Stranger Than Fanfiction(82)
“I can’t thank you enough for letting me stay,” Joey said. “I have to admit, it’s been like a vacation. I’d take Billy any day over those heathens I used to live with.”
Even though they were directly in front of her, Mo tapped the side of her glass with a spoon to get her friends’ attention.
“I have a little announcement, too,” she declared. “Today I managed to convince my father to give me my college fund to pay for Columbia.”
“That’s amazing!” Sam said. “How’d you do it?”
“Compassion wasn’t working so I tried a different method—blackmail!” Mo was proud to share. “I told him if he didn’t fork it over, when he was an old man I would put him in the retirement home that had the lowest Yelp score I could find. That did the trick.”
There was laughter and high fives all around.
“Way to go, Mo!” Topher said.
“God, you’re terrifying when you want to be,” Joey said.
Mo gave him a big devious smile but it faded away when a sad thought crossed her mind.
“You know, it’s really thanks to Cash that I did it,” she said. “I was thinking about him a lot today. Can you believe it’s been a month since he died?”
“It still doesn’t feel real to me—none of the trip does,” Sam said. “He was kind of like the world’s worst Mary Poppins. He just flew into our lives one day, brainwashed us into doing some terrible things, and changed our lives for the better somehow. I actually went with my mom to see this psychic she gives perms to, you know, just in case Cash’s spirit had something to say.”
“Did he come through?” Topher asked.
“Not at first,” Sam explained. “So I asked Madame Beauffont, that’s the psychic’s name, to try really hard at contacting him. She got a clear message from someone and I think it was him.”
All his friends were on the edge of their seats.
“And?” Joey asked. “What did it say?”
“Fuck off, I’m banging Marilyn Monroe,” Sam said.
They laughed so hard they made the other people in the restaurant very uncomfortable. With one vulgar statement, the afterlife was all but confirmed for them. Only the real Cash could have made a remark like that.
“Not to be a downer, but did anyone watch the footage from Cash’s funeral today?” Mo asked.
“Why did they wait a whole month to have it?” Topher asked.
“Because it was sponsored by Canon and their new camera comes out this week,” Mo said. “Well, I watched it until Damien Zimmer gave the eulogy, then I had to turn it off. It was a good move, too, because apparently Kylie Trig sang ‘Wind Beneath My Wings’ right after he spoke.”
“Sounds more like Cash’s execution than his funeral,” Joey said. “How does the same person who started a worldwide hunger strike when Wiz Kids got canceled get invited to sing at the lead actor’s memorial? And she can’t even sing!”
“I didn’t see any video but I did see the pictures,” Sam said. “And I’m sorry, but it’s just tacky having a red carpet at a funeral. Did Amy Evans really need to wear that Pharrell hat to his service? So disrespectful.”
The whole table nodded at the notion.
“Wednesday nights aren’t going to be the same,” Topher said. “Maybe we should still video message one night a week and start a new show, like Doctor Who or Supernatural. We can even rope Huda and Davi into it!”
“That’s a great idea,” Mo said. “And don’t forget, we’re all meeting Sam in Rhode Island on the weekend of Thanksgiving, then we’ll be coming back here to see you guys for Christmas, and spring break you’ll be visiting me in New York.”
“I’m so glad you decided to stay in Downers Grove for school, Joey,” Sam said. “Oklahoma wouldn’t have been a very fun place to meet up for a holiday.”
“Yeah, I’m glad I’m staying here, too,” Joey said. “Topher and I are both going to get our GEs and then transfer somewhere fancier in the future. Hopefully someplace on the East Coast close to you guys so vacations will be easier.”
Topher looked around the table and smiled at his friends. They’d stuck to the promise they made Cash and had come a long way in just a month’s time. He hoped wherever the actor was, he was watching them with a lot of pride. He didn’t reminisce for very long, though, because the moment was interrupted when his phone began buzzing in his pocket.
“Someone’s calling me with a 323 number,” Topher said. “Anyone know where that’s from?”
“I think that’s Los Angeles,” Mo said.
“Hello?”
“Hi, am I speaking with a Christopher Collins?” asked a man on the phone.
“Yes, who is this?” Topher asked.
“I’m so relieved to finally touch base with you, Mr. Collins. I’ve been trying to track you down for a couple weeks. My name is Carl Weinstock, I was Cash Carter’s lawyer before he passed away.”
“Hi, Mr. Weinstock,” Topher said, and then covered the phone to address the curious looks on his friends’ faces. “It’s Cash’s lawyer.”
“What does he want?” Joey whispered.