Total pages in book: 92
Estimated words: 92422 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 462(@200wpm)___ 370(@250wpm)___ 308(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 92422 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 462(@200wpm)___ 370(@250wpm)___ 308(@300wpm)
“Good enough to eat,” he adds with a sly wink.
I roll my eyes.
That comment dissolves the growing tension that had sprung up between us.
Before I can think of a comeback, a chipper voice catches my attention.
“Give us all the deets, Sharon! Where’s Bebe? Why hasn’t anyone seen her in months? Has she gone into hiding? Did she and Axel elope and they’re off living their very best lives away from the cameras?”
My head snaps toward the large screen TV so fast that I nearly give myself whiplash. A plastic-looking blonde has a microphone shoved in my mother’s smiling face. All four siblings are crowded behind her, looking glammed up. Cheyenne whips her long, golden hair over one shoulder and beams at the camera. They must be attending an opening. There’s always a ton of them in L.A. One every night of the week.
I can only stare in shock as my heart thumps a painful tattoo against my ribcage.
“You’re so bad, Maryanne.” My mother wags a glossy manicured finger at the interviewer. “Of course, Bebe isn’t in hiding. She’s taking a well-deserved break. The poor girl hasn’t had one in years, and this seemed like the perfect opportunity to indulge.” Mom flashes a practiced smile at the camera. “What I will say is that she’s been working on new music.”
“Ohhh, is Axel with her? Has she made a decision yet?”
Mom shakes her head and makes a locking motion with one hand in front of her lips. “You know that I’d love to tell you, but I’ve been sworn to secrecy.”
The interviewer sidles closer before pressing the microphone more firmly to my mother’s mouth. “Our viewers would just love an exclusive scoop.”
Mom looks directly at the camera, and an icy shiver skates down the length of my spine. It’s like she’s staring straight into my soul.
Talking directly to me.
“We’ll be shooting the show soon, and then everyone will find out if Bebe and Axel will be planning a wedding next season. In the meantime, Cheyenne will be performing—”
Colby clicks off the television with the remote before my mother can finish her sentence.
It takes a second or two to shake myself out of the stupor that has fallen over me. Even the thought of returning to my old life has a sick knot settling in the pit of my belly. I draw a deep breath into my lungs before holding it captive for a heartbeat. Then two. Only then do I release it back into the atmosphere.
“Is that the show Stella was talking about the other day?”
Well, shit.
My gaze reluctantly skitters to him as a burst of nerves rush through my veins. “Umm, yeah. I mean, I think so.”
He shakes his head as his upper lip curls with distaste. “The only thing those people are famous for is being famous. They don’t actually do anything. It’s kind of pathetic, the way that woman whores out her kids to get ahead in life.”
My eyes widen as my mouth falls open.
His comments are like a slap in the face.
It’s not like I haven’t thought the same thing a million times before. But, for some reason, it’s different coming from him.
Colby is an outsider who doesn’t know anything about my family.
He has no idea how hard my mom works. She’s the one who manages all our schedules and negotiates deals and sets up gigs, shows, and interviews. We’re able to live the kind of life we do because of her tenacity and strength. I’ve never doubted that she’d walk barefoot to the ends of the earth if it meant that her kids would have every opportunity for success. No matter how I feel at the moment, I’ve always been grateful and appreciative.
I draw myself up to my full height. “That’s a little harsh.”
“Just calling it like I see it.” He jerks his shoulders. “Tell me, am I wrong?”
My tongue darts out to moisten my lips. For some reason, it feels like I’m walking a tightrope. “There’s more to that family than the show. Bebe isn’t just a reality star. She’s a musician. The show just allows a glimpse into the process.” Is there anything more bizarre than talking about yourself in the third person? “I, um, read an article a while back about how they were barely scraping by.” I point to the television. “That woman was working twelve-hour shifts as a nurse at the hospital before her daughter was discovered. She made the decision to uproot them all and move to a place where they didn’t have any family or friends. And then she busted her ass to make sure all her kids would have an opportunity to live out their dreams, no matter what they were. So, tell me…how does that make her a terrible mother?” My heart thrashes beneath my breast. “Were you ever at the point where your family didn’t have enough money to pay the bills?”