I were in your shoes and I was preparing for a big soccer tournament, I’d probably seek some outside help. Some extra coaching to give me every advantage and maybe even an extra edge.” She shrugged. “I’d do everything in my power to make sure I was as good as I could be.”
I hitched my lips to the side as I considered that. “So, what? Like, an acting coach?”
Hannah nodded quickly. “Yeah, like an acting coach.”
I thought it over. Her idea was…brilliant, actually. If I had someone other than our nice but not at all talented school director Mrs. Klein working with me, maybe I could nail this thing. “That’s a really great idea, Hannah,” I said. “Except…” I sighed as my shoulders slumped with dejection. “How am I supposed to pay for something like that?”
She eyed my designer purse meaningfully. “I can give you the name of three different consignment sites that would be happy to get that off your hands.”
My brows shot up in horror. “And risk the wrath of Mommy Dearest? Are you out of your mind?”
She snickered a bit at the nickname I’d stolen from the movie Mommie Dearest. My mother wasn’t quite as bad as Joan Crawford was made out to be, but she was no treat either. I’d become known in this school for my killer style and my expensive clothes, but that was because making sure I looked good was my mother’s idea of good parenting.
The brightly colored hair? That was my big act of rebellion. Or it had been until my mom realized that I could pull it off. Now she bought my hair dyes for me and coached me on the right eyeliner to pair it with. So annoying.
“Nope,” I said. “There’s no way she’d be okay with me ‘losing’ some of her favorite pieces. Even when she’s done with them and gives them to me, she keeps track of them.”
Hannah remained optimistic. “Maybe a part-time job?”
“On top of the fall production rehearsals and schoolwork?” I shook my head. “I’d never be able to pull together enough hours at some minimum-wage job to make enough.”
“I’m sure you’ll think of something,” she said.
I nodded. I would. I definitely would. First I’d find out who the best acting coach was in this area and then I’d figure out how to pay for them. “You’re right. I always get what I want when I set my sights on something, right?”
Hannah nodded emphatically, ever the cheerleader. “Of course you do.”
“Right.” I stabbed the yogurt container one last time and came up empty. “Thanks, Hannah.”
“My pleasure.” She leaned over as if about to let me in on a secret. “But I still think you should at least try asking your mom. What’s the worst that could happen?”
I wrinkled my nose of all the possible outcomes. But she was right, it was at least worth a shot. And if she said no, then I could focus on a plan B. “I’ll try,” I promised.
She grinned at me, but my attention was caught by the guy walking in behind her.
With a quiet little hiss, I sank down into my seat as Ryan Holston walked in and glared at me from across the room. I sank down even lower so Hannah was hiding me. “Don’t look,” I said.
Too late. She was peering over her shoulder to see what it was that had me shrinking into my seat. She whipped back with a grimace of understanding. “You ended it?”
I lifted a shoulder. “It had been two weeks.”
She gave her head a little shake that screamed disappointment, but there was no real anger there. Hannah had come to grips with my theory of love and romance a long time ago.
Namely, that I didn’t believe in it.
Sure, relationships were fine and good for some people, but not for me. For better or worse, I was my mother’s daughter and I refused to turn into her when it came to men. Maybe there was a time when she held all the power, but these days she was a desperate retired trophy wife. She’d spent the better part of my life flitting from one rich old guy to another.
My father had been husband number two and lasted only marginally longer than the others. These days he lived with his newer, younger, and don’t-tell-my-mom-I-said-this prettier wife and their new son. We talk on the phone on holidays and my birthday, but that’s about the extent of our relationship. For the most part, it’s just Mom