and down the Rap/R&B aisle. But I wasn’t annoyed by the interruption. For the next five minutes, I watched Sam patiently explain the difference between Prince and the Fresh Prince to this well-intentioned granny who wanted nothing more than to buy the perfect gift for her grandson’s birthday. I actually admired how Sam Goody took his job seriously enough to stop socializing and actually do what he got paid to do. Only then did I realize that my lunch break from Bellarosa was well into its third hour. I was bordering on unacceptable No-Good Crystal-level slackery, and I needed to get back to work pronto.
“You’ve probably seen him on TV,” Sam Goody was saying. “The Fresh Prince of Bel-Air…?”
“I watch Lawrence Welk on PBS,” Granny replied. “Now that’s a talent!”
I walked directly in his line of sight and waved goodbye. Sam Goody returned the gesture with an apologetic shrug.
“To be continued,” he said, though I had to read his lips because yet another monster ballad had reached its ear-shattering crescendo.
He knew he’d see me around again, as he’d already been seeing me around so far this summer.
And now that I knew who to look out for, maybe I’d see him around too.
21
RADIOACTIVE
The Broadway Album turned out to be a double peace offering. From Sam Goody to me, and from me to my mother. I offered it along with an apology for freaking out on her in Bellarosa.
“Oh, Cassandra!” Mom gushed. “I knew I could depend on you!” Then, after a beat, “Why is the case broken?”
I had insisted we listen to it immediately, you know, to make sure Barbra still played just fine and also to avoid talking about bimbo dresses and Singles’ Nights at Oceanside Tavern. We were so unused to speaking one-on-one, and yet I knew when Kathy was girding herself to bring up awkward subjects. I could see it—she’d take a breath and square her shoulders and … That’s when I’d cut her off with an observation about Barbra’s impeccable phrasing or Sondheim’s lyrical genius. I knew this strategy wouldn’t last indefinitely, but it had succeeded in getting me through the weekend and the drive to work.
For his role in this tenuous peace with my mother, I thought Sam Goody deserved a genuine thank-you. Though I had gone to the store with that in mind, I’d never actually uttered the words.
Besides, our last two conversations had not been unpleasant.
Also, I was curious to hear more about what had happened at Wharton.
And how he ended up working at the mall.
And what his next plan would be.
And if there was “life beyond the Ivy League.”
For all these reasons, I should’ve swung by the music store on the way to work. But I didn’t. And I’d barely crossed Bellarosa’s threshold when Drea hijacked the rest of my day.
“Cassie! Did you get my messages? Why didn’t you call back? Do you want me to drown you in the Wishing Well?!”
I’d gotten her messages, proving there was no shortage of creative and extremely specific ways to be killed for the crime of ignoring Drea Bellarosa when she had major news. I had the weekend off from Bellarosa, but that hadn’t stopped her from leaving a series of increasingly dramatic messages on my answering machine.
“Cassie. This is Drea. I’ve got news! Why aren’t you picking up? I’m gonna be super pissed if you don’t pick up. Pick up!”
Her threats got more violent and well detailed with every call back.
“Cassie. This is Drea. If you don’t call back, I’ll strangle you with a scrunchie!”
“Cassie. This is Drea. If you don’t call back, I’ll bludgeon you with a thousand-page book on Greek astrology!”
“Cassie. This is Drea. If you don’t call back, I’ll slash your throat with a Marky Mark and the Funky Bunch CD and make it look like a suicide and everyone will think you did it because you felt so guilty for making fun of me for liking ‘Good Vibrations’ when you were hiding your secret forbidden love for the lesser Wahlberg brother the whole friggin’ time!”
The abuse came to an end only because the tape ran out before she did. So I shouldn’t have been at all surprised when she pounced on me Monday morning.
“Seriously, Cassie! Why didn’t you call me back?”
“I didn’t call you back,” I replied calmly, switching on the computer, “because I spent the weekend helping my father set up his new bachelor pad.”
When I wasn’t avoiding conversation with my mother at home, I was avoiding conversation with my