Rayne & Delilah's Midnite Matinee(35)

“People have comebacks.”

Dad gets up, goes to the fridge, and gets a Diet Coke. “How do you know he’s even interested in a comeback?”

“He’s going to be speaking at ShiverCon. They probably wouldn’t have invited him if he weren’t still important in that world. And he probably wouldn’t do it if he weren’t still interested in show business.”

“People do stuff for lots of reasons,” Dad says.

“But more to the point,” Mom says, “this was going to be our last family vacation before you went to college. Once you get to college, things’ll be different.”

“Not that different.” I slump in my chair and fiddle with my fork. Buford sidles up to me with a jingle of tags, his sad eyes hopeful for some scraps. I scratch him behind the ears.

“We want you to come with us on this trip,” Dad says.

“And I want to come, but this is a great opportunity for us.”

“You already have a great prospect with that internship at Food Network,” Mom says. “Have I mentioned that Tamara created the slot especially for you? It’s not even part of the normal internship program. That’s the only reason you haven’t missed out on the chance already.”

I faux-gasp. “What?! You hadn’t mentioned that already like fifteen times.”

“No need to be cute, Jo,” Dad says. “We’re having a grown-up conversation here.”

I sit up straight again, sensing an opening. “Isn’t part of being a grown-up doing things on your own? This internship offer is something that you got for me. I want to find my way in life for myself. I want to earn what I get.” I work to keep from smiling as I see this land on my parents. I pull Buford’s face to mine and give him a kiss. “Yes, we do, don’t we, Bufie Bear? We like to earn what we get!”

My parents fidget and trade quick well, this IS how we raised her looks.

“Is this even what you really want?” Dad asks. “To keep doing this show, but on a higher level?”

“Yes!” I know it’s key that I sell this part and I try, but I break eye contact at the last second.

Mom seeks my eyes. “Jo.”

“What? I want to be on TV. I have since I was little. And now I have a chance to do it with something I helped create.”

Mom and Dad say nothing.

I fill the silence. “This is my future. Why can’t I be, like, the author of my own destiny?”

“Where is this conference again?” Dad asks.

“Florida. Orlando.”

Dad drums his fingers on the tabletop. “You’re planning on getting down there how?”

“Drive.”

“Staying where?” Mom asks.

“A hotel. Near the conference center.”

“I assume all of this costs money?” Dad asks.

I shrug and nod.

“Hundreds of dollars,” Dad says.

“That you don’t have,” Mom adds.

I look up at them with pleading eyes. “I have some money saved up. My birthday money.”

They frown and stare.

“Delia’s going to be splitting the costs with me.”

Dad slurps at his Diet Coke and stifles a belch. “You want us to let you blow your savings for the privilege of skipping out on the family trip we want you to go on?”

“It sounds bad when you say it like that,” I say. “More like pay hundreds of dollars so I have a chance to make a career out of something I helped create.”

More frowns. More stares.

I return their gazes with the sweetest, most imploring one I can muster. “I’ve been so good in high school. Instead of, like, smoking pot and hooking up, I’ve been spending Friday and Saturday nights working on this show. That should count for something.”

Mom and Dad each draw a long contemplative breath through their nose. Finally, Mom speaks. “What’s the plan for the show if this producer can’t or won’t help you?”

“We keep doing it and look for the next chance to take it up a notch.”

“Your dad and I need to talk about this, but if we say yes, we’re going to want something in return.”

“Okay.”

“If it doesn’t work out with this producer, you have to promise you’ll give the Food Network internship a shot.”

“Mom.” My heart plummets and starts racing simultaneously. “I’m eighteen.”

“You are eighteen. And we’re paying for your college and insurance, so think hard about how independent you really want to be.”

“We don’t want you putting all your eggs in one basket,” Dad says.

I think about Delia. She’ll die if I make this promise. But she’ll die if I don’t go. I get really envious sometimes of disloyal people. I bet life is easier when you don’t have to worry about emotional attachments.

I slump in my chair and look at the floor. “Eggs in one basket. That’s such a dumb phrase. It only works in a world where all the chickens have gone extinct and you can’t just, you know, go get some more eggs and everything’s fine.”

My parents wait, knowing I’m stalling.

“And what would even make chickens go extinct? Foxes couldn’t do it all. Even if they teamed up with the coyotes. Like a fox-coyote alliance. It’d have to be some gross chicken disease. Like chicken Ebola or something. And then do you even want to eat those eggs? That’s the question you gotta ask yourself.”