Forcing Gravity Read online

  Yeah, that last one might have seemed a little compromising, but the others were completely innocent. We were just friends, but of course no one believed that. Suddenly, I was the mystery girl Garrett Lewis, famed fallen angel from the Earthbound movies, was dating. Rumors flew across the internet about how we’d met, when we’d gotten together and how we were keeping our relationship on the down-low. Then the paps found out my mother was A-list actress, Alana Davis, and they figured it was a Hollywood match made in heaven.

  The real story of how I’d known Garrett since I was a kid came out the third week, complete with a picture of the two of us taking a surf lesson when we were kids and some other shots of us from the present day, but the speculation increased when apparently someone in my ‘inner circle’ shared that I’d always been in love with him and had been biding my time, hoping we would end up together. Yeah, right. Garrett was like a brother to me, more so than Ethan even was. I still wondered who that person in my ‘inner circle’ was exactly. I had a feeling he or she didn’t know anything about me.

  My dad had a conniption the first time he saw my picture on the cover of a gossip magazine. He literally flipped his lid in the middle of Target, and I had to calm him down while the cashier and everyone around us stared. He actually believed that I was hooking up with Garrett, but more than that, he couldn’t stand the fact that his daughter was a pseudo-celebrity. He was used to seeing his former wife on the cover of the various rags, but I’d never been a part of that area of her life, so it rocked his world to say the least.

  At first he threatened not to let me see Garrett again, not because he didn’t want me dating him, but because he didn’t want my life catalogued for the whole world to see. Of course I wanted no part of the life in the spotlight that my mother lived in, and he knew that. So we had a long talk, and I convinced him I wasn’t dating Garrett and that I felt pretty safe that I wouldn’t be featured in any more tabloids since I wasn’t going to do anything tabloid-worthy in the near future. He thankfully calmed down after that.

  Then Celebrity Weekly came out the next week, and the cover featured a split shot of me wiping tears from my eyes as I stood outside a restaurant in Ft. Lauderdale and Garrett leaving a club in L.A. with a busty brunette. The headline was ‘It’s Over Already’ with subheads reading ‘Garrett moves on’, ‘Logan inconsolable’ and ‘Inside their break-up’. Hello! There was no break-up?! Logan was inconsolable because her dad was making her feel all mushy about leaving for college, and she realized how much she would miss him being three thousand miles away. It was just a convenient shot for the lurking photogs who were probably expecting to catch me cheating on Garrett or some other nonsense having to do with our ‘relationship’.

  My dad got pissed all over again when he saw that cover, but thankfully we were at home, so I let him rant and get it out of his system. He cursed, his face got red, and he threatened to call the editor of the magazine and tell her off, but I pulled him back from the ledge just in time. I made him swear he would keep things in perspective and remember that nothing they were saying really painted me in all that bad of a light. Sure, it was annoying, but it was also sort of comical.

  He said he couldn’t make any promises to keep himself in check if they printed anything scathing or scandalous about me, but until then he’d try to keep things in perspective. Of course, since then he’d been buying Celebrity Weekly on the day it came out and combing it for pictures or mentions of his little girl. He was always the first to tell me what he’d found.

  “What exactly are they saying about me this week?” I asked him, wondering how anyone could remotely be interested in my life. I was not that fascinating. “Was there a picture?”

  “There was one of Garrett and some girl at a movie premiere. Here, I’ll read the blurb to you.” He cleared his throat. “‘The world’s second favorite fallen angel was spotted at the premiere of Rolling Dice with pop singer, Claudia Dillon, the third girl he’s been seen with since ending things with his childhood love and girl next door, Logan Kessler. Later in the night, the two stars were seen holding hands and kissing. Could this angel be off the market yet again?’ That’s gripping stuff, I tell you what.”

  “Yeah, I’m riveted. Dad, you really shouldn’t buy that garbage. It’s all fake.”

  But it’s also freaking entertaining, and that’s why I read it each week. Yup, I am a total hypocrite when it comes to celebrity gossip.

