D.O.R.K. Series Box Set

by Haley Allison

  Should I go to this party and risk humiliating myself? Or should I blow off Giovanni Abate and risk pissing him off royally? I guess I should go, but what if something terrible happens and I have to endure the aftermath of it and my father’s wrath?

  Or what if Scenario 2 is true? I have a rule about sex that would totally screw that up. When I swipe my V-card, I want it to be with someone I love. As amazing as Gio is, I wouldn’t say we’re in love yet, which means I’d have to say no to his admittedly tempting invitation. It would be so humiliating to have to reject Gio. I don’t know if I could do it. I might give in and lose a part of myself in the process.

  Finally, what if he actually likes me? I’m leaving at the end of June. I don’t want to start something with him that’s going to have an inevitable end. It would put a dark cloud over the whole summer. Plus, he’s an actor, so every relationship he has is going to be heavily publicized. I’m not sure if I’m ready for that kind of media scrutiny. I just know someone’s going to make a cutting Basket Baby remark and a whole new era of humiliation will begin.

  Good God…I’m overanalyzing this. I have a tendency to obsess over things before they even happen. That’s another girly trait I have, I guess…worrying over nonsense things. Who knows, Gio might turn out to be better than the typical rich, handsome douchebag. He might even be my Prince Charming.

  Whoops…veering off into fantasy land again…

  Back to reality. I don’t know what his intentions are, but…maybe it’s best if I leave them a surprise.

  Ttyl,

  Mads

  After breakfast in the morning, while Dad is outside talking to Aunt Melissa on the phone, I pull Cass aside in the kitchen to talk to her about the W3 reunion.

  “I already called the others,” Cass says, referring to their former bassist and drummer. “Carl and James are so excited. They still live in the area, and they were both thrilled to hear Mike’s back. I think they might even be open to reuniting the band for good, so everything’s moving according to plan.” “Cass! You rock!” I say, making her chuckle.

  “Thanks. Do you have any ideas for the reunion itself?”

  “Well, I was thinking…our favorite talk show is Late at Night with Johnny McIntyre, and it’s based in L.A. They’ve had actor reunions on there before. Do you think they would do a band reunion?”

  “Sweetie, I think any talk show in the area would be delighted to host our band reunion,” Cass says. “I think that’s an amazing idea. That’s one of the most popular talk shows in the nation. If I call Johnny’s people, do you want to be the one to propose your idea?”

  I let out some breathy laughter. “I don’t think I could talk to Johnny McIntyre. Besides, we haven’t even talked to Dad about the idea yet.”

  “Honestly, I think the band reunion should be a surprise to your dad. We could have Johnny just invite the two of you on to talk about your return, and then the rest of us could come out from behind the stage and give him the shock of his life.”

  “That’s brilliant!” I gush. “Then he’d have to cave under the pressure.”

  “It’s settled then. You and I will call Johnny after lunch, once we talk to your dad about the interview.”

  “Sounds perfect,” I say, giving her a fist bump.

  Before lunch, Dad takes us into a bedroom that’s being used as a storage room, and we get to see all of their old things. He shows me his vinyls and cassette tapes from way back when, and I get to hold a couple of Cass’s old guitars. She also shows me some of her outfits from performing, which are horrendously nineties, even though the black and silver studs are pretty cool. Finally, someone comes across the object I came here for in the first place.

  “Mads…” Ana holds it up so I can see it. “Your basket.” I wade through the rubble on the floor and stretch out my hands, almost afraid to touch it, but needing to.

  Dad smiles tenderly as I take the wicker basket and finger the bright pink lace. “The very first place I ever saw you,” he says, coming up behind me. “I remember it like it was yesterday. It was the single greatest moment of my life.”

  “Really?” I feel him nod against my head. I lean back against Dad, and his arms wrap around me.

  “Thank you.”

  “For what, sugar?” He kisses the top of my head.

