiest week of my childhood. But she couldn’t’ survive without my dad. He made sure of that.”
He knew my mother had no money and refused to help her unless she came back home. She tried, she really did, but with nothing, she had no choice.
I continue, looking Hill in his deep brown eyes. “When she came back, the abuse was much worse. By the time I was seventeen, it had gotten to the point that I wanted to get us away myself. I’d gotten a job, and I was saving every single cent I could, planning to leave that trailer park when I was eighteen and graduated high school.” I chuckle humorlessly. “My mom never let me even consider dropping out. She told me that no one could take my diploma away from me, so I needed to get one.”
“Did she graduate herself?”
A sad smile tips up my lips. “No. She dropped out when she got pregnant with me.”
Hill sighs, his eyes filled with sadness.
I hate talking about my past life, hate anyone knowing how hard I had it. But Hill isn’t looking at me with pity. Probably because he grew up in foster care and knew how hard life could be when you don’t have a stable home.
“The day my mother was killed…I didn’t want to go home after work that day. I didn’t want to be around yelling and cursing and fighting. I just wanted a fucking break. So, I went to the mall. That was where Sya, my agent and manager, approached me about modeling. She fed me and offered me a contract. I rushed home to tell my mother, excited that I had a real way to get us out. When I stepped inside, I found their bodies. They’d argued and my father beat my mother a little too hard. I think when he realized he’d killed her he took his own life.”
That’s not the real story—a story I’ve already told Hill.
What really happened is, I’d come home directly from work, found my dad sitting in his recliner looking at his bloodied hands. My mother was still warm, but her eyes were closed and her chest had stopped rising and falling. When I realized she was dead, I hit my father hard enough to knock him unconscious, the first time in years that I’d lost my temper on him.
I would have beaten the shit out of him like he did to her, but I know my mom would have been disappointed that I threw my life away for him.
So, I found his gun, positioned it in his hand, and pulled the trigger. After making sure he was dead, I slipped out of the back door and made my way to the mall to walk off my nervous energy and give myself an alibi.
Pulling myself back to the present, I say, “That’s why my charity is so important. If there were resources like what my charities provide, my mother could have gotten away andstayedaway. I try to have locations in smaller, more rural areas where options are extremely limited. I want any person who is in a relationship that is toxic and abusive to know that the assistance I provide will help them get on their feet. But I can’t do it alone.”
We grow quiet as the flight attendant comes back and offers us drinks and snacks.
Once we’re settled in, Hill jumps back in with his normal questions. “If someone wants to help, how can they provide assistance?”
I rattle off the websites for donations and any areas where we’re hiring. “One hundred percent of all donations go into the shelters to help victims and pay staff. I keep none of the proceeds and also donate half of what I make annually to keep the shelters properly staffed. I can do so much more with assistance. It’ll be one less person trapped in a domestic violence situation.”
Hill asks a few more lighthearted questions, many about past shoots I’ve done and just getting to know me as a person, not just as the model everyone wants to fuck.
