Public Secrets

job.”
“A job? What the hell do you want with a job? Your old man’s got nothing but money.”
“I like it.” She hated the fact that she couldn’t control the stutter. “I want to work.”

“You never was a bright kid.” Frowning, Jane tossed back more gin. “When I think of all the years I scrimped and saved and did without to put dresses on your back and food in your belly. Never a bit of gratitude from you.” She reached for the gin bottle and slopped more into her glass. “Just sniveling and crying, then going off with your father without a backward glance. Been living high, haven’t you, my girl? Daddy’s little princess. Not a thought for me in all these years.”
“I’ve thought of you,” Emma murmured.
Jane tapped her fingers against the glass again. She wanted to get her stash, take a quick fix, but was afraid if she left the room Emma would disappear and her chance would be lost. “He poisoned you against me.” Self-pitying tears began to fall. “He wanted you all to himself when I was the one who went through the misery of childbirth, the misery of raising a kid on my own. I could’ve gotten rid of you, you know. Even then it was simple enough if you knew the right people.”
Emma lifted her eyes then. Dark and intense, they fixed on her mother’s face. “Why didn’t you?”
Jane gripped her hands on the glass. They were beginning to shake. She hadn’t had a hit in hours and gin was a poor substitute. But she was shrewd, too shrewd to admit that she’d been more frightened at the prospect of a back-alley abortion than of childbirth in a clean hospital ward.
“I loved him.” And because she believed it, it sounded true. “I always loved him. We grew up together, you know. And he loved me, was devoted to me. If it hadn’t been for his music, his stinking career, we would have been together. But he tossed me aside like it was nothing. He never cared about anyone or anything but his music. Do you think he cared about you?” She rose, lumbering a bit under the gin. “He never gave a damn. It was just his image. Wouldn’t want the bloody public to think Brian McAvoy was the kind of man to abandon his own child.”
The old doubts, the old fears sprang up so quickly, she had to force the words out. “He loves me. He’s done everything for me.
“He loves Brian.” Jane braced her hands on the arms of Emma’s chair and leaned close. There was a glitter in her eyes. Pure pleasure. She could do very little to hurt Brian now—God knew she’d tried whatever had come to mind to cause him pain. But she could hurt Emma, and that was the next-best thing.
“He would’ve walked right out on the pair of us if it hadn’t been for the scandal. That’s just what he started to do until I threatened to go to the papers.”
She didn’t mention the threat to kill herself, and Emma. In truth it had been so unimportant, she’d forgotten it.

“He knew, and that worthless piss of a manager knew, what would have happened if the press had started whining about rock’s hottest flame leaving his bastard child in the slums. He knew, so he took you and he paid me a handsome sum to keep out of your life.”
She felt sick, sick from the words, sick from the smell that struck out at her when Jane spoke them. “He paid you?”
“I earned it.” Jane took Emma’s chin in her fingers and squeezed. “I earned every pound and more. He bought you, and his peace of mind. The price was cheap enough for him, but he never got it, did he? Never could buy that peace of mind.”
“Let go of me.” Emma gripped Jane’s wrist and shoved it away. “Don’t touch me again.”
“You’re as much mine as his.”
“No.” She pushed herself out of the chair, praying her legs would hold her. “No, you sold me, and any claims to motherhood you might have had. He may have bought me, Jane, but he doesn’t own me, either.” She fought back the tears. She wouldn’t cry here, not in front of this woman. “I came here today to ask you to stop the movie, the one they’re making from your book. I’d hoped that you might have some feelings for me, enough that you’d respect my wishes in this one thing. But I’ve wasted my time.”
From up the the stairs Jane’s current lover began to bellow curses.
“I’m still your mother!” Jane shouted. “You can’t change that.”
“No, I can’t. I just have to learn to live with it.” She turned, walking quickly to the door.
“You want me to stop the movie?”