She knew I was teasing, but she made a move to strangle me anyway at great risk to her crystal goblets. “Tell me how it went.”
“Jake and I had fun riding the rides. Sheree and Dad got on my nerves. We ate lunch.” I shrugged. “That was about it.”
“Did you guys discuss your relationship?” she asked.
“We don’t have a relationship, Mom,” I replied. “So, no. We didn’t.” I speared a mushroom and scooped some wild rice on my fork. She’d already apologized enough for her text.
“You didn’t make up?”
“No. We agreed to make the best of a bad situation.”
“What?” She smirked. “Dollywood?”
“No. Being with Dad and Sheree.”
Mom cracked up. “I shouldn’t laugh.”
“It’s okay, Mom,” I said between bites. “If my pain makes you happy, go right ahead.”
She was still cracking up, so I decided to make her day and tell her about Dad’s basketball comment.
She almost fell out of her chair giggling. “Your father can’t even walk without hurting himself.”
“I know.” I was glad to have something to laugh about.
“Remember that time we went to Jekyll Island? He didn’t realize we’d shut the balcony door and he ran into it at full speed.” She stopped talking to laugh some more. “He left his face print on the glass.”
I did remember. He’d also broken his nose. Despite being well educated, he didn’t have a lot of common sense. And he hated doing stupid things, so he was a total jerk to live with for a month afterward. Basketball was definitely out of the question.
On Sunday night, Mom and I were watching Extreme Makeover Home Edition when the phone rang.
The call was clearly bad news. Mom paced around the house as she talked, well actually, shouted at the person on the other end.
“That was Dave,” she said coming back to the family room.
Dave is Mom’s hottie producer. He’s thirty-ish and a total doll. He’s even straight, but Mom says she isn’t interested in him.
“What’d he say?” I asked, hoping this wouldn’t take more than five minutes because they were about to show the family on TV the house.
“We were supposed to start taping a teen room makeover first thing in the morning. We were using Dave’s sister-in-law’s house. Apparently, his sister-in-law left town.”
“Why?” In real life people didn’t just leave town, did they?
Mom waved away my question. “Some marital problems or something. The house is just sitting there empty.”
“So break in.”
“We can’t do that. It will all be documented on film,” she said, as if she had actually considered the idea.
“Oh, please don’t do my room again, Mom. I like it now.” I muted the TV. So much for the show.
“I have plans for a teenage boy’s room. I have no backup plans. And I start in the morning.” She sank onto the couch in defeat.
I knew she felt bad when she started chewing on her acrylic nails. She paid a lot for those nails. Mom and the landscaping guy from Mulching with Mack were in a heated battle for the best time slot.
I’d have loved to help her out, but I didn’t have any ideas. The only teenage boy I knew well enough to ask was Jake. And she could forget that.
“We can’t just use any place. It has to be a clean house of the right size. It has to be local. The homeowners have to be willing to put up with a lot of chaos for a week.” She started chewing on the other hand.
“Can’t you do our living room or something?”
“No. I have extensive plans for a teenage boy. I’ve got nothing for a living room.”
“What were you planning for next week?” I asked. She usually planned two weeks of shooting at a time.
“A bathroom. And we can’t get the contractors until next week.” The way she was going after those nails, she could break a tooth.
“Okay. Well, there has to be a solution.” Surely, she’d think of something.
“I’m not missing a production date. I’m not giving the network any excuses for giving Mack my Saturday night slot.”
Why am I so nice? “What about Jake?” I said, wincing as I did.
“Jake’s room!” She jumped up, excited. “Perfect.”
“His mom seems to be neat, and his house is bigger than ours. I don’t know if he’ll go for it though.”
“I’ll call his mom right now,” she said, heading for the phone.
Mom always had the homeowner do the room with her. “Mom,” I called. “What about the part about working with Dad’s girlfriend?”
“I’ll live.” She turned and gave me a half-smile. “I’ve got no choice.”
An hour of animated phone calls later, Mom handed me the phone and said it was Jake.
