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Chapter One
My mother was my kryptonite. Literally draining my strength with her very presence and killing my decision making powers.
“I really dislike that we’re having this conversation while your very expensive graduation party is happening outside these office doors, McKenzie.”
You mean the party I didn’t ask for? Of course that internal retort wouldn’t dare make it past my lips. I’d never managed more than a passive-aggressive attempt—emphasis on the passive part—at rebuking my mother’s wishes. Instead I regressed to an eight year old whenever she used her disappointed tone. I loathed this girl: the one who couldn’t stand up as a twenty-two-year-old adult to voice her own opinions without being afraid of her mother’s reaction.
Ensuring my words were calm, I posed the question, “Could you please tell me why Mr. Higgins seems to think I’m attending Georgetown University this fall?”
Agitation was evident in her eyes. For a mom of three grown children, she could easily pass for ten years younger than her sixty-two due to regimented daily workouts and a healthy dose of Botox. Matter of fact, I was pretty sure she was frowning now, but her face didn’t move a muscle as she aimed a glare toward my father.
I guessed being golfing buddies with Mr. Higgins wasn’t earning him any favors at the moment. My father’s lean build towered over my mother’s slight one, providing an ironic image regarding who was actually in charge here.
She refocused on me, but I had no doubt my dad would receive some choice words later. “It’s bad enough that you told us you had an emergency to speak with us about, but this topic is definitely not urgent. This can be discussed tomorrow.”
Unbelievable. Considering I had every intention of staying on the West Coast and not going to a college in DC, this was an emergency. I took a deep breath, knowing I would need it and repeated the question. “Why would Mr. Higgins think I’m attending Georgetown?”
“You realize your party cost thousands of dollars, and there are over one hundred people outside.”
I prayed for patience. Actually I internally said a few choice four-letter words first. “I appreciate the effort, truly, but what I don’t understand is why anyone would think I’m going to school out here.” Although I might not be thrilled about business school in general, I’d been accepted to UCLA where I wanted to go.
She sighed, obviously running out of patience. “You wish to discuss it now. Fine. You’ve had your fun out in Los Angeles long enough. Quite frankly, the only reason you were allowed to go to UCLA undergraduate was because of your athletic scholarship. Now that it has ended and you’ve exercised your independence, the best place for you is back at home.”
“But—but—I’m accepted to UCLA business school.” Panic was starting to build.
“Not anymore you aren’t. You’re now enrolled at Georgetown.”
I loved my mother, but there were times I had to remind myself that she returned the sentiment. “Why didn’t you discuss this with me?”
My eyes flicked toward my father, who moved to the desk and poured himself a scotch. If only I could be so lucky as to have something to take the edge off this unfolding nightmare. My mother did that to people: drove them to drink. But while she was controlling, my father was the opposite: completely indifferent. The combination was slightly south of functional, but for whatever reason, they seemed to have stuck it out over the last twenty-three years.
“There’s nothing to discuss. You’re completely dependent on us to pay, not only for your rent, but also for school and living expenses. Therefore when we tell you to come home, that’s what you’re going to do.”
Awareness hit me that she wasn’t wrong. And it sucked. But as much as I was reeling with the very idea of moving home, the more pressing issue was that I’d lined up a dream internship for the summer in downtown LA, a job which started next week. Concluding I might not be able to argue the school situation successfully at the moment, I went for the short-term goal. “Can I at least stay for the summer?”
“I don’t see why that would be necessary.”
“Well, I was planning to tell you tomorrow. I have a great intern job—”
My father looked as though he was going to speak, but she cut him off. “Please tell me it has nothing to do with music. And is it even paid?”
Her words definitely touched a nerve as music had always been my true passion. She’d never been supportive of it, calling it a frivolous hobby ever since I’d learned to play the guitar my late grandfather had given to me the Christmas I turned ten. Then again, I’d not had the guts to do anything except play in my own room and sing to the mirror. But I was hoping to change that this summer with the chance of working for a top record producer in his studio. I’d be exposed to dozens of artists, not to mention receive an inside view of the business. It was the opportunity of a lifetime and, considering I’d beat out over a thousand other candidates, there was no way I was giving it up. The internship was unpaid, but luckily I had enough in savings to cover the summer’s rent, which meant I wasn’t technically lying.
“I’d be able to pay for my apartment.”
“What would you be doing?” she asked, narrowing her eyes.
Thank God I was saved from having to come up with another clever half-truth by a knock at the door, which opened to reveal one of the caterers. “I’m so sorry to interrupt, Mrs. Lane, but we have an issue with the oven.”
With a huff, my mother glanced back and then hurried out the door, most likely to unleash her displeasure on an unsuspecting caterer.
Alone with my father, I turned toward him, hoping for an ally. “Dad. I want to stay in LA.”
He looked resigned. “Honey, I fought your mother on sending you out there in the first place, but I won’t win this one. At least not for now. Give it a few months, and things may change.”
What in the hell did he mean by that?
He put his hand on my shoulder, looking sympathetic. “Is this summer internship that important to you?”
