Chapter 10 #2
“You’ll be great,” I say before disappearing behind the screen with my gown. Once I slip into it, I grab the silver-plated combs from my purse. I use the selfie mode on my phone to quickly fix my hair. I emerge just as Leo jumps out of the truck.
His gaze sweeps over me. “Red’s your color.”
I raise a brow. “You told me black was.”
“Right.” He grins, but his eyes remain fixed on me. “I can’t believe you made that.”
“Thank you.” I’m no Edith Head, but I’m proud of this dress as if I designed it. I wish Gran could see everything. I press my lips together. No sad thoughts tonight.
Because it’s nearly go time.
It takes us thirty minutes to crawl across town and get in the parade line. We meet up with Mom and Leonard already in full costume. I make the awkward introductions.
“Mom, this is …” How am I supposed to introduce him? As Remington? Leo?
He answers for me by sticking out his hand. “I’m Leo.”
Mom shoots me a sly smile that makes me want to hide under the trailer.
I can’t have her making cringy remarks as some sort of weird psychological move for all the times she never embarrassed me during my teens.
“I’m glad to meet you,” she responds sweetly.
“I’m April. But tonight, I’m Judy Haynes.
Greta outdid herself.” Pride coats her voice as she glances over.
“People are always saying we look like sisters, right?”
Always is a stretch. It happened once. And the person who made such a claim, Mrs. Haskell, has had four LASIK surgeries, so I wouldn’t count her as a reliable source. Yet Mom does have a youthful glow about her. She can easily pass for early to mid-thirties.
I finish the introductions. “And this is Leonard, one of the founding members of the Mavericks.” I smooth out Leonard’s collar. “He’s our Phil Davis.”
Leo shakes his hand. “Greta’s talked about you.”
The older man tugs a slip of paper from his pocket and shoves it into Leo’s palm. “This is all you need to know.” The Maverick claps his shoulder, and I wince, knowing full well what he just handed an unsuspecting Leo.
Leo begins reading, and his eyes dart to mine. “Is this … an obituary?”
“Course it is.” Leonard huffs. “Tells you my life story. Saves on small talk.”
Mom laughs, but I wonder if I should’ve prepared Leo better for this encounter.
Leo politely reads the life summary until his head rears back. “This says you dated Marilyn Monroe.”
“The butcher’s daughter,” I insert. “Not the icon.”
“She was iconic enough for me.” The decrepit Don Jaun gives an exaggerated wink and elbows Leo.
Just as the Maverick is giving Leo a detailed rundown of his time with Marilyn, the butcher’s daughter, Tilly approaches wearing a pink bunny costume. This day can’t get any weirder.
“Don’t laugh.” Her bottom lip rolls out. “I drew the short straw. Literally.”
“Going out on a limb here, but I’m guessing A Christmas Story ?”
She adjusts an ear. “I pulled for It’s a Wonderful Life . I even have a wig set in victory rolls, but no.”
“When did you get a wig?”
She scowls. “You’re not keeping up with the real issue here. Tell me, on a scale of one to ten, how ridiculous do I look?”
I step back and take her in. From her wired ears to her bunny-slippered feet, her outfit is nearly an exact replica from the movie. I’m impressed, but I don’t think Tilly would appreciate my remarks on the craftsmanship. “You look very warm.”
“That means ten.” She exhales a sigh. “But I am actually warm. If someone pulls my tail, I won’t be accountable for my actions.
” She seems to put aside her current rabbit drama and studies my gown.
“But you. You look beautiful. Though, where’s your red lipstick?
Betty Haynes always has red lips.” She pulls out a bag from some hidden compartment in her bunny suit. “Come here.”
I humor her, mostly because she’s dressed in a bunny suit. It’s a humble day for the beauty queen. Tilly, who’s used to wearing glitz and glam, has googly eyes on her feet. She applies the lipstick and hands me a tissue to blot.
“There.” She fixes a lock of my hair. “You look like a movie star and me a giant Peep. Whatever. I’m good.
Actually, I’m great.” The glow returns to her face.
“I didn’t get to tell you yet, but Mitchell gave me my Christmas gift early.