“So, you’re doing this?” I asked him.
“Apparently. My mom seems really into it.”
This wasn’t how I pictured our first real phone conversation going. “Well, it will help my mom out. And you’ll get a cool new room.”
“I guess.”
Mom handed me a sheet of paper. I grimaced as I read it. “Umm. Jake, Mom wanted me to tell you to be sure and remove any personal items before they start tomorrow.” I shook my head in Mom’s direction.
She nodded yes.
“Okay,” he said. “Like what?”
“Well, she, um. Gave me a list. It’s for your sake you know. Okay, here goes. Anything you wouldn’t want viewers nationwide to see including but not limited to: magazines, posters, videos, screensavers, underwear, contraceptives,” I hurried through the list faster as I grew more embarrassed, “feminine hygiene products, bras, lingerie.” My cheeks were seriously burning. “This is the list Mom gives everyone, of course. Items of a private nature. And anything that may have fallen under your bed without you noticing.”
He was silent for a beat. Then, he coughed. “I can’t believe you just said those things.”
“Me either.” I thought I would die of humiliation.
“See you at school,” he said. “And I’ll be sure to hide my bras and stuff.”
Laughing helped.
After school on Monday, we rode the bus to Jake’s. This time we sat together. Several girls were whispering about us, and one of Jake’s buds kept giving him funny looks. I couldn’t wait to escape from the big yellow fishbowl.
Jake was dying to see what they were doing to his room, and I wanted to see how Mom was getting along with Sheree.
“I hope it doesn’t get around school that your mother’s been in my bedroom all day,” he joked.
“Gross.” I punched him. “You wish. My mom is hot.”
“Yeah, right. I’ve seen your dad remember.”
“So, just because he’s no hottie doesn’t mean Mom isn’t. That would mean your mom isn’t hot cuz she’s dating him.”
“My mom isn’t hot,” he said with a shudder. “She’s my mom.”
“Whatever.” We stopped to pet Indiana who greeted us with slobbery kisses.
We dodged some lighting guys, and managed to get upstairs.
“Zoe,” Mom greeted me as we walked through the wet paint smell into his room.
“Hey,” I said. “How’s it going?” I looked around. They’d cleared everything out and painted the walls, two a pale blue, one with tiny brown pinstripes on blue, and the other a harsh black.
Mom was studying Jake’s reaction. “Do you like it?”
“Yeah,” he said with a nod. “Looks good.”
Relief showed on Mom’s face. “It’s going to get even better. I’ve got a lot planned.”
Jake looked over at me. “She looks a lot like you.”
She did. Or I looked like her. “So that’s good, right?” I said.
“I think you were right earlier,” he said.
I tried not to jump up and down, because if my mother was a hottie and I looked just like her, that meant he thought I was hot. How convoluted was my life going
to get?
He laughed at Mom’s confused look. “You don’t want to know, Mrs. Miller.”
“I’ll take your word for that,” she said, “but call me Annie.”
“Zoe,” Sheree called excitedly, coming in from the hall. “Your mother is so wonderful.” She swiped a strand of hair out of her face. “I’m having so much fun.”
“Great,” I said. I mean, what was I supposed to say.
“Oh, you’re a doll to work with, Sheree,” Mom said.
The only thing grosser than watching Dad flirt with Sheree was watching Mom flirt with Sheree. Even if it was in a totally non-gay way.
“Maybe they should date,” Jake muttered as we moved into the hall.
When I looked at him, he winked.
Did he have to possess a sense of humor too? I was trying to dislike him here.
“Oh yeah,” Mom called. “You can’t go in the garage, Jake. We’re making some things.”
“Uh oh,” Jake said.
“You haven’t ever seen Mom’s show have you?” I pinned him with my evil stare.
“No.” He started to look panicky. “Why?”
Mom was really very good at what she did, but I couldn’t resist the urge to mess with him. “No reason,” I said very quickly as if there totally was a reason.
“Tell me,” he threatened, his voice teasing, “or I won’t be your friend anymore.”