Richard nods, and then turns, his attention clearly needed elsewhere. “Where the hell is Victoria? We haven’t got all day, people!”
Monica drops her arm from my shoulder and takes my hand, leading me out of the room. “They’ll be a while, let’s go wait in my trailer.”
I follow Monica out the back door toward the trailers that are lined up on the side of Old 98. The trailers I used to walk by, hoping that someone from the cast would stop and notice me.
As we climb the stairs to the middle trailer, I notice her last name, and mine, written on a white sheet of paper taped to the door.
“Would you take a picture of me here, too?” I ask.
Monica looks up at our last name on the door and smiles. We trade places on the steps, and I pose, perfectly framing my name. Hopefully it looks like I’m just casually walking into my personal trailer. One day when I’m on the Tonight Show, maybe they’ll show this photo and I’ll tell them the story about the first day my stepmom took me with her to the set.
Inside, the trailer isn’t nearly as fancy as I thought it would be. There’s an old couch with a little table at one end, and a vanity set up with more hair and makeup products than I’ve ever seen outside of Sephora.
Monica notices me staring and nods permission for me to go look closer. I sit down on the chair in front of the vanity mirror and she reaches over me to flip a switch that makes all the lights around the mirror turn on. I smile at our side-by-side reflections, wishing I didn’t look so much like my mom.
All of Monica’s makeup is organized by type and by color. Her lipstick is lined up like crayons in a box, almost every shade from the palest pink to a red so deep it almost looks black.
“I think you’d look fab in this one,” Monica says, reaching for a soft, pastel pink. I’m about to take it from her hands when I realize she already has the lid off and is twisting it up. She reaches down to lift my chin and shows me how to pout my lips just so.
Not smiling in that moment is one of the hardest things I’ve ever done, but when she’s finished, we both turn to look in the mirror. I raise an eyebrow, not sure about the color. Luckily, Monica shares my opinion. She hands me a tissue to wipe it off and reaches for a rich red shade instead.
“This was always your dad’s favorite,” Monica says. She smiles a little and I wonder how many other things she knows about Dad that I don’t. That Mom doesn’t even know—she barely ever wears makeup.
I pout my lips and look back up at Monica as she concentrates, applying the lipstick to my bottom lip and then my top. I rub my lips together and watch as she does the same, applying the red shade on top of the lipstick she’s already wearing.
“It’s called Lady Bug,” Monica says. I try to memorize the name so I can buy it when I get home, but Monica hands it to me. “You can keep it, it looks good on you.”
I smile at my reflection in the mirror, wondering if I can get Monica to tell me more stories about when she and my dad were married. Before I can ask anything, the trailer door flies open and a woman with a walkie-talkie sticks her head inside.
“Richard’s looking for you,” the woman says.
“You don’t say, Kate,” Monica says, looking like she’s anything but concerned.
“It’s Laura.” The woman doesn’t look happy. “And he’s going to come and get you himself if you’re not there in sixty seconds.”
Monica sighs as if going on set to act is a chore instead of the coolest thing ever. I wonder if they have a place with chairs and monitors where I can watch like they do on my mom’s commercial sets. But when we get outside, Monica leans down and presses her cheek to mine, doing a fancy French air kiss like they do in the movies. It’s all so Hollywood.
“Until next time, my dear.”
I smile and watch her go. Sad, but excited there will be a next time.
Chapter Forty-One
Alexis
My walk home from the beach is longer than normal since I’m avoiding Jill’s house. Seven days. It’s been seven whole days since I’ve talked to Jill. We’ve never gone that long without talking before.
CeCe’s still mad at me, too. But I’m used to her not talking to me, to the angry looks she throws in my direction. I did get her to listen to me for a minute when she was in the middle of some cooking experiment. I knew she wouldn’t walk away, so I took the opportunity to get all my words out.
I apologized for the way I acted and told her to tell Beau that I wanted to apologize to him, too. I told her that it hadn’t been fair of me to jump to conclusions about Beau, and that I was okay if they still hung out—as long as they weren’t alone at either house, or behind any closed doors. I’d hoped the message would make its way to Jill, but no such luck.
At this point, I’m not even sure I want to talk to Jill anymore. I’ve officially gone from sad to mad—I get what I did was insensitive, but her shutting me out during one of the toughest times in my life, that’s worse.
I thought about texting her to say that I wasn’t going to try anymore, but that kind of defeats the purpose. I’m so lost in my thoughts that I don’t realize anyone is sitting out on the front porch until I’m standing on the top step.
“Hi,” Jill says.
I look from her to Tommy, who is smiling a don’t be mad at me smile. “Hey, babe.”
“Don’t ‘hey, babe’ me.” I turn to Jill. “If you’re not talking to me, you can’t talk to him, either.”
“Lex,” Tommy says in his shrink voice. The glare I shoot him makes him stop before he starts. They look at each other then back at me.
Dolly breaks the silence, humming as she walks out the front door with a small paper cup holding Tommy’s afternoon pills. She smiles at me, and when I don’t smile back, she follows my gaze to where Jill looks equally upset.
“I’ll just come back in a bit,” she says, disappearing into the house.
