Stone Cold Fox (20)
“You look refreshed, Bea.” She stifled a laugh. “Coll, maybe you could take her to the Newport house for Memorial Day?”
Gale’s eyes widened at the thought, and she jumped into action.
“I think Bea would be so bored in Newport. Just spring for a hotel somewhere fun. Miami, Mexico, whatever. I mean, the family homes are for, you know, special occasions.” She smiled at Haven, who nodded in approval. “It’s just Memorial Day.”
“Nah, she’ll love it,” Collin said, seemingly emboldened by Calliope’s suggestion. He threw a lanky arm around me in a grand showing of possession. Of me, but also of himself. “It’s a great idea, Cal.” Collin smiled, happy his sister threw us a bone.
“But we haven’t opened the Newport house yet,” Haven said sternly, her cherry-red fingertips clutching the stem of her champagne flute all the more firmly.
“That’s all right. I’ll give the staff a call later today. There’s plenty of time to prepare,” Collin replied, as steadfast as I’d ever heard him. It was almost hot.
I saw a crestfallen Gale, frantically racking her brain for another move to make, determined I wouldn’t spend a single night in a Case family home. The homes she thought rightfully belonged to her in the future with Collin. Homes that certainly didn’t belong to anyone like me. But before she could say anything, I took the opportunity to accidentally spill a carafe of ice water that sat between us in her direction. She stood up with a frightful yelp, as if it were acid—if only—and I delivered the compulsory apology, but not without stealing a furtive glance at Chloe and Calliope, who were both trying desperately not to laugh.
Laugh it up, girls.
I would get them on my side.
I would get all of them on my side.
MOTHER
LOS ANGELES, CALIFORNIA
SOMETHING’S WRONG. I look all around me. This isn’t our kind of place. I trace the cracks in the green floor with my eyes and then with my toes through my flip-flops as far as my leg will stretch, trying to stay out of her way. It smells like burnt coffee and cigarettes. The Price Is Right plays silently on the TV hanging from the wall in the corner. Someone just won a car. The man behind the desk wears round glasses and a Grateful Dead T-shirt. I don’t know what that is, but he’s giving Mother a hard time. She can’t stand it. Her nails clack against her bag, soft taps on the leather. Impatient. Annoyed.
“Try it again.” Mother whips her credit card so hard at him that it bounces off his chest and falls to the floor. When I watch him pick it up for her, I feel like washing my hands.
“We’re only going to be in this dump a week, max,” Mother barks. “You should be so lucky.”
“Ma’am, your card has been declined,” he says, and tries to hand it back to her. She ignores him, so he slides it across the desk in her direction.
“I said you need to try it again, asshole,” Mother hisses.
“Okay, I’m going to have to ask you to leave.”
“We’re not leaving until you try the card again.” She slides it back to him and bares her teeth. “Please.”
“Miss, you have to leave,” he says, softer this time. I start to feel sorry for him until he locks eyes with me and I realize he feels sorry for me, too. I don’t like it so I look away. “Look, you have a little girl, and I don’t want to have to call the police.” Mother grabs the card and shoves it in her bag, not bothering to put it in her wallet. I don’t often see Mother not getting her way and it makes me anxious. I want to ask her questions but I know she’s in no mood to answer any so I just follow her outside as she huffs and puffs.
The weather in Los Angeles is perfect. Sunny, warm, a cool breeze. She had told me we were going to see the ocean soon and it feels like this is a good day to do it, but I don’t think that’s her plan right now. Mother lights up a cigarette, furious. I know I shouldn’t speak, but I’m really hungry and I hope we can solve whatever problem we have over breakfast somewhere.
“Screw it,” she says, and she starts to march down the street. That’s my cue to follow her. I wish she’d just hold my hand.
On Hollywood Boulevard, we pass all kinds of weirdos and life-size versions of cartoons that would only be in my nightmares. Mickey Mouse. Superman. But they look off to me. People stop for photos with them, and I don’t know why. It’s so obvious they aren’t the real thing. I avoid disappointment when I can see it coming.
Mother starts to walk faster. I keep up with her as best I can. She finally slows down when we are in front of the Hollywood Roosevelt hotel. Now it feels like we’re in the right place. I know we’ll go straight for the elevator. I like this game. It makes me feel important to her. A good opportunity to get her to like me.
“Go ahead,” she says, allowing me to pick our floor. I push 8 and up we go, no stops on the way. “Take a look.” She prods me in the back when we get there. I stick my head out of the elevator and look both ways.
“I don’t see anyone,” I say. She rolls her eyes. I’ve disappointed her.
“My turn,” she grumbles, and smacks the 12 button. “Money’s on the high floors anyway.” We exit the elevator, since Mother chose correctly. There’s a housekeeper at one end of the hallway and we go quietly in the other direction. Mother stops in front of the last door on our end. There’s a room service tray waiting to be cleared. Mother puts her ear up to the door and listens for a few moments until she finally erupts into an “Oh, no!”