  “Hey now, if my little girl is mentioned, I’m keeping the article.”

  He’d done the same with any articles from our hometown paper that I was mentioned in for playing volleyball in high school, which I figured was a parent thing, but this was a little ridiculous. At least my volleyball stats had been an accurate record of my life.

  I sighed. “Even if it’s all lies?”

  “Yup, even then.”

  “Whatever makes you happy, old man,” I said, missing him so much it made my chest ache.

  It suddenly hit me that I wouldn’t be going home at the end of August. In fact, I probably wouldn’t see him until Family Weekend in October. That was a long time from now.

  “I miss you, kid,” he said then, echoing my sentiments, and I felt myself getting teary-eyed.

  “Did I make the right decision?” I asked him for probably the hundredth time.

  As psyched as I was about going to USC, I didn’t factor in how much I’d hate being across the country and three time zones away from my father. It was going to be a tough adjustment.

  “Absolutely,” he said, with no hesitation. “You’re going to love going to school there. Go Trojans!”

  “Go Trojans,” I echoed, knowing he was doing his best to keep it together, as well.

  “Alright, kid, take care, and I’ll talk to you soon, okay?”

  I nodded, feeling a thickening in my throat. “Okay. Love you, Daddy.”

  “I love you, too.”

  And then he was gone.

  I let myself get teary eyed for a few minutes before I set to work on unpacking what I could, separating the boxes I needed to unpack from those that I wouldn’t need to unpack until I moved into my dorm. The task took me a few hours and eventually took my mind off of being homesick, and before I knew it, it was almost eight o’clock. As far as I knew, my mother and sister hadn’t come home yet, so I jumped in the shower, figuring I’d get ready for dinner and head down at the appropriate time.

  With a towel wrapped around me, I laughed out loud when I took in the array of new clothes my mother had purchased for me. Having been raised by my father, I’d learned all about surfing and football and how to fix a flat tire. I learned very little about make-up and hair products and high heels. I lived in jeans and t-shirts and flip flops, and my mother knew this, but there before me in the huge walk-in closet, was the wardrobe of the girl she’d always wanted me to be.

  She’d purchased dresses in every color and style imaginable, little slinky tops, and even a pair of leather skinny pants. There was also an array of boots, sandals and heels, all in different colors and styles, not to mention, at least ten bags in different sizes and colors. It was completely over-the-top, and I’d never wear most of it. I also noticed a variety of jewelry on my dresser, and when I’d been in the bathroom, I’d discovered that she’d bought out the MAC store just for me. I realized what was happening; my mother was making me her pet project in an attempt to transform me in time for the first day of school. Fan-tastic.

  Sighing, I reached for one of the least threatening dresses, a strapless, green sundress that came to just above my knees. Forgoing the heeled sandals I knew she’d expect me to choose, I slipped on my leather flip flops and headed downstairs.

  Something smelled incredible, and I wandered into the kitchen to check it out.

  “Damn, that smells amazing!” I said loudly to the rotund Hispanic man who was whisking something at the stove.

  “Mija!” he said, recognizing my voice as he turned around. A wide smile lit up his face. He crossed the
room and smothered me in a bear hug. “When did you get home?”

  “Hi Julio! I got in this afternoon.”

  “And you didn’t come down to see me, why?” he demanded in his thick accent.

  “I’m sorry,” I said, as he pulled back to appraise me. “I was unpacking, and I didn’t want to bother you.”

  He waved his hand in dismissal. “You’ve never bothered me once in the fifteen years since I’ve known you.” Then he cupped his hand up to his mouth. “Not like Ms. Skylar, but you didn’t hear me say that.”

  “Julio!” I chastised, but I was laughing as I said it.

  Julio just gave me a knowing look. He’d been cooking for my mother since my parents’ divorce, and as far as I was concerned, there wasn’t anyone who could make food taste as good as he could – even the low carb crap my mother usually made him prepare. I considered him to be a part of the family, even if my mother and sister still thought of him as ‘the help’. I’d personally reamed Skylar out several times for the way she treated him, barging into the kitchen and demanding he make her and her friends a snack, always forgetting to say ‘please’ and ‘thank you’.

