Built to Last, page 21
Somewhere, eighteen-year-old Cameron blacks out completely.
I pull up to the curb in front of the Caroline Street house, behind a large landscaping trailer.
“I didn’t know we were at the point of landscaping,” Shelby says, impressed.
“We’re not,” I say, squinting against the blaring yellow sunshine pouring against my windshield. “Maybe they’re here for a different house?”
Shelby unbuckles her seat belt and reaches for the door, but she hesitates, her hand pausing on the handle. “Hm.”
“Hm?”
Her blue eyes narrow and she tucks her hair behind her ear. “Yeah. Hm. We aren’t that late, but the camera crew is waiting for us at the front door.”
I grunt. “That figures. Lyle will love getting footage of us arriving together first thing in the morning.”
“Undoubtedly,” Shelby says, sounding unconvinced. We’d kind of assumed Lyle had washed his hands of us.
I grab her other hand, giving it a squeeze. “If you’d rather, you can drop me off, then take my truck for coffee and circle back.”
Her lips quirk in a half grin. “Didn’t get enough caffeine this morning?”
“Someone distracted me,” I admit.
Her brow arches at me in challenge. “Someone distracted you? That’s not how I remember it. I was minding my business, filling my cup—”
“While naked.”
She shrugs lightly. “I forgot pajamas. Whoops.”
I bite back a groan. This woman.
She smirks and gives up the act, reaching for the door again. “I’m good if you are, but we should get going. There’s some kind of congregation happening on the porch and my dad’s looking flustered. He needs you.”
The sun is still preventing me from seeing much, but I pull my keys out of the ignition anyway and follow Shelby. Once I’m out of the bright light, I can read the side of the landscaping trailer. My chest instantly deflates like I’ve been kicked in the diaphragm.
RIGGS & SON
Son. As in singular.
Derek is here.
Shelby takes in the wording and her hand finds mine. After a beat, I allow her to pull me along toward the porch where a full camera crew is ready to catch my reaction.
Fucking. Lyle.
My brother’s back is to me, but I’d recognize him anywhere. Tall like me, but more lean, angular even, same as my dad. His hair is longer, with a soft curl. He’s dressed in durable khaki pants and a burgundy polo. The uniform of generations of Riggs men, but not me.
My heart is pounding a staccato beat and my hands are clammy. I try to pull away from Shelby, but she doesn’t relent, and I’m grateful she’s so stubborn.
What I really want is to leave. To get in my truck and call in sick. I don’t care what Lyle makes of that. All I know is I don’t want to do this, and I especially don’t want to do it on camera.
Shelby’s fingers squeeze mine and I have the sense to squeeze back. “Can you do this?” she asks in a low tone.
“I don’t think so. I can’t…” I scramble for the words. Can’t face him? Can’t think of what to say? Can’t imagine what Derek must think of me? “Act,” I finish. “Not with him.”
“No,” Shelby agrees. “And you shouldn’t. I got this one. Just stay close and let me take the lead for once.”
I manage a stiff nod and Shelby pulls us up to the porch, her face bright and eager. She releases my hand, clapping hers together. “Morning, everyone! Derek Riggs! What an amazing surprise! It’s been ages. Come here, you handsome devil! Give me a hug.”
Derek looks gobsmacked, and I can’t tell if it’s because of Shelby’s words or if he’s stunned by the megawatt movie-star smile she’s offering.
They embrace, and she kisses his cheek in a brotherly way, before looping his arm through hers. She pulls him to face the crowd, which includes the camera guy, Steve, and me. Shelby beams in my direction, making a show of waving me off. “I know, I know, you boys have catching up to do, but I’m not ready to let go yet. It’s not every day a girl gets twice the Riggs. Imagine the hate mail I’d get if I didn’t take advantage.” She turns to my brother, affecting a sweet pout. “So, Derek, please, please, please tell me you’re going to work some magic on our poor excuse for a front yard? This project is crying out for some curb appeal.”
If I hadn’t already been in love with Shelby, I would be a goner. I see what her dad meant about watching out for each other—holding each other up. He meant this right here. Because when you care about someone, you know just when they need you to step up and take the reins. Like jumping on stage to sing karaoke. Equal partners. A team.
