Close to Famous (22 page)

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Authors: Joan Bauer

BOOK: Close to Famous
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“Keep reading.”
“This horse has a . . . a rider. The rider has a rope. Uh-oh . . . wait. The uh-oh isn't in the script.”
“My favorite line's coming.” She leaned forward.
I focused extra hard. “The horse and rider are . . .” This was so hard. “. . . trying to catch the black horse, but . . . wait, now I get it! But she is . . . faster. Then we hear the black horse say . . . um . . .” I looked at the script. Couldn't make out the words. “What does this mean? ”
Miss Charleena threw back her head, made an excellent horse sound, and said, “ ‘
Toodles, turkey
.' ”
I laughed. “We hear the black horse say, ‘Toodles, turkey!' And the black horse . . .” My brain was aching. “The black horse speeds away across the plain.”
“Brilliant,” she told me.
I felt like throwing that script up in the air!
“You know what's great about that scene? ” Miss Charleena asked.
“It's exciting!”
“Yeah.”
“It's funny what the black horse says.”
“That's right, and with only two words, we know who that black horse is. She's fast and she's not going to take any guff from anything or anybody.”
I looked down at the script, thinking,
Please don't ask me to read any more. I just want to be with all the words I got right.
“You think I should take this part, Foster McFee?”
“Yes, ma'am. You'd be an awesome horse.”
“Well, before I lose my nerve . . .” Miss Charleena grabbed the phone and punched in numbers. “Stan, are you sitting down . . . ? Well, sit down, Stanley, because I'm coming out of retirement.” She was nodding and laughing her great earthy laugh. “Yes, I really mean it . . . yes, Stan, you can take it to the bank, but only ten percent of it.”
I opened her curtains without asking, and light shone all over.
“Well, now,” she said, laughing. “What else should I let into my life?”
Thirty
MISS CHARLEENA WROTE a check to Helping Hands and asked me to take it over. I walked into the kitchen, and Val was talking to another one of the wives.
“I told Duke I'm leaving him, and he didn't like that.” Her hands were shaking.
“You have to do what's right for you,” the other wife said.
“Duke scares me,” Val said. “He's always scared me. They've got him out on this work release, and he's got everybody fooled that he's changed. I know he hasn't!”
I think
I've
got problems.
I found Perseverance Wilson and gave her the pretty blue envelope with Miss Charleena's check. She ripped that thing open and shouted, “Hallelujah!” Then she started making plans. “We're going to put a fresh coat of paint in all the rooms, we're going to get pretty curtains on those windows, fix the staircase, and—”
“My mama's good at windows,” I told her. “She says a pretty window makes the rest of the world look friendly, even if it's not.”
“Call your mama, honey. We're turning this old place around.”
There was a meeting that night of people who wanted to help. Garland was there and Macon, Mama, me, and Amy. Part of my job was keeping the little kids at Helping Hands out of everyone's hair. I brought my baking pans—because, really, what kid doesn't like to bake?
Macon had just got his first camera phone, and he was a dangerous person. I scratched my neck and he filmed me. I walked out of the bathroom and he filmed me. He caught Amy picking her nose. Garland didn't do gross things in public, so he didn't get filmed much.
I was in the Helping Hands kitchen with the kids, making up the batter for Sonny's Bake 'Em Proud Cupcakes. I wondered how he was doing.
“You're all cooks in training,” I told them. Baby Babcock threw some measuring spoons at his sister.
“Stop it!” Pearly screamed.
I gave him back the spoons and showed him how to shake them like a rattle. Babcock shook those spoons with everything he had.
“Cupcakes are everywhere today,” I told the kids. “And you can decorate each one with different colored frosting.”
“I want blue frosting,” Pearly said.
Amy sat down. “I want purple frosting with orange sprinkles, a cherry on top, and sparklers.”
“Sparklers!” the kids said.
I glared at Amy. “No sparklers.”
Mama was measuring the kitchen windows as Babcock shook the spoons in a kind of rhythm. Her foot started tapping out the beat, then she pointed a finger at Babcock and sang out:
Come on, babe, you've got to shake that thing!
