Page 44 of C*cky Best Friend
Broadway.
Broadway.
Broadway.
Pulses in my veins.
I clear my throat. “Yes, Asher. I think he’s pretty great.”
“Is that because everybody thinks he’s pretty great, or because you think he is?”
Mom warns again, “Jason!”
“I am speaking from experience here, Sarah. Remember who I was when you met me.”
I glance up to see her acknowledging he’s right. I haven’t seen Max’s movie yet, even though it just got into Sundance, but I know the story. And I also know that Dad dated Simone before he and Mom fell in love. “You’re trying to say that I’m just interested in him because of superficial reasons.”
“He is very handsome.”
“Dad!”
Squatting in front of me, my father’s pale green eyes are filled with hope that I can see he means well. “Samantha, I want you to be happy. And if this guy makes you happy, then I am all for it. Does he?”
“We are just dating. You don’t have to get all forever on me. I’m not even ready to find the one yet. I’m too young.”
Dad exchanges a look with Mom. She says, “I told you she knew that.”
“Knew what?” I ask, glancing between them as I stand up, squeezing around him to pace with a deep frown.
Dad sighs, “Your parents talk about you. I’m sure that’s no shock.”
I run fingers through my hair as I think about New York City, voice distracted by what I’m not telling them. “Okay. Sorry.”
Dad makes a monster noise and runs at me like he used to do when I was a kid.
“No, Dad! Don’t even try it,” I shout as I run into the sound booth and shut the door. Locking it, I mouth through the window, “You suck. I am staying right here!”
He presses a button on his console so that I can hear their voices in the room. “Your mother wants to know something. What?”
“Never mind. I want to ask her in private.”
“But I want to know what it is.”
Mom tilts her head. “No, you don’t.”
Dad releases the button so I can no longer hear them. That magical little thing saves many an artist from hearing what producers really think of how they sang that last song or played that last rift. I can see them arguing, but not a single word is audible.
I open the door and walk out, safe from attack now that she’s distracted him. “I have to go you guys. Super hungry.”
Mom rises. “I’ll walk you out.”
Dad sits in the chair. “Code for girl talk.”
“Which you do not want to hear.”
He groans, “No, I don’t.”
Mom straightens a frame and wipes a smudge on the glass. It’s one of Simone’s hit records. “I swear Gabriel tilts this on his way out just to mess with me.”