  “For caring about me. For giving up all of this. She gave me up, but you gave up your whole life for me.” My throat tightens to the point where I can barely breathe. This basket I’m holding is the only trace of my mother’s influence in my life, and it’s the thing she gave me away in. It’s a symbol of the abandonment, and it’s all I have from her, besides possibly my looks.

  “We’ll leave you two alone,” Cass says, and Ana follows her as the two of them leave the room to give us some privacy.

  I turn around to face Dad and set the basket down on a nearby box. “Why did she give me up? Did she ever say anything about that?”

  “Oh, honey, please don’t worry yourself about that.” Dad grasps my upper arms gently and looks directly into my eyes. “She did not deserve you in the least, and there’s no reason in the world why you should waste one more thought on her, okay? Here, let me show you somethin’ that might take your mind off it.” He leads me over to a small cardboard box with an assortment of autographed pictures in it. He thumbs through them and shows me photos he got with all sorts of celebrities: musicians, actors, CEOs, and even a couple of presidents. There are tons of pictures with pretty actresses in here, which brings a mischievous grin to my face. Now I have an easy point of reference for my AYMM mission, and he doesn’t even have to know about it.

  “Hey, can I take these pictures into my room?” I ask.

  He looks at me a little weird, but then he shrugs.

  “Whatever you want, baby girl.”

  Google search:

  Kelsie Walderman Michael Daley.

  Pictures of Dad and the tall, blonde, blue-eyed actress populate near the top of the screen. Dad was with her in more than one of these photos, and she has a bit of a reputation, so I figured she might be a good bet. Studying her face, though, I don’t see any resemblance other than the eye color. There are also no articles that even begin to link her to me. I guess this one is another internet dead end.

  As I’m typing in another actress’s name, my phone goes off. The screen lights up with a text message.

  Gio: Hey neighbor ;)

  My heart jumps. I wasn’t sure if I should expect to hear from him between now and Saturday.

  Me: Hey! What’s up?

  Gio: I’m at a modeling shoot right now with Steph, but I just wanted to say that playing BF with you yesterday was awesome. You wanna play again when I get back?

  Me: Sounds great. What time do you think you’ll be back?

  Gio: Probably sometime after dinner. This is taking forever.

  Me: Well, just shoot me a text when you get back, and I’ll hop on my console.

  Gio: Awesome. See you then.

  Me: Okay, ttyl.

  I played it cool, but I was a little disturbed to hear that he’s at a modeling shoot. All those insanely sexy girls, probably posing in provocative ways…then again, he did just ask to hang out with me when he gets home, so I guess that’s a good sign? I just hope I’m not getting friend-zoned…

  Nope, can’t be that, either. He asked me to be his date on Saturday.

  Gio Abate is coming home to play Battlefield with me instead of coming home with a model.

  Later, as we’re all eating lunch out on the back patio, Cass and I propose the Johnny McIntyre idea to Dad, minus the part about the W3 Reunion. He hesitates at first because he thinks Mother Dearest might see we’re in L.A. and come back, but Cass reminds him how demanding a film shoot is and that it’s very unlikely she’d be able to leave early without throwing off the whole production. He continues to protest because he doesn’t want to deal with media attention.

  “I just don’t see the point,” he says.

  I wipe my mo
uth after my last bite of chicken Caesar salad. “The point is that we get to go on Johnny McIntyre and tell the world what we’ve been up to since the disappearance. Don’t you want to give your fans that closure? Don’t you want to put an end to all this speculation once and for all?”

  He lets out a deep sigh. “I guess it would be all right. But just that one show, since it’s our favorite. I don’t wanna go on a whole damn media tour or anything.”

  I try my best to suppress a squeal, but it comes out anyway. “Thanks, Daddy! Cass and I will take care of everything, don’t worry.”

  After lunch, Cass and I go into her bathroom in her room and lock the door, blocking the opening between the door and the floor with a towel. We don’t want to take even the slightest risk of Dad hearing us through the door. Cass gets a hold of Johnny’s people, and she gives them a brief synopsis of our plan. They like it so much that they get us talking to Johnny himself. Cass gets him on the phone, and she tries to hand it to me, but I’m shaking too much to take it.

