Home Sweet Home Ch. 07

It was Aaron's delivery of a key line of dialogue that convinced Riley that he got the part.

"The thing about being a Fractured, is that I can kill first, and then ask questions."

"I think we have a show," Riley said, lightly clapping from his chair. "We just need to get this in front of some Netflix execs." Convincing the studio that Aaron was worth the risk was the next step.

"We can do it right now," Grace said, and the room turned to her. "After the audition tape, I have over two hundred thousand Instagram followers. Half of that on Twitter. I'm sure Aaron has his reach as well."

"Half a mil on Twitter, an actual mil on Instagram," Aaron confirmed. Model.

"We go live, and put on a show," Grace said.

"That would be fucking..." Aaron said, then looked at Jenna. "Sorry. That's freaking ballsy."

"Hold on," Riley said, then floated the idea to Debra in a text message. 'Are you out of your fucking mind!' was the reply. "Let's do it."

"This is it. Do or die. We fuck this..." Aaron said, and caught himself again. "Screw this up, it's basically dead, right?"

"Pretty much," Riley said.

"Nothing ventured."

Riley's phone rang, and he ignored it. A message came a moment later. 'I swear to fucking God! Don't you fucking dare!' It rang again, he ignored it again, and another message arrived. 'Don't ignore me fuck face!'

Grace took a step to the side and began a drill to calm herself in preparation. Aaron just leaned back and checked his phone. Jenna put out a message on her daughter's social media accounts to give a thirty-minute notice of the script read, being sure to tag Riley's and Aaron's accounts as well. Debra was becoming more upset, so Riley finally answered the phone.

"I beg of you, do not do this," Debra pleaded. "One mess up, and it's over. Just get a meeting with Netflix and do it behind closed doors. Don't shit the bed in public."

"We need to force their hand," Riley said, then smiled at Aaron and Grace going over the scene again. They were placing random items on the ground for standing and movement positions, discussing their steps and the best timing for line delivery. Professionals. "We don't do this, we're dead in the water. We do it, maybe we're not. I'll take maybe fail, over the certainty. So get on my Twitter, because I know you won't give me my own password, and retweet Grace's tweet."

"This is career suicide," Debra said. "No one will ever make a show with you again."

"It's already in motion. Get on board, or get out of the way," Riley said, and hung up. He checked his own twitter, and within thirty seconds, he retweeted Grace's hashtag #creepylittlebitch "Show time."

Grace went live and introduced everyone in the room. Her mother nervously waved. She did a quick set up and waited until they reached a certain number of viewers. Within ten minutes, they reached over one hundred thousand live viewers, and it was close to midnight on the west coast. Jenna read the script, and Riley again read for the exorcist who came to visit Timothy in 1977.

They read two more scenes, and then did a question-and-answer session with the comment section. Riley took a deep breath and checked the hashtag to get an idea of the reception for their stunt. The first one he read made him laugh out loud.

"I think she's scarier in pajamas. #creepylittlebitch"

They killed it. Many comments were regarding how they were skeptical of Aaron, but quickly changed their minds. Grace was still universally well received. Even Riley was getting some credit for reading for the exorcist, and the question of him playing him for real, began to populate. He wouldn't rule out a cameo.

Riley answered the phone call from Debra after Grace ended the live broadcast, wishing love to the world with a special shoutout Riley asked her to make for Alice.

"I watched the comment section through my fingers like it was a horror movie," Debra said. "No jump scares though. Aaron is Timothy, isn't he."

"Yup, and now the world knows it," Riley said.

"I'm going to bed. Don't make me wake up to a heart attack," Debra said. It was her way of conceding without having to say it.

It was after one in the morning when they wrapped, and Grace's internal clock shut her down. She tried to say she was fine, but her mother carried her to one of the beds after Riley offered them to stay the night rather than drive home. Aaron took the offer as well and stepped onto the balcony to smoke before calling it a night. Riley could have taken the third bed, but the effort to leave the couch after his day was too much, so he closed his eyes where he sat.

--

Diana stepped into her home at the end of a long day. And after her time with Odette O'Hara, a very expensive day. It was after ten in the evening when she removed her shoes and placed them in the cubbie next to the door. Riley had sent her a text after attempting to call, saying he was in route to LA now. What a life he lived.

The usual evidence of Whitney being home were present in the kitchen. Her school books were neatly stacked on the table, homework complete. An extra plate of dinner was in the refrigerator wrapped in film for Diana.

'Who is taking care of who exactly?' Diana thought to herself. If Diana disappeared, Whitney would be fine. If Whitney disappeared, Diana would starve, or get fat from take out. Whitney did everything she could to make Diana's life easier. Diana realized how much she took that for granted.

"Mom?" Whitney asked from the top stair.

"It's me," Diana replied. Whitney walked down the stairs and leaned into the kitchen.

"Dinner is in the fridge if you're hungry. Laundry is on your bed," Whitney said, and leaned out of sight.

