Holly Hearts Hollywood (11 page)

“We’ve heard so much about you.” Mr. Wilcox extended his gloved hand. I shook it, grateful for the fact that he was wearing gloves and couldn’t feel the sweat on my palms. But holy crap, Keller has been talking about me
to his parents!
I can imagine him over the dinner table, blushing as his parents tease him about the “little crush” he has at the studio. Somehow, Mr. and Mrs. Wilcox don’t look like the type to tease Keller as they pass the creamed corn around.

“And this is my sister, Maggie.” Keller gestured to the blonde gum-chewer.

“Actually, it’s
Margaret
,” she said in an impressive monotone.
Margaret
looked like she belonged in an L.L. Bean catalogue. Her blonde hair was long and layer-less, her skin pink and free of makeup, and she was wearing skinny jeans I wished I could pull off.

“Keller told us you’re quite the horseback rider,” Keller’s mom said sweetly.

I blushed. “Oh, I used to be. I haven’t ridden since my horse threw me a few years ago.” Margaret arched her eyebrow at me, and in that moment, I could read her mind. I knew she was looking at me and wondering how a horse could ever carry me, much less throw me.

A stable hand brought out a beautiful Palomino, and I forgot all about Margaret and her inability to chew gum with her mouth closed. I put my foot in the stirrup and, with more effort than it used to take, heaved myself onto the saddle. I was so happy to get on a horse again; although I was worried I’d be too heavy. Apparently they’re stronger than I assumed.

“Like riding a bike, isn’t it?” Keller asked, looking very dashing on his horse. All he needed was a puffy shirt and a top hat, and my
Jane Eyre
fantasies would’ve come true.

“Sort of,” I said. Truth is, my body is so different since the last time I rode. It felt awkward, and my weight had a hard time distributing itself. On one hand, it was super-sweet of Keller to invite me. On the other, I felt inferior next to his family.

Keller’s dad is a heart surgeon, and his mom is a child psychologist, which made me very wary. I didn’t want Keller’s mom giving him her psychological opinion of me. If she knew about my collections, she’d probably tell him I have a hard time letting go, and I’d be a bad girlfriend because of emotional baggage. And she’d be right!

The ride was seriously romantic, or at least it would’ve been if we were alone. Dr. Wilcox (which is technically his proper title) spent most of the time complaining about a new surgeon who’s trying to upstage him, even though he’s been out of medical school for five minutes. Mrs. Wilcox kept saying “mhmm” and “uh-huh,” but I knew she was secretly psychoanalyzing him.

Keller and I did manage to get some conversation in during the ride. He’s even more charming to talk to when he’s on the back of a horse. When the ride was over, he rushed off his horse to help me off the saddle. He touched my hand! We might as well have held hands!

So was it a date or not? The presence of his family and the complete lack of an attempt to make out kind of makes it seem like he just wants to be friends. But if he talked to his parents about me, he must be interested, right? I don’t know what to do. People always say girls are hard to understand, but I think boys are infinitely more puzzling. But, I had a really good time, and it seemed like Keller did too. He said he’d call me later, but I’ve heard that guys can take days to get back to you after a date. Then again, we didn’t even go on a date. I probably won’t hear from him until, like, next year. He’ll only call to tell me he’s met a showgirl from Reno named Candy and he’s moved on.

I hope he never calls.

Later, 6:55pm—Pink Palm Motel

What am I saying? Am I deranged? I want him to call right now. I’m going to go plug my phone in so my battery doesn’t die.

Later, 7:10pm—Pink Palm Motel

He still hasn’t called. He’s never going to call. He hates me.

Later, 7:20pm—Pink Palm Motel

I must have self-control. I must wait for him to call me. He’s going to call. He
has
to.

Later, 1:30am—Pink Palm Motel

Mom came in and told me to turn off the
Criminal Minds
marathon and go to bed. Her flower shop is opening tomorrow, and I have to be ready to help out. Doesn’t Mom realize that
Criminal Minds
teaches valuable lessons about dealing with psychopaths that could be greatly useful to me in the future? If some crazy guy makes eye contact with me in a pharmacy and decides to follow me home and kill me, at least I’ll know how to handle the situation and play into his psychosis. Mom would feel guilty she made me go to bed then. Also, Keller might call any minute. It’s not
that
late.