Costars in life.
To his credit, Derek doesn’t flinch at the full-force blast of Shelby charm. Much. After a blink, when he’s undoubtedly trying to decide if Shelby is real, my brother goes on to describe his plans for the front acre. His tone is confident and knowledgeable, and once I’m able to move past the fact that he’s even here in the first place, I’m nodding along with his vision.
“I like it,” I say once he’s finished and I’ve recovered my ability to speak.
His green eyes, the same shade as mine, widen slightly but he grins, relieved. “Yeah?”
I studiously ignore the pang in my chest. “Yeah. Like Shelby said, the lot is a mess. It’s got gobs of potential, but it’s been left wild for too long. It’s a shame to do all this work inside and leave the outside looking like this.”
After that, they pull Derek aside for a talking head about his plans, and I go inside and bury myself in bathroom tile work.
Twenty minutes or so later, there’s a knock at the door.
“We have mudders for that,” Daniel says.
“I don’t mind. I’ve been watching some videos on YouTube. Wanted to see if I could do it.”
“Apparently, you can,” he says, his tone approving.
“I’m slow. Professionals would have had this laid down already.”
Daniel grunts noncommittally.
“Your brother left. Said he’ll be back in two weeks with a crew to get to work on the terrace.”
This time I grunt noncommittally.
“He seemed to linger longer than necessary. Like he was waiting for you to come back.”
I plop down a tile, adjusting it carefully along my string level.
“He wanted to talk to you, Cameron.”
I sigh, getting to my feet and brushing my hands together, shaking off some dried mud. “I’m sure he does. I imagine he has all sorts of things to say about how he’s glad I finally came home and found a real job, even if it’s in television. I bet he’d even like to point out how old his kids are and how I’m a terrible uncle for only sending them Amazon gift cards for Christmas because I have no idea what a five-year-old likes. He, for sure, wants to mention how he’s taken care of our mom, since I desert her time and again to travel the world in search of stories.”
I slump, embarrassed at the emotion strangling in my throat. I know exactly how childish I sound, but I can’t seem to help myself. “He’s better off without me. They both are. Lyle’s just fucking with things for drama’s sake.”
Daniel moves farther into the space and leans a hip against the vanity, crossing his arms. “That’s true. Lyle’s pulling the strings, and he shouldn’t have brought in your brother without asking. Much like with Shelby’s mom. But I think you’re wrong about everything else. Derek wasn’t here to lecture you. He was here to see his brother. I know things are rough between you and your father. I get it. Both sides, if I’m honest. I never really understood Shelby’s career either and certainly never approved of so much exposure and responsibility so young. I should have stepped in, but I didn’t. I let Ada Mae do what she wanted, and that was my fault. I was the dad, and I didn’t do my job. But I wasn’t there with her in L.A. I didn’t have control of the day-to-day things, like what she ate for breakfast or what time she went to bed.
“In a way, I understand how Paul felt. He was on the periphery of his own kid’s life. He watched you grow up on television like everyone else, and it’s hard to love your kid from afar. So, instead, he poured all his love into your brother because he was around, and he needed it, too. And that hurts. It’s fair for you to be angry about that. You should be.” The edges of his blue eyes crinkle in memory. “You should have heard the way Shelby screamed at me when everything came to a head with us. She let me have it. You haven’t had the chance to do that, but you should. As angry as you are, you need to accept what’s between you and him isn’t the same as what’s between you and your brother, or even you and your mom. All that about Derek’s kids getting older and you traveling the world instead of coming home? He didn’t say that. You did.”
I swallow hard, my face burning and throat tight.
Daniel straightens off the vanity and steps carefully over the cardboard covering the subfloor toward me. He places a hand on my shoulder and squeezes. “You’re here now, though. And if I’m not completely off base, you’re not going anywhere anytime soon.”
I shake my head. It’s all I can manage. Daniel squeezes my shoulder again, nodding once, as if that decides something for him.
“Good. Then you know what to do next.”
