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Sierra entered the engraved, pocket doors of Ian’s Victorian parlor.
Ian and Dash laughed it up with members of the press, but the press’ amusement switched to groans and awkwardness when they noticed her.
“Am I interrupting something?” Sierra tucked her strapless purse underneath her arm.
“Not where I’m standing.” Dash shined in a white, linen blazer trimmed in black. “You look great.” His eyes flickered. “As usual.”
She caressed the side of her knee-length, silver, metallic dress. “Thanks.”
Ian half-smiled. “Dash and I were doing a quick promo spot for Fatal Honor.”
“Sierra Delfino.” The man with the bushy, 80’s mullet, walked from behind Dash and kissed her hand. “Arnold Hayes. I’m a new reporter with Star Weekly Magazine.” He whipped out a card and handed it to her. “Big fan of yours. Love all your movies, and might I add you’re even more beautiful in person?”
“Thanks.”
“Hopefully, I can get an interview before the party ends.” Arnold smiled. “Would love to know what you’re working on.”
She gave a slight smile. “That might be possible.”
“Is there something you needed, Sierra?” Ian asked.
“I’d like to wish you happy birthday in private.” She smiled. “If that’s not too much to ask.”
Ian stood from the burgundy sofa, which elevated the vintage color scheme of burnt orange and sienna. “Certainly.” He displayed a tense smile while dismissing the press.
Dash brushed against Sierra on his way out. “I want to speak to you later.”
She whispered back, clenching her teeth. “I’ve got nothing to say to you, Dash.”
“We’ll see.” He faced her as he backed out the doors.
Ian planted his size 13 feet on that tacky, orange and red rug, she always hated. “Well.” His black suit slenderized him somewhat. “Wish me happy birthday.”
“You can’t even be cordial on your birthday?”
He moved to the other side of the table, the tall centerpiece reaching his waist. “I don’t wanna get into anything with you, Sierra.” His frown deepened.
“Is that why you didn’t invite me?”
“You’re my daughter. You don’t need an invitation.”
“Come off it, Dad.” She stomped toward him.
He turned away, sighing.
“With the way things have been between us, I’m supposed to assume you want me here?”
“Well, you came didn’t you? What’s the problem?”
“Yeah, I came and put up with being looked down upon and ignored the entire night.”
He sat at the desk by the television, scratching his nose.
“Then what do I witness? You praising Gabrielle Montane like she’s the Virgin Mary.”
He dropped his hands. “You’re pathetic.”
“You were kissing her ass like everyone else does.” Her stomach turned. “Made me sick to watch you, Hugh, and the press hang on to her every word.”
“She was giving her first interview about the movie. That’s why I invited the press.”
“You know damn well she doesn’t belong in that movie. She can’t even act.”
“Actually, she’s pretty good. She did a run at the studio for me the other day. Miss Montane’s no Meryl Streep but neither are you.”
“I’m a trained actress and she’s never even been in an infomercial.”
“And, no one cares. Sierra, this is how the world is now. It’s about people who can fill the movie theaters whether they’re seasoned acting pros or not.” He curled his fingers into a loose fist. “Why don’t you go on about your business?”
“How can you support Gabrielle being in the movie but won’t even let me try out?”
“God, girl.” He stood, slamming the desk. “Everything isn’t about you. This is why no one invites you anywhere because you always start controversy. If you felt you weren’t invited by me then why did you come?”
“Because you’re my father,” she screamed, tears emerging.
He sat, huffing.
“Madeline dumped me.” She sobbed. “She dumped me, Dad.”
“I heard.” He straightened his back. “I’m sorry.”
“Yet, you didn’t contact me?” She leaned over the desk, necklace dangling. “You didn’t call to check on me? What kind of father are you?”
“What do you want from me?”
“I want you to be there when I need you,” she pleaded. “I want you to hold me and kiss me and tell me everything will be all right. Why can’t you do that, Dad? Why can’t you be my dad?”
“I’m sick and tired of you turning everything around on me. Sick of you whining as if life hasn’t given you more rewards than you’ll ever need. Look at yourself in the mirror, Sierra. Take responsibility for your decisions and face them.”
“I’m not the one who can’t face something,” she yelled.
“Keep your voice down.” Ian grimaced. “The press—”
“I don’t give a damn about the press.” She waved her purse. “That’s the problem. You care more about the press and your image than you do me.”
“Leave.” He pointed to the door. “I’m not about to entertain this nonsense on my birthday.”
“I’m not going any damn where. I don’t deserve the way you treat me.”
He chuckled. “To hear you tell it.”
“What will it take for you to accept me and let this other shit go?”
“Take responsibility—”
“I have taken responsibility! I’m a screw up, a failure, and a drunk.”
He glared at her.
“That’s right, dad. I’m a drunk just like my mother, and that’s what you can’t stand because it reminds you of the guilt you feel because mom turned to a bottle because she couldn’t turn to you.”
“You can’t give me this one day, Sierra?” He held up his finger. “You twist everything until it’s about you. You spread vileness everywhere you go. That’s why I avoid you.” He bucked his eyes. “I can’t take it.”
“You don’t have to take it anymore, Dad.”
He jolted in the chair, head bobbing. “What?”
“I’ve been trying to force a relationship with you because I believe in family, and we’re all the family we have. But, you can forget me kissing your ass anymore.” She stood back, head high. “It’s because of you I let men walk all over me. It’s true what they say.” A tear graced her cheek. “A woman looks at how her dad treats her and that’s what she expects from men.”
“Once again it’s my fault.” He clapped, mocking. “I wondered how long it would take for you to say that. Your drinking is my fault. You ruining your career is my fault, now it’s my fault you can’t get a decent man?” He guffawed, the sound echoing in her pain.
“I need you.”
His shoulders drooped.
“But, not if you don’t want to be there.” She walked out the parlor and bumped into Dash. “You were listening?”
“You all right?”
She walked on with him hurrying beside her. “Go away.”
“You shouldn’t be alone.”
“I’m not alone.” She stopped, holding her arms out to the side. “We’re at a party and...” She choked from tears. “I need space, please.”
“Let’s go somewhere.” He caressed her back. “You need a friend right now.”
“I need you to leave me alone.” She knocked his hand away. “I need everyone to leave me the fuck alone!”
She ran toward the stairwell in tears.