Just One Wish

by Janette Rallison

  I let out an insulted gasp. “I’m seventeen.”

  Steve flinched, and I remembered I wasn’t supposed to say anything. He said, “She’s just a friend. Now, would you all mind getting away from my car. We’re about to go visit with her family.”

  They still didn’t move. The sidewalk felt claustrophobic.

  “If she’s just a friend, why is she wearing your clothes?”

  Steve didn’t answer. Instead he turned and pulled me through the group back across the street and to the restaurant.

  We went inside. The smell of food engulfed me, but didn’t make me feel hungry. My stomach had tightened into a ball of nerves while I’d been jostled by the photographers. Steve asked the hostess if we could have a private room to make a phone call. Without questioning him, she led us to an office and told him to let her know if he needed anything else. She fluttered her eyelashes and smiled at him as she said this.

  Only after the door shut did Steve let go of my arm. He pulled out his cell phone and glared at me. “Two minutes,” he said. “I can’t believe you didn’t last two minutes before you told a group of reporters you were seventeen.”

  “I don’t really look fourteen, do I?”

  “No.” He pressed speed dial and held the phone to his ear. “That guy tricked you into telling him how old you were and you fell for it. Now they’re all going to report that—” The call went through and he stopped midsentence and started a new conversation.

  “Hello, Sergeant Garcia, this is Steve Raleigh. I’m down at the Holland Grill, and I have so many photographers blocking my car I can’t get to it. Can you send an officer down to clear them out?” A short pause followed, then Steve said, “Great. I really appreciate it.”

  He said good-bye, flipped the phone shut, and slipped it back into his pocket.

  “You have the police on your speed dial?” I asked.

  He let out a grunt. “And you wouldn’t believe how often it comes in handy.” He went to the window and peered through one of the slits in the shutters. I stared at his profile, tracing the lines of his face with my eyes. He really was impossibly handsome.

  “Are they still there?” I asked.

  “Oh, yeah, and on their cell phones.” He put one hand to his temple as though he’d developed a headache. “Why couldn’t you have stayed in the car like I asked you to?”

  “Because you seem so worried about your privacy—I thought you’d want to know about the photographers. It didn’t look like just a friendly meeting between you and Karli, by the way.”

  “Yeah, she had some other ideas.”

  “I told you she wanted you back.” The words prickled me, although I knew they shouldn’t. It shouldn’t matter to me who he dated.

  “More likely she wanted some publicity for her new album.” He shook his head. “I should have suspected something when she wanted to meet for dinner at five o’clock. Anytime a celebrity wants to meet you outside when the lighting is at its best, be suspicious.”

  “It doesn’t make sense.” I considered Karli for a moment: the bitter breakup songs she’d written, the way she’d lured him to the restaurant and draped her arms around him, how she’d yelled at me and stomped off. “She’s acting more like you broke up with her and not the other way around.”

  He didn’t say anything, just looked out the window again.

  And then it made sense. “You did break up with her, didn’t you?”

  He turned back to me and I could tell from his expression I’d been right. He shrugged instead of admitting it, though. “That doesn’t matter. What matters now is if we’re going to spend several hours together, you’ve got to do a better job of listening to me. In the future, if I tell you not to get out of the car, don’t get out of the car.”

  “I wouldn’t have had to if you paid attention to me when I tried to tell you about the paparazzi the first time.”

  “I thought you were telling me to hurry so we could go.”

  I walked over to the desk and sat down on the chair with a thud. “I wouldn’t be that rude.”

  He laughed, but I didn’t see what was funny, so I arched my eyebrows at him.

  He leaned against the wall and surveyed me. “You sneaked into a stadium and the studio lot, you pretended to be people you weren’t, brought a snake into a place with horses, broke out of my trailer, and stole my lucky poker shirt—but you’re offended that I might think you’re rude?”

  I leaned back in the chair and folded my arms. “There is a difference between being determined and being rude.”

  He laughed again.

