by Lisa Yee
Willow bites the string bean in half. Sammy turns to me. “So Maybe, how’s Benito’s Taco Truck #4?”
“It’s doing great.” I reach for my second piece of sashimi and dip it into the wasabi and soy sauce. “Hey, Sammy, could you do me a favor? I have some ideas to drum up more business.”
Before I can tell him my plan, Willow holds up her glass. “I like it! I like it! I like it!”
“She’s rehearsing,” I explain to Sammy. “She shoots her beer commercial on Monday.”
“Well, you’d better be sure to eat more before you drink,” he warns her.
“I like it!” Willow says. “I like it!”
Sammy and I look at each other and break out laughing.
“What’s so funny?” Willow asks. “Can someone tell me what’s funny?”
CHAPTER FORTY-FOUR
The only e-mails I’ve received from the ad are from people asking for money, people asking if I’m a movie producer, and people offering to find Gunnar if I pay them.
“Nope, nothing,” Ted says when I call him. “Oh wait, there was one call.” I perk up. “It was from Variety. They wanted to know if you want to run the ad again.”
“Forget it,” I say. I’m beginning to think that maybe Chessy made up the whole thing about my biological father. For all I know, he’s some good ol’ boy in Kissimmee.
“Miss de la Tour thinks you ought to try a psychic,” Ted is saying. “I told her about Madame Poupon, but she says you should go to a real one. Not one at the mall.”
“You tell her about me?”
“Of course. We can’t talk about me all day.”
“What else does the mighty Gloria de la Tour think about me?”
“She thinks that you’re lucky to have me as a best friend. And she thinks that you should be nicer to Hollywood, and that you ought to be grateful to Sammy for taking you in, and that Jess has been good for you, and that you should call your mother - “Ted, what makes you think you can just tell a stranger all about my life?”
“One,” he says, “Gloria de la Tour is not a stranger, she’s my friend— “You can’t be friends with your boss.”
“You’re friends with Jess.”
“Yeah, okay. Wait. Hold on, Ted, I’ve got a call on the other line.” I press the call-waiting button. “Hello?”
“Maybe?” It’s Hollywood. His voice sounds weird, like he’s been crying.
“Hollywood, is everything all right?”
“Yes, no, yes! It’s more than all right. Maybe, I won! I won the student documentary contest!”
I break into a grin. “Oh, Hollywood, I am so happy for you!”
“You will be at the awards screening, right? Maybe, promise me you’ll be there!”
“I promise, Hollywood. I promise.”
“It’s a miracle,” he gushes. “A real miracle. I gotta call Jess now and tell her. Will you let Ted know?”
“Of course. Hollywood,” I add, “I am so proud of you.”
Ted is upset. “What is so important that you had to put me on hold for so long?” he demands.
“It was Hollywood on the other line.”
“Did he ask about me?”
“Nooooo, but he did want me to tell you that he won the documentary competition!”
“I knew it!” Ted cries. “I always knew he had it in him. I’m going to call him right now.”
“He’s talking to Jess. Maybe you should wait a bit.”
“Are Jess and Hollywood, like, an official item?”
“It’s starting to look like it.”
“Oh. I see,” he answers. “I’ll talk to you later. I promised Maah and Paww I’d call them.”
As I clean my room I think about Hollywood. At least someone’s realizing their dream.
The canopy is off my bed. The frilly bedspread is gone too. In its place is a patchwork quilt I got at the thrift store. A Benito’s T-shirt is tacked up on the wall next to the Nelson’s Neighborhood poster with Christian Culver giving a thumbs-up. The photo of me and Chessy and Sammy is still on the dresser. I wonder what she’s doing tonight.
I open the closet. Inside is the big photo of Chessy wearing her bathrobe. I found it in the garage with the other pictures. “Why are you so difficult?” I say out loud.
When no one answers, I put the photo back and close the closet door.
CHAPTER FORTY-FIVE
We’re at dinner. Pizza. Ever since Hollywood won the student film competition last week, he’s turned into Mr. Chatterbox.
