The Accidental TV Star (2 page)

The wall phone rang, and Irina took it off the hook. “Manager speaking.” She paused. “Well, the alarm’s not ringing here.” She paused again. “Yeah, we had a small problem with the fryer. Marissa’s fault. Nothing I can’t handle.” She covered the mouthpiece. “Isn’t that right, Marissa? Or do you want to explain something different to Larry?”

Even with my video evidence, I had no shot at convincing Larry that this wasn’t my fault. Management always believed management. I’d seen it before. I shook my head.

“I got this, Larry.” Irina hung up. A small grin crept onto her mouth, and she narrowed her eyes. “Clean that up. Then, you’re fired.”

Two years of taking her crap and she was firing me for her mistake? I rose to my feet. My cap fell from my fingers, landing in a pool of soda. Crossing my arms over my waist to hide their shaking, I stared from the smoldering mess to her domineering face. That clinched it for me. Irina should have fired me after I cleaned the vat. I grabbed my phone and dropped my nametag on the floor. “The degreaser’s under the counter. I recommend gloves,” I said and walked out.

The drive home took fifteen minutes. Even with the window down, the hot Texas night didn’t clear the odor of burnt potato from my nose. I parked in front of our trailer, turned off the key, and sat there a moment listening to the crickets, the distant sounds of traffic, and the buzzing of our neighbor Bobby’s bug zapper.

Mom wouldn’t be home yet. She had the late shift at the bar tonight. That left the news for my stepdad Jerry and my two younger brothers. The boys, six and eight, wouldn’t care. I didn’t know how Jerry would react. I blew out a breath, got out, and climbed the front steps toward the door. Lights from inside shone through the darkness.

I went in. The boys, busy chasing each other, screamed, “Hello.”

Jerry, on his recliner in front of the TV, checked the clock. “Hey, kiddo. You’re home—early.”

“Yeah.”

“Get her,” my brothers yelled in unison. The older climbed on a barstool and jumped.

I caught him, and his weight caused me to stumble back a step. I held my ground until my youngest brother went for my knees. My butt hit the linoleum, and their combined weight dropped me flat. They raised their fists in the air in victory. “Got her.”

“Boys, lay off your sister.”

From this position, I had a clear view of the overflowing kitchen trash container. Jerry had missed the eight o’clock cutoff for curbside pickup, again. “They’re good. They were just about to help me take out the trash.” My brothers scrambled away and disappeared.

I brushed a stray strand of hair back into my ponytail, dragged myself to my feet, and yanked the heavy trash bag from the overflowing container.

“I’m gonna get that,” Jerry said.

“I don’t mind.” I drug the black bag through the door, past Bobby and Joellen’s trailer, and down to the dumpster. Tossing the bag into the smelly bin took out some of my frustration. Sniff. What was that? Four-day-old Indian takeout? Whew. My neighbor Bobby’s fondness for Indian food killed me. I wanted to try curry recipes one day, but not until I could shake the smell of these dumpster trips. I wiped my hand under my nose, uncertain if I should be grateful to the smell for once, because it momentarily made me forget blackened potatoes. No. I couldn’t stir up any gratitude.

I returned to the house and went straight to the sink to wash my hands.

“You okay, girl?”

“Yeah.” I splashed cool water on my face and the burn on my wrist. “I got fired,” I said, as off-handedly as I could.

Jerry winced and took his focus off the jacked-up trucks on TV. “I know how that is.” He turned back to the revving engines. “We’ll find something better soon.” He shrugged his perpetually sore shoulder. “When my injury heals and the market picks up.”

I loved Jerry and he watched the boys so I didn’t have to, but he’d never work. I knew that. Mom probably did too. I vowed never to be in her position: stuck with a bunch of dependents in a dead-end job I hated, living with an undependable man.

Dodging the boys, who were now crawling in army formation, I grabbed a soda from the fridge, took it over to Jerry, and cleared his empty one.

“Thanks,” Jerry said, his eyes glued to the TV. One of the monster trucks spun toward the crowd of bleachers. “Ooh.”

“No problem. ’Night.” I pinched the bridge of my nose and went to my room. I sank down to the carpet and put my back to the thin wooden door. This double-wide in Trallwyn was the only home I’d ever known. This was my room, my space. Movie posters, magazine cutouts, and photos covered the walls. My two favorites shared one area: the culinary reality show,
Scoop Out
and Garrett Campbell’s movie poster for
Road to Rome.
Garrett Campbell in a toga. Sigh. He stared at me. His light green eyes said,
Come to Hollywood.

