Page 16 of A Simple Love

She paused, then nodded.

“I know you’ll have questions. Some I may not be able to answer. But if you would let me get it out, I’d appreciate it.”

“Okay.”

“When my mom died, you know how messed up I was. And we both know I never would have gotten through that time if it hadn’t been for you. I loved you. I loved you so much, I couldn’t imagine my life without you in it.”

She pressed her lips together, and I knew she wanted to ask me if I loved her that much, how I had left her behind.

“That day I went into Toronto on a lark to be an extra on that set, I met Ed. He was the one who discovered me, such as it was. He made so many promises and flew me to LA to audition for the sitcom Summer of Our Lives.”

“Yes, I remember. You got the role.”

“Yes. I wasn’t eighteen yet, so Ed handled all the contracts, and he set me up in an apartment with some other young actors. Paid all the bills and put money in my account. I was never without, but the rest of the money, he invested. He showed me statements, and I was okay with it since I didn’t really understand any of it.” I stood and paced. “It was hard to adapt at times. I had a contract I had to abide by. Appearances I had to make, interviews I had to do. Photo shoots. Press. All of it. I was pulled every which way, the more popular the series got.” I met her gaze. “And yes, my life here was at times a distant thought. Except you. I thought of you a lot, but I was working so hard, with my end goal to get back to you. To bring you to LA and have a life together there.”

“Your calls and letters dropped off to nothing after a while.”

“I know. Ed was in my ear all the time, telling me I was too young. I needed to live it up. In LA, I was someone. Constantly photographed. Told how fabulous I was. Women and girls alike flocked to me. Threw themselves at me.” I scratched the back of my neck, starting to feel anxious about telling her the truth.

Except I owed her that.

“Ed pointed out that you never called me either. Or answered my letters.”

She gasped in indignation as I knew she would. “I did!”

I held up my hand. “Let me finish. I found out a lot of lies he told me.”

I swallowed before speaking again. “At the end of two years, I figured we’d both moved on. I hadn’t heard from you in over six months. Your number didn’t work. The last three letters I wrote you came back undeliverable. I received what I thought was your message loud and clear.”

“I didn’t send any sort of message,” she whispered. “I went to Toronto to go to school, but I was still waiting for you until I got that final letter.”

“I didn’t write that letter.”

“Who did?”

“Ed. He decided you were a distraction he no longer wanted me to have. He took the letters I wrote you and kept them. Paid one of my roommates to hide your letters and give them to him. He had access to my messages and deleted any from you, including the one telling me your new number.”

“That bastard!”

I sat down, resting my elbows on my knees and letting my hands hang between my legs. “That is only a small part of what he did.”

“I was twenty and playing a seventeen-year-old. I was tired of it, but Ed assured me my contract was airtight and I had three more years. He told me to bide my time and finish out the contract. He lined up some stupid summer-type movies—portraying more teens—for me. I hated every moment. On set, I was quiet, and one day after we wrapped, I was wrestling with something in my head and the producer came over to talk to me. He asked the right questions, and I told him everything. How unhappy I was. Tired of playing a teenager. Being the lowest-paid actor on the set when I was supposedly the biggest star.” I huffed out a laugh. “He gave me some great advice and told me what I needed to do to find the right answers. That was when a lot of things came to light.”

She leaned forward and clasped my hands, which I hadn’t realized I’d balled into fists. “How bad?”

“Bad. Ed had forged my signature on some documents. He’d made himself my power of attorney. Lied about my salary. Lied to the studio. The list went on and on. The deeper I dug, the worse it was. And I had no one. Until I met Annie. The producer I spoke to had given me her name, and I took everything I had and went to her office. I sat there all day before she agreed to see me without an appointment. I told her my problem. I had all this information, yet I had no idea how to fix it.”

I had to pace again. I patted Kassie’s hands and stood, walking around the room. It was slightly larger than the one upstairs, but this one was her. Warm and welcoming. A rich blue on the end wall. Pictures and paintings hung everywhere. A thick rug that cushioned my anxious pacing. Knickknacks, some of which I recognized, on tabletops. Candles. Cushions and many blankets. An electric fireplace I imagined her curling up in front of on cold days.

Kassie shifted on the sofa, interrupting my inner musings. I shot her a smile. “Sorry, was lost in my head for a minute.”

She nodded in understanding, and I blew out a long breath.

“Long story short, Annie agreed to look it over.” I barked out a laugh, recalling how she looked, glaring at me over her horn-rimmed glasses, her vapor escaping around her head like a hurricane.

“You’re not having a temper tantrum with your agent and thinking to use me to get to him, are you?”

“No, I’m not,” I assured her. “I think I’m in deep trouble. Simon Gless gave me your name. He said if anyone could help me, it would be you.”