20
MAD LOVE TO BAD BLOOD
By Jocelyn Bennett
Last month, we reported on the long-awaited reappearance of L.A.’s favorite child-star darling turned ruined pop princess Shelby Springfield. Five years after the release of Lyle Jessup’s “You Chose Wrong” (rumored to be written about the dissolution of their fairy-tale romance), and ten months after her mother’s scathing tell-all, Ms. Springfield turned up with a new man on her arm.
But is he really new? Certainly not to us! Springfield, 27, was seen painting a small-town flea market in starlight, feasting on ice-cream cones, and dancing a two-step with the Cameron Riggs, 28. The two costarred, along with Jessup, on the über-popular tween show The World According to Jackson and, at the time, were rumored to have a secret love of their own (in case you’re wondering, that sound you hear is the banger vocals of Katy Perry belting “Teenage Dream”).
Of course, the duo always denied any attachment, and in a shocking twist, it was heartthrob Lyle Jessup who Springfield spent the next five years on-again, off-again dating, amid perpetual personal turmoil. Rumors of alcohol abuse, mental instability, and cheating (recently bolstered by her mother’s bestselling memoir) followed the young starlet everywhere. It’s no wonder she turned tail for the Midwest in 2017 after Jessup released his self-proclaimed autobiographical album.
But trouble couldn’t stay away forever, it seems. Shelby and Cameron turned up in L.A. in early spring, reportedly entering into discussions regarding a television opportunity with Jessup, a successful producer with an endless reserve of generosity for his down-on-their-luck costars.
“They’re doing the pilot,” Springfield’s bestselling mom, Ada Mae, confirmed over the phone. “I went to visit the set and lend my support, but I’m not so sure this will stick. Shelby never could commit. She’s spent her whole life making excuses and playing the victim. I just feel bad for Cameron Riggs! Poor guy doesn’t even know what he’s gotten himself wrapped up in.”
After the pair was spotted canoodling at a flea market in the middle of nowhere, Jessup himself spoke to Hollywood Hotwire last month to confirm that Riggs and Springfield are filming a pilot for a new home-renovation show for HLNW, aptly titled HomeMade, which all sounded very reserved and aboveboard for Springfield, until, that is, a series of unfortunate (and familiar) events last weekend.
In a land far, far away (or Michigan, as it were), cameras were on hand to catch Shelby behaving badly, this time with a (bearded and muscular) Cameron Riggs by her side. Hollywood’s favorite power couple, Lyle and Marcella Jessup, reportedly flew all the way out to the tiny Midwestern town, in the hopes of celebrating the green-lighting of the duo’s home-repair show. To say they had a cool reception would be an understatement.
When we reached out about the situation, Springfield’s former BFF confessed her concern through her publicist. “I’d hoped she was past this, but when I asked her to quit drinking, she practically laughed me out of the bar, insisting it was only a ginger ale. But I know what I saw, and I know Shelby. She needs help. She was drunk and belligerent. She and Cameron Riggs are wasting this opportunity. I only hope this time she gets the help she needs before it’s too late.”
Then, of course, there was the moment when Jessup tried to mend fences with her old friend, jumping onstage and inviting her to do karaoke. Readers might remember the days when these two songbirds shared many a stage, delighting L.A. clubgoers and pop fans alike. Turns out former good-boy Cameron Riggs might have a jealous streak running through those golden veins. He reportedly hopped onstage, midperformance, to steal the mic from Jessup. Why would he make such a crass public gesture? Apparently good manners mean nothing when you want to duet with your new love.
The song choice? You guessed it. None other than Lyle Jessup’s Grammy-winning hit, “You Chose Wrong.” Talk about rubbing salt in the wound!
The dastardly duo didn’t stop there, however. Michigan clubgoers were also treated to some dirty dancing between the (presumably intoxicated) costars, causing this reporter to wonder just how wholesome this television show of theirs promises to be. Will we be witnessing home improvement or home wrecking?
I hope for the sake of Springfield, Riggs, Jessup, and child stars everywhere, it’s the former, but reality-television viewers will be on board for the latter, regardless.
