Michael Michele (5)

hey m
its j on m’s fone. wer r u? psycho preschool lady gav me a lecture thx a lot. lol jk. w/b
j

Is J who I think it is??

I quickly text Andrea who’s in Macayla’s homeroom.

HEY GIRLY!!! who’s j?!?!?!??! xoxo

She quickly writes back.

j=jeremy duh. he actuly joined our table for a min. sumthin about not having a head to hide behind in homeroom. lol. why didn’t you tell us he was in ur homeroom?!?!

I don’t bother typing back. Later, when she calls me, enraged, I’ll explain about the shoot. I found out what I needed to know. Jeremy seriously asked to borrow Macayla’s phone to text me. I can feel my smile getting way too big. I know I’m overreacting but--

“Babe! There you are,” Mom says in this overly fake voice that alerts me to start acting too. “Dave? Michael, my daughter.” Dave is not nearly as perfect-looking as you’d expect a designer to look. He’s wearing nondescript but expensive khaki pants, white shirt, blue jacket, and a blue cream and gold tie. He’s classically good-looking with trendily-styled dark brown hair and eyes, but he doesn’t appear to be wearing any makeup. Which makes him one in a million out of all the guys here. Something about him alerts anyone that he’s the boss though/

He smiles and shakes my hand distantly. Then he notices Brie and his forehead wrinkles just a little. That’s the most genuine emotion he’s showed through the whole introductions. “Who’s this?”

I smile back and start to answer but Mom cuts her eyes at me. She quickly covers this with a smile and wave of her hand. “Oh, just a friend’s daughter Mich has to babysit today. It was an emergency,” she excuses. “She won’t be any trouble, I swear.”

He nods quickly. “Sure. Great. Pleasure to meet you, Michael,” he says, barely glancing at me. “After your shoot together you’ll have plenty of time to watch her, Amy,” he tells Mom. “However, I’d like to see your daughter for a few additional shoots. I’ll have to discuss it with a few others though? I’ll get back to you. Coffee later, okay?”

Mom looks from him to me to the floor. I want to give her a hug but I know to stay away from her at the moment. I look back at Dave trying to burn a hole in his head. Apparently he feels the heat cause he turns and glances at us, unexpectedly, catches my glare, and grins unabashedly. Something about his carelessness makes me smile. She’s looking at me, mostly emotionlessly but her eyes are angry.

“Anyway…” she says, pretending nothing’s happened. “You should go see your dad in a minute.”

I stop vibing Dave mentally. “What?”

She barely glances at me. “Didn’t I mention he was here? Oh. Well, he is. He’s in the Claiborne department. He’s expecting to see you. I’ll be…somewhere.”

“Mom,” but she walks away, head down, arms folded clearly dejected and ticked. Just another reason to hate this business. All these pretty, seemingly pissed people who don’t feel anything.

I start to push Brie’s direction in a random direction to ask someone where the Claiborne department is. Suddenly Mom appears. “I’ll take Brie. For today, she’s a friend’s kid, okay?”

I stare after her. This whole thing is weird. Me being here to model. Mom lying about Brie. Dave not knowing Mom’s age and acting like I’m more important to the camera then her. Dad being here. I feel like getting out of here.

My cell rings. It’s Andrea. I don’t feel like talking to her but I prefer this to Dad at the moment.

“Hey, Andi.”

“’Chele! What’s up with you? Where are you? Why’d you ignore my text?”

“Splendor photo shoot about to meet my dad,” I tell her, deliberately skipping over her other questions. It doesn’t matter because her attention is completely diverted now.

“How? What?! Talk!”

“Later, okay?”

“No, not okay!”

“Love ya, bye.” I click my phone off.

“Michele?”

Only one person calls me that.