  “Come on, Mads,” Cass whispers, strained and irritated as she holds out her phone to me.

  “I…I can’t…”

  “Take the phone.”

  I let out a breath and try to channel some Zen. “All right.” I clear my throat, and then I accept the phone with a trembling hand. “H-hi, Johnny.”

  “Hi, Madison!” His voice is deep, pleasant, and middle-aged.

  “H-hi.”

  “Listen, I just have to say, I’m honored you chose my show to help reveal your father’s return to Los Angeles. However, I do have some questions

  about the specifics of your plan.”

  “Um…okay.”

  “Is your father currently working on a new album?”

  “Well…not yet. But I think he might want to.” Technically, it’s true. He might want to.

  “All right,” Johnny says. “And do you have his permission to be setting up this interview?”

  “Yes, he’s all for it,” I say, once again mildly stretching the truth. “However, we do want to keep the reunion with the other bandmates a surprise, so we didn’t tell him about that part.”

  “Oh, I understand,” Johnny says. I briefly explain the plan to him, and he repeats it back to me. “So this interview would be revealing to the world where you’ve been living for the past seventeen years, what you’re doing in L.A. now, and the surprise reunion, is that correct?”

  “Yeah, that’s pretty much it.”

  “Well, just so you know, I think it’s a fantastic idea. I look forward to working with you and the others. I actually just had a cancellation for June 17. Do you think you could do the interview on that day?”

  “Yes, absolutely,” I say, giddy with excitement. I had no idea we’d be doing this interview so soon. “Excellent. Can’t wait to meet you!”

  Johnny McIntyre can’t wait to meet me. “Likewise,” I say. He hangs up the phone, and I come within one breath of passing out.

  Gio: I’m home. Be on in a few.

  After I receive that text, I sit down on the edge of my bed with headphones and controller ready. It may seem silly considering where I am now, but I’m sort of missing my purple bean bag chair. Dad and I had a designated game room in our house in Kentucky, and my chair is worn into the shape of my body because we played so much.

  Gio finally logs in, and I add him to a party.

  “Hey,” he says, sounding beyond exhausted.

  “Hey! Everything okay?”

  “Yeah, it’s just that the modeling shoot sucked.

  Guess it was an off day for me.” “What do you mean?” I ask.

  “Well, I was supposed to be modeling this one collared shirt, and it just didn’t hang right on me—”

  “Whoa, whoa, whoa. You were the model?”

  “Uh, yeah.” Gio chuckles. “What did you think I meant?”

  Ho-ly shit. He models too. “Nothing…nothing, go on.”

  “Nah, don’t worry about it. I don’t want to bog you down with my problems.”

  “No, really, it’s okay,” I say. “What happened?” We start a match, and the sounds of guns firing and character voices join ours.

  “Well, long story short, Steph ended up swapping me out with another guy near the end because I couldn’t pull off the shirt. It was made for stick figures.”

  “Which you definitely are not,” I say in a flirty voice. Whoa, did that just come out of me?

  “Definitely not!” he says. “I’m glad you understand.”

  “A wise person once told me that when clothes don’t fit you right, it’s not anything wrong with you. It’s just the clothes. Dammit, I died.” I utter a few more choice words.

  Gio bellows with laughter. “Man, I never thought I’d hear words like that coming out of a pretty girl like you.”

  Heat rises into my cheeks. “Sorry, I can get a little carried away.”

  “You don’t have to apologize. I needed that laugh. In fact, coming home to this made my depressing day a lot better.”

  “Glad to hear that…and I’m glad you didn’t find some other girl to come home with after the photoshoot.” Not sure why I just said that, but I guess I can give up on playing it cool. It’s not going to happen.

