“probably had hair a lot
like Beckett’s.” She’d flipped her glossy mane over her shoulders
and said, totally seriously, “Oh, probably not, Mr. G. I put a lot of
time into it, and they just didn’t have the product then that we
have now.” So, yeah, I took just a tiny bit of pleasure in watching
her stare after our car, Adam Jakes at my side.
Mik pulled onto the side street near the bookstore, away from
the crowd, and jumped out to open Adam’s door. Turning, Parker
studied the swarm of gawkers behind us. “Your people don’t have
anything better to do on a nice day?”
“My people?”
Adam already had one leg out of the door, mumbling, “Parker
can fill you in on the schedule,” as he scrambled out of the car.
Before I could open my door, Parker turned in the passenger
seat to face me. “I need you to not change up the schedule like that
again.”
My hand paused on the door handle. “What?”
93
Parker’s chilly stare rivaled the air-conditioning. “That little
visit to the high school. No more improvising. Stick to the script. If
you want to make a change in the future, run it by me, okay, love?”
I dropped my gaze like a scolded child. “Okay.”
He dug through his bag and handed me a white envelope.
“Here. Some cash to hold you over. You’ll get the rest at the end.”
Peeking in, I could see a thick stack of one-hundred-dollar
bills. Parker pushed open the driver’s door. “And some advice:
Don’t get too attached.” He didn’t wait for my response before he
slammed the door and disappeared up the street.
I’d never held that much money in my hands before.
It felt awful.
Later that night, I felt even worse. After finding my way out of the
crowd in town, I had tracked down T.J. Shay. He met me at the
back of the Taco Bell parking lot, whipping his white Honda into
the hot shade of a tree. He rolled down the window, a smile playing
at his lips as I handed him the envelope. He counted the hundreds.
“Does that cover it?” I’d asked. “For now,” he’d said, already putting
the car in reverse. I had expected to feel lighter after paying him,
elated, but I only felt a sour squeeze in my stomach as he drove
away.
Now, I pinned the phone between my shoulder and ear, calling
my mom. As it rang, I reached for a bowl for my Raisin Bran. Like
father, like daughter. I guess I shouldn’t give Dad such a hard time
about his Wheat Thins.
She picked up on the third ring. “Hi, sweetie.”
94
“Hi, Mom.” I could hear the sounds of traffic behind her voice.
She must have been standing on a street somewhere. “Is the world
a better, shinier place yet?”
She chuckled. “Hardly. Though we’re making good progress
with some of the local legislators.”
“Excellent.” I poured cereal into my bowl.
“You doing okay?” Her voice sounded weird. Motherly.
“I’m good.” I tried to sound light and airy.
Her voice told me she wasn’t buying it. “Is Mr. Movie Star
behaving himself?”
“He’s fine. You know, when he’s not being a narcissist.” Which
is nearly all the time . I opened the fridge and took out the milk.
“Figures.” I heard someone sidle up and talk to her. She held
the phone away to mumble something. “Well, keep an eye on him,”
she said to me.
“That’s what they’re paying me for,” I told her with a hollow
laugh.
“I’m not sure how funny I think that is yet.” But her voice was
smiling. “Oh, and, Carter?”
“Yeah?”
“You tell me if you need me to come home, and I’ll drop every-
thing and come home. You know that, right?” She sounded serious,
the way she got when she was talking to the city council about
garbage in our parks or something.
Warmth flooded me. “I know.” Then, I said good-bye before
she could hear the threat of tears in my voice.
95
Extra Pickles was not behaving himself. Adam and I walked my
dog on the small loop near my house at Hawkin’s Pond, an
like Beckett’s.” She’d flipped her glossy mane over her shoulders
and said, totally seriously, “Oh, probably not, Mr. G. I put a lot of
time into it, and they just didn’t have the product then that we
have now.” So, yeah, I took just a tiny bit of pleasure in watching
her stare after our car, Adam Jakes at my side.
Mik pulled onto the side street near the bookstore, away from
the crowd, and jumped out to open Adam’s door. Turning, Parker
studied the swarm of gawkers behind us. “Your people don’t have
anything better to do on a nice day?”
“My people?”
Adam already had one leg out of the door, mumbling, “Parker
can fill you in on the schedule,” as he scrambled out of the car.
Before I could open my door, Parker turned in the passenger
seat to face me. “I need you to not change up the schedule like that
again.”
My hand paused on the door handle. “What?”
93
Parker’s chilly stare rivaled the air-conditioning. “That little
visit to the high school. No more improvising. Stick to the script. If
you want to make a change in the future, run it by me, okay, love?”
I dropped my gaze like a scolded child. “Okay.”
He dug through his bag and handed me a white envelope.
“Here. Some cash to hold you over. You’ll get the rest at the end.”
Peeking in, I could see a thick stack of one-hundred-dollar
bills. Parker pushed open the driver’s door. “And some advice:
Don’t get too attached.” He didn’t wait for my response before he
slammed the door and disappeared up the street.
I’d never held that much money in my hands before.
It felt awful.
Later that night, I felt even worse. After finding my way out of the
crowd in town, I had tracked down T.J. Shay. He met me at the
back of the Taco Bell parking lot, whipping his white Honda into
the hot shade of a tree. He rolled down the window, a smile playing
at his lips as I handed him the envelope. He counted the hundreds.
“Does that cover it?” I’d asked. “For now,” he’d said, already putting
the car in reverse. I had expected to feel lighter after paying him,
elated, but I only felt a sour squeeze in my stomach as he drove
away.
Now, I pinned the phone between my shoulder and ear, calling
my mom. As it rang, I reached for a bowl for my Raisin Bran. Like
father, like daughter. I guess I shouldn’t give Dad such a hard time
about his Wheat Thins.
She picked up on the third ring. “Hi, sweetie.”
94
“Hi, Mom.” I could hear the sounds of traffic behind her voice.
She must have been standing on a street somewhere. “Is the world
a better, shinier place yet?”
She chuckled. “Hardly. Though we’re making good progress
with some of the local legislators.”
“Excellent.” I poured cereal into my bowl.
“You doing okay?” Her voice sounded weird. Motherly.
“I’m good.” I tried to sound light and airy.
Her voice told me she wasn’t buying it. “Is Mr. Movie Star
behaving himself?”
“He’s fine. You know, when he’s not being a narcissist.” Which
is nearly all the time . I opened the fridge and took out the milk.
“Figures.” I heard someone sidle up and talk to her. She held
the phone away to mumble something. “Well, keep an eye on him,”
she said to me.
“That’s what they’re paying me for,” I told her with a hollow
laugh.
“I’m not sure how funny I think that is yet.” But her voice was
smiling. “Oh, and, Carter?”
“Yeah?”
“You tell me if you need me to come home, and I’ll drop every-
thing and come home. You know that, right?” She sounded serious,
the way she got when she was talking to the city council about
garbage in our parks or something.
Warmth flooded me. “I know.” Then, I said good-bye before
she could hear the threat of tears in my voice.
95
Extra Pickles was not behaving himself. Adam and I walked my
dog on the small loop near my house at Hawkin’s Pond, an
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