Anything to clear the guilt.
But when I searched for Grayson Richmond’s mother on the internet, only corporate-fluff articles were coming up. His mother wasn’t listed on his Wikipedia bio or anything.
“Hmm. I thought my Google-fu was stronger than that,” I said as I started refining my search.
I finally found the information I was looking for on an obscure forum about unsolved mysteries.
“Blow me to Bermuda,” I murmured, “he’sthatRichmond. Do you remember from, like, almost twenty years ago, when they found all those women trapped in that weirdo’s basement? He had a bunch of kids down there too.”
I leaned in, eyes scanning the screen, feeling even worse for Grayson.
“No wonder he’s such a basket case,” McKenna remarked as she read over my shoulder.
I both wanted to and dreaded reading more about Grayson’s childhood. Thankfully I was spared when my laptop chimed with an incoming video call.
Or maybe not.
“Hi, Mom,” I called out after clicking the green button.
“My little Disney princess,” my mom gushed when she saw me.
My parents were in the living room of their cozy Florida bungalow. A mural of the “It’s a Small World” Disney ride was behind them on the wall. A Mickey Mouse throw was on the back of the couch behind them. Yes, we were a Disney family.
I wasn’t feeling like a Disney princess, though. I was feeling like I had just betrayed all my princess idols.
“The tracking website said the oranges arrived.” My mom was giddy. “We sent them overnight.”
I looked over to the box. Gizzy was eyeing it and practically licking his lips, if iguanas could do that.
“Yep, they’re here.”
“Squeaky Mouse!” Half of my dad’s face appeared on the screen.
“Barry,” my mom said in a stage whisper, “Lexi doesn’t like that name, remember?”
“But she was such a chubby little baby,” my dad said, getting teary-eyed. “She made the cutest little squeaky laugh.”
“Dad …”
“I’m sorry,” he said, tears rolling down his face. “You’re just my favorite daughter in the whole entire world. Did I ever tell you how proud I am of you?”
“It’s all right, Dad.”
“No, no.” He blew his nose loudly. “I need to accept that my little Squeaky Mouse is all grown up. It happened so fast. Didn’t she grow up so fast, Cindy?” he asked my mother. “It feels like only yesterday we were riding on the toddler rides at Disney. Do you remember, Lexi?”
“Like I’m going to forget anything at Disney. I have that place memorized,” I reminded him.
“I know you’re still sad that they didn’t hire you,” my mom said sympathetically, “but you’re doing so well at your new job. It was a blessing.”
“We’re so proud of you! We follow Richmond Electric on Instagram,” my dad said. “Did you write any of those posts? There was a great one on there about how the company helped power that small-town pet rescue center.”
Behind the computer, McKenna winced.
She was in on my elaborate lie to my parents—that I had scored a cushy job in the Richmond Electric marketing department and was super successful and not some bottom-of-the-barrel assistant who didn’t even have her own desk.
Well I have one now. Thanks, Grayson.
And you repaid it by slumming in his living room and insulting his fridge contents.
