Distinguished Daddy: Once Upon A Daddy Page 2

  “That’s bullshit.” I threw the script he had presented me with on the desk. “There’s no fucking reason for you to kill off my character—you’re just after a ratings grab.”

  “If we’re going to kill off Jamison Thorn, we’re going to do it during the sweeps rating period—that’s when all of the best storylines are delivered.” He nodded. “This has been coming for a while. Surely, you’ve seen the writing on the wall—Jamison has been making peace with all of the people he wronged over the years.”

  “I thought it was a fucking redemption story arc,” I growled under my breath. “That’s what you told me it was…”

  “We wanted to play this close to the chest. I’m sure you understand.” He leaned forward in his chair. “We’re going to give Jamison a great sendoff. He’ll die a hero, despite being a villain for most of his time on the show.”

  “You’re making an awful business decision. I told you I would renegotiate my contract. I know ratings are down—I know you need to cut my salary a little bit.” I shook my head back and forth. “I’m the cornerstone of Dangerous Thorns. I’ve had top billing for twenty god damned years!”

  “I know I speak on behalf of everyone involved with the show when I tell you that your contribution is not being forgotten—or ignored. It’s just time for the next generation to step up and carry the torch.” He sighed. “This isn’t easy for me…”

  “Then at least tell me why. You owe me that much.” I leaned forward and stared him down. “You didn’t even blink when I said I’d be willing to negotiate for less money—so that’s not what it’s about.”

  “You’re right.” He nodded. “It’s not about money. It’s just that—Jamison Thorn always had a certain degree of sex appeal. Women loved him, despite the fact that he was normally the bad guy. That appeal has started to wane.”

  “You’re out of your fucking mind.” I scoffed and shook my head. “I was on the cover of Oh Daddy! magazine two years ago—last year, they named me the Sexiest Silver Fox on Television.”

  “Yes, but—the people who read those magazines aren’t our target demographic.” He looked down and sighed. “We need to attract a younger audience. You’re a lonely housewife’s dirty fantasy—we need to focus on the actors that will bring in the young crowd. Honestly, people kind of thought it was creepy when Jamison hooked up with Bianca a few months ago—they said she was too young to get involved with a guy your age. They wanted her to end up with Dean instead.”

  “That’s the whole fucking point of my character!” I leaned forward a little more. “I get the girls—I fuck them—then I fuck with everyone’s head.”

  “We have to focus on events that are a little happier. We can’t keep writing storylines about girls with Daddy issues and leading ladies that fall into Jamison Thorn’s trap. We’re dealing with feminism—a new culture in Hollywood. Your name was brought up during the Me Too movement.”

  “What the fuck, Jacob? I never laid a hand on a girl unless she wanted me to…” I shook my head back and forth.

  “Not you, but—Jamison is a different story. That kind of stuff makes people uncomfortable now.” He shrugged. “This decision has already been made. Bianca will be the last girl you lure into your bed—and Dean is going to kill you for it.”

  That sounds a little morbid, considering that Dean’s real name is the same as the character he plays…

  “Patricide—that’s your answer?” I exhaled sharply. “That’ll ruin Dean’s character. Bianca is already having mixed feelings—she’s leaning towards Jamison because she can’t get the night they shared out of her head.”

  “Which is why Dean’s character will change. After you’re gone, he’ll fill that void Jamison’s death leaves behind.” Jacob nodded. “He’ll be our new villain.”

  “Fucking bullshit.” I rubbed the tip of my index finger between my eyebrows because I could feel a headache coming on.

  Twenty damn years. That’s how long I sat on my throne as the king of daytime television—and they were going to end my career with a bullet. Jamison Thorn was a lot older than I was. They brought me in when I was twenty-five, told me to grow out my beard, and made me the patriarch of a family with grown men that looked more like brothers than sons. I don’t know if it was the stress of the spotlight or being consumed with the character that turned my hair silver before it’s time, but the look helped to enhance the character of Jamison Thorn. Considering how many actors they had switched around and characters that had aged unnaturally for the sake of getting more members of the Thorn family on television, Jamison should have been pushing sixty-five while I had just turned forty-five in real life. It wasn’t like the character’s age mattered—he was still as vibrant and young as the man who played him—me.

