Page 41 of The Rom-Commers

“I’m telling you, young man,” my dad continued, “if I had a nickel for every time this girl read a piece of your dialogue out loud to me over dinner, I’d have a whole hell of a lot of nickels.”

Charlie’s eyebrows went up, like he hadn’t realized my admiration for him extended toreading dialogue from his works aloud.

I wasn’t even sure how to protest that. I mean, it was true.

“Tell Charlie Yates about your tattoo of his face!” Sylvie called then.

Charlie’s look of surprise contracted into a frown of concern—but I shook my head, likeHell no. “She’s joking,” I said. Then, to be clear, “I donothave a tattoo of your face.”

“You do have a photo of him taped over your desk, though,” Sylvie said.

I should have denied that, too. “But that’s forwriting motivation only.”

“Sure it is,” Sylvie said.

“How’s the writing going?” my dad asked, like a proud parent.

“We haven’t started yet,” I said, grateful for the change of topic.

Charlie jumped in, “We’re hammering out details.”

I took the wheel of the conversation and turned the attention off myself. “How are you guys? How’s everything there? What are Dad’s sodium numbers?”

“I knew you’d ask!” Sylvie said, and then she held up a Post-it with the number716on it. “Grand total of milligrams from yesterday,” she said, likeBoom!, and then put her hand up in the frame for a high five.

I high-fived the phone.

“Stop worrying,” my dad said then. “We’re fine. Mrs. Otsuka’s having us over for dinner tonight.”

I pointed at my dad. “No soy sauce.”

My dad looked insulted I would even say it. “I wouldn’t dare.”

“We’re much more worried aboutyou,” Sylvie said.

“I’m also fine,” I said then, not sure at all if that was true. And then, before I could decide, or god forbidcry again, a car pulled up in the driveway.

Logan’s Beemer.

“What the hell is he doing here?” I asked as Charlie and I stared at it.

That’s when my dad said, “We won’t keep you! You’ve got a fancy Hollywood life to lead.”

I blew kisses at the phone, and by the time I’d hung up, Charlie and Logan were staring each other down.

I walked up to them, and at the sight of my teary face, Logan said, “What did you do to her, man?”

“I’m fine,” I said. “My dad and Sylvie just called.”

“Is your dad okay?” Logan asked at once. He got it.

“All fine,” I said. “It just made me homesick.”

Logan got that, too. “Why didn’t you reply to my texts yesterday?”

“Because I was mad at you,” I said, likeDuh.

“And what,” Logan said, looking back and forth between us like he sensed a newly formed alliance, “is going on here?”

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