February 26
^th
, 2:30am—Pink Palm Motel

I woke up in the middle of the night and went to get a drink of water. It was a challenge getting up in the first place. The springs in the mattress squeak, and Ivy is a light sleeper. I rolled out of bed with the stealth of James Bond. If James Bond weighed almost two hundred pounds that is.

When I went into the kitchen, Mom was sitting at the kitchen table, still wide-awake. She was looking at a pile of flower clippings as if they held the secrets of the universe.

“Are you excited about tomorrow?” I asked conversationally. It was the only thing I could think of to say. Telling her she looked deranged probably wouldn’t have been a good idea.

“I’m going to throw up,” Mom replied miserably.

I, brilliantly, said nothing. I didn’t know what to say. So, I filled my glass with water and took giant gulps in the awkward silence. You could hear the sound of the water gushing down my throat and the flickering of the fluorescent lights.

“What if I fail?” Mom croaked. “Your father’s life insurance money and your college education are all on the line. I don’t want to waste that money.”

“We’d figure it out,” I said. I’m not used to having my mom confide in me. She’s an adult; she’s supposed to talk to her girlfriends about this stuff over pedicures and cocktails. Then I realized there was no one for her to talk to in LA. We are in a new town, and, as far as I know, she hasn’t made any new friends yet.

“I’ve wanted a flower shop since I was a little girl,” she said abruptly.

“I didn’t know that.”

“When I was little, I used to pretend I ran a flower shop. Some girls played house; I picked bouquets from my neighbor’s garden and sold them from a stand at the corner,” she paused. “Then I grew up, and I had to go to college and major in something grown-up and useful. Before I knew it, I was a botanist working in a lab.”

“Well, I guess you’re long overdue for a flower shop.”

“That’s just it,” she said. “I’ve been waiting my whole life for this.”

I love my mom. But these deep, adult conversations are exhausting. I’m going to be a terrible adult. I already have existential crises every other year, and I’m not even eighteen yet.

February 26
^th
, 7:30am—Pink Palm Motel

I’d totally planned to sleep in, but my phone started ringing at seven in the morning. I woke up in a panic and answered without checking the Caller ID, hoping it’d be Keller.

“Hello?” I said in my best sexy voice. I’ve been practicing my sexy voice a lot lately. Most of time, it sounds like I’m recovering from strep throat. Instead of Keller’s naturally sexy voice, I got an earful of Meredith and Amanda screaming.

“Whoa, whoa,” I said, still groggy from sleep and disappointed it wasn’t an early morning call from Keller. “Slow down, what’s going on?”

“Have you seen
US Weekly
?” Amanda demanded.

“No, I guess my maid forgot to deliver it with breakfast,” I said. “What’s the big deal? Did Amanda Bynes get arrested again?”

“Would you mind explaining why you’re in
US Weekly
with Serena Salazar?” Meredith shouted.

I totally forgot about the paparazzi on Rodeo Drive. I guess I thought nothing would come of the photos, since we weren’t doing anything interesting. I forgot magazines publish photos of celebrities grocery shopping and walking around in flip-flops with captions that say, “Stars are just like you! They wear rubber shoes!” I sat upright.

“Why didn’t you tell us you knew Serena Salazar?” Amanda asked in her very serious voice, the same voice she uses to lecture judgmental senior citizens who glare at her and Meredith when they hold hands on Main Street.

“I’m sorry. I guess it slipped my mind.”

“How could it slip your mind? She’s like, a huge celebrity.”

“Amanda, you don’t even like Serena Salazar; you only like The Wonder Years,” I said.

“She’s right,” I heard Meredith say.

Amanda started arguing with Meredith about how she doesn’t only like one band, and I had to shout over them. “Look, I’m sorry I forgot to tell you. She’s a normal, fun girl, and I kind of forgot she was famous.”

“That’s the weirdest thing I’ve ever heard,” Amanda said.

