Strike a Pose (Blame It on Fame #1)

42. Willow

Chapter 42

Willow

I open the door to the family’s apartment in LA, where Aspen is currently staying too, despite owning her own house twenty minutes away. Tito follows behind me, carrying a huge box of Aspen’s favorite New York treat, Levain cookies.

“Willow!” Aspen calls, bounding down the hallway. “Congratulations on making things official with Riley!”

“No, I should be the one congratulating you for landing the lead in a Jack Mack film,” I reply, pulling her into a tight hug. “I brought you a little something from New York to celebrate.”

Tito steps out from behind me, and Aspen sees the huge blue box. “Holy shit! Levain? Willow, you shouldn't have,” she squeals giddily, in a way, reassuring me that I very much should have.

She thanks Tito and grabs the box, tearing into it. “Ooo,” she says at the sight of the twenty-four cookies in front of her. She grabs a dark chocolate peanut butter one and takes a huge bite, her eyes practically rolling back in her head. “Willow, these are amazing ,” she moans .

“I’m glad you like them.” I smile. “I know I should’ve gotten you something bigger for such a huge accomplishment, but this was the best I could do on a time crunch.”

“No, don’t be silly. These are perfect. Actually, I also bought you something to celebrate your new beau.”

“Please don’t ever say the word ‘beau’ again,” I tease. “And seriously, you didn’t have to get me anything.”

“Yes, I did. You never date anyone. This is a momentous occasion. Look on the kitchen counter,” she says around a mouthful of cookie.

I do as she says and see a huge bouquet of multicolored flowers. It’s large enough to take up half the kitchen island…and that’s a feat, considering this isn’t a small kitchen by any stretch of the imagination.

“Aspen, these are beautiful.”

“Almost as beautiful as you.”

“As if you don’t look just like me.”

“Exactly, that’s why I said it.”

Maple rounds a corner, followed by my parents.

“Hey, Willow. Congratulations on going public.” Maple wraps me in a hug and snags a chocolate chip cookie from the box.

“Seriously, honey, we’re so proud of you. It’s a big step, but you won’t regret it. Just keep off the news sites for about a week or so,” my mom says.

“I know, Mom,” I say, giving her a hug. She sees me eyeing her wavy ravenette locks.

“I thought I’d try something new.” She shrugs. “There’s a small upside to losing your hair to chemo, and it’s getting to try out all different sorts of hair colors and styles. The wig supplier for your dad’s films was kind enough to lend me a month’s worth of wigs at a time. A new style every day.” She beams .

“Yesterday, she was wearing a lime green bob.” Maple shudders. “You’re lucky you came today.”

“You know, I really liked that one. Maybe that’ll be my new signature style.”

Maple groans. “Please, no, Mom.”

She winks at her youngest child. “I’ll do it just to annoy you.”

“How was New York?” Dad asks, giving me a hug.

“It was good. Still standing.”

“I miss it.” Mom sighs wistfully. “The second I’m done with this chemo, we’re going back there, Bobby.”

“Fine by me,” Dad affirms. “My film is almost wrapped, and I could fly back to LA for the production process a few days at a time.”

“And by this time next year, you’ll have another Oscar?” I goad.

“Well, it’ll be this time in two years. The release date is next March.”

“Hey, maybe you and Aspen will win Oscars together, then,” Maple suggests. “Isn’t your Jack Mack film set to release sometime next year, too?”

“Probably a bit later than Dad’s since we don’t start filming for a couple more months. But hypothetically, yeah, it’ll be released next year.”

“Just think, my two favorite movie stars winning Oscars together.” My mom smiles. “Thank me in your acceptance speech?”

“You’ve already been thanked in three Oscars acceptance speeches.” Dad rolls his eyes playfully. “And you were nominated for one.”

“But I never won one. And you know it doesn’t count unless you’ve been thanked in at least five Oscars speeches. I’m counting on you two. ”

“Is that the rule?” Dad smiles bemusedly.