  “I’ll be honest, I have gone out with a couple of teen models in the past,” Gio says, and I immediately feel about as tall as a mushroom. “But I prefer a smart girl to a self-absorbed twig any day.” Since he can’t see me, I smile like the Cheshire Cat. “So what do you do for fun besides playing guitar and video games?”

  “Well, first of all, I don’t play guitar for ‘fun.’ That’s going to be my career someday.”

  “Right, of course. I’m sure you won’t have a problem with that.”

  I smile. “Anyway, I did a lot of horseback riding and outdoor exploration back in Kentucky. Interesting fact: I can shoot a real gun.”

  “No wonder you’re so good at this game!” Gio laughs. “I’m impressed!”

  “Thanks. What about you?”

  “I play sports at school, and during the summer I like to surf. Friday is usually my surfing day with my buddies at Santa Monica. I had to ditch them today because of that damn modeling shoot, but now I wish I had just gone surfing instead.”

  “Sounds fun. I’ve never surfed…well, unless you count sliding down hay bales on a metal sled.”

  Gio busts out laughing. “No, but that’s a funny visual.”

  “Yeah, it was fun until I slammed face first into a post and busted my chin,” I say. “That’s why my jawline is ever-so-slightly crooked.”

  “Well, you can barely even tell,” Gio says. “I didn’t notice until I was inches from your face.”

  “It’s funny, people stared and pointed at us in the hospital, and I thought it was just because of my broken jaw. I think they may have recognized us, though. That happened a few years ago. It’s why I had to have braces for four years.”

  “That all sounds like it sucked,” he says. I laugh and agree.

  As the night goes on, I tell him more stories about my farm antics in Kentucky, and Gio tells me stories about his life on the set. Apparently making a teen TV show involves a lot of pranks, bloopers, and animal mishaps. He has this one story about an elephant that gets me laughing so hard that tears stream down my face. I guess it doesn’t matter how strong you are…when an elephant sits down and rests its front legs on you, you ain’t goin’ nowhere.

  We laugh and game long into the night, and it’s two a.m. before we even realize how long we’ve been at it. “I’ve never been able to tolerate a girl for this many hours at once,” Gio says with a yawn.

  “Oh, so you’re merely tolerating me, huh?” I tease.

  “You know what I meant. This was amazing.”

  My heart sprouts wings and takes off into the sky, even though I can barely keep my eyes open. “It was for me too. I’ll let you go so we won’t be falling asleep and tumbling into the pool tomorrow.”

  “Yeah, that would be a bad day,
” Gio says with a lazy chuckle. “See you tomorrow.”

  “See ya.” I take my headset off, turn off the console, and fall into bed, not even bothering to squirm underneath the covers before falling asleep.

  I wake up around ten a.m., and the first things my eyes fall on when I push myself up are the basket and the pictures beside my bed. I rub the sleep out of my eyes, and then I reach down off the side of the bed and grab the basket. I search through the bedding for anything that might give me an additional clue, and when I lift up the pillow, I gasp. The note is lying there on the bottom of the basket. I find another clue when a long, dark hair comes up with it.

  “She had dark hair,” I whisper. That eliminates the blondes, redheads, and light brunettes I saw in these pictures with Dad. I look at the note then, and I can’t stop the tears that build up and roll down my cheeks.

  She’s yours. Take good care of her.

  That’s all it says. No “Tell her I love her,” no “Make sure she knows I tried,” no “I’ll miss her”…not even a name or an initial to remember her by. The handwriting is neat, elegant, and even a little uppity in nature, and the paper is fine stationary. My guess is that this person is from a family that’s afraid to even admit they have emotions, let alone express them.

  Whoever she is, she obviously didn’t want me to find her, or she would have left some indication of who she was. I can’t stop thinking about what Cass said, though…she looked back. All those things she did in the past proved she regretted what she did. The problem is she never came after me when we left California. She didn’t even send out a media Amber Alert, which means she still didn’t want the world to know she was my mother.

  I feel my face tighten with resolve as I look from the note to the hair to the basket. Mother Dearest, I’m coming to find you, whether you want me or not.