  Now it ends—as quickly as it began.

  I left the studio and drove to my house in Beverly Hills—a house that had been paid for being every woman’s secret fantasy for twenty years. That’s what I believed at least. If Jacob was to be believed, people thought I was a dirty old man. I didn’t feel old. I didn’t even know what my limit was on the treadmill anymore—I could run for miles without getting worn out. Cardio wasn’t what people cared about though, which is why my day always started in the gym—making guys half my age look like wimps when I lifted a barbell with more weight than they would have even considered putting on the rack.

  I need a fucking drink, but if I start drinking at the house, I’ll just make really bad decisions…

  I decided to hit the gym to get some of the stress and anger out of my system. I normally liked to visit the gym downtown where a lot of other actors had exclusive memberships, but I wasn’t in the mood to be social. Luckily, I had a full gym at home for moments like that. I pumped iron while the rage surged through my veins. I was forty-five—not dead. I never had a problem picking up a woman in a bar. Hell, I had three ex-wives that never complained about anything in the bedroom—it was the rest of the shit they didn’t like. I was always busy—too busy for them, too busy for a family and most of the time—I was too busy for myself. I sacrificed everything for Dangerous Thorns, and maybe playing Jamison Thorn for so long rubbed off on me—but it wasn’t who I was.

  Okay, one more set. Then I’ll shower and go get a fucking drink somewhere that I can have a little peace and quiet.

  I couldn’t believe Jacob would just write me out of the fucking show. I carried that show—I put the entire thing on my back several times when ratings were plummeting. One thing people loved was a Jamison Thorn storyline involving a younger woman that fell victim to his charm. I could fill every room in the house with the fan mail I received from horny women that wished they had me in their bed. It wasn’t just lonely housewives either—there were plenty of young girls that grew up watching me on television and called me Daddy when they crawled into bed to satisfy their secret urges. Yeah, I got off on it sometimes. It was hard not to. All of that fame and adoration was addicting at times.

  Soon it’ll be all over—and I’ll just be a fucking meme people share on Facebook.

  I finished my set and headed to the shower. The weights got a little adrenaline pumping in my veins, and that was usually enough to drown out the rage, but I was too wound up. The shower gave my muscles a little relief, but it didn’t do anything for the turmoil swelling up inside me. I knew what would do the trick. There was a dive bar in the neighborhood I grew up in—a place called LA Dark. Nobody gave a shit who you were when you walked through the door, especially if you were someone that grew up there. That place had called my name a few times, but the lure had never been stronger. I was dressed and had my keys in my hand when I got a notification that someone was at the front gate. I checked the camera and saw Jasmine Winters sitting behind the wheel of a red Maserati. It seemed that I was going to have to postpone my alcohol-induced excursion for a little while.

  “Jasmine…” I opened the door and sighed. “Is everything okay?”

  “I saw the script. I figured you could use a frien
d.” Jasmine stepped through the front door. “Can I make myself a drink?”

  “Of course.” I sighed and nodded.

  Jasmine Winters played Abigail on Dangerous Thorns. Her character had been married so many times that they didn’t even bother with a last name anymore, but when she was introduced, she was the matriarch of the Thorn family. If there was anyone that could understand my frustration, it was her. They toyed with the idea of killing her character off a couple of times but always got cold feet before the script was written—I wasn’t so lucky. She was probably the only person I knew that had taken more women to bed than I had. She was also my best friend—the only one who truly understood Jamison Thorn’s role on the show as much as I did.

  “Whiskey for you?” Jasmine fixed herself a Gin and Tonic, then reached for the bottle of whiskey that was sitting on the shelf.

  “Yeah, sure. Why the fuck not.” I nodded.