  “You out of all people should understand. Sometimes you have to take matters into your own hands. I’m just doing what Robin Hood would have done.”

  The amusement didn’t leave his face. “Which is why many characters on the show want to string Robin Hood up.”

  “Don’t give me a hard time. You’d do the exact same thing if it meant helping your little brother.”

  His expression momentarily tensed, and I remembered he was estranged from his family.

  I tried to soften my last statement. “I mean, if you had a little brother. I don’t know if you do.”

  “I do,” he said. “He’s your age.”

  “Oh.” The room grew awkwardly quiet. It seemed like I should say something else. “Are you close?”

  “We used to be, but my family lives in Apple Valley now.” He must have seen my blank look because he added, “It’s about ninety miles away, so I don’t see him much anymore.”

  Ninety miles didn’t seem that far away, but I didn’t press the point.

  After a few more minutes, a police car arrived and the paparazzi scattered. We walked back to the car, this time without Steve guiding me by the arm.

  I shouldn’t have missed it, but I did.

  Chapter 12

  We pulled away from the restaurant and made our way through the streets of Beverly Hills. Almost immediately, we hit rush-hour traffic. And not the normal rush-hour traffic I was used to. We hit insane, there-are-way-too-many-people-in-California traffic. It took us more than an hour to make it through LA and then it was stop-and-go all along I-15.

  While we crept along the road, Steve asked me about Jeremy and what he expected Robin Hood to do. So I talked about Jeremy for a while. Then I alternated between staring at the cars around us, staring at the speedometer, and waiting for the digital clock to switch numbers: 6:37 . . . 6:38. . . .

  “Tell me more about Jeremy,” Steve said.

  “Why?”

  “Because you only relax when you talk about him. I’m afraid if we spend much more time in traffic you’ll completely claw your armrest apart.”

  “I couldn’t possibly claw anything,” I said. “I bit off all my fingernails in your trailer.” Still, I told him more about Jeremy. I went on for over an hour. It all spilled out, even things I wouldn’t normally have told a stranger, like my trip to Toys “R” Us and the guy in the leather jacket who’d chased me through the store.

  That part made Steve smile. “The poor slob. He didn’t know who he was up against—the incarnation of Robin Hood as a teenage girl.”

  Finally I said, “I’ve done enough talking. It’s your turn. Why don’t you tell me something about yourself.”

  He kept his eyes on the road. “I thought you already knew everything about me. Two Broadway shows, three movies, a toothpaste commercial—”

  “I’m sure a few things have escaped my attention.”

  “Probably not. I’m not that interesting.”

  After spilling my guts to him, this felt like a splash of cold water. It was as though he’d told me we were still strangers or, worse yet, that he didn’t trust me. Which, now that I thought about it, was probably the case. I’d never given him a reason to trust me.

  I looked out the window. “I suppose not.”

  “You suppose I’m not that interesting?” he said.

  “I’m only agreeing with you. I thought celebrities expected that sort
of treatment.”

  A grin slid across his face. “Now I’m the typical ego-maniac TV star?”

  “Well, how would I know any differently if you won’t say anything about yourself?”

  He glanced my way, contemplating me. “How did you know I was the one who broke up with Karli?”

  I didn’t know why he was taking this conversational detour. I shrugged at him. “I could tell by the way she looked at you.”

  “And you knew Karli wanted more than just dinner before I even pulled up to the restaurant. How did you know that?”

  I shrugged again. “I’m a girl. I know how girls think.” Especially when hot guys were involved.

  He gave me a penetrating look. “That is why I don’t want to tell you anything about myself. Do you know what I know about you, Annika? You’re the type of girl who gets whatever she wants. You smile and doors open for you, but if that doesn’t work, you’re not above manipulating people and events. I know the type. Karli was the same way.”

  I opened my mouth to protest, but he held up his hand. “I’m not saying I don’t admire your confidence, because I do. But the thing is, I can already tell you’re smarter than Karli and more intuitive than most people, and that worries me. I’m in the car with a smarter, more cunning version of Karli. You’d be cautious about what you said about yourself too.”

