around with cameras on you? And this loser? What for? Jesus, Penelope, I thought we raised you better than this.”
She shakes her head and whispers something, but I can’t make it out.
He says something to her, something curt, like a warning, and she hangs her head.
Then she nods and goes to give him a hug. But the goddamn bastard just stands there, stiff, with his hands in his pockets. His eyes are on me, cold.
Fuck you too, man.
Then she runs over to me. Will Wang starts to remind her that talking with any family or friends during the game is strictly forbidden, but I move her down the street and into the hotel lobby as fast as I can, so we lose him.
She’s still frowning as we step into the elevator, her brow wrinkled with worry. “I get the feeling he wasn’t here to welcome me to the family.”
She doesn’t even smile.
“You okay?” I ask her.
She’s silent for a long time, watching the numbers above the door climb. Then she nods. “But I’m not in the mood for lobster.”
I shrug. I’ve never had lobster, so I don’t give a shit either way. “That’s all right. If you want to—”
“I’m in the mood to get drunk,” she says, not looking at me. “Are you in?”
I almost choke. I stare at her, wondering if she’s really okay. Either way, there’s no way I can turn down an invitation like that.
“Yeah. I’m in.”
“LOBSTER” REWARD
Nell
Yes. It was a very nice night. We went out for . . . lobster. It was a nice reward.
—Nell’s Confessional, Day 7
My father.
My annoying, absent, never-impressed father actually showed up at the taping of my show.
He treats my mother like crap. He spent eight years ignoring me. Didn’t come to a single one of my graduations because he thinks my degrees are worthless. And yet somehow, when I least want him in my life, he’s there.
It’s just my luck. He works in downtown Boston. I’d thought the town was big enough that I’d safely escape him. Apparently not.
He was so angry. Expecting me to explain myself? I’m an adult! Why should I have to?
I’m still fuming about it when I go to my bag to pull out a fresh change of clothes. Part of me wants to just hide in my bed, but I know that’s what my dad wants. To keep me out of the public eye and not embarrass him.
So I’m going out, hoping I get my plastered face plastered on the front of the damned Boston Globe.
But when I peek into my bag I realize that most of my clothes are not there. Just a bra top, a T-shirt, a bathing suit, and a few pairs of socks. I’d been running short of clean clothes last night, so I’d washed them in the sink and hung them out to dry on the line over the bathtub at the bed-and-breakfast in Maine. But I was so tired . . . did I put them back in?
Oh god.
I left most of my clothes in Maine.
Like I need any more reasons to break down into tears right now.
My father’s made me so furious, though, that it’s spurred me out of my comfort zone. Natalie doesn’t answer her door, so I end up knocking on Ivy’s door. I tell her what happened, and she’s more than accommodating. She gives me a fresh change of clothes and tells me to have fun tonight at my reward dinner.
I shower and put on the clothes. Actually, it’s more like I have to pour myself into the clothes. The jeans are so tight, and the shirt is only half of a shirt—a little tank top with a plunging neckline. I look at myself in the mirror, and . . . Whatever. Maybe I’ll get my boobs plastered on the front of the Boston Globe too.
I stalk out of the bathroom and grab my phone, wallet, and hotel card. “Ready?” I say, not looking at Luke, who’s watching playoff baseball.
He’s silent. That’s when I realize he’s actually looking at me and not the television. His mouth a little open.
“What?” I snap.
“Nothing, just—”
“I left my clothes in Lubec,” I mutter. “These are Ivy’s.”
“Huh. You look . . .”
I cut him off. “Don’t say it.”
He holds up his hands in surrender but doesn’t avert his gaze from my cleavage. Feeling naked, I pull the shirt up to cover myself a little better. Not that it helps much. I throw on my jacket. He follows me out onto