“I don’t understand,” I said. Wind pushed my hair across my face; it stuck to my bottom lip. “What does this have to do with my mother?”
“She should’ve stayed gone. Your mother should have stayed gone. But she came back. Your father burned down the set and Bill Hollis made her come back as his personal whore. And God knew what that man wanted he always got.” He pounded the air with the hammer again, spittle flying from the corners of his mouth. “Trust me, I was happy that Carrie came back, but Vanessa was jealous. She cried on my shoulder.” He pointed the hammer at himself again. “Mine. Not Bill Hollis’s. Mine. I had her back. And then Carrie went away again—well, we all know why now, don’t we? We all know about Peyton. But at the time, nobody knew. She just disappeared. And the minute she left, Vanessa forgot that I existed. Went right back to Bill, as if he gave even an ounce of shit about her. Not like I did.”
“My mom didn’t steal him,” I said. “She was blackmailed by him.”
“I wish she would have!” he yelled. He began advancing on me again. I tensed the umbrella again. “If she would have stolen him, maybe Vanessa would have given up on him. Instead, when your mother came back again, Vanessa came to me. She wanted me to make her go away for good.”
“You? You’re the one who killed her?”
He pressed the hammer against his lips as his eyes smoldered through the memory. “I did everything Vanessa ever wanted.”
I felt a tear run down my cheek. My poor mother had been trapped by Bill Hollis. She had no way out, just like I had no way out here. Would we both die by the same man? Trapped by Hollis lies? “You didn’t have to kill her.”
“I wasn’t going to. I was going to scare her, make her and Milo leave town. I didn’t want to kill her,” he said. “Until I looked into her face and saw . . . I saw Vanessa. I saw someone who was willing to do anything—even betray the man who would die for her—for Bill Hollis. She betrayed Milo the same way Vanessa betrayed me, all for that man. Next thing I knew I was bashing her head in with a tire iron. She was gone, and Vanessa was happy. And for the rest of her life, I kept Vanessa happy. I was there for her to run to when things were going wrong.”
“She wasn’t worth it,” I said. I swung the umbrella again, but my swings were getting worse. My hands were getting numb. My arms were getting weak. “The world is better off without her.”
He growled and came at me, swinging.
“No, Nikki,” I heard. “The world would be better off without you.” Luna had come up the stairs. She stretched her arms out to her sides and posed. “What do you think? Am I the most amazing actress or what?” Her features softened as she rested her hand over her heart. “Thank you all for coming to my premiere. Those of you who know me know what a long road it’s been from Albany to here. But I believed.” She burst out laughing. “You should see your face. It’s like you’re seeing a ghost. Boo.” She fake-lunged at me, and I jumped, bringing the umbrella up. Now I was trying to keep an eye on both Peter and Luna. “You kind of are seeing one, actually. The ghost of that big loser Celeste Day. If she weren’t glugging around at the bottom of the ocean as of a few days ago when my last surgery was healed, she would be thanking me for putting her on the map. Right, Daddy?”
I thought about the girl in the makeup chair back at Pear Magic. Was Luna saying what I thought she was saying? Was Celeste Day gone? Had Luna killed her? “You won’t get away with it,” I said.
“Already have. Daddy’s plan was brilliant. Find a nobody actress who has no ties back home and give her a role.” She made a scissors motion with her fingers by her face. “A little injection here and there, a centimeter or so off the nose, some contacts, great stylist, and the nobody actress can disappear without anyone knowing the difference.” Again, she posed. It was uncanny, hearing Luna’s voice, seeing Luna’s eyes behind this strange face. She’d always been so good at imitating other people—especially Peyton—but this was creepy. “I hate being a brunette, but I’ll be a famous brunette. Finally. Fuck Hollis and his plans. He was too slow. He never appreciated my potential. And neither did you.” This time she lunged at me for real.
I jumped back and dropped the umbrella, stumbling too close to Peter.
Peter swung the hammer, grunting. I blocked high, feeling the pain all the way through my teeth when the wood struck my forearm. I heard a crunch and felt instant nausea. I cried out, even as Luna laughed in my ear. He swung again, wild and weak this time, and I blocked low with the same arm. Again my world lit up with pain, but I gritted my teeth. I couldn’t let myself feel it. But I knew I couldn’t keep blocking forever. Eventually the pain would get to be too much.
Evade, Nikki, I heard Gunner say in my head. Let him swing at the air.
I straightened again, keeping my eye on the hammer as Peter brought it back over his head. This time, when he swung, he put all his effort behind it. At the last minute, I ducked and swiveled to the side in one smooth motion.
The hammer landed with a sickening clop. Luna’s eyes went surprised for half a second—looking almost like normal eyes—and then fluttered closed. The force of the blow whipped her head to the side, blood spouting in all directions; I felt it on my face like ocean spray. There was a hole in her temple where the hammer had met it. Her body had gone limp. I jumped away, extricating myself from between them and falling backward onto my butt, and watched as Luna’s body slumped to the ground, her eyes open and vacant.
Peter dropped the hammer and screamed, something unintelligible, as he went to her. I crawled on my hands and knees to grab the hammer, which had bounced within reach. The handle had Luna’s blood on it, and a hunk of brown curly hair stuck to the ball of it, and my arm was aching and shaking so hard I could barely hold it, but I didn’t care. I scooted away from Peter.
He turned from the rail, his face a gash of rage, and started to come after me.
“Don’t even think about it,” I heard.
Chris was standing at the top of the grand staircase, his gun trained on Peter Fairchild. Peter stopped, his hands up, and I collapsed forward, hanging my head between my knees while Chris arrested him.
It was finally over.
34
THEY HAD JUST finished setting my arm and were busy getting my discharge paperwork in order when Dad arrived at the hospital. He pushed through the curtain, a panicked expression on his face.
I tried a smirk that failed, my chin going all stupid wobbly. “Fancy meeting you here.”
“Oh, Nikki.” He came to my bedside but seemed afraid to touch me. “How bad is it?”
I shrugged. “I’ll live.”
“Why did you keep this from me?”
“I think I can probably ask you the same thing,” I said.
We locked eyes for a long moment. And for the first time in maybe forever, I felt a real connection there. There was nothing to be hidden between us. He pulled a chair close enough to the bed that he could hold my good hand. He stared at his shoes, seeming to be weighing where he should begin, so I helped him out.
“You knew about Mom and Hollywood Dreams,” I said. “And you knew about Peyton, right?”
He nodded and then shook his head. “I knew about the job, yes, but I didn’t know about the baby until after she came back.”
“And you didn’t, like, demand a paternity test? What if Peyton was actually yours?”
“Your mother said the baby wasn’t mine, and I trusted her.”