Page 21 of Hollywood King
Eight
Cathy
A rib spreadercouldn’t break the tension in the car on the way to the wake. We sat in the back seat submerged in silence, each staring out our respective windows. Not touching, not even breathing too loudly so we didn’t draw each other’s attention.
He lived in the same side of town as the old house, where Hindley now lived, I supposed, being the only child left who actually spoke to our father before his passing. Soon, we drove down the street we grew up on, Heath and I. The tree on the corner where we hid and shared our first kiss whisked past. I risked a glance at him. The tight set of his jaw as he stared hard out the window kept me from making a joke. Did he drift through memories as well? Did his burn in his chest like mine?
We stopped at the gate. Cars were lined up outside the wrought iron and down the long drive. When we pulled up, Heath’s driver helped me out as Heath came around the car on his own. He buttoned his suit jacket and held his arm out to me. Did I take it? Go inside with a united front, but put Hindley on the other side of the chessboard? Or did I walk in alone, the girl who ran away from all of this to mix with the rabble?
Despite everything that happened with Heath, for now, I felt stronger with him at my back. I slipped my arm into his, and he visibly settled. He’d been waiting for me to reject him. That pierced something in my chest, a tiny dart puncturing the balloon I’d cushioned my heart in since he left.
Then we were inside. The house had been cleaned, the decorations in ivory and onyx lovely, as always. Everything immaculately cared for, and the catering I ordered reputed to be the best. Perfection in all things is what Father would have wanted after all. It was how he spent his life, how he tried to raise his children.
A large urn sat between the double curved stairway, a small book next to it for messages and notes. I was glad we decided to cremate him. Dead bodies never looked like love ones once they left, no matter how hard funeral homes tried. I wanted to remember my father as he was. Heath led me to the table, and I left a message for him in the book and then kissed my hand and pressed it to the large framed photograph by the urn. We may not have spoken, but I loved him in my own way.
I turned around. The guests had gathered near while I said my goodbye. I caught sight of Hindley in the back, champagne in one hand his cell phone glued to his ear with the other. Heath stepped into the middle of the crowd, and it was like watching the clouds part to make way for the sun.
I could see how he became the magnate and Hollywood King he’d been for years now. He wore a soft smile, just the right amount of charm and sadness. I tried to slip toward the crowd, but he struck out, snagged my hand, and tugged me to his side. The bastard knew I didn’t like being the center of attention. But he also knew I wouldn’t make a scene, not today. I stood next to him, my frown the dark to his light-bringing smile.
He addressed the collective. “Thank you all for coming to send our father off. He would be glad to have garnered such a turn out. “
He paused and looked down, and I couldn’t tell if he was acting or if he really felt the depth of sentiment on his face right now. I watched him carefully, trying to puzzle it out.
He continued, “Our father wasn’t an easy man to love. Lord knows he never made it easy for me.” The group chuckled. He gave them that playboy smile again. I almost wanted to break out the Oscar now.
“Well, please stay, enjoy the champagne, and thank you again.” He wrapped it up and led me toward Hindley.
I resisted, but he whispered urgently. “We need to present an iron front for the board members.”
“I don’t give a shit about board members. And if you don’t get your hand off my arm, I’m going to do things to it that no doctor will ever be able to repair.”
He stared down at me for a second, and I saw through the mask to the sad, lonely man underneath. He offered me a small smile and then slipped it back over his features and let me go with an, “Of course.”
We approached Hindley who finishing throwing back what looked to be his third glass of champagne—that I could see at least. He turned to face us. His eyes dropped to me, and I was startled by how much he looked like father. I hadn’t seen any of them in so long, I’d forgotten.
He leaned in and kissed me on the cheek gently. “Thank you for getting everything ready.”
I didn’t say anything to that. He most certainly wasn’t welcome to my help. I did it for Father and no one else. Heath nudged me with his elbow, and I glanced around through my peripheral vision to see everyone watching us. I sighed and smiled. It was the most I could do.
Heath and Hindley shook hands, a little too hard from what I could tell. Then we stood there awkwardly for a moment. A server passed, and Hindley grabbed champagne and handed them to each of us. I didn’t do alcohol at 10 a.m., so I just held it as he stepped toward the group. The second speech of the morning. Two too many in my opinion.
Hindley offered the glass to the crowd and said, “To the Earnshaw Empire.” The crowd toasted with him and dispersed somewhat, content they wouldn’t miss any voracious family drama between us.
Until…Hindley grabbed another glass from a tray, drowned it in a gulp, and threw the crystal to the floor to shatter. People jumped out of the way, and servers were already rushing over. Heath began some story about an accident, but Hindley glared at him the entire time, unselling the lie as quickly as Heath unraveled it.
I stepped up now and pulled Hindley toward me. Straight into a back storage room. Heath followed a moment later, going straight into Hindley’s face, chest to chest. They never liked each other. It would seem all of our separations over the years hadn’t helped in that regard.
“What the hell were you thinking?” Heath demanded.
I pressed him back a few inches, and he went, thankfully. I didn’t want to have to break up a fight at my own father’s wake.
“I was thinking this is all a lie.” He reached into his jacket and pulled out a piece of paper and handed it to Heath. I read over his arm.
“Earnshaw Pictures is bankrupt.” I blinked and read it again. “How could that have happened?”
I glanced up to see Hindley duck his head and avoid eye contact. “What did you do?” I demanded.
“When Father became ill, I started taking over things little by little. I made a couple of bad choices, ones we couldn’t afford.”