“They’ve rented a theater in Beverly Hills. Beverly Hills! I’m going to be making my big-screen debut!”
“You’re going to need a manager,” Ted proclaims. Like a magician he makes a business card materialize and hands it to Hollywood.
Hollywood bursts out laughing. “Since when did you become a manager?”
“Let me see that!” I grab the card. Sure enough, gold letters spell out Ted’s name, Miss de la Tour’s address, and the words MANAGER TO TOP TALENT.
“I can rep you too, Maybe.”
“I don’t have a talent. That’s why I was never good at charm school, a beauty pageant queen, or a credit to my mother.”
“Not true,” Ted frowns. “It wasn’t just because you didn’t have a talent. There were lots of other reason why you weren’t crown-worthy.”
I throw a pizza crust at him. “Shut up, cockroach!”
Undeterred, Ted turns to Hollywood. “Daniel, let’s discuss your career.”
“I thought you worked for Gloria de la Tour,” Jess says. She’s usually quiet when all of us are together. I think she’s a little unnerved because Ted and I fight so much. Plus, there’s that whole Hollywood/Jess thing going on.
“I do work for Miss de la Tour,” Ted explains as he helps Jess eat her fries. “But even though she’s promoted me from Executive Assistant to Manager, she doesn’t have an exclusive.”
“Miss de la Tour doesn’t mind that you want to represent other people too?” asks Hollywood. He starts eating off of Jess’s plate.
“She’s not aware of that yet. But she’ll be fine with it. Whatever Teddy wants, Teddy gets.”
I roll my eyes. “You are so full of yourself!”
We shove each other until Jess speaks up. “Ahem, let’s talk about Danny’s screening, okay?”
Hollywood blushes. She blushes too. It’s so corny.
“Well, we have to get there early,” he explains. “We’ll have reserved seats near the front— “Excuse me,” Ted interrupts, “when you say we, who exactly do you mean?”
“All of us,” Hollywood says, gesturing around the table.
Ted waves him on. “Continue.”
“They’ll show the finalists’ films first. Then someone from First Take—those are the people who sponsored the contest—will give a speech and they’ll show the grand prize film—that would be mine.” Hollywood pauses. “I just wish my family could be here.”
“I’m going to be there, big guy.” Ted slaps him on the back.
“Me too,” Jess adds.
“That’s nice,” Ted says, pushing her plate of fries away. “But I’ve known him for years. I knew him when he was just a geek with a small camera and a big dream.” He turns to Hollywood. “Don’t you worry, I’ll make sure you don’t sign anything you shouldn’t. By the way, what’s the film about? The theme? The plot? The denouement?”
“Yeah, tell us,” I urge.
“It’s a big secret,” Jess says. “Danny won’t even tell me.”
I glance at Hollywood and he winks. Quickly, I turn away. Did I just see that? He’s flirting with me with Jess right here?
I look back at him and he gives me a little smile.
He is flirting with me! After our I-want-to-be-friends talk.
“C’mon, Ted, I gotta go,” I say. “I promised Willow I’d teach her how to enunciate.”
“But I want to stay,” Ted whines.
“Let’s go,” I order.
Ted looks mournfully at H
ollywood and Jess. “Can we trust these two alone together?”
Both laugh nervously. I wave good-bye, and when I look at Hollywood, he winks again.
What’s with that?
CHAPTER FORTY- SIX
Sammy pulls his BMW up next to the taco truck. Willow is with him. Ever since I gave her posture lessons, she’s been acting like my new best friend. I think I liked it better when we despised each other.
“Wow,” Willow says, as she gets out of the car. She’s wearing a short skirt and high heels. “This is so cute. It’s like a little restaurant on wheels!” Some of the construction workers whistle and Willow waves at them.
“What’s going on?” Jess asks as Sammy gets his equipment out of his car.
“That’s Sammy, my ex-stepdad. He’s going to take photos of the food. That way people can just point to the pictures instead of us having to explain what everything is.”
Jess pulls me aside. “Maybe, I can’t afford photos!” She sounds panicked. “You should have asked me first.”
“This isn’t going to cost you anything, Sammy’s doing it for free.”
