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“But we haven’t opened the Newport house yet,” Haven said sternly, her cherry-red fingertips clutching the stem of her champagne flute all the more firmly.
“That’s all right. I’ll give the staff a call later today. There’s plenty of time to prepare,” Collin replied, as steadfast as I’d ever heard him. It was almost hot.
I saw a crestfallen Gale, frantically racking her brain for another move to make, determined I wouldn’t spend a single night in a Case family home. The homes she thought rightfully belonged to her in the future with Collin. Homes that certainly didn’t belong to anyone like me. But before she could say anything, I took the opportunity to accidentally spill a carafe of ice water that sat between us in her direction. She stood up with a frightful yelp, as if it were acid—if only—and I delivered the compulsory apology, but not without stealing a furtive glance at Chloe and Calliope, who were both trying desperately not to laugh.
Laugh it up, girls.
I would get them on my side.
I would get all of them on myside.
MOTHER
LOS ANGELES, CALIFORNIA
SOMETHING’S WRONG. Ilook all around me. This isn’t our kind of place. I trace the cracks in the green floor with my eyes and then with my toes through my flip-flops as far as my leg will stretch, trying to stay out of her way. It smells like burnt coffee and cigarettes.The Price Is Rightplays silently on the TV hanging from the wall in the corner. Someone just won a car. The man behind the desk wears round glasses and a Grateful Dead T-shirt. I don’t know what that is, but he’s giving Mother a hard time. She can’t stand it. Her nails clack against her bag, soft taps on the leather. Impatient. Annoyed.
“Try itagain.” Mother whips her credit card so hard at him that it bounces off his chest and falls to the floor. When I watch him pick it up for her, I feel like washing my hands.
“We’re only going to be in this dump a week, max,” Mother barks. “You should be so lucky.”
“Ma’am, your card has been declined,” he says, and tries to handit back to her. She ignores him, so he slides it across the desk in her direction.
“I said you need to try it again, asshole,” Mother hisses.
“Okay, I’m going to have to ask you to leave.”
“We’re not leaving until you try the card again.” She slides it back to him and bares her teeth.“Please.”
“Miss, you have to leave,” he says, softer this time. I start to feel sorry for him until he locks eyes with me and I realize he feels sorry for me, too. I don’t like it so I look away. “Look, you have a little girl, and I don’t want to have to call the police.” Mother grabs the card and shoves it in her bag, not bothering to put it in her wallet. I don’t often see Mother not getting her way and it makes me anxious. I want to ask her questions but I know she’s in no mood to answer any so I just follow her outside as she huffs and puffs.
The weather in Los Angeles is perfect. Sunny, warm, a cool breeze. She had told me we were going to see the ocean soon and it feels like this is a good day to do it, but I don’t think that’s her plan right now. Mother lights up a cigarette, furious. I know I shouldn’t speak, but I’m really hungry and I hope we can solve whatever problem we have over breakfast somewhere.
“Screw it,” she says, and she starts to march down the street. That’s my cue to follow her. I wish she’d just hold my hand.
On Hollywood Boulevard, we pass all kinds of weirdos and life-size versions of cartoons that would only be in my nightmares. Mickey Mouse. Superman. But they look off to me. People stop for photos with them, and I don’t know why. It’s so obvious they aren’t the real thing. I avoid disappointment when I can see it coming.
Mother starts to walk faster. I keep up with her as best I can. She finally slows down when we are in front of the Hollywood Roosevelt hotel. Now it feels like we’re in the right place. I know we’ll go straightfor the elevator. I like this game. It makes me feel important to her. A good opportunity to get her to like me.
“Go ahead,” she says, allowing me to pick our floor. I push 8 and up we go, no stops on the way. “Take a look.” She prods me in the back when we get there. I stick my head out of the elevator and look both ways.
“I don’t see anyone,” I say. She rolls her eyes. I’ve disappointed her.
“My turn,” she grumbles, and smacks the 12 button. “Money’s on the high floors anyway.” We exit the elevator, since Mother chose correctly. There’s a housekeeper at one end of the hallway and we go quietly in the other direction. Mother stops in front of the last door on our end. There’s a room service tray waiting to be cleared. Mother puts her ear up to the door and listens for a few moments until she finally erupts into an “Oh, no!”
Another cue for me. I skip happily all the way down the hallway to the housekeeper and flash her a winning smile, just like Mother taught me. I twirl a piece of hair in my fingers and say, “Excuse me, miss. My mother and I were about to go get lunch downstairs, but she left her purse inside with the key. Could you please open it back up for us? See? She’s just down there.”
Mother waves, smiles and then throws up her hand, doing all the right things.
“I’m sorry, honey,” the housekeeper says to me. “I can’t do that. You’ll have to go to the front desk.”
“Please? It would only take a second of your time and we would really appreciate it!” I know how cute I am and that it makes me hard to resist. Mother says that people always trust a pretty girl. She’s right. Like clockwork, the housekeeper smiles back at me and follows me down the hallway. I skip every few steps in front of her, leading us back to Mother. “This nice lady is going to let us back in, Mommy!”
Mother smiles again and puts her hands over her heart. “Thank yousomuch, you’re a lifesaver, really! We’re already late for our reservation and by the time we went down and up again, I mean, you get it...” Mother trails off, but the housekeeper doesn’t really seem to be actively listening to her. She smiles and nods and opens the door for us. A cute little girl and her mommy. Mother and I go inside and the housekeeper follows us. Mother’s eyes go dark. I know this look.
“Oh, I’m sorry, ma’am, I’m just making sure that—” the housekeeper starts to explain herself, but Mother blocks her from coming any farther.
“Ex-cuseus!” Mother says, her hand on the doorknob, ready to slam it in the housekeeper’s face.
