Page 20 of The Producer: Aaron

I hear her sigh and take a break, perhaps to calm down, since she is making a scene that she also knows to be ridiculous. I’ve never been a person who sleeps around, and she knows very well that I would never carelessly slip into Aaron’s bed. It doesn’t matter how sexy he is.

“I know the stalker story is not true. Otherwise, you would have told me. You are not someone who takes such a threat lightly.”

“But am I one who slips lightly into the bed of a man I barely know?”

“I don’t know, you tell me. Do you live in his house, or is that a story invented by the newspapers?” she replies.

Guilt makes room in my chest. I never told her I came to live here because then I would have to explain about my umpteenth appearance in the newspapers wasted, and I’m not proud of that part of my life.

“I don’t sleep with him,” I repeat.

“But you live in his house.” Hers is not a question. She knows very well that when I avoid answering her questions, it is because she is right.

“Does it make any difference where I live?”

“When it’s atthatman’s house, it makes all the difference in the world.”

The guilt soon turns into a subtle vein of anger that has consumed me since I was twelve and we started having this conversation.

“Did you finally decide to explain to me why you hate him so much? Because if that’s not the case, then we can end this conversation here,” I answer acidly.

I hear her sigh again. “Mel…”

“Don’t call me that. My name is Dakota. We’ve had this conversation before.” I know my frustration is turning me into a real bitch, but I’ve been waiting for an explanation from her for eleven years.

Eleven years in which the subject of Aaron Steel has been taboo, and I am tired of hearing her excuses for not talking about him.

“Dakota, please come home. It’s not too late to go to college and find a real job,” she implores.

And like every time I bring up the subject of Aaron Steel, my mother diverts the conversation, making me feel guilty for choosing to be an actress instead of becoming something she considers more. To have thrown away my excellent grades and scholarships for prestigious universities to pursue a dream that she cannot understand.

“Have a good day, Mom,” I mumble before ending the call.

Every conversation with her reminds me how much of a disappointment I am, and I feel the weight of my every decision.

***

I’m still annoyed by my mother’s call when the doorbell app sends me a notification. Serena’s blond hair peeps out in front of the camera. The temptation to pretend not to be home is strong, but the tired smile and the certainty that she will remain glued to that gate for the rest of the day makes me give in. Five minutes later, she is sitting next to me on the deck chair.

“Bad day?” I ask her when she doesn’t flood me with her usual chatter.

She shrugs and stares at the city of her dreams that, in her case, are turning into nightmares.

“I flunked another audition,” she murmurs without looking at me.

I feel sorry for her. I don’t know what it’s like to try and try again to break through in an industry that doesn’t give you any chance because I was damn lucky. I arrived in Los Angeles with big dreams, showed up at the first casting open to the public, and got the leading part. I believe that no one has had a life as simple as mine, and I feel guilty when I see her fail at every audition. It must be frustrating, but the truth is that I have no idea how it feels, and I don’t know how to help her.

“I’m sorry,” I whisper, not knowing what else to say.

She turns and offers me a tired smile.

“I’ll do fine next time.” She doesn’t seem convinced.

“Do you need money to pay the rent?”

She looks down and blushes. I know it’s embarrassing for her to ask for help because she can’t make it to the end of the month. That’s why I feel always so conflicted when she visits me on set and I don’t push her away. Because the trucks that offer food to production sometimes are the only decent meal she manages to have during the day. She shouldn’t be there, but she also shouldbe able to afford to eat every day.

“I will find something. Don’t worry.” She forces another smile, but I see how discouraged she is.

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