Seconds Away

CHAPTER 32

Still reeling, I followed Ema into the dark mansion and then down to a finished basement. There was a sleek theater room with big comfortable chairs and a giant screen. A popcorn machine, like the kind you see at a theater, sat in one corner. On the walls were movie posters featuring Angelica Wyatt.

I looked at the posters and then at Ema. She lowered her head and took a step back, wringing her hands. I looked again at the posters. I looked again at Ema. “I should have seen it,” I said.

“What?”

“The eyes.”

Ema said nothing.

“When I met Angelica Wyatt, I kept thinking how warm and comforting her eyes were. Like I could just talk to her forever. I couldn’t figure out why I felt that way, but now I know.”

Ema looked up at me.

“Is Angelica Wyatt your mother?” I asked.

“Yes.”

“I don’t understand. All those rumors…”

“About my living in a shack and my father being a dangerous man who beat me or whatever?”

I nodded.

“I started them,” Ema said. “It was a way to throw people off the scent.”

I waited for her to say more. When she didn’t, I said, “But why?”

“You’re kidding, right?”

“No.”

“Do you hear the way the boys in school talk about how hot Angelica Wyatt is? Imagine if they found out she was my mother.”

“I guess that could be weird.”

“Could be?”

“Okay, I guess it would be.”

“And now imagine those mean girls who won’t give me the time of day-imagine how they’d treat me if they knew my mother was a world-famous movie star.”

“They’d probably treat you like gold,” I said.

“And you think I want that-those horrible phonies inviting me to their parties and having to sit with them at lunch? How could I ever trust anyone, if they knew? How could I ever think anyone would like me for me?” Ema turned away. Her shoulders slumped.

“What?” I said.

“When I first heard that your uncle was watching my mother, do you know what I thought?”

“No,” I said.

“I thought that maybe you knew the truth. That you knew all along I was Angelica Wyatt’s daughter and that’s why you started being nice to me.”

“I didn’t know,” I said.

She kept her back to me.

“Ema, look at me.”

She turned back toward me slowly.

“I didn’t know,” I said. “It doesn’t matter to me.”

“Okay,” she said softly. “So why did we become friends?”

“I don’t know. I guess I’m drawn to total pains in the butt.”

Ema let herself smile. “Me too. But do you see what I mean?”

“Yes,” I said, my head still spinning. “But it seems a little extreme. And how do you get away with it? How does the school not know?”

“My official name now is Emma Beaumont, not Emma Wyatt. The house is in my grandmother’s maiden name. My mother sort of leads a secret double life. One, the glamorous movie star. Two, the normal mom. We are very careful about how we meet up. This house is secluded. She can come by car or directly by helicopter.”

I said nothing, but something must have shown on my face.

Ema moved closer to me. “Tell me what you’re thinking.”

“You want the truth?”

“Yes.”

I sort of shrugged, stopped, and said, “Why didn’t you tell me? I mean, I get the Troy and Buck argument. But I trust you with everything. After all we’ve been through, everything I’ve told you…”

“It feels as if I betrayed you,” Ema said.

“Yes.”

“Would it help if I told you that I was going to?”

I didn’t reply.

“Or that I was trying to find the right time? Would it help if I told you how hard it is for me to trust anyone?”

“I understand all that,” I said.

“But not fully,” Ema said.

“It’s okay.”

Ema looked away. I saw tears in her eyes.

“It’s okay,” I said again.

“I want to show you something… maybe that will help explain it.” Ema opened up a closet. She looked back at me. “You’re a lot taller than me. Do you mind getting that shoe box down? The one on the far left.”

“This isn’t necessary,” I said.

“Please just do it, Mickey, before I lose my nerve.”

I walked over to the closet, plucked down the shoe box from the top shelf, and handed it to her. In the center of the room was a couch. She sat on it and invited me to join her.

Ema opened the box and pulled out a clipping. It was from a tabloid and read: ANGELICA WYATT’S SECRET BABY SHOCKER.

She pulled out another: WHO’S ANGELICA’S REAL BABY DADDY? Then another: ANGELICA’S SECRET LOVE NEST IN FRANCE. Another: EXCLUSIVE! FIRST PICS OF ANGELICA’S BABY! One said that Ema’s father was Angelica’s costar in her current movie. Another claimed it was the British prime minister.

“This is hard to talk about,” Ema said.

“Then don’t.”

“No, I want to tell you. I want you to understand why Mom and I did what we did.”

“Okay,” I said.

