Page 2 of The Write Stuff

“She isn’t a threat to you,” Eleanor continued. “Yes, she has a crush, and that means she gets a little exuberant. It’s not a big deal. She’s just a late bloomer. Before you know it, she’ll be fixated on someone way hotter and buffer than you.”

Huxley’s mouth fell open, and he found himself looking at his reflection in the mirror just to reassure himself that he hadn’t somehow brushed up against an ugly tree or something. He looked the same as he always did, though. He was tall — still growing, actually — with floppy black hair and shoulders his mother insisted would get him any girl he wanted when he was in college. Despite what his mother did for a living, he had no interest in science fiction. He’d tried to talk her into writing a superhero book more than once, but she’d shot him down each time.

“I’m hot and buff,” Huxley said in a surly voice. “I’ve been working out.” He held up his arm to prove it. And, yes, he had muscles. They weren’t movie star muscles, though, no matter how hard he tried. His mother had explained that comparing himself to television high schoolers was a bad idea, because they weren’t really teenagers, but he was pretty sure she was placating him.

She’d told him more than once that Tom Welling was 24 when playing a 14-year-old on Smallville, but he didn’t think that should matter. He was ready to be buff … and not for Wylie Dixon. She was a geek. He wanted someone like Anna Paquin on True Blood. She was hot and constantly naked on that show, and he was a big fan. He wanted to be the Eric to her Sookie. Not Bill or anything. Never Bill. He could be Eric, though. He could even be the new werewolf guy they’d brought in. He looked more like him than Eric, although he didn’t have the muscles.

“Don’t turn this into a thing,” Eleanor chided, shaking her head and bringing Huxley crashing back to reality. Unfortunately, it was a reality without Anna Paquin at present. “All you have to do is sit with Wylie during the presentation, put up with the jokes about our kids being our biggest fans, and then I’ll buy you whatever you want to make up for it.”

Huxley was used to being bribed by his mother. It wasn’t that she wasn’t a present parent. She’d grown up poor, though, and making the sort of money she made as a successful author meant she never wanted for anything. In return, she made sure that Huxley never wanted for anything.

“I want to not have to sit with Wylie,” Huxley replied. “She’s wearing a shirt that says, ‘Trek yourself before you wreck yourself,’ and I cannot be seen next to her.”

Eleanor snorted, then caught herself. “Sorry. That’s a funny shirt, though.”

“It’s embarrassing.” Huxley crossed his arms over his chest. “She’s embarrassing.”

“She’s a 16-year-old girl who marches to the beat of her own drum,” Eleanor clarified. “She hasn’t quite filled out yet, and she’s self-conscious about it. You have no idea how hard it is for girls at that age.”

“Um … excuse me?” Huxley had no problem talking back to his mother. She had a permissive attitude about stuff like that. His father was another story, but he almost never saw his father. His parents had divorced when Huxley was three, and his dad had moved to Mexico with his new girlfriend. His father was about five girlfriends removed from the first at this point — that he knew of — but he only called once a month or so to check in, and those conversations lasted about five minutes.

As for Eleanor, she was on her third husband now. The second one had only lasted three years. This one, Mick the Dick, wasn’t going to last much longer. Huxley was under no delusions. Mick didn’t want to live the fast-paced lifestyle that Eleanor basked in. He preferred a quiet life of tinkering with his motorcycle and going out to the local diner for breakfast on Sundays. He wasn’t mean to Huxley — in fact, Mick was around more than Eleanor these days — but he also didn’t approve of how Eleanor was raising her son. He thought she was too permissive and that Huxley was too spoiled. That meant Huxley had no time for Mick. Huxley was convinced that Eleanor would have a fourth husband by the time he was 21. There was no reason to maintain a relationship with Mick as far as he was concerned.

“I’m being serious.” Eleanor gave him her full attention now. “Wylie is a free spirit. I can see it in the way she carries herself. Yes, she’s a bit of a geek. Guess what, though?” She was matter-of-fact as she regarded him. “In a few years, every guy you know will be salivating over Wylie.”

Huxley snorted, then caught himself. “She’s … not pretty.”

Eleanor’s expression darkened. “She’s a late bloomer, as I’ve already pointed out. She’s going to fill out in the next few years, though. You’ve seen Aggie. Wylie is going to look just like her.”

That gave Huxley pause. Agnes “Aggie” Quincy was hot. Like … uber hot. She had a banging body that was long and lean and still managed to have curves in all the right places despite giving birth to two children. She also had this ridiculous brown hair that fell well past her shoulders in waves. It was the sort of hair men wanted to run their fingers through, and women wanted their hairdresser to magically provide them with. She was absolutely gorgeous … and her daughter looked nothing like her.

“Um, no way.” Huxley shook her head. “She doesn’t look anything like Aggie.”

“Yes, she does.” Eleanor let loose a sigh. “Look at her. I mean really look at her. She’s got the hair. She just pulls it back right now because she doesn’t know how to deal with it. She’s long and lithe —”

“And gawky,” Huxley muttered.

“And gawky,” Eleanor conceded. “That’s because she hasn’t come into her coordination yet. In a few years, she’s going to fill out just enough that men are going to start following her around. And do you know what they’re really going to like?”

“That she’s a Star Trek geek?”

“They actually will like that — she’ll be the holy grail to some of those guys — but that’s not what I was talking about.” Eleanor was deadly serious. “They’re going to like that she won’t realize how pretty she is. She’s going to be chill and easygoing. She’s going to be the girl who doesn’t just pretend to like football, but who also goes all out to win the fantasy football league.

“Aggie doesn’t know that she’s beautiful either,” Eleanor continued. “It’s very frustrating because most of us desperately have to work for it, but she rolls out of bed, ties her hair back in one of those messy knots, splashes water on her face, and calls it a day.”

Not for the first time, Huxley wondered if his mother was jealous of Aggie. She’d never come right out and say it — jealousy was a sign of weakness to Eleanor — but there had been hints. Once, Mick had stared at Aggie a little too long, and it set Eleanor off. Only after Aggie and Wylie had left the dinner party, of course, but that fight had resulted in Mick sleeping in the guest room for a week. That had been the start of his mother’s problems with his stepfather.

“I think you’re seeing things that aren’t there,” Huxley replied dryly. “None of that matters to me anyway, though. She’s really annoying.”

“She just enjoys life.” Eleanor let loose a sigh and moved away from him. “Just sit at the table with her, Huxley. It’s two hours of your life. This movie announcement is going to be a big deal. It’s going to mean huge things for our family. You can suck it up.”

That was the moment Huxley knew he’d lost. His mother hadn’t even pretended to side with him. Sometimes she manipulated him to her way of thinking. She hadn’t even tried this time.

“Fine,” he said, resigned to his fate. “I need you to know something, though.”

He must have sounded serious because Eleanor gave him her full attention for the first time in … well, in a long time.

“I’ve heard the jokes you and Aggie tell one another when you think no one is listening,” he said in a low voice. “You guys believe that Wylie and I would be an adorable couple to trot out at your stupid reader events.”