I rubbed at the burn on my wrist. It was two hours earlier in LA. Ashley would easily be up. I dialed. “Hey, Ash. Is that job still open?”

***

All morning, I tried not to think about the Fry Hut, because it pissed me off, and California, because it terrified me. I settled on thoughts of college. Thank God, Houston Culinary Arts University had already accepted me. Otherwise, I could picture my application:
High school graduate, recently fired from the Fry Hut, would like to apply for a degree at your university
.

The pepper bacon sizzled, and I flipped each piece as Mom came in. She rarely woke up in time for breakfast. I bet Jerry had told her my news. “Morning,” I said, staring down at the bacon. I scooped the strips onto a paper towel and turned off the burner.

Her arms wrapped around me. “Morning.” Her voice sounded gravelly from lack of sleep. After hugging me, she sank into one of the small chairs at the kitchen table and tightened the belt on her robe. She looked up with worry in her hazel eyes. My own were the same emerald green as hers but without the brown that marked them as hazel and without the worry that made her a mom. “Did you see the card from your father?” She nodded toward a stack of overflowing bills on the end of the counter.

A graduation card two weeks too late. How thoughtful of him. No doubt his wife Karen made him send it. Maybe I’d open it two weeks from now. Maybe I wouldn’t.

“How are you doing?”

“I’m fine.” I held up the plate of bacon, and she waved it off with a shudder. The bacon made great breakfast sandwiches, but Mom rarely ate this early, especially after working the late shift. I poured her a cup of black coffee to counter her five hours of sleep and placed it on the table. The steam rose off at an angle, so I bent and adjusted the coaster under the wobbly metal table leg. That fixed, I sat. She hadn’t asked about the Fry Hut, but I knew that was what she meant by her question. “I already have a plan. Ashley hooked me up with a job in LA for the summer.”

Mom took a sip before replying, “Oh. I don’t know about all that. You should stay here where we can take care of you.”

“Thanks, but I’ve got it all worked out. I’m going to LA anyway. I’ll just change my return date to August.”

“There’ll be a fee.”

“A hundred and fifty dollars.”

“That’ll bite into your savings.”

“Yeah, but I’ll be working all summer as a chef— for an actor in Hollywood.” I left off the name Garrett Campbell. Mom wasn’t a movie buff, but she’d recognize him from the posters on my walls or the image on my cell phone.

Mom shook her head and looked out the window. “You don’t know how Hollywood is. They’ll say, put on this dress for a staff picture, and sign this waiver. You’ll sign, and they’ll take pictures of you in the dressing room. Naked.”

Everything in me recoiled when Mom used words like
naked
. I grabbed my glass from the counter and drank some of the cold orange juice to wash away the thought. “Don’t worry, Mom. No one’s going to ask me to model.”

“You’re a very pretty girl.”

“Thanks.”

Mom rubbed her brow. “I was sure you and Evan would get married and he’d take you off to college with him.”

I wouldn’t have gone if he’d asked, but I’d thought we’d make it through the summer. We didn’t. “Things with Evan just didn’t work out.” My plan was graduate college, open my own restaurant, and then find a dependable man. Many of the mistakes around the trailer park wouldn’t have happened if my neighbors had stuck to their own plans or even had one.

Evan and I had dated for two years. He’d put up with a lot of waiting. I’d planned to end his wait graduation night. Before I could make my romantic move, he’d broken up with me. He’d said, “
You know we’re not really going anywhere and I’m going off to college soon...”

Maybe he thought the implied ultimatum would work. Instead, it pissed me off. I hadn’t told Mom that part. I’d told Ashley though, in nuanced detail, and she’d said I’d dodged a bullet. I could have slept with him,
then
heard the Dear Jane speech. Even though she was right, I was still mad. She’d said that was good too. The fact that I was more angry than heartbroken should tell me something about my feelings for Evan: that I should wish him well and move on. Sometimes Ashley was too old for her age. I wanted to TP his house. Every time I walked down the paper products aisle of the grocery store, thoughts of revenge bit at me. Maybe as a going away present, I’d get my brothers to help me do the job.

“You need a man around, Marissa. You don’t know how the real world is for gorgeous girls like you. LA is all perv studios, druggies. You’re better off here.”