“It is now. Get that fourth Oscar so we can at least beat Mercer, that cocky fuck.”

“Is this about the bet you made with him when you were drunk in East Hampton?”

“No,” Mom lies.

“What bet?” Maple asks.

“Four years ago, your mother made a bet with James Mercer over who would win a fourth Oscar first—him or me. So far, it’s still a tied game.”

“What did you bet?” Aspen asks.

“I wanted Princess Leia’s golden bikini, and he wanted Trykie.” Mom shrugs, referencing the partial triceratops fossil my dad has tucked away in the den of our Hamptons home.

“I still think that was a bad bet,” Dad grumbles. “I mean, how much can a bikini be worth?”

“And how much can a dead animal be worth?”

“More than a bikini,” Dad answers.

“Well, that’s all the more reason for you to win that fourth Oscar first, Bobby,” Mom cajoles.

“So, how are you doing, Mom?” I ask, capitalizing on the brief pause in conversation.

“Since three days ago, when you last saw me? Nothing’s changed. I’m still doing well. The doctors say the chemo is working…I just wish it would work faster and with fewer side effects.”

“Still feeling super nauseous all the time?” I ask. My mom has always been naturally thin, but right now, she looks thinner than I’ve ever seen her.

“Yeah. It’s been a diet of ‘whatever I can stomach at the time,’ so not the healthiest balance. Mostly cereal and banana bread. ”

“She’s a fighter, though,” Dad says. “With the progress she’s making, the doctors say she’ll be in remission in no time.”

“It’s easy to be a fighter when there’s no choice,” Mom adds.

“Don’t diminish your accomplishments, Iz. Getting up every morning is fight enough, you know that.”

“I know. See, Will? You need someone who will cheer for you like your dad cheers for me. Does Riley cheer for you?”

I chuckle. “Yes, Mom.”

“Good.”

“When are we going to meet this guy, anyway?” Dad asks.

“I’m afraid you’ll scare him half to death,” I tease. “He still gets nervous when he remembers who I am. I can’t imagine throwing him to my entire pack of wolves.”

“We’ll play nice,” Aspen says with a mischievous smile.

“Yeah, we won’t bite,” Maple adds, with a look that screams that she will, in fact, bite.

“Maybe in a few months. He’s still getting used to his own fame, let alone ours. Your interrogation will have to wait, Dad.”

“I wouldn’t interrogate him…”

“Yes, you would.” My mom laughs. “I remember laying in the hospital bed holding Willow, and you said that you’d tear any boy to shreds who tried to hurt your sweet girl.”

“I was emotional.” Dad chuckles. “I’ll play nice if you bring him, Willow—scout’s honor.”

“We’ll see. Maybe in a month or so. Aspen’s already met and pre-vetted him.”

“I met him very briefly. I’d like to vet again.”

“I want to meet him,” Maple interjects.

“Maple, you’d be the worst out of any of us. You’d scare him senseless.”

“But I’m not even famous. ”

“First of all, you’re Maple Jordan. You’ll always be famous,” Dad tells her. “Second of all, yes, you’d make that poor guy piss his pants.”

“Dad!” Maple laughs. “I would not.”

“I don’t believe you,” I say. “But I’ll pre-warn him that you failed an exam, so you’re in a bad mood.”

“Hey! Do not say I failed an exam. Any other excuse, but not that one.”

“That you were recently diagnosed with rabies?” Aspen offers.

“Better than failing an exam.”

“See why I’m hesitant to bring him?” I ask.

Aspen smiles. “Come on, you know you have the greatest family in the world.”

“I do,” I confirm. “I love you guys.”

“We love you, too,” Mom says, bringing us all in for a group hug. “Now, who wants my homemade tater-tot casserole for dinner?” she asks, referencing her signature dish. It’s a remnant of her childhood in Indiana and a family favorite. “I may not be able to stomach it, but I sure can cook it.”

She winks at me as she nudges her way into the kitchen, letting our chef know that she can take off for the night.