“Why would he do that for me?” The steak on the grill is burning as Jess keeps a wary eye on Sammy.
“He’s not doing it for you,” I assure Jess. “He’s doing it for me.”
The rest of the afternoon, Jess and I cook up every item on the menu. I had no idea photographing food could be so intense. Sammy scrutinizes each plate we bring out, sometimes asking us to prepare another one if it doesn’t look perfect. When he takes the photos, Jess stands back, biting her fingernails, until Sammy says, “Okay, got it!”
As the afternoon wears on, Jess begins to enjoy herself. “How’s this?” she asks, carrying out five plates of tacos.
“Gorgeous,” Sammy tells her. Jess can’t hide her smile. “Not only do they look great, they smell great.”
“Taste one,” Jess says.
Sammy lifts up an al pastor taco. Jess hands him some guaca-mole. We hold our breath as he bites into it. When he breaks into a contented grin, Jess and I exhale. “My God, Jess,” Sammy says as he reaches for his second one, “I’m in taco heaven!”
Jess glows.
Willow, clearly bored, watches the construction workers watch her.
After the last taco is photographed, Sammy tells Jess, “I’m just going to take some candids of you and Maybe working in the truck. It’s for my portfolio. I’ll make sure to get you copies.”
Jess and I look at each other. We’re both sweaty, our hair is a mess, and we have food all over our Benito’s T-shirts. As if reading our minds, Sammy says, “These are just candids, it’s not a fashion shoot.”
“I guess it’s okay.” Jess shrugs.
It seems like only a few seconds have gone by when Sammy has Jess laughing and talking while he takes the pictures. He even gets in the truck and has Willow stand in line like she’s a customer. This is actually fun.
I hand Willow a taco. “Here, try this.”
She recoils like it’s poison. “I’m not hungry.”
“It won’t kill you.”
“Take a bite for the camera,” Sammy orders.
She nibbles and makes a face. Her body probably isn’t used to real food.
Before he leaves, Sammy orders a half dozen tacos to go. Jess refuses to take his money. She includes a big container of her famous salsa in his bag. Later, as I Windex the windows and Jess scrapes the grill, she says, “Man, Maybe, your dad is so cool.”
“Ex-stepdad ...” I start to correct her, but instead I just say, “Yeah, I’m pretty lucky.”
When I get home, Sammy’s on the patio talking on the phone. He’s very animated. Willow is sitting on the couch, hugging her skinny knees.
“Hey Willow— “Shhhh, he’s talking to someone.”
“I can see that— “Shhhhh!”
“Yes, well, I thought so too.” With the waves crashing behind him, it’s hard to hear. “Well,” he laughs, “you didn’t look so bad yourself that day . . . yes, hmmm ... I think about you too . . .”
Willow gets up and goes into the kitchen. I follow her. She opens the bag of tacos and starts eating. “What?” she protests with her mouth full. “Haven’t you ever seen anyone eat before?”
“I’ve never seen you eat before.”
She glares at me but doesn’t stop.
“Slow down. You’ll make yourself sick.”
Willow starts to cry. “What’ll I do? What’ll I do if he leaves me?”
“He’s not going to leave you. He’s just talking on the phone.”
“Yeah, but his cell phone rings late at night sometimes, and even if he’s asleep he gets up to answer it and goes into the bath-room to talk.”
I take the taco from her hands and put it on the counter, far from her reach. “I’m sure it’s no big deal.”
“Really?”
“Really.”
Willow thinks her life will end without Sammy. How can I tell her that people come and go all the time, and after a while you just get used to it?
“The trick is to leave them before they leave you,” Chessy once told me. “Don’t ever let them get too close. That way they can’t hurt you.”
I can’t say she didn’t teach me anything.
CHAPTER FORTY-SEVEN
Now that Willow’s mentioned it, I do notice Sammy on his cell phone a lot. When he catches me looking at him, he leaves the room. Willow has gone from no eating to nonstop eating.
“Hey,” I say. She’s staring at an empty bag of Milanos as if willing more to magically appear. “I have to go to Hollywood’s documentary screening in a couple days and I don’t have anything to wear.”