  I sort of hoped a little of me would rub off on her while I was living at home, because I had serious fears that if she wasn’t careful, she’d end up just like my mom – selfish, entitled and elitist. I didn’t want that for her. Sure, the world had been presented to her on a silver platter, from both her parents, and because of that, she’d never learned the value of being nice and working hard. She just assumed everyone should fall at her feet, and with that attitude, she’d never make it in the real world. Granted, she was only twelve, but still.

  “I’ll kick her spoiled little butt. Just say the word, and I’ll make sure she doesn’t bother you again,” I told Julio, taking a seat at the bar. He immediately placed a plate of cheese and crackers in front of me.

  “Eat, Mija. You look too skinny.”

  “When have I ever turned down food?” I asked, shoving a piece of cheese into my mouth.

  Julio just smiled at me and returned to his pots and pans. I loved that he called me his daughter. He didn’t have any kids of his own, and it made me feel special, especially since I was missing my own father so much already.

  “Ju-lio!” rang out my mother’s high-pitched voice just before she burst through the kitchen doors a few minutes later.

  And there she was, Alana Davis, the woman most people would kill to call their mother, but I knew better. Sure, we shared some things, like the color of our hair and the same tall, willowy build, but the resemblances ended there, and I was so grateful that I took after my dad.

  “Yes ma’am,” Julio said, turning around.

  “Is dinner almost ready?” she demanded.

  God, would it kill her to ask nicely?

  “Five minutes ma’am,” he said.

  She looked dismayed but didn’t express the feelings of contempt I knew were simmering just below the surface. “Very well. I’ll just have a drink before we sit down. Oh, Logan, when did you get here?” she asked, finally noticing me sitting ten feet from her.

  I fought the urge to roll my eyes. “My flight got in at three, Mom. I sent your assistant my itinerary.”

  “Oh, yes, right. That was today. Okay, then. Well, dinner is in few minutes. Would you like a drink?”

  I frowned at her, knowing how my dad would have reacted upon hearing her ask me that. He was firmly against me drinking, but she’d been offering me cocktails since I’d turned sixteen. Out of respect for what he’d want, I turned her down. Although, having some alcohol in my system around her might make the evening more tolerable.

  “What are you eating?” she asked, her eyes narrowing when she noticed the plate in front of me.

  “Cheese,” I said, popping another piece into my mouth.

  She made a face. “Well, don’t eat too much. You don’t want to grow out of the clothes I bought you before school even starts.”

  Or, I could just quit eating like you, and be a rail. Then we could share your size zero clothes. How about that?

  “Sure, Mom. I’ll be careful,” I said, pacifying her.

  If I didn’t, she’d surely be dragging me with her to Cardio Hip-Hop or Strip Pilates or whatever new workout craze she was trying that week. I’d made that mistake once, and I wouldn’t do it again. Besides, I burned more calories in an hour of surfing than she did in one of her classes.

  “Come out into the living room. I need a drink before dinner, and your sister wants to say hello.”

  “Okay,” I said, sliding off of my stool. Julio winked at me before turning back to the stove.

  “Mom, this tastes funny,” my sister was saying, as I followed my mom into the living room.

  My mom picked up the glass of orange juice Skylar had set down and sniffed it. “This has vodka in it, darling” she said. “This is Mommy’s drink.”

  I sort of enjoyed that she spoke to my sister like she was five years old, but she let her dress like she was seventeen. It was a ridiculous contradiction. That day, my sister was sporting skinny jeans, four inch ankle boots and a slouchy t-shirt that showed off her mid-drift. She and I would have to have a talk later about age-appropriate attire since my mom certainly wasn’t going to help her. I would not have my baby sister dressing racier than me. Not happening.