As soon as the door closes behind her, I look back at the two traitors. “Aren’t you going to say anything? Either of you?” I know I told them not to say anything, but since when do either of them do what I say?
“I asked Jill to come over,” Tommy says. “So you both could talk.”
“I’m listening,” I say. I’m done trying to talk.
“I’m ready to hear your apology,” Jill says.
“Ha!” The laugh that comes from my mouth doesn’t sound like my own. “My apology window has passed, sister. It’s your turn to say you’re sorry.”
“Me? You’re the one who insulted my son.”
“And I told you I was sorry—but you abandoned me when I needed you. When I didn’t have anyone else.”
“You have someone else,” Tommy says. “I’m still here.”
“You know it’s not the same,” I tell him. I turn back to Jill. “I needed you.” I brush a tear from my eye before it has a chance to fall. I don’t want her to know how much she hurt me.
“I needed you, too,” Jill says.
We both stand there, looking at each other. I wonder if she’s thinking what I am, that our friendship is almost as old as we are.
“We don’t fight,” Jill says. “So I don’t know how we’re supposed to make up.”
I’m not sure, either, but I’m also not that mad anymore. I’m the one who started this whole thing, and I know I should be the one to make it right.
“Truce?” I ask.
Her bottom lip quivers and she nods before lunging toward me with her arms wide open.
Jill wraps me in the hug I’ve been craving all week, and there would be no stopping the tears now even if I wanted to. Over her shoulder, I see Tommy smile, proud of himself for a job well done.
He pushes the swing back to get enough momentum so he can stand on his own. I drop my arms from around Jill to help Tommy back inside but he shakes his head.
I watch his slow, careful steps as he makes his way into the house, which makes me cry even harder. He pauses at the door, smiling again before going inside.
“Promis
e me we’ll never go that long without talking again?” Jill says.
“You’re the one who wasn’t answering my calls.”
“I hated being mad at you,” she says.
“You should never do it again.” I take her hand and we both walk toward the swing. “I told CeCe I wanted to talk to Beau myself, to tell him I’m sorry.”
“He told me.”
“And you were still mad?”
“No,” she admits.
“Then why didn’t you call me back?”
Jill sighs. “I don’t know, I was scared.”
“Of me?”
Jill nods.
“Look at me,” I tell her. “I am the same girl who busted her knee on your front sidewalk when I was seven because I couldn’t run fast enough to see you even though I’m the clumsiest human alive.”
She smiles, but I still don’t think she gets it. Luckily, I have a life full of memories I can remind her about.
“When we were twelve, it was me, sitting on the bathroom counter with you, putting ridiculous amounts of makeup on because we thought it would make us look older.”
“We looked ridiculous,” she says with a hint of a smile. “That was the night you kissed Jack.”
“And if he wasn’t gay, I would have married him just so I could be your sister.”
She laughs at that one.
“We’ve been through so much together,” I remind her. “You’re the one who made me see a future with Tommy was possible.”
“And you were the first one who tried to make me see that my future might be better off without Adam.”
“I’m still sorry about that,” I tell her.
“I’m not,” she says. Her eyes are brimming with tears and I wrap her in a hug.
“Don’t ever be mad at me again,” I tell her. I pull back so I can look her in the eye to ask the next question that’s been on my mind all week. “You were lying about the timer going off, weren’t you?”
Jill laughs. “I missed you.” She leans in to give me another hug.
“Yeah, yeah, I’m very missable.”
I squeeze her back, ready to tell her the idea that brought me to her doorstep last week. I’ve been mulling it over for the past few days, and I know I can’t pull it off without Jill’s help. I need her on my side, now more than ever. And I don’t want Tommy to know what I’m planning. Not yet.
“I need your help with something,”
“What?”
“Not here.” I look behind me, where I imagine Tommy is sitting by the window, trying to hear the rest of our conversation.
It’s what I would do.
Chapter Forty-Two
Alexis
The bell on the door chimes as I walk inside The Broken Crown. Jill is at the counter ringing up a customer. She lifts a finger to let me know she’ll be ready in a minute.
I notice Abigail hunkered down at a table in the corner, so focused on whatever she’s drawing that she didn’t hear me walk in. As much as I would love to sneak a peek at what’s on the page, I have to remind myself this isn’t a social visit.
“Are you as excited about this as I am?” Jill asks, coming out from behind the counter to give me a hug.
“I think so?”
“CeCe and Lou are in back finishing up the samples.”
My mouth waters in anticipation as she leads me toward the kitchen. As I push through the swinging doors, I hear Lou say, “I’ve never been there, but I heard it’s beautiful.”
Then CeCe’s voice: “I had lunch there a few weeks ago with my stepmom.”
Stepmom? Oh, hell no.
“Hey, guys,” Jill says, interrupting moments too late.
The smile on CeCe’s face vanishes the second she sees me. Her cheeks blush red. Lucky for her, this isn’t the time or the place to discuss the fact that she has a warped perception of reality when it comes to her father’s ex-wife.
“What are you doing here?” CeCe asks, not bothering to hide her annoyance.
