I reached for it. “I can take that for you.”
“Oh, no,” she said, quickly retracting her hand. “Don’t bother. It’s nothing. I’ll file it somewhere later. I’m fine.”
She tucked the paper between the outside of her brace and the couch cushion, but not before I caught a glimpse of it.
Overdue, I spied in red, bleeding ink.
Was that another medical bill? There were a lot after her accident, but Mom didn’t talk about it much. Was she hiding things from me, like I’d been hiding things from her?
And if she was, how bad were they?
“How was the café today?” Mom asked, distracting me.
“Great,” I lied. Only four people had come in, but she didn’t need to know that.
“Good! How— Wait, is that Munchin’? Why are you holding a bag of Munchin’?”
“Uh...” I blinked down at it. “I don’t really know.” I held it out for her. “Want some?”
Mom made aSure, why not?face. “Give it here.”
“So,” I said slowly, “I need to tell you something surprising.”
Mom studied me curiously. “More surprising than my darling daughter showing up late for dinner while holding a mysterious bag of Munchin’ she’s not quite sure how she ended up with?” She eyed the package. “A bag that has a photo of her ex—”
I blushed, rushing to interrupt her. “Jake’s not my ex.”
He just kissed me once. It didn’t mean anything.
Right?
“—best friend,” Mom finished, giving me a look. “I was going to sayex best friend turned pop star.”
Oh.
“Well, it’s more surprising than that, actually,” I answered. “Because Jake’s back.”
“Back?” Mom repeated in shock. “Backhere?”
“Yeah, at the café, actually.”
Mom’s eyes widened briefly before softening with concern. “How was that? I know you took him leaving pretty hard.”
“I’m... okay,” I said.Even if I accidentally summoned him to the café like some sort of leather jacket–clad genie in a lamp, and now I have to deal with the fact he’s actually here instead of tweeting a link from afar like the mythological pop star he is.“And the only reason I’m okay is because he’s going to promote the café.”
“Really?” Mom’s shock dialed up to eleven. “Why?”
Crap. I couldn’t tell her the café was doing so badly this month, I was desperate enough to write him.
“It’s for PR.” Okay, doing good! Not a lie. “He has to atone for the public fallout that happened after that fountain incident. It was the last straw, apparently.”
“Okay,” Mom said slowly, “but whyhere?” Great question. “Didn’t he cut all ties to Somerset? It’s not even mentioned on his Wikipedia page.”
“Exactly,” I replied chipperly. Perhaps too chipperly. Tone it down a notch, Lucy. “He’s here to get away from the prying eyes of the paparazzi. Also, he’s got such a rep, everyone in LA hates him right now. I meanreallyhates him.” So much for toning it down a notch. “You don’t want to know the details. His manager arranged this.”
At least the last two sentences were true.
This whole café situation was the first time in my life I’d ever felt like I had to hide something from Mom, so I wasn’t great at fibbing.
