So Over My Head (6 page)

“You want to be careful when you’re alone in the dark,” he says, as I fumble with the latch.

I shut the door and leap off the steps. Passing Ruthie, I grab her elbow and take off in a jog. “Ew, ew, ew!” Definitely taking a shower when I get home. Extra soap.

“What happened in there, boss?”

“Just keep moving.” I shuck off some of the fear as I spot my lime-green Volkswagen. “What happened to the original signal we planned on?”

“I freaked! I think I had test anxiety or something. You’re lucky I got ‘Somewhere Over the Rainbow’ out—the first tune that came to my head was ‘I Like Big Butts.’” She shakes her head. “And I cannot lie.”

My phone rings before I can unlock my door. Luke Sullivan.

“Yes?” My voice is as calm as a trickling brook.

“Any reason you and Ruthie McGee are sprinting away from the carnival grounds?”

I throw my purse on top of my car, desperate to get a grip on my keys and unlock this thing. Can’t seem to make my fingers work. “Um—”

“Let me try.”

I jump at the voice behind me.

Luke steps from behind the van next to us. He walks to me, his face tight. Grabbing onto my hand, he gently pulls my fingers apart. He doesn’t let go as he clicks my keychain.

Ruthie scrambles inside and buckles herself in. I see her dive to the floorboard for her sidekick guide book.

“Now why don’t you tell me what’s brought you out here.”

“I—”

Luke holds up his free hand. “And be crazy and try the truth.”

“I stopped by for a visit.” I don’t need to explain myself to him.

A Coldplay song pours out the car as Ruthie rolls the window down. “Tell him about our new job!”

I grit my teeth until my jaw aches. “She’s a little out of her head today.”

Ruthie hangs her blue head out the window. “And Bella went snooping in Alfredo’s trailer.”

I give Luke my haughtiest glare. “I was here to check up on Cherry.”

“And that Mr. Creepy Pants caught her!”

“Ruthie,
would
you study your book and leave the talking to me!” I roll my shoulders, straighten my posture, and face my ex-boyfriend— whose eyebrows are lifted as high as his forehead will allow.

“What do you think you’re doing, Bella?” His words are like sandpaper to my nerves, and he cuts me off before I can reply. “Never mind. We both know exactly why you’re here.”

I cross my arms over my chest and glare my editor down. “You took me off the story, Chief. But that doesn’t mean I can’t do my own digging around.”

“What was Ruthie talking about? Who caught you snooping?”

I glance at my watch. “I really have to run. Lots to do.”
And I need
to be somewhere I’m not breathing your cologne
. Breaking up with him was the right thing to do, right?

Luke’s hand curls around my arm. “Start talking, Bella.”

“I might’ve gotten lost and found myself in the magician’s trailer.” I watch Luke’s eyes darken. See the flex in his jaw and know he’s not going to let this die. “And Red’s son walked in.” I rush on before Luke interrupts. “But I told him I was looking for a bathroom, so it’s no big deal.” Minus the pink flashlight with my name on it I left in the trailer. Definitely going to have to go back and find that first chance I get.

“I stood guard!” Ruthie shouts.

Yeah, for all the good
that
did.

“Bella, you were taken off the story for your own good—to protect you.”

“I don’t need protection. I happen to be excellent at taking care of myself.”

Luke’s laugh is bitter. “Says the girl who snooped through some-one’s possessions and then got caught in the process.”

“I think the important point here is that I talked my way out of it.” Yep, that’s the part of the story I personally like.

“And Red Fritz’s son bought your story?”

Well, probably not, but it got me out of there. “Luke, it’s over. I handled it.”

“So I guess the next question is . . . did you find anything?”

“As if I’d tell you!” I’m so sure. “You can’t pull me from the story then expect me to hand over all my information.”

Luke inhales slowly and considers the blue sky beyond me. “Just promise me you’ll be careful.”

“Careful is my middle name.”

Ruthie’s head appears from my driver’s side. “I figured it was something like Myrtle or Helga.”

Luke holds me with his eyes. “Take care of yourself, Bella.”

Must. Look. Away. Broken up couples do not have long moments of meaningful eye contact!

Say something snarky. Something wickedly intelligent to one-up him
.

“Um . . . I gotta pee.” I jump into my Bug, banging my head a few times on the steering wheel.

Ruthie smacks her gum. “Everything okay, boss?”

“Nothing a brain transplant wouldn’t cure.” And I drive the car far away from Luke Sullivan.

Later that evening the family sits down at the dining room table. We make a circle with our hands as Jake says a prayer over the meal.

“And Lord, please be with me and my family as I begin to travel even more. Give Jillian the strength and wisdom to take care of everything in my absence. Amen.”

His absence? What is that about?

I lift my head and gawk at my mom. She folds her napkin in her lap and trails a nail down her water glass. Last year that nail was fully manicured and polished. Now it’s neatly trimmed and ink-stained from writing notes for her psych class at the Tulsa Community College.

“What do you mean, ‘traveling even more’?” I pass Budge the peas. I do not eat small, green squishy things.

Jake casts a quick look at Mom. “I have a few more weeks left of training, but after that I’ll hit the road full time. I’ve seen the schedule, and I’ll be gone for most of the remaining year.”

Robbie lets out a little whimper.

“I knew it would be a lot,” Jake says. “I just didn’t know it would be almost every day of the year.” His mouth spreads into a grin. “When Captain Iron Jack gets more established, I can set my own schedule.”

