“I like cooking.” The words surprise me even as I say them. Do I like cooking? I’ve only really discovered this about myself in the past week. “Besides, it’s omelets. Hard to mess up.”
“Right.” She picks up her spoon again, swirling it through the cereal without actually eating. “It’s just weird, you know? Having Phoenix Riviera making breakfast in my kitchen. Like, I watched you solve mysteries with a talking cat when I was nine.”
“The cat was CGI,” I say, cracking an egg into a bowl. “And kind of a nightmare to work with, actually. I had to pretend to talk to a tennis ball on a stick for fourteen hours straight.”
Mabie laughs, and some of the starstruck tension bleeds out of her posture. “That sounds awful.”
“Don’t get me wrong, I was super lucky to have the opportunity.” I whisk the eggs with more force than strictly necessary. “Being on television is every kid’s dream, right?”
“Right,” Mabie repeats, giving me an odd look.
“And I’m just grateful for the opportunity.”
I know these are the talking points that have been drilled into me for year, and I hate myself a little bit for parroting them right now.
Mabie pushes the cereal bowl aside and leans her elbows on the counter. “Can I ask you something? You totally don’t have to answer if it’s weird.”
“Sure.”
“What’s it like? Being famous, I mean. Like, do you ever feel…” She trails off, searching for the word. “Normal?”
I consider the question while I dice the tomato. The knife is slightly dull, and I have to saw through the skin more than slice. “I guess that depends on your definition of normal. I’m just a person, but there’s a lot of things I’ve gotten to do that other people haven’t. There are also a lot of typical life things I didn’t get to do.”
“Like what?”
I consider that. “I’ve always been homeschooled, so I’ve never been on a school bus. Never went shopping for a prom dress. A lot of the friends I made as a kid left Hollywood, so it’s hard to stay connected.”
“That sounds lonely.”
I set down the knife, staring at the scattered tomato pieces on the cutting board. “It can be.”
“Well,” she says, sliding off her stool to cross to the coffee maker, “if it helps, you seem pretty normal to me. Aside from the whole movie-star thing.”
“I am very average at making omelets, if that helps.”
She peers over my shoulder into the pan. “It does, actually.”
I slide the slightly misshapen, but at least fully cooked, omelet onto a plate. “So what about you? Tell me about yourself.”
Mabie shrugs. “Not much to tell, really.”
“Do you work with Judah?”
“God, no. I love being out on the water, but coming home smelling like low tide is where I absolutely draw the line.”
“School?”
“I took some vocational classes last year and very quickly realized college isnotfor me.” She settles back in her chair at the bar, a rueful smile on her face. “Geez, I must sound like a total waste of space.”
“Not at all,” I assure her. “You’re young. You’re still figuring things out.”
“Actually…and don’t tell Judah I told you this because I’m still trying to figure out how to manage his crash out, but…” She lowers her voice with a glance back at the door. “I got offered a job. Not just a job, really. It’s a pretty big opportunity.”
“Yeah? What’s that?”
“There’s this luxury yacht company that offers chartered cruises. They need experienced crew members. Hospitality staff, mostly, but also event planning, guest relations, that kind of thing.”
Her whole face lights up as she describes it, excitement obvious.