“Hello to you, too. Hi, Lou.” I smile toward Lou, who looks like she wishes she could disappear into the background.
“I’m working,” CeCe says under her breath. “We have an appointment for a wedding cake tasting.”
“I know.”
CeCe tilts her head and furrows her eyebrows—the same thing I do when I’m confused.
Jill pulls a stool up to the island. “You can sit here, Lex.”
“Wait, what?” I watch as the realization washes over CeCe’s face. “You?”
“Me.”
“And Dad?”
I nod, anxiously awaiting her reaction. I wasn’t going to tell her, I wanted to surprise her along with Tommy, but Jill convinced me it would be better for everyone if I let her know. And better yet, if I let her help.
“You’re getting married? Why now?”
“Why not?” I say, even though it’s a cop-out. I’ve been asking myself the same question since I had the idea, and I haven’t found the words to quite explain it, other than the fact that I owe it to them both.
CeCe deserves to know she’s part of a real family and that I’m not going anywhere. And Tommy, he deserves to know that he finally cured me from my running-away habit. That even now, I’m in for keeps.
“I can’t believe Dad didn’t tell me.”
“He doesn’t know. I’m going to surprise him.”
CeCe’s lips twitch and I can tell she’s trying not to smile. “I’m still going to be a bastard,” she says. “Because you weren’t married when I was born.”
Lou slips away into the pantry, and I don’t blame her. CeCe’s words are meant to hurt me, but I’m not going to let them. I keep my eyes locked on hers as I smile back and stick with the plan.
“I was hoping you’d be my maid of honor.”
“You’re really going to do this?”
“I am,” I tell her. “And I would love nothing more than to have you standing by my side.”
“Do you want to try the cake samples?” CeCe asks, offering a temporary truce.
“First we need some champagne for our bride,” Jill says, opening up the industrial fridge.
“And how about a glass for my maid of honor?”
CeCe looks at me, surprised.
“Of course.” Jill takes four glasses from a cabinet and sets them on the island. “Lou, will you do the honors?”
She hands the bottle to Lou, who peels the gold foil from the top of the bottle and effortlessly pops the cork.
“A toast?” Jill asks.
“I think that’s my job,” CeCe says. I try to keep my face stoic because I know better than to push my luck. “Here’s to finally making it official.” She holds her glass up and we clink ours together. “I’ll come up with something better for the actual day.”
“That was perfect.” I take a sip and raise my glass toward her again.
“Speaking of the actual day,” CeCe says. “When exactly is this happening?”
“On Saturday,” Jill says, answering for me.
“This Saturday?” CeCe asks, almost choking on her sip of champagne. “As in two days from now?”
“That’s the one.”
CeCe looks flabbergasted. “You waited this long, what’s the rush?” Her face falls as she realizes why, and it takes everything in me to keep a smile on mine.
“Do you want to try the vanilla first?” Lou asks, bless her heart.
“My dad likes chocolate,” CeCe says.
She’s right, he does. “Can we try the chocolate first?” I ask.
Lou lifts the lid off a tray, revealing four small slices of chocolate cake. One has chocolate icing, another has vanilla, a third looks almost like the second except for crystal specks in the icing, and the fourth has a layer of fresh strawberries in the middle.
I take a fork and bite into the chocolate-on-chocolate one first. “This is amazing.” I go in for another bite. “You’re so good at what you do,” I tell Lou.
“I didn’t make that one,”
she says. “CeCe did.”
CeCe glances down at her feet, just long enough for her glasses to slip down her nose. She pushes them back and shrugs as if she’s trying to make light of the fact that she has baked a delicious, professional cake that’s fit for a wedding.
“I’m really impressed.”
“It’s not a big deal,” she says.
I take a bite of the next sample. “This icing is amazing.”
“It’s buttercream,” CeCe says. “The secret is using unsalted butter.”
Jill refills my glass and I’m not sure if this light, airy feeling is from the champagne or the fact that in this moment, I’m just a bride tasting cake with her daughter and her best friend.
“The next one has the same icing but there’s salted caramel bits mixed in,” CeCe tells me.
“That was her idea,” Lou says, clearly proud of her protégé.
I cut a little bite off with my fork and taste it. “This is it,” I say. “This is the one.” I take another forkful and pass it to Jill so she can taste.
“So good,” she agrees.
Lou takes the lids off of two other trays filled with more cake samples. “I guess there’s no reason to taste these?”
I laugh and reach to pull the trays closer. “Do you have more forks?”
Lou nods and turns to get three more forks so we can all enjoy the fruits of CeCe’s labor together.
I know this is all happening out of order, but I’ve never been one to follow the conventional path. And if we had gotten married after the first time Tommy asked, our daughter wouldn’t have been able to bake our wedding cake.
I’m so swept up in the emotion of the moment that I walk over to CeCe and wrap my arms around her. She resists for a second but gives in and kind of hugs me back.
Chapter Forty-Three
CeCe
Mom?” I knock even though her bedroom door is open.
“Everything okay?” she asks as if something must be wrong if I’m willingly coming into her room. Which I guess I deserve. But this whole me-being-nice-to-her thing is new.
“I can come back if you’re busy.”
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