“That’s great, sweetie,” James says, as if I’m the class pet she brought home to take care of for the weekend. He throws me a long-time, no-see head nod.
CeeCee, unsurprisingly, seems displeased by her daughter’s revelation.
She’s clearly unhappy about our meeting. I wish I could talk to CeeCee about this, but it’s a terrible time, and despite my emails, I still don’t know exactly what to say to her face-to-face. We’re practically strangers who share parents.
“They’re about ready to move him. We should wish him luck now,” she says.
Dad’s eyes open, but we can all tell he’s still out of it. One by one, we wish him luck, kiss his hand. He doesn’t react, really. At least not perceptibly. But I can see something in his eyes as they land on me, and I say, “See you on the other side, Dad.”
He’ll be just fine. I don’t know how I’m sure of it, but I am.
Being famous has its perks.
I get us a private family waiting room with all the amenities, including a small office off to the side with a desk. As soon as we learn that Dad’s surgery is underway, I step inside and turn my phone on—nervous beyond measure.
A billion notifications pile up on the screen, and a billion more conflicting feelings pile up in my gut.
Nolan Baker Skips Special Taping Then Drops Off the Grid: Is This the End of His Comedy Reign?
I might’ve been around for its inception, but I never ruled, so the baiting, sensational headline barely gets a rise out of me.
Ignoring the texts and emails about that, though checking hopefully for word from Drew (none), I glide my thumb over to the contacts and call Antoni.
“Cancel everything else I have scheduled for the week,” I say. “Something’s come up.”
“Jessalynn isn’t going to like that,” he says apprehensively.
“It’s a family emergency,” I clarify. The line goes quiet. “Did you hear me?”
“Yes, it’s just… You don’t see your family. Did you get kidnapped and you’re being held hostage? Do I need to call the FBI?”
“No, don’t be ridiculous. I’m serious. Tell them, please?”
“But the special…”
Losing the opportunity of a lifetime doesn’t wallop me in any way. I have too much else to worry about. “Tell them.”
“They’re really angry…”
“Tell. Them.”
“Sure thing. Send my best,” he says before hanging up.
And three, two, one…
Bringgg. Jessalynn’s contact comes roaring up on my phone screen.
“Okay, I came around on the book event. I even agreed to the set changes, but I draw the line at screwing up the biggest opportunity you’ve ever been given,” they spit out in rapid-fire fashion.
“I don’t care about the special,” I say with resolve. The true twenty-three-year-old inside me would yell blasphemy if he heard me saying those words, but in this moment, it’s true. I should’ve never let anything come between me and my family.
“Mm-hmm. Mm-hmm. The special we worked for years to get under the exact right conditions that would please Your Highness?” they ask with a dollop of sarcasm on top. “Please, tell me again how you don’t care about the special.”
“Right now,” I say evenly, “I don’t care about the special. My family needs me.”
“Do you know how much shit we’re in? Do you know how furious the theater is? Do you know how muchmoneywe lost?”
“Take it up with mybusiness manageror whatever,” I tell them.