  “I’m quitting, by the way.” Jasmine poured my drink and pushed it over to me. “I told Jacob to go fuck himself.”

  “You didn’t have to do that.” I took the glass and shook my head. “If they want to kill Jamison Thorn, they’re going to do it—no reason for you to be a martyr in the process.”

  “My storylines have been shit for the last year. You come up with better shit for me when we’re hanging out and having drinks—too bad you’re not writing the show. The only thing I’m good for is foiling one of Jamison’s plans. Once you’re gone, it’s just a matter of time before they wipe my name out of the credits too.” Jasmine glared at her drink with her eyes showing hints of anger—not surprising considering her temper.

  “I don’t think they’ll do that…” I sighed and walked towards the living room and sat down in my chair. “They’ll still need one of us to carry the show once I’m gone.”

  “They’re making a huge mistake.” She sat down across from me and dug around her purse until she found her pack of cigarettes. “It doesn’t matter if the next generation is popular—they’re going to piss off everyone that has been watching the show since the beginning. Our popularity has waned because he keeps rehashing the same tired shit and pretending it’s new.”

  “I don’t think Jacob gives a fuck about that.” I sipped my drink and shrugged. “He had the nerve to bring up Me Too—said I was somehow associated with that shit.”

  “That’s a pile of horseshit, and he knows it.” Jasmine lit a cigarette and exhaled a stream of smoke. “They were making a comparison—and it doesn’t have anything to do with you personally. It’s the kind of character Jamison Thorn is. People watch soap operas for an escape. They’re not trying to model their lives after the character we play.”

  “Yeah.” I lifted my drink. “Well here’s to the fucking new generation—long may they sit on the thrones we built for them.”

  “Sure.” Jasmine lifted her drink and pressed her cigarette between her lips. “But also—fuck them.”

  Jasmine’s visit didn’t last long. One drink and one cigarette—she was gone before the smell of smoke had cleared the air. I think it was just a wellness check to make sure I hadn’t done anything stupid like go on a rampage and smash half the shit in my house. That was tempting—the gym did the trick for the moment. The rest of the night was going to be spent at LA Dark, drinking my soul away until I had to take an Uber back to Beverly Hills. I didn’t know what I would do after that. I was contractually obligated to return to the set on Monday morning. If they wanted to kill Jamison Thorn, then I had to die with dignity in front of the camera. The show meant too much for me to just piss on my final scene.

  I don’t have to enjoy it, but it’s still my fucking job.

  * * *

  LA Dark was dead, just like I expected. When I was younger, the place used to be rather exciting, but the neighborhood had gone to shit since I lived there. That was mostly because of the college nearby. As it expanded, so did the range that students had to go to find decent housing. My old neighborhood welcomed them because their money was as good as anyone else’s. Eventually, developers built new apartments near campus and caught up with the needs of the growing student population, so the college kids migrated towards those instead. That left a lot of empty rental properties in my neighborhood, and it never really recovered.

  “Mr. Delaney, good to see you again.” The bartender walked over and put a glass down in front of me. “I assume it’ll be whiskey?”

  “That’s right, Mike. Keep ‘em coming too.” I nodded and stared at my glass as he filled it.

  It was nice to have a place to drink where there were a few people around, especially when they didn’t bother me. That would never happen at a club downtown, or anywhere else on the West Coast. My face was just too recognizable—but the people in my old neighborhood didn’t give a fuck. They knew me when I was nobody, and to them, I was just a kid from that part of town. I was halfway through my third drink when I noticed a gorgeous raven-haired girl walk through the front door. She didn’t look like she belonged at LA Dark—I had to assume she was a college student who wandered too far from campus. If she made it past Big John at the front door, then she was at least twenty-one, but that made her the youngest person in the room by quite a few years.

  “Another one.” I motioned to Mike and pointed at my drink.

  “You got it.” He nodded. “That girl that walked in recognized you—sorry, man. I’ve never seen her in here before.”

  “It’s fine.” I shrugged. “I’ll sign her tits if she makes a scene.”

