Page 46 of How to Kiss a Movie Star
I bark out a laugh, quickly lifting my hand and pressing it to my mouth to cut off the sound. Audrey’s eyes widen—she made it clear I’m supposed to be silent—but she’s just as close to laughing as I am. And rightly so. Audrey’s parents are hilarious.
“Dad! Don’t you dare get the baseball bat. Mom, do you have any nuts? Walnuts, maybe? Or pecans?”
There’s some rustling, then Audrey’s mom whispers, “I have walnuts. And peanuts.”
“Go for the walnuts. You and dad get out of the RV, then leave a few walnuts on the floor leading to the door, and a few more on the ground outside. Then just relax for a minute. I promise that squirrel is no more excited about being trapped in your RV than you are about it being there.”
“Right. Nuts. I can do that. Gah! It’s coming at me! Derek! Get out of the way, you oaf!”
Audrey shoots me another exasperated look, and I press my lips together, still fighting laughter.
“He took the nut!” her mom whisper-yells. “Audrey! He took it!”
“That’s good!” Audrey whispers back. “Are you outside?”
I love that Audrey is whispering too.
“We’re outside,” her dad says. “Are you sure I can’t use this bat?”
“I’ll never forgive you if you do,” Audrey says.
Her mom squeals. “He took another one! It’s working!”
A few seconds of silence pass, then her mom cheers into the phone! “He’s free! Ohhh, and look. He seems happy to have something to eat.”
“Mom, please don’t start feeding the squirrels, all right? This is a one-time deal. Is everything okay now?”
“Thanks to you,” her mom says. “How areyou? Everything going all right?”
“Everything’s great, but I’m not really in a place where I can chat. If you’re okay, can I call you later?”
“Oh, of course. Squirrel crisis averted!” her mom says. “Call us anytime. Love you, Auds!”
Her dad’s voice echoes her mom’s. “Love you! Tell your sisters hello!”
Audrey ends the call and drops the phone onto her towel. “So that was my parents,” she says, her eyes still laughing.
“They sound fun,” I say.
“They really are. You can follow them on TikTok if you want. They’re traveling the country in an RV, documenting their adventures, and they’ve gained quite the following.”
“Really? That’s awesome.”
“They’re pretty adorable. They were both music professors at UNC-Asheville until they retired together last summer and decided they felt like traveling.”
“I love that.”
She smiles, her expression warm and genuine in a way that can only mean the relationship she has with her parents is a good one. “Mom plays the cello, and Dad the violin. They have their instruments with them, and wherever they stop for the night, they have these impromptu concerts. Mostly in RV parks. But they’ve done them in the lobbies of hotels, in restaurant parking lots, in public parks.” She reaches for her phone. “Here. Look. I’ll show you the one that went viral.”
She scrolls and clicks a few times before she holds it up, the video already playing. I move through the water to get close enough to see, stopping just in front of her and dropping my hands onto her knees. She doesn’t flinch or move away, so I assume it’s okay.
Her parents are sitting in the middle of a gravel road, her mom sitting on a small stool while her dad stands behind her with his violin. They’re wearing Tevas and casual clothes and floppy sun hats, and there’s a small playground and a giant sign behind them that reads “Frank’s RV Park and Campground.” The music though—it’s polished and refined and a complete contrast to the casual surroundings. “That’s Bach, right?” I ask. “His two-part inventions?”
Audrey’s eyebrows shoot up. “You know classical music?”
“Little bit.” I hand back her phone. “Your parents are great. I’m not surprised they’ve gained a following.”
“Hold up,” Audrey says, setting her phone down behind her. “People who knowa little bitof classical musicrecognize Pachelbel Canon. But Bach’s Two-Part Inventions?”