  I leaned back against the seat. “I’m not sure whether to feel complimented or insulted.”

  “And you’re only seventeen . . . ,” he said to himself.

  “You’re only nineteen,” I pointed out.

  “Yeah, but nine of those years have been spent in Hollywood. Hollywood years are like dog years, so I’m really—”

  “Seventy-three.”

  “And you can do math problems in your head.” He let out a sigh. “I’m not saying another word around you.”

  “Why? Are you hiding something?”

  He smiled. “Of course I am. Everybody hides things. I bet you’re hiding things too.”

  I ran my fingers through my hair. “I’ll tell you a confession if you’ll tell me one.”

  He nodded as though considering it. “Okay.”

  “I can’t really cry on demand. That was a total lie. I actually don’t cry at all.”

  I thought it would make him laugh, but instead his eyebrows drew together. “That isn’t healthy.”

  “Right. I’ll add that to my list right behind driving too fast and draping snakes around my neck.”

  He smiled, but his eyes were intent. “I think you’re the kind of person who refuses to take things seriously.”

  This from a guy who made a living wearing tights. “I take some things seriously. I take Jeremy’s illness seriously.”

  He glanced at me, reading me like he might have read a passing sign. “Yes, you do. And you’re used to plowing over obstacles to get what you want. It must be hard for you to finally run into something you can’t control.”

  “I don’t need to control it,” I said. “I just need to find a way to tip the odds in my brother’s favor.” I was lying, though. I needed to control it. I needed to win this time more than I had ever needed to win anything. To change the subject, I said, “So what’s your confession?”

  He eyed me over, and I could tell he was debating what to say. Finally he turned back to the road. “My confession is I’m intuitive too.”

  “That’s a confession?”

  “I didn’t have to tell you. I could have gone on figuring out stuff about you without warning you.”

  Which made me feel as though he had just confessed to reading my mind. “What exactly do you mean when you say ‘intuitive’?”

  “Intuitive means you can tell things about people, you know, like when they’re lying to you.”

  “Oh, you mean like when you confessed to being intuitive, but I could tell that wasn’t your original confession. You meant to say something else and then changed your mind.”

  He moved in his seat uncomfortably. “Right. Like that.”

  “What were you going to say?”

  “That I’m hungry. I think I’ll get off at this exit, fill up the car, and buy something to eat.”

  “Oh, see—I can tell you’re lying.”

  “No, I’m actually hungry. It’s almost eight.”

  I put my hand on the back of his seat and leaned closer to him. “Come on, what were you going to say?”

  But he didn’t even glance at me. He pulled off at the exit to Barstow, looked at his GPS, and told me we still had about 150 miles to go. Two hours. Then he said, “So, you never told me—do your parents know where you are?”

  “Well, no. I sort of forgot to tell them.” I’d meant to call my parents when I’d first left the city with Steve. It was okay to tell them what I’d done now because Steve had agreed to come with me. They couldn’t yell at me for going off on some wild goose chase when I was bringing the goose back to meet Jeremy.

  I pulled my phone out of my pocket and turned it on. I’d missed three messages from my parents. I listened to them while Steve found a gas station. First I heard my mother’s voice telling me to come home. In the second message she sounded more frantic, asking where I was and why hadn’t I called. Didn’t I realize the last thing my parents needed right now was for me to disappear and not answer my phone? It was irresponsible of me, and we were going to have a long talk about my behavior when I got home.

  The third message had been left only minutes ago. It was my father using his forced calm voice, which meant my mother was too upset to speak with me. He said he had spoken with Madison’s parents and knew about our road trip to California. He thought it was the most foolish thing I’d ever done in my life, and he couldn’t believe it of me. Didn’t I realize the danger I’d put myself in, that I’d put Madison in? Didn’t I realize the inconvenience I’d caused for Steve Raleigh? Was it really worth all of that so Jeremy could meet someone he saw on TV? Jeremy would have been just as happy with a trip to see Santa at the mall. Dad added that he wanted me to call right away.