  I continued drinking, but I watched the raven-haired beauty out of the corner of my eye. I had a rule—I never slept with fans. That was just too fucking easy. They were in love with the character I played, and while I had played Jamison Thorn long enough for him to be ingrained in me like a second personality, it certainly wasn’t who I really was. I knew when I saw the flash that I was about to break my rule. It wasn’t about the girl in the bar—as pretty as she was. I needed a boost of confidence, and she was the demographic Jacob claimed to be after. If I could take her home, I could prove that he was full of shit—to myself at least. I didn’t want to believe that I was past my expiration date—and taking a beautiful young woman to bed was the confidence booster I needed after the shitty day I had.

  Fuck it. Time to turn on the charm.

  I came on too strong—there was a little too much Jamison Thorn in my approach—but I saw the flicker in Lauren’s eyes. I felt the sizzle when I put my hand on her arm. Her lips said no, but that’s not what her body language said. Despite the obviously mutual attraction, she still rejected me. All I could do was die a little inside as she walked away. I wrote my number on the twenty I signed—but I doubted my phone would ever ring. Maybe Jacob was right—maybe I was nothing more than a dirty old man to girls her age. I felt worse after she left than I did when I walked into the bar, which shouldn’t have been the case after a few drinks. I decided that it was time to call it a night. I wasn’t used to striking out, but most of the girls I tried to lure into my bed were Hollywood starlets who were looking for the same thing I was.

  “Alright, Mike. I’m ready to settle up.” I pulled my wallet out of my pocket and opened it.

  “Sorry, you struck out. She was obviously a fan—and hot as hell.” He took my money and sighed.

  “Story of my fucking life today.” I shrugged and started walking towards the door.

  Lauren was on my mind as soon as I got in the back of my Uber. She was so fucking gorgeous—and she wasn’t fake like all of the girls I met in Hollywood with their bleach blonde hair, silicone tits, and annoying egos. I kind of regretted turning on the Jamison Thorn act when I approached her. Yeah, she was too young for me—obviously, but the attraction was still there. Maybe she would have actually stayed for her second drink if I hadn’t acted like an ass. I fucked it up though, and there was no turning that situation around. I was going home alone with what was left of my confidence in the fucking gutter.

  Maybe drinking at home by myself isn�
��t such a bad thing after all…

  3

  Lauren

  “What the hell happened to you?” Madeleine sat up on the couch as soon as I walked through the door of our apartment.

  “Long story…” I shook my head and sat down in the chair across from her.

  “So—who was in the bar?” She tilted her head slightly. “Some guy from school?”

  “No, it was Walker Delaney.” I rolled my eyes.

  “Who’s that?” She raised her eyebrows, and I could tell she had no idea who I was talking about.

  “He’s an actor. He plays Jamison Thorn on Dangerous Thorns.” I turned my head towards her. “The soap opera.”

  “Oh shit! Daddy Thorn? Yeah, my mom is in love with him.” Madeleine’s lips twisted into a devious grin. “I don’t know if I’d say no to that either…”

  “Want to call him?” I dug the twenty out of my purse. “He gave me his number—and I sure as hell won’t be dialing it.”

  “No freaking way.” She leaned forward. “He—he hit on you?”

  “Yeah, and his game is worse than the horny boys I turned down in high school.” I shook my head and sighed. “I thought he would be—I don’t know—charming?”

  “Who cares? He’s hot as fuck. You could do worse.” She leaned back and narrowed her eyes. “Why didn’t you?”

  Because I’m a virgin. Because I was scared. Because I just expected him to be—different.

  “He’s old enough to be my father…” I shrugged.

  Not that I have one of those—well, he exists, but I’ve never met him.

  “So, you’re telling me that if you had the chance to sleep with Jamison Thorn or some random douchebag frat boy, you’d choose the frat boy because he’s your age?” Madeleine tilted her head inquisitively.

  “I didn’t say that…” I looked down at the table and sighed. “I don’t know if I’d sleep with either of them—I’d like it to mean something.”