He’s gotta go to NYC for something. Don’t ask because I can’t remember.
But”—she clasps her hands together—“he’s taking his baby sis along. Complete with Rockette tickets!”
Along with beauty pageants, Tilly also had dreams of being a Rockette, but she’s a quarter inch too short. “Ah, you get to see the kick line in person!”
“Yes, the fifteenth can’t come any sooner.”
“Oh, the fifteenth?”
Her smile drops. “Oh my gosh. I can’t believe I forgot. I won’t leave you alone that day. I’m the worst best friend.”
I glance at Leo. He’s a lot closer than I thought. Needing to end this conversation quickly, I tug Tilly out of his earshot. “I’m fine. Nothing I can’t handle.” I brush at some pilled fur on her shoulder. “I won’t let you throw away this chance.”
She gives me a hug. “We’ll FaceTime that day.”
I nod, even as I hear the parade manager signal we’re about to start. “Now head back to your float, Ralphie. And keep clear of Red Ryder BB guns.”
She jogs away, her bunny ears flopping.
Mom’s already on the float, but Leonard’s in deep conversation with Leo, and by the Maverick’s mischievous look, he’s totally scheming something.
Better put a stop to that. I order Leonard to the trailer and say a parting “thank you” to Leo as he jumps behind the wheel.
The parade begins, and Leo dutifully pulls us at a snail’s pace along Main Street.
I’m tossing candy, keeping an eye out for the shy, bashful kids too gentle-tempered to elbow their way to the front.
Meanwhile, Leonard’s lobbing the treats like he’s in the running for the Heisman.
“Leonard, don’t hurt small children. Easy on the tossing.”
He harumphs, and Mom subtly nudges the candy tub out of his reach.
We approach the judges’ station, and Leo slows the truck to a stop.
He jumps out of the driver’s side and rounds back toward the float.
I glance over at Leonard who’s inserting a CD rather than connecting to my Bluetooth, but before I can question him, the music starts playing.
He shoves the microphone into Leo’s hand with a “Don’t mess it up.
” It’s safe to say, the Maverick won’t be replacing Fletcher as a keynote motivational speaker.
Leo looks at me as if he’s about to utter his final words. “If this doesn’t prove how sorry I am for standing you up, I’m out of ideas.”
I laugh and it’s almost his cue to start singing, but the music switches to some sort of techno version.
I gasp and shoot a glare at the aged delinquent. “Leonard, what did you do?”
“It’s one of those remixes.” The old man grins. “Snazzy, huh?”
Never trust a man who says snazzy. I knew he was up to something!
That’s what I get for putting him in charge of the music.
Maybe this loud style is the only kind of music that can penetrate through all his ear hair.
The beat is loud, and people are clapping their hands.
Hip-hop “White Christmas” is a thing now, I guess.
Leo lifts the microphone and … raps the lyrics. I snort. This is absolutely not what I pictured, but somehow, it’s better. Leo’s style matches the hip-hop vibe, and he’s actually pretty decent. Then there’s old Leonard attempting a beatbox.
Mom and I share a laugh because it’s hilarious in an awesome kind of way. Somehow, Leo finds his way to my side. Because of the faster tempo, he finishes the first verse quickly. During the break in the vocals, he offers me the microphone.
I freeze.
In the movie, the second verse is when Betty joins Bob. But I’m Greta—the girl who once passed out at the fifth-grade spelling bee. One minute I’m spelling “architecture,” and the next, the gym teacher’s blowing a whistle in my ear. All this to say, I should’ve warned Leo.
I’m not sure if he read the fear on my face or if he’s just caught up in the moment because he slides his hand in mine and says, “Anything for Gran.”
He couldn’t have uttered anything more powerful. For Gran. I’d do anything for her. Even face my childhood phobia. Plus I’m not by myself, Leo’s singing with me.
I haul in a deep breath and join in. I’m terrible at rapping, but I keep going, and Leo’s grin is encouraging me.
What I thought was going to be a terrible day is turning out to be memorable … in a not horrible way.
Until old Leonard decides it’s his turn for his solo debut and takes the mic. I spend the rest of the parade route apologizing to the crowd for his questionable dance moves.