Mom wears the same plastic smile she wore the day she told me my dad was leaving us. This is not good. My dad traded my mom in for a string of bimbos. What’s Jake getting? Night after night of spandex wedgies and a stiff neck from the tour bus?

“Budge, you might have to ease up on your hours at the Wiener Palace to help out around here more.”

My stepbrother chugs his root beer. “I’m six hundred dogs away from wiener seller of the year. I can’t slow down now.”

“Maybe I could cut back on my television watching,” Robbie says, his face solemn. “I could give up one Superman cartoon and the financial network.”

“Nobody’s giving up anything.” Mom’s spine is straighter than a dry spaghetti noodle. “We’ll be fine. I’m going to finish up my class at the community college, then take a little break.”

“But you’ve waited your whole life to go back to school.”

“It’s fine, Bella.” She pats my hand. “All things in time. I can pick it back up some other time.”

“We’ll discuss that later,” Jake says. “I do have some good news for you, Jillian.”

I don’t know if she can take any more.

My stepdad proudly throws his arm around my mom. “You can put in your notice at Sugar’s. I’m officially on the payroll. The first check hits this week—and it’s a good one.”

“Are we rich, Daddy?” Robbie claps his little hands.

Budge grabs a piece of bread. “Can I have a pony?”

“Not rich, kids. But I’m definitely going to be making more than I did at Summer Fresh.”

Um, yeah, Summer Fresh would be the factory where Jake previously worked. He made pads. As in lady business. My own father is a plastic surgeon to the rich and famous in Manhattan, so it took quite a while before I could hold my head up every time I went back to New York City.

“Well, at least we can start updating the house, huh, Bel?”

“Yeah, Mom.” I give her my most encouraging face. “It will be fun.”

Four hours later, I’ve flossed, moisturized, and read my homework for English—another Charles Dickens novel. It’s like Death by Dickens. Lately any time I can’t sleep, I just pick up ol’ Chuck and next thing I know, I’m drooling on my pillow.

Leaving Moxie snoring on the bed, I walk downstairs to the kitchen to get a bottle of water.

I slip a Dasani out of the fridge, then head back up.

“You could’ve warned me.”

My foot pauses on the third step. I follow my mom’s voice through the living room and toward her bedroom. I lean my ear to the partially opened door.

“Jillian, the management just sprang it on me. What did you think this was going to be like? We knew it was a full-time commitment.”

“There’s a difference in being gone three-hundred days of the year and being gone a few days a week.”

Ew. Fighting makes my stomach all knotty and squishy. It reminds me of that last year before my dad left.

“This won’t last forever. We have to ride it out until things calm down,” Jake says.

“Until things calm down? You said that could take years.”

“I thought you wanted me to live my dream.”

“I do!” Her voice is almost a yell. “But what about mine? At what point did this go from me supporting your dream to you leaving me alone to raise three kids?”

My heart thuds in the following silence.

Finally Jake speaks. “Do you want me to quit? Say the word, and I will.”

“Don’t make me the bad guy, Jake. Of course I don’t want you to quit. What I do want is for this family to be our priority. Find a way to make it work.” I hear bare feet on the floor and the rustling of sheets. “I’m sleeping on the couch tonight.”

I just get to the living room as my Mom opens the bedroom door.

“Bella?” She stands at the end of the small hall, her pillow in her arms.

I freeze, stubbing my toe on the couch. “Ouch!” My breath hisses between my teeth. “Oh, hey, Mom.”

“What are you doing?”

“Me? Um . . . just came down to get a bottle of water.”

“In the living room?”

“I thought maybe I’d sneak some David Letterman.” I shake my finger at her. “But you caught me.”

She tilts her head and sighs. “You’re a horrible liar.”

I get that a lot.

“Good night, Bella.” She flops onto the couch and picks up one of her college textbooks.

I walk back toward the staircase, but turn back at the first step. “Mom . . . are we going to be okay?”

“Of course.” She flips a page. “It’s just going to be a big adjustment. But it should be . . . fun.”

“Um, Mom?”

She looks up from her book. “Yes?”

“You’re not so hot at lying yourself.”

chapter seven

T
he divorced-parent visitation thing can be a little stressful. Especially when you have an eight-year-old clinging to your dad and sticking her tongue out in five-minute intervals when no adult is looking.

Dad holds open the door to the famous Manhattan restaurant Nobu, and I file in behind his girlfriend and her bratty sister.

“So, Bella, like I was telling you”—my dad pulls out my chair and then sits down—“the show won’t air until next year, but it’s going to be huge.” Huge like his smile. Huge like the hole in my heart every time I’m here, seeing my dad drifting further and further away from me.

Christina, the live-in girlfriend, opens her menu. “Your father is so excited. Our whole family is.” She pats her sister’s hand.

Ick. A family. After my dad left us, he went on this dating frenzy. At first that bothered me. Then he decided to keep one, and now I long for the rotating door of bimbos. Christina is a talent agent, and currently represents my dad and his dream to bring his plastic surgery skills and advice to the small screen. All he talks about lately—besides their approaching wedding—is his upcoming gig in Brazil. But after his accountant ran off with a ton of his money last year, at least he’s not still harping on that.

“So are you going to have to move there?” I take a sip of water and crunch down on a piece of ice.

“Just for six months during filming.” Dad surveys me over the top of his menu. “But don’t worry, Bel. We don’t start shooting until August. And we’ll fly you in for some long visits.”

“And you and Marisol can play on the beaches of Rio de Janeiro, my homeland.” Christina gives her order to the waiter. “Won’t that be fun?”