  I noticed Skylar was also sporting a face full of make-up, more than I’d worn to my senior prom, and was manicured and pedicured and coiffed to the nines. On a good day, I wore my curly hair down and added some mascara and lip gloss for good measure. We were worlds apart. I was also pretty sure she had a spray tan. Mine was all natural, good old, Florida sun. I’d probably regret it when I was older, but I loved being outside in the sunshine.

  “Lo, Lo!” Skylar called out excitedly, a huge smiled lighting up her face, as soon as she realized I was in the room.

  She still sometimes called me by the name she used when she was a baby. She’d had trouble with my full name, so I was Lo Lo for several years, and when she missed me, she reverted back to it. Lifting her boots from the edge of the coffee table, she leap off the couch and threw herself into my arms.

  “Hey Sky,” I said, hugging her back. In her heels she was almost as tall as me. “I missed you, kid.”

  “I missed you,” she said into my shoulder.

  My mother clapped her hands together, startling us both and forcing us apart. I knew she was annoyed that the attention wasn’t on her and had to immediately bring the focus back where she wanted it. I gave Skylar a look that was just shy of an eye roll, and she grinned and rolled her eyes back at me since our mom couldn’t see her. It was our secret way of saying we’d have our own personal bitch session later once our mother was out of earshot.

  She flopped back down on the couch, across from the couch where my mother was perched daintily on the edge, so I took the chair between them.

  “So, Logan, tell us what you’ve been up to this summer. We’re dying to know,” my mother said, her attention suddenly rapt.

  A glance at my sister let me know she had tuned out and was engaged in a rapid-fire text message conversation with someone, but to her credit, she knew what I’d been up to since we actually talked on the phone.

  My mother followed my gaze. “Skylar!”

  My sister’s head snapped up. “Yeah.”

  “Participate please. You haven’t seen your sister in over a year.”

  “Yeah, but I just talked to her two days ago,” Skylar said, and the ‘duh’ on the end of her sentence was definitely implied. She glanced down at her phone and fired off one last text before setting it down on the coffee table next to her propped-up feet.

  I appraised her, realizing how much she’d grown since I’d last seen her. As far as outward appearances went, my sister and I couldn’t have looked more different. Of course, we had different fathers, so that had something to do with it. Her father was Luiz Oliveira, a famed Hollywood producer that my mother had dated for eight years after
she divorced my dad.

  Luiz was from Brazil and had made his millions producing a slew of well-known action movies and high-powered dramas over the past fifteen years. My mom had met him when she was auditioning for his next big film, the year after his first movie broke blockbuster records the weekend it opened. He’d already gained a good amount of clout in Hollywood, and she was itching to work for him.

  Unfortunately for her, Luiz hadn’t selected her for the role, but they’d dated and even lived together for a while when I was younger. Luiz was always nice to me and bought me presents whenever I visited, and he helped me gain the sibling I’d always wanted. And he treated me like his daughter, which always made me feel special, and not at all like I was invading their life when I visited. Even though he was no longer dating my mother, I always made a point to see him when I was in L.A.

  Skylar definitely favored her father’s Brazilian genes with dark hair, hazel eyes and olive skin that I’d kill for. She also had a curvy little body that guys would go nuts over when she really filled out. I had almost no curves, and like my mother, had light hair and light skin that got decently tan in the summer, but not nearly as dark as my sister. We did share the same nose and mouth, though, so if you looked closely, you could tell we were related.

  “Well, I haven’t talked to her,” my mother whined, pouting just enough so we knew she wanted our sympathy. It was obviously all about her and how slighted she felt. Of course, she didn’t realize that if she really wanted to talk to me, she could have picked up the phone and called me!

  I seriously wanted to bang my head against the back of the stiff armchair I was sitting in. Or run next door to Ethan’s. His mother would have hugged me and made me a plate of nachos while she gabbed on a mile a minute about how good it was to see me and how great I looked. So far from my mother I’d gotten none of the warm feelings Carol Lewis would have projected, and I knew I wouldn’t. My mother just wasn’t nurturing.