  While Steve pulled up in front of the gas station and shut off the car, I lay my phone in my lap and felt sick. I had really thought Dad would understand. A part of me even thought he’d be proud of me for doing something this big for Jeremy.

  Steve opened the car door but turned back to face me.“I’m going to get something to eat. Do you want anything?”

  “I’m not hungry.”

  “You should eat something anyway.” He looked at the phone on my lap, then back at my face. “Come on, you knew your parents would be angry.”

  “Maybe I’m not as intuitive as you thought.”

  He smiled, but his eyes were serious. “You knew—otherwise, you would have told them before now.”

  I watched him walk into the gas station, but not even the sight of his broad shoulders and faded jeans could take my mind off the impending phone call.

  I speed-dialed home. Jeremy picked up after about two seconds. He said, “Annika, where are you?”

  “I’m driving back to Nevada. And, hey, I talked to my genie about your Teen Robin Hood wish. You’ll get that soon—before you go in for surgery.”

  Instead of being excited, his voice brimmed with reproach. “Mom and Dad are really worried about you. Mom cried at dinner.”

  Great.

  I heard the phone being taken away from Jeremy and then Leah’s voice. “You realize you’re in a boatload of trouble, don’t you?”

  “Yeah.”

  Her voice dropped to a whisper. “Did you actually drive all the way to California to try and find Steve Raleigh?”

  “Yeah, he’s with me right now.”

  “Steve Raleigh is with you?” I could hear the doubt in her voice. “The Steve Raleigh?”

  No, some random Steve Raleigh I found wandering around the street. Honestly, Leah refuses to believe that I am a competent person. In her mind I will always be perpetually thirteen years old. “Yes,” I told her. “He’s driving back to Henderson with
me.”

  “Uh-huh.” Still doubt. “Can I talk to him?”

  “Well, he’s not actually with me this second. He’s inside the gas station buying something for dinner.”

  “Ahh. Of course. Because celebrities eat at gas stations all the time.”

  “It really is him.” I didn’t get to say more because my father took a hold of the phone.

  He asked where I was, whether I was okay, and then laid into me, repeating everything he’d already said in his message, but with a harsher tone this time. This trip of mine was irresponsible, dangerous, and I’d lied to them about where I was going.

  But I couldn’t stop thinking that he was just like Leah. He was mad because he still thought of me as thirteen years old. “I’m sorry I lied to you about all of this,” I said. “But I had to try and help Jeremy, and I knew you wouldn’t let me go otherwise.”

  “Of course we wouldn’t have let you go. You’re never to go anywhere, anywhere without getting our permission first.” He said a lot after that, but my mind kept circling around those phrases. I realized that my parents had been holding on to Jeremy so fervently, they’d tightened their grip on me too. And perhaps I was just as guilty of clinging to them. But no matter what happened with Jeremy, I had to grow up and make decisions—even bad ones, for myself. I already had.

  I said, “Dad, I’m going away to college in less than a year. Can’t you trust my judgment a little? I pulled off this impossible thing to help Jeremy. Can’t you be happy about that?”

  There was a long pause. When he spoke again his voice sounded softer. “Look, I understand that Jeremy’s cancer has been hard on you. Maybe harder than your mother and I realized. I know we haven’t been giving you the attention that you need.” I wasn’t sure what he meant by that, but I was afraid he was implying this trip had been part of some nervous breakdown. I wondered what Madison had told them.

  “We’ll be there in two hours,” I said. “Let Jeremy stay up until Steve and I come, because Steve’s going to turn around and drive back to California afterward.”

  My dad grumbled about this, said to call him when we hit Nevada, then added again that we’d have a long talk about this when I got home. Which I wasn’t looking forward to. I snapped the phone shut and slipped it into my pocket.