Page 73 of Show Off

“Yes, please.” I bite my lip. “Is this weird?”

He studies my face. “Artfully plating cookies filled with hydrogenated oil and high fructose corn syrup so we can dip them in more corn syrup and carrageenan?” He shrugs and picks up a cookie. “I’ve seen weirder.”

“Good.” I take a deep breath. “I want to tell you something that I’ve never told anyone else.” My tongue feels thick as I force out the words. “Something…big.”

Dal sets down his cookie and gives me his full attention. “I’m listening.”

I can’t look at him, so I stare at the bubbles in my flute. They’re tiny and neat, fizzing like frantic bees. Where do I start?

“My mother had an affair.” The air leaves the room as I force out the rest of the words. I look at Dal, calmed by the steadiness in his dark eyes. “My father found out, and they worked through it years ago.”

“Okay.” He waits to see if there’s more. “Was this recent?”

“No.” I look down at the platter of cookies. “Twenty-eight years.”

“Oh.” He’s doing the math in his head.

“I’m twenty-seven.”

“I see.” His voice says I don’t need to spell this out for him.

But maybe I do for my own peace of mind. “I found out about it when I was ten.” I skip over the details. How I walked in on Mom’s private chat with her lawyer. How she swore me to silence, told me it was a secret for just us girls. “I—um. I’ve never discussed it with my father. The father who raised me, I mean. Laurence Judson.”

Dal’s eyebrows shoot up, but he doesn’t reply.

“He knows,” I rush to explain. “It’s just—we have sort of this don’t ask, don’t tell understanding about it. There was a paternity test, years ago, and…” I’m babbling now, getting my story out of order. It’s not like me to botch the delivery like this.

But I’ve never told this story before. Never been so naked with anyone. “I’m not telling this right.”

“Breathe,” he says softly, and I do. He touches my hand, and that calms me, too. “You want to start at the beginning?”

I shake my head slowly, not sure I do. The beginning part isn’t what matters. “I’ve kept this inside for seventeen years. At this point, I’m not even sure who I’m protecting. My mother, I guess. My father. Maybe myself.”

The tip of his finger strokes my knuckles. “That’s a pretty big secret to carry.”

Hearing him say so unleashes a breath I didn’t know I was holding. “Yeah,” I admit, relaxing a little bit more. “I guess it is. Um, so. It was a co-star of my mother’s. Not even a star, really. A guy with a minor role in one of her films.”

I’m glossing things over, protecting some details that aren’t mine to share. If Dal notices, he doesn’t say so. I’m telling my story the best way I can, and we’re letting it unfold together. “You’ve been sitting on this since you were ten?”

“Yeah. Yes.” My voice sounds shaky. “I guess—It’s stupid, really.”

“What’s stupid?”

I manage a wobbly laugh. “It’s no secret my father’s had affairs, right? I mean, you’ve read the tabloids.” His incredulous look says maybe he hasn’t. “Laurence Judson’s been caught with his hand in the cookie jar more than once. It’s so common in Hollywood. Just boys being boys. Most powerful men get away with it, but?—”

“Not the women.”

“No.” I swallow hard. “Not the women.”

I need to say more because I’m not sure he gets it. How could anyone who didn’t grow up like I did? “For most actresses—all but the biggest stars—it’s a career killer. She’s a slut or a bitch or a homewrecker or maybe all of those things. And the guy she cheatedwith? Hero status.” I’m waving my hands, getting into the story. The fast rush of words is a shock to my system. “He did it, too, but that doesn’t matter. It’s different for men.”

Dal’s eyes search mine, and he nods. “I believe you. I don’t follow Hollywood gossip, but the double standard sounds right.”

At least he’s not questioning me. I’m grateful for that. “It’s a different story though, for the guy who gets cheatedon.” My father, I mean, or the man I’ve regarded as Dad. Laurence Judson, Hollywood star, the biggest big man of all. “At best, the husband who’s cheated on is an object of pity. Usually worse.”

“People assume he’s a chump,” he supplies, and I nod. “Or bad in bed.”

“Right.” I lick my lips, which suddenly feel very dry. “So it’s a delicate situation.”

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