Her eyes get big. “I can help you with that.”
“That would be nice.”
“I can do your makeup and hair too,” she offers, smiling for the first time in days.
I want to laugh because her brown roots are showing and she looks awful. Instead I say, “Well, if you just help me with the clothes, that would be enough.”
Willow tosses the Milanos bag and rises from the couch. “Okay then, come on.”
We are in her massive closet. It seems even more packed than last time. She pairs a plain navy blue T-shirt with a green silk jacket. “This should fit you—it’s way too big for me. And these will go with your jeans,” Willow says. She adds gold earrings and a chunky gold necklace, and those wobbly black boots again.
“This is what I’m wearing,” Willow announces. She pulls out a slinky silver dress and killer stiletto heels.
“You’re going too?”
“Daniel invited me and Sammy. I figured there might be movie people there, so we should go.”
I don’t know why I am surprised. It’s only natural that Hollywood would want people he knows there to support him. He’s still torn up because his family can’t make it for his big night. I think he’s a little homesick. Ted too.
Ted picks me up for a late dinner. Gloria de la Tour goes to bed at 8:30 p.m., so we mostly see each other in the evenings. All the way to Pink’s Hot Dogs in Hollywood, he jabbers nonstop to his parents. “I know, I know, Maah, I miss you too,” he’s saying. When he lowers his voice, I try not to listen. Still, I can tell he’s about to cry.
By the time we get to Pink’s, Ted has Yo-Yo Ma blasting on the stereo and is back to his chipper self, or at least pretending to be. As usual, all the tables are full so we sit on the curb. I’ve ordered one of Pink’s famous chili dogs. Ted has a plain hot dog with extra relish. We share onion rings. I take my first bite of hot dog and savor the crunch. I swear, the hot dog pops when you bite into it. As I reach for an onion ring, Ted says casually, “Hey Maybe, your dad called.”
“Sammy?”
“Your biological father.”
I stop chewing and stare at Ted. “What did you just say?”
“Your father called. He left a message on my cell phone.” Ted takes a U-No bar wrapper out of his pocket. “Here’s his number.”
“Why didn’t you tell me earlier?” I shout, grabbing the wrapper. It’s hard to read. Ted has horrible handwriting.
“I was talking to Maah and Paww, then I had to decide what hot dog to get. You know I have trouble deciding.”
I stare at the phone number. I am seven digits away from my real father. My heart is racing. I get up and start to pace. This is it. This is it. This is it. I walk back and forth behind Ted until I start to wheeze. “Ted . . .” Still eating, he lifts his cell phone up high in the air. I take it from him and dial.
“Gary Germain Productions.” It’s a woman.
“Uh, hi,” my voice cracks. “I’m calling for Gunnar.”
“There’s no Gunnar here.”
“Are you sure?”
“Hon, I’m sure.”
The phone goes dead.
I hang up and swat Ted. His hot dog hits the ground. “I thought you said my father called!”
“He did,” Ted grumbles as he brushes off his hot dog. “He said he was your father and left this number.”
Ted hits message playback. I listen to a man say, “Hey, I saw your ad in Variety and I think I may have some information about the person you’re looking for. Call me.”
“He didn’t say he was my father,” I yell. “He said he may have some information about the person I’m looking for. The lady at the number had no idea what I was talking about. It was probably a crank call.”
Great. Now I’m crying. It’s one thing for my mother to make me cry. But my father? I don’t even know him and he’s killing me.
All the way home, Ted’s blathering about hot dogs and poly-cotton blends and Hollywood’s hair is just background sound as I replay the lady saying, “There’s no Gunnar here.”
When Ted drops me off, he leans out the car window and says, “Hey, Maybe?”
“Yeah?”
“I’m sorry it wasn’t him.”
“Me too.”
The next morning my eyes fly open and I bolt straight up in bed, thinking I’m late for school and that Chessy is going to yell at me. The sound of the waves reminds me that I am not in Kissimmee, I’m in Malibu, in Sammy’s house, far away from school and my mother.