Comments (1,804)
Margie_78: who cares Springfield is a whore
Lester-the-collector: Once again the fake news media is more concerned with the activities of cokehead celebrities … (329 replies)
SuperChick: Dude. Lester. You’re reading an online gossip rag.
The Lorelai Jones: Damn right they sang Jessup’s weak ass lie of a song and they sang it BETTER
QuirkyLibrarian: I’ve always liked Shelby Springfield. I hope she gets the help she needs.
Ginnifur01: Marcella Jessup is way hotter than Shelby. Lyle leveled up.
(reply to Ginnifur01) IheartCameronRiggs: Actually, Cameron Riggs is hotter than Lyle Jessup. Have you seen his thighs?
(reply to IheartCameronRiggs) IheartShelbySpringfield: Like tree trunks, one might say.
JunkInDaTrunk: Lyle Jessup eats ass. I hated that Beauty and the Barber show he did.
The_Local_Idiot: I was in rehab with Shelby Springfield. Girl was a mess. Gave good head tho.
MYHEARTWILLGOON: I used to love The World According to Jackson! Watched it with my grandpa before he died. So many good memories. I really hope Shelby’s okay.
TwerkIt: I did an acoustic cover of “You Chose Wrong” and would really appreciate it if you could head on over to my YouTube channel and check it out!
21
SHELBY
INVISIBLE STRING
I should be angry. Throwing a fit, punching walls, screaming into the void, and drinking myself under the table. No one would blame me. At least no one who knows me. By the time I woke up this morning, the Hollywood Hotwire article had been picked up by a zillion other outlets, each one more nefarious and far-reaching than the last. Even if I had a real publicist to navigate such things (which I don’t anymore), it would have been too late to make a dent.
So, I got up and went to work. In my shop. Because even if I’m not angry, I am hurt, and I need twenty-four hours to cry it out by myself before I turn up on camera. I’m lucky I have that option. After calling to check in this morning, Cameron had to report to the Caroline Street house to meet with the bath fitters. In an effort to apologize for the grief and aggravation I’ve caused by being named Shelby mother-effing Springfield, I sent the entire crew lunch via Lorelai. She called me on her way home, pleased to report everyone seemed offended on our behalf, to the extent that the camera crew left early, and when Lyle called to smooth things over with Cameron, he apparently cut him off saying, “Not fucking today, Lyle,” to thunderous applause.
It’s a small and short-lived victory, but it feels good to know our crew believes in us. That’s the thing about Midwesterners. We’re a polite and generally pleasing people, but fuck with one of us, and we’ll take that offense to the grave, then cremate it and sprinkle it in your coffee with maple syrup.
I don’t make the rules, but I am grateful for them.
At any rate, I fully intend to head in first thing tomorrow to finish my railing. It’s not the nook’s fault I made poor decisions in my early twenties, and I refuse to allow one teeny, tiny damning article to derail me from my deadline. Heh. Furniture pun.
As for today, I have my pew. Thank you, Mr. Jenson, for your sentimentality and decades of sticky varnish. My fingers ache from the seven straight hours of precise effort exerted to sand it new. So much so, I can barely raise my middle one in righteous indignation. It’s been a healthy compromise.
“I’ll be honest. I was expecting Josh Groban.”
Cameron.
My heart can’t help but skip in my chest. Wonder if that will ever go away? Hasn’t in fifteen years, so I kind of doubt it.
“When I’m in my feelings, I like my country singers salty. It’s a side effect of being best friends with Lorelai.”
“This is Miranda Lambert, right?”
“She’s verrry salty,” I say, nodding. “All that angst with her ex.” I tilt my head, pretending to consider. “I wonder what that must feel like.”
Cameron snorts, making his way over to where I’m working, and squats down with a reverent intake of breath. “Shelby.”
“Cam,” I respond mildly.
“This is the pew?”
“The very same,” I say, pleased at the obvious approval in his gaze.
“It doesn’t even look the same. Well, no. It does. It just looks brand new is all.”
“She shined up real pretty,” I say, standing and taking in my work. “Turns out I had some elbow grease to spare this morning, so this was the perfect project. I think I want it in my foyer.”