You've got to shake it in the morning.
Babcock shook it.
You've got to shake it in the night.
You've got to shake it, shake it, shake it,
Now it's going to be all right! Wooooooo!
Babcock raised his little arms, and she sang it again loud and strong as people came into the kitchen.
Percy said, “Where have you been hiding that voice?”
Mama smiled. “I just had it packed away.”
“Sing something else, Mrs. McFee.” Pearly had chocolate batter on her forehead and in her hair.
Val walked into the kitchen and said, “Yes, sing.”
“Well . . . here's a little lullaby I used to sing to Foster.”
I laughed.
Mama stood there for a minute, then her right foot started tapping, her right hand began to slap her thigh in a different rhythm. She was moving her shoulders to the beat.
Mmmmmm, little one. Close your eyes for the day is done. Oh, oh, oh . . .
You're going to sleep so sweet because God is watching over you.
She clapped. “Sing it out!”
Mmmmmm, little one. Close your eyes for the day is done . . .
Mama cranked up the volume.
Sleep sweet for you are never,
no never
alone!
Everyone applauded.
“Could you get to sleep after your mom sang that to you?” Pearly asked me.
“No way!”
Perseverance Wilson stepped forward. “One thing I know after that song. You need to give a real concert.”
Baking with children isn't for weak people. I am definitely going to mention this when I get on the Food Network. I put the pans in the oven. “These are going to be so good!”
That's when the front door opened. A man in a gray uniform with angry eyes burst in saying, “I don't want any trouble. I'm just here to get my family.”
Pearly dropped the wooden spoon on the floor and whispered, “Daddy.”
Thirty-One
“HI THERE, HONEY,” the man said. “Where's Mommy?”
Pearly started crying.
“
I asked you a question!”
I looked at Macon, who didn't move. Babcock was crawling on the floor.
“What are you doing here, Duke?” Val was standing in the door now. “You're not supposed to be out yet.”
“Looks like I'm out, don't it?”
“We're not going with you, Duke.
I told you
.”
“Yes, you are.” He walked over to her.
“I said we're not going!”
He reached for her arm, and Garland stepped between them. Mama came alongside Garland, followed by Perseverance Wilson, who said, “We don't want any trouble here.” They formed a wall around Val.
“You'd best be leaving,” Perseverance told him.
Duke headed to Pearly, who shouted, “No, Daddy!”
Mama rushed to Pearly. “That's enough, Duke! You're way out of bounds.”
“
I've got a knife. Don't make me use it
.”
Babcock started crying.
Not now, Babcock!
I scooped him up. Mama took Pearly by the hand. “It's okay.” She led her to Val as the oven timer buzzed.
“What's that?” Duke shouted.
I gulped. “Cupcakes.”
“
Cupcakes?
”
“Vanilla and chocolate.”
I handed Babcock to Amy. “I need to get them out of the oven, and then me and the kids are going to make frosting.”
Duke just stood there.
“I'm going to take them out now,” I told him. I put on my oven mitt and walked to the stove with more courage than I felt. “You ever bake, sir?”
“No.”
“The thing you look for in cupcakes is if they're springy when you touch them. That means they're done.” I opened the door, and I swear to you, if I could have, I would have crawled inside. I touched the cupcakes. They sprung back. He was standing there watching. “They're done.” I took the pan out.
“I'm going to let them cool on this rack. Don't they look good? You're not going to believe the secret ingredient.”
Duke was staring at them. I glanced at Garland, who looked like he was ready to defend the world.
“Okay, now, I'm going to start making the frosting. Is that all right?”
Duke nodded.
Perseverance Wilson said, “How did you get here, Duke?”
“I got here.”
“Did they let you out of the prison?”
He laughed. “I let myself out.”
On the Food Network they have these shows where chefs have to cook with strange ingredients while the clock is ticking. But I bet there's never once been a show where you have to do this in the kitchen with an escaped convict.
My hands were shaking as I put the butter in the bowl and plugged in the hand mixer. I'm thinking if Duke gets too close to me I'll shove the mixer in his face.
Pearly cried out. “I want to help. You said I could help!”
Val burst through the line of women. “Get out of here, Duke! You always ruin everything!”

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