Page 87 of Fangirl Down

“I know. I’m sorry you have to live with that, Mom. It’s not fair.”

Jim settled a hand on her shoulder. “You’re worth ten lifetimes of it.”

“Thanks.” A watery laugh bubbled out of Josephine. “This conversation is getting way too heavy.” She used the edge of her shirt to swipe at her eyes. “Quick, somebody say something funny.”

“Good idea,” Jim said quickly.

Her parents searched each other’s faces for a moment until finally Evelyn snapped her fingers. “Oh honey, what was it Wells said this morning that had you in stitches?”

Wells?This morning?Josephine’s mouth fell open.

Jim slapped his knee. “He told me there’s a tree at the ninth hole at Torrey Pines where all the golfers go to drain the weasel. It’s tradition! They call it the Pissing Tree. And it’s the fastest growing tree on the course—he swore up and down!”

Josephine couldn’t even begin to process that. They were going to be at Torrey Pines next week, though, so she pocketed the valuable information for future use. “Why were you speaking to Wells?”

“He calls your father every day, dear.”

“Hewhat?”

Jim crossed his fingers. “He’s trying to wrangle me a ticket to the Masters.”

“What do you talk about?”

“Golf. What else? Although...,” Jim hedged.

“What?” Josephine prompted.

“Well, he usually manages to sneak in a few questions about you, Joey-Roo.” He paused, looking sheepish. “Come to think of it, that might be the real reason he’s calling.”

“Oh no, helovesyou, honey,” Evelyn assured him.

Jim’s chest puffed up. “He does, doesn’t he?”

“Yes.”

Josephine stared at her parents. “What does he ask about me?”

“Well...” Her father scratched his head. “He’s crafty about it. See, we were having a conversation about golf clubs and he says, very casually mind you, ‘What kind of sticks does Josephine use?’ And it goes like that.”

Obviously, there was no satisfaction to be had from this line of questioning.

“He asked about her birthday,” volunteered Evelyn. “Remember?”

“Oh yes. He wanted to know the date.”

“Why?”

“Well, how amIsupposed to know, Josephine?”

“By asking!”

“Wells doesn’t like questions.”

“Oh, for the love of—” Josephine pushed to her feet. “If he wants to know anything else about me, he can ask me himself.”

Jim gave a firm nod. “I’ll be sure to let him know that during our next chat.”

“Good.”

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