belonged in a nuthouse. Two, there was no assurance at all that Jeanne McCann would give in. In fact, Kiley half-expected her mother to order her home—which was part of the reason they were sitting in Tom's pickup instead of heading into the restaurant. Kiley didn't know whether this would be their last meal together or something to truly celebrate.
Kiley looked down at her old Nokia cell phone. She'd already decided what she'd do if the answer was no—go back to Jorge's and spend her final night there. There had been a momentary thought about sleeping at Tom's, but Kiley had pushed it out of her mind. What if they ended up in bed together? That would confuse her too much, which was why she'd left her luggage at Jorge's.
“Okay, you're right, I just have to … do it,” Kiley agreed. “Here goes.”
She had the number at Vicki's (the diner/truck stop where her mom waitressed) on speed dial, because Jeanne McCann couldn't justify the cost of owning a cell. Remembering that made Kiley feel guilty all over again. Her mom had made so many sacrifices for her. It would make it so much easier if Kiley just went home, got a job for the rest of the summer, finished senior year at La Crosse High School, and then—
“Vicki's,” a throaty voice answered.
Kiley recognized the voice of her mom's friend Angela, who'd twice had precancerous polyps removed from her throat yet still smoked a pack and a half a day. In the background, she could hear the din of the restaurant and the Toby Keith music that the owner liked to play over and over. Vicki's served a dinner special of roast beef, baked potatoes, corn and carrots, soup, and dessert for $7.95, and it was always jammed between four and eight in the evening.
“Hi, Angela, it's Kiley.”
“Kiley, sweetheart!” Angela boomed. “Hey, I saw a thing about Platinum on the news, sweetie. We all did. She didn't force you to take drugs, did she?”
“No, Angela, nothing like that,” Kiley assured her. “Is my mom there?”
“So what happened to her kids?” Angela pressed.
“Uh, I don't know yet for sure.”
“I heard they took the kids away, Kiley. So Platinum is in rehab now? How well did you get to know her? What does she like to eat for breakfast?”
“I don't know, Angela, I never actually saw her at breakfast.” Kiley shrugged helplessly at Tom. It was amazing. Everyone was fascinated by celebrities; that Kiley had actually lived with one for a while made her fascinating to Angela. “So … my mom? Is she around?”
“Oh, sure, honey. Hey, heard you're coming home. Hollywood ain't the place for a girl like you, sweetie. Hold on.” Then Kiley heard Angela bellow, “Hey, Jeannie! It's Kiley! I'll get your tables!”
A few moments later, Kiley's mom's high-pitched voice came over the phone. “Kiley, sweetheart, are you okay? What's wrong?”
Trust her mom to assume that something was wrong.
“I'm fine, Mom.”
“Did you lose your plane ticket? Is that it? I'll call La Crosse Travel and have them issue another one.”
“No, Mom, I didn't lose my plane ticket, it's electronic. All I have to do is go to the airport,” she said patiently. She could feel her hand sweating on the phone and wiped her right palm on her jeans. “I just wanted to tell you that something amazing happened.”
She quickly filled her mother in on Evelyn Bowers, her quickie job interview, and the subsequent offer for a nanny job, starting the very next day. Then she spun the hell out of the situation—Evelyn Bowers was a “highly respected publicist” who “wasn't even in show business” and she'd “heard from numerous people” how “lovely” Evelyn's home was, and how “well-mannered” her kids were and couldn't she please, please,
please
stay and take the job?
Her mother sighed heavily. “Oh, Kiley, I don't know. Your plane ticket is nonrefundable. The whole time out there has been so aggravating for you. One thing after another after another. Maybe you just ought
Kiley looked down at her old Nokia cell phone. She'd already decided what she'd do if the answer was no—go back to Jorge's and spend her final night there. There had been a momentary thought about sleeping at Tom's, but Kiley had pushed it out of her mind. What if they ended up in bed together? That would confuse her too much, which was why she'd left her luggage at Jorge's.
“Okay, you're right, I just have to … do it,” Kiley agreed. “Here goes.”
She had the number at Vicki's (the diner/truck stop where her mom waitressed) on speed dial, because Jeanne McCann couldn't justify the cost of owning a cell. Remembering that made Kiley feel guilty all over again. Her mom had made so many sacrifices for her. It would make it so much easier if Kiley just went home, got a job for the rest of the summer, finished senior year at La Crosse High School, and then—
“Vicki's,” a throaty voice answered.
Kiley recognized the voice of her mom's friend Angela, who'd twice had precancerous polyps removed from her throat yet still smoked a pack and a half a day. In the background, she could hear the din of the restaurant and the Toby Keith music that the owner liked to play over and over. Vicki's served a dinner special of roast beef, baked potatoes, corn and carrots, soup, and dessert for $7.95, and it was always jammed between four and eight in the evening.
“Hi, Angela, it's Kiley.”
“Kiley, sweetheart!” Angela boomed. “Hey, I saw a thing about Platinum on the news, sweetie. We all did. She didn't force you to take drugs, did she?”
“No, Angela, nothing like that,” Kiley assured her. “Is my mom there?”
“So what happened to her kids?” Angela pressed.
“Uh, I don't know yet for sure.”
“I heard they took the kids away, Kiley. So Platinum is in rehab now? How well did you get to know her? What does she like to eat for breakfast?”
“I don't know, Angela, I never actually saw her at breakfast.” Kiley shrugged helplessly at Tom. It was amazing. Everyone was fascinated by celebrities; that Kiley had actually lived with one for a while made her fascinating to Angela. “So … my mom? Is she around?”
“Oh, sure, honey. Hey, heard you're coming home. Hollywood ain't the place for a girl like you, sweetie. Hold on.” Then Kiley heard Angela bellow, “Hey, Jeannie! It's Kiley! I'll get your tables!”
A few moments later, Kiley's mom's high-pitched voice came over the phone. “Kiley, sweetheart, are you okay? What's wrong?”
Trust her mom to assume that something was wrong.
“I'm fine, Mom.”
“Did you lose your plane ticket? Is that it? I'll call La Crosse Travel and have them issue another one.”
“No, Mom, I didn't lose my plane ticket, it's electronic. All I have to do is go to the airport,” she said patiently. She could feel her hand sweating on the phone and wiped her right palm on her jeans. “I just wanted to tell you that something amazing happened.”
She quickly filled her mother in on Evelyn Bowers, her quickie job interview, and the subsequent offer for a nanny job, starting the very next day. Then she spun the hell out of the situation—Evelyn Bowers was a “highly respected publicist” who “wasn't even in show business” and she'd “heard from numerous people” how “lovely” Evelyn's home was, and how “well-mannered” her kids were and couldn't she please, please,
please
stay and take the job?
Her mother sighed heavily. “Oh, Kiley, I don't know. Your plane ticket is nonrefundable. The whole time out there has been so aggravating for you. One thing after another after another. Maybe you just ought
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