“Says the girl who genuinely believes she’s going to marry Tay Jardine,” Meredith replied.

“Who invited Little Miss Sassy?” Amanda mumbled.

They started arguing again right as my mom walked into the room with her Chia Pet cradled in the crook of her arm. “Are you getting ready? We’re leaving in half an hour.”

“Guys, I need to go,” I shouted over their bickering. I had to hang up on them, which I seem to be doing a lot. They argue a lot; I hope they’re doing okay. I’m usually their counselor, but it’s hard to counsel from the West Coast.

Time to take my allergy pills and head over to the shop.

Later, 7:30pm—Buds of Love

I’ve never sneezed so much in one day. The grand opening of
Buds of Love
went amazingly, and there was an
army
of flowers present. It was wall-to-wall snapdragons, daffodils, sunflowers, roses, hydrangeas, geraniums, and just about everything else with petals. Also, I don’t know how my mom managed to get every single hippie in LA to show up, but she did.

My mom’s small staff was struggling to take care of every customer. Zara, the store manager, looked like she was going to start ripping heads off at one point. Zara is like an Amazonian warrior. She has long, sleek black hair that swishes back and forth past her butt when she walks. Her skin is dark and beautiful, and her biceps are surprisingly large for a girl as thin as she is.

I was standing in the middle of a sea of hippies, holding my breath because apparently they believe in deodorant about as much as they believe in shopping at Wal-Mart, when I saw Lacey standing in the doorframe with her fingers pinching her nose shut.

“Lacey?” I asked, astonished.

Her head turned toward me, and she waved with her free hand. Grayson appeared in the door by her side. He hit his head on the dream catchers and crystals hanging from the ceiling. He’s so
tall
. I felt like turning around and running away. What were they doing here? If we were anywhere besides my mom’s hippie-infested flower shop, I’m sure the sight of Grayson and Lacey would’ve sent the place into a panic. As it is, the hippies only like Bob Marley and The Beatles.

Suddenly, Serena pushed past the two of them and made her way through the throng toward me. Serena totally fit in with her black-and-neon-green dreadlocks, oversized peace symbol earrings, and floor-length floral-print dress.

“Holly!” she cried before pulling me into a bone-crushing hug.

“What are you guys doing here?” I asked once she’d released me from her clutches.

“We thought we’d come by and say hello,” Serena said with a grin. She looked around at the lime-green walls, the many dream catchers, and the “Make Floral Arrangements, Not War” lettering on the wall. “This place is
amazing
. Your mom has fantastic taste. Did she decorate herself?”

“Yeah, she did. She’s a woman with a budget and an irrational fear of interior designers.”

Lacey and Grayson had arrived by Serena’s side at that point, and Lacey flashed a smile at me. “Despite the smell,” she said, “this place is kind of cool.”

I raised my eyebrows so high I’m pretty sure they vanished into my hairline. “Really? You guys like it?” I grew up surrounded by this kind of stuff all the time. Our backyard was always filled with acres of plants, and there was always at least one dream catcher in every room. My mom said it’s because you’re likely to fall asleep in any room. It never occurred to me that people might find this style…cool. Although, if they had to live with it twenty-four-seven, I’m sure they’d get tired of it.

Grayson nodded. “Yeah, your mom has a neat sense of style.” He turned to Lacey and asked, “Do you want some flowers, babe?”
BABE?
They have to be dating if he called her that.

Lacey tucked some of her hair behind her ear. “Of course.”

Grayson’s smile flashed brightly, and he lumbered off into the crowd toward the counter.

“And
no
pink roses!” Lacey shouted after him. She turned to us. “Pink roses are juvenile. It’s so cool that your mom opened her own business!” she said with a surprising amount of glee for someone who doesn’t seem impressed by anything that ever happens to her.

Serena looped her arm through mine. “When are you going to introduce us to your mom? After seeing this place, I have to meet her. She’s a woman after my own heart.”

“Well, maybe I could introduce you guys later; she looks a little busy.”

Serena jumped up and down impatiently. “Please? Let’s go say hello. I want to tell her I love this place, and by association, I already love her.”