She held the clippings in her hands. “They never left us alone. My whole life, the tabloids followed us around. We’d go to the park, the paparazzi would be with us. I’d go with my mom on set, even closed ones, and then someone with a high-powered lens would snap my picture. It was… suffocating, to say the least. I started having nightmares. I saw a shrink. My mom even quit the business for a little while. She retired to watch me, but that just led to more rumors about her. And the truth is, she loves being an actress. Even as a kid I got that. I didn’t want to take that away from her, you know what I mean?”

“Sure,” I said.

“It was a hard decision, but eventually we decided to live, well, like this. Mom started a rumor that I was living at a boarding school overseas.”

“So who lives with you here?”

“My grandparents. And, uh…” She looked a little embarrassed.

“Uh what?”

“I guess he’s an assistant of sorts. He helps out too. His name is Niles.”

I remembered him from my previous visit-Niles the butler. We fell into silence. I was thumbing through the articles, not sure how to raise the next question. “Should I ask you the obvious?”

There was a hint of a smile on Ema’s face. “You’re wondering about my father.”

“If it isn’t my business…”

“I don’t know who my father is. My mom hasn’t told me.”

Again with nothing to say, I went with, “Oh.”

“I know. She said she’ll tell me one day-when it’s right. But not now. We’ve had plenty of battles about it, believe me. I want to know, but Mom freaks out when I ask her. Like she’s really scared for me to know.”

“What would she be scared of?”

“I don’t know,” Ema said, as if considering it for the first time. “But for now, well, I’ve let it go. I mean, what can I do?”

“Right. I understand.” Another thought occurred to me. “When you found out that information about the San Diego paramedics, you didn’t want to tell me your source. Was it…?”

Ema nodded. “Yup. When you use Angelica Wyatt’s name, it is amazing what doors open.”

It made sense, I guess. I was still looking through the articles, especially the ones that featured pictures of young Ema. “I can definitely see you in these pictures,” I said.

“But I look different, right?”

“I guess.”

“You can say it, Mickey.”

“Say what?”

“I looked thinner,” Ema said. “I looked more… normal.”

I didn’t reply.

“That was part of all this for me,” she said.

“What was?”

“Dressing all in black. Dyeing my hair black. The jewelry, the tattoos. Maybe even putting on weight. I didn’t want to be that kid who got ambushed. I wanted to be someone different. So maybe it started as a disguise, but I like the way I look now. It’s somehow more me, you know? So now I don’t know if I do it as a disguise or maybe I just dress like I always wanted to.”

I held up one of the old clippings. “You haven’t changed that much,” I said. “And you’re leaving something out.”

“What?”

“The tattoos. That was the first real clue something was weird. I thought I saw a bruise on your arm. But it was a smudge. I couldn’t figure out what about you was different, but then it came to me. Your tattoos. They changed. And your mom-she wouldn’t let you mark up your body with a bunch of tattoos. Not at your age. So they’re temporary, right?”

Ema looked almost pleased. “Wow, I can’t believe you noticed.”

“You know what’s weird?” I said.

“Uh, everything about this?”

“Well, yeah, I know, but one other thing: Our mothers knew each other when they were teenagers.”

“Right, when they were, like, our age. That is weird. Oh, and why is your uncle suddenly bodyguarding my mom?”

“I don’t get that either. He said a close friend asked him to do it. I know Uncle Myron is more than just an agent or manager or whatever. I think he’s, like, a secret private eye or security guy or something.”

“So he’s helping guard Mom while she’s in the area?”

“I guess. Why don’t you ask your mom?”

“I did. She just said she needed extra security, and Myron was an old friend.”

“So maybe that’s it then,” I said.

“Maybe.”

Neither one of us bought it.

“Bat Lady said I shouldn’t tell Myron about Abeona,” I said. “Not ever. And my father never told him either.”

“I haven’t told my mom. I mean, it just feels like something we should keep to ourselves, you know?”

I did.

“There’s one other thing I need to tell you,” Ema said.

“What?”

“You’re right about the tattoos. Agent at Tattoos While U Wait… he puts them on for me. They’re all temporary. Except, well…” She slid her shirt off her shoulder. For a moment, my eyes just popped open, like maybe this was a prelude to a striptease or something. Ema must have seen the look on my face, because she rolled her eyes and said, “Cut it out.”

“What?”

“Just… never mind.” Ema turned around and showed me her back. “Here, take a look. Agent says he doesn’t know how this happened, but somehow, this tattoo never comes off.”

I didn’t even have to look because I knew which tattoo she meant. The image never quite escapes me. Or, I guess, us.

It was a tattoo of a butterfly with animal eyes on the wings.