"Hold up a sec," Diana said, and Whitney leaned back in. "All the way in."

Whitney swung herself into the kitchen from the frame of the entryway. She landed in a superhero stance, making Diana laugh.

"What's up mom?" Whitney asked.

"I don't tell you enough, how much I appreciate everything you do for the house. For me," Diana said, and Whitney took a different superhero stance with her hands on her hips.

"Not all hero wears capes."

"You are a superhero," Diana said. She thought for a moment if she even brought up her father. Whitney had earned a secret or two, but secrets were poison to relationships. Any relationship.

"You okay mom?" Whitney asked. "Where'd you go today? I called your office and they said you were home."

"Chicago," Diana said, and watched Whitney's face. She just looked like she was waiting to hear more. "Needed to go to the SA's office." Whitney averted her gaze, masking her discomfort by walking to the counter to sit on it.

"And?" Whitney asked. "Work related."

"You can say that," Diana said, and tried to think of a good way to start, but couldn't conceive of one. "I went to see Ronald Larson. Your father."

"My father?" Whitney asked, but wasn't convincing. "Shit."

"Language," Diana said, and Whitney stared at her lap. "How'd you find out? His name isn't even on your birth certificate."

"Aunt Crystal let it slip a few years ago," Whitney said. "Here's a question mom," she said, looking up at her. "Why didn't you tell me who he was. I've asked. It's not like I didn't give you a chance. It one thing if he was a drug dealer, or a burn out, or some other form of piece of shit..."

"...language..."

"...but he's not. He's a good man. Maybe you didn't need a man, but maybe I could have benefitted from a father," Whitney said.

"It's not that simple," Diana said.

"Then what is it mom? Are you the woman who 'don't need no man'," Whitney said in her best ghetto voice, and saw her mother tense up in anger. "Because I don't see another reason you'd withhold the fact I even existed to him."

Diana's anger evaporated when she saw how much that had hurt her. Whitney had asked about her father in the past, and Diana always ignored the question or deflected. It made Whitney believe her father was a deadbeat who bailed the moment he learned Diana was pregnant. Her Aunt Crystal accidentally gave her his name, thinking Diana must have told her by the time Whitney was thirteen.

Whitney went to Chicago to confront her father. Ronald was at first confused. Then pieces of her story added up, and he remembered Diana. Ronald married young and was loyal when he and his first wife were together, so it wasn't difficult for him to remember his romantic partners seeing how he had so few. And only one was with a black woman. Ronald told her, he never knew, but at that moment, said he wanted to know her. Even his second wife was shockingly understanding.

Whitney's father wasn't a deadbeat. He was just never given a chance. Whitney felt that her mother had robbed her of a positive force in her life.

"Why didn't you let me know my father?" Whitney asked.

Diana wasn't certain she understood her own logic. She took a moment to feel the answer. It scared her how immediate and sharp the pain was. "My mother let her boyfriends rape me," Diana said, and Whitney exhaled.

"I know mom."

"No you fucking don't," Diana said, Whitney flinching back at her mother's choice of words, and the harshness of her tone. "I made myself a target, so they wouldn't touch my sisters. So they would never touch your aunt Crystal. That was my first experience with men. Almost every man I had met, had raped me.

"When I was eighteen, I took your aunt with me, and I got the fuck out of that house. I have never gone back. I have spoken to my mother once in the last twenty years. Marcus saved us, so I knew there were good men too, and I still cry when I think about him sometimes. Your father was the first man I slept with after I got out of that house. I got out of that. I went from Fuller Park, to Ferry Grove in ten years.

"I was a new woman with a new career, a blossoming young lady, and a baby girl. My mom let men into her house. She let them near her girls. Not my girls. Not a fucking chance."

Whitney didn't fully agree with her mother, but she understood, and that was enough for the two of them. Her mother was abused, and that held influence over everything she did, and every decision she made. Whitney was not abused. She was not abused, because her mother, like with her sisters, was a barrier between them and anyone who wished them harm. That barrier didn't kept out the bad, and the good.

"When you go to see your father, just let me know," Diana said, and Whitney slowly nodded. Whitney expected a larger fight, but her mother let it go. "I'm sorry for not telling you."

"I didn't have your childhood, and that was because of you. Sometimes I forget I'm blessed. I should have told you when I found him. I'm sorry too. It was kind of fun having my own secret," Whitney said with a small laugh.

Diana walked across the kitchen and hugged Whitney. They squeezed each other tight and released. "No more fucking secrets," Diana said.

"Language," Whitney said, and they both laughed. "No more secrets? Does that start now, or tomorrow?" Whitney said.

"Tomorrow," Diana said. She felt the day hit her like a train. All her energy had been exhausted. "I'm going to bed." Diana paused, and they hugged again. "I love you," she said into her ear.

"I love you too mom. Go to bed," Whitney said like a parent.

Diana exited the kitchen and lumbered up the stairs. She swung her door closed as she entered and dove headfirst into a pile of clean laundry. The smell of lavender drifted her to sleep.