I’d worked for a perv right here in Trallwyn, Texas. Dating Evan hadn’t stopped Lech Larry from persistently hitting on me and the cashiers. “Ash’s family will look out for me.” I could look out for myself.

“You’ll get in a car with a guy who’s been drinking. And they’re so rich there; they’ll pay off the police to cover it up.”

“I wouldn’t do that.” I rolled my cold glass between my palms and strove to sound reassuring.

“About this job. Cooking for one person?”

“Yeah, a guy Ashley’s family knows.”

“He says it’s only him, but you’ll get there, and his girlfriend will be there, and her four kids, six dogs, and his entourage. You’ll have to cook for all of them.”

“They can bring it. The salary’s good enough to cover me cooking for all those people.” I crossed my fingers under the table. I hadn’t heard the salary yet. Fry Hut paid fifty cents over minimum wage. I bet Garrett Campbell would at least cover that amount.

“Rich people are the cheapest people I know. First you’re cooking, then it’s help pick up around the house, then it’s run a few errands. They’ll take advantage.”

“I’ll be fine.”

“Gas is six dollars a gallon there, maybe eight.”

Ouch. That one stung. “I’ll be taking the bus.”

“Is it near a bus stop? Because the pollution will get into your lungs if you have to walk far.” Mom shook her head and rubbed at the frown marks between her eyes. “And the traffic. And earthquakes.”

The window unit kicked on with a loud hum between Mom’s words of caution, and she had to speak up. The air-conditioning wouldn’t shut off again until late tonight, not with the temperatures topping one hundred degrees.

“Weather’s supposed to be great in California. I bet you can’t find anything bad to say about their weather.”

Her hand dropped away from her face. “Houston’s humidity keeps you young-looking. Dry air ages you.”

I let go of the glass and crossed my arms over my chest. “Mom!”

“Okay, I’ll stop, but you can always come home if it doesn’t work out.”

“I appreciate that, I do. But nothing will go wrong.”

***

All my clothes lay across my bed. Even if I folded carefully, they’d never fit in one bag. which meant I’d have to leave most of them behind because the airline charged for a second piece of luggage. I sniffed my white work shirt and started a reject pile. Burnt potato smell clung to it underneath the apple fabric softener. Mom said it didn’t, but I could smell it.

My new ringtone, my favorite line from Garrett Campbell’s movie,
Road to Rome,
sounded, “We will live on, for an eternity.” The epic words, said in Garrett’s Scottish accent, gave me a thrill. The image of him wearing a toga gave me a shiver. “Hello?”

“Please don’t hate me.” Ashley’s voice sounded anxious and guilty all at once.

“What happened?”

“The studio where Dad works is putting in a new London office. Dad’s overseeing the setup, and he’s going there. Mom and Bray are going with him.”

I shoved the pile of clothes aside so I could sit down. “Your baby brother’s too young to be exposed to foreign accents. He’ll pick it up.”

“I know, but it’s only for the summer.” Ashley paused and the rest came out in a rush, “Caz is there. And Dad set up an internship at an architecture firm for me. So I’m going too.”

“Oh.” I swallowed my disappointment. “When do you leave?”

“In two days. Dad already bought our tickets.”

My stomach sank further, but I understood. “Ash, that’s awesome. It’s no problem. I can get a job at the mall.”

“No. Garrett’s expecting you. I promised you’d be here.”

I shook my head, though Ashley couldn’t see me. “I don’t need any favors, and there’s no reason to waste money on a plane ticket now.”

“I told Garrett you’d take the job. And the airline won’t give a refund anyway.”

“Garrett can find someone else. He’s a gorgeous movie star. Girls probably cook for him for free.”

“No. No. I told Garrett all about your experimental recipes, and he’s dying to have you cook for him. And I’ll be back before the summer’s over so we can hang out. Promise me you’ll come.”

I crumpled my bikini in my hand and stared at the white polka dots on the green fabric. “I don’t know, Ash. Where would I stay?”

“At our house. Or, Garrett said there’s a separate suite for the cook. Whichever you want. I’ll feel horrible if my going to London messes this up for you. And Mom and I arranged a surprise.”

“Yeah?”

“Dad found a cooking class for you. At the studio. It gives college credit. The plans are all set. And Garrett is expecting you Thursday. Please don’t let my going to London blow this for you. You said you’d come.”