Chapter 5
CHAPTER 5
S aturday morning cartoons blare while we wait for Patty’s segment to air.
Mr. Bruce sits on the loveseat, Nellie takes the couch with me, and Jinxy feasts on his breakfast in the corner beside his portable litterbox.
To make up for my disastrous tasting party, I went all out, preparing fresh fruit, mini quiches, and mimosas to go with the star of the show.
“Okay,” I say, motioning to their plates. “Moment of truth before Patty comes on. Let’s hear what you think.”
They each take a reluctant bite and pin their lips closed while they chew.
Nellie dares for a bigger bite.
Mr. Bruce pops the remainder into his mouth and moans. “Mmm, mmm, mmm!” He reaches for another cookie and inspects it from all sides. “No one’s beating this, and I mean no one.”
My chest puffs. “Thank you.”
Nellie nods in agreement. “Total heaven town. There’s no way she’ll come up with something better than this. If you can outperform her, it’ll be a clean sweep.”
“Exactly,” Mr. Bruce agrees. Jinxy hops onto his lap and starts licking his chin.
I tip my head, trying to unsee the image of what looks like a pink worm wiggling its way from a dull, shriveled walnut.
The weekend news team, James and Jessie, turn the time over after a brief teaser of the headlines.
"For now, it's time for our special Saturday cooking segment with Patty in the Kitchen . Today, she has a special guest with her. Take it away, Patty."
The mention of a special guest has my mind working overtime. The camera pans over to Patty, whose polka dots are red and white today.
And then I spot him, the man standing beside her, and I can barely believe my eyes. It’s none other than her corporate dad.
"Thanks, James,” Patty says. “I’m happy to have this special guest joining me today. While you viewers at home know Conner Mitchell, one of the state’s most successful CEOs—to me, he’s simply Daddy ."
My insides burn with irritation.
“Wow, I wonder where she got the idea to bring her dad on,” Nellie says sarcastically.
“She must have gotten her hands on the numbers,” Mr. Bruce adds. “When your old man and his dog came on your show, we had some of the highest rankings to date.”
I nod because I’m aware of that. In fact, I planned to have my dad come on again, but sadly, he made that impossible.
“Thanks for having me, Patty," Mr. Mitchell says. "But I think we’re missing someone.” It sounds scripted, but from a man with his clout, no one will hold it against him.
Patty gasps. “Missing someone?” I can tell she’s aiming for perplexed, but it reads more soap opera character with an icepick behind her back .
"We can't make today's holiday cookie without Polly,” Mr. Mitchell says.
Nellie spits out her mimosa. " Polly? What the bleep?”
Mr. Bruce strokes Jinxy’s withered neck. "It’s probably a bird, isn’t it? We hate birds, don’t we, Jinx?"
“You’re right, Dad.” Patty whistles. "Polly, oh pretty Polly!"
A bright green bird flutters onto the set and lands softly on Patty’s finger like she’s Cinderella in a cartoon of her own.
"Please let it poop on her dress," Nellie mumbles.
“Her dad and the animal.” Mr. Bruce sounds perturbed.
Polly whistles a catcall, then says to Mr. Mitchell, "What's cooking, good looking?"
Patty wags her finger. "I didn't bring you out here to flirt. How about you tell everyone what cookies we’re making today.”
"Peppermint Patty's Pom-Poms," it squawks on command.
Patty and her dad grin at each other, and a sliver of jealousy cuts through me. I set my mimosa on the coffee table, and my hope wanes as the show plays on.
It’s clear that Mr. Mitchell isn’t used to being on this side of the camera, but the connection between them is natural. Together, they make a shortbread cookie dunked in powdered sugar and drizzled with red peppermint icing.
Mr. Bruce and Nellie become commentators, but I barely hear them. All I can think is how unfair it is that Patty has her dad, and I won't have mine for another six-to-eight years.
“Hmph,” Mr. Bruce grumbles once it’s through. “I bet those pom-poms taste gross.”
I shut off the TV and look at Nellie.
Her lips are pursed, her brow is furrowed, and her nostrils are flared. “Well, bleep —she actually didn’t suck this time.”
“Suck?” I screech. “Her whole segment was perfect . When I shot with my dad and Bruno we had half a dozen things go wrong.”
“I hate that she copied you,” Nellie growls.
Mr. Bruce lifts a finger. “Why don’t you beat her at her own game? You’re the one who had her father on the show first. Do it again.”
Nellie catches my gaze, then holds it as a wordless breath passes between us. She’s the only one who knows where my dad is.
My face gets hot as frantic thuds rumble my ribcage. I don’t want people to know. Sure, the embezzlement is public information, but who goes searching stuff like that up?
I go with the most obvious angle. “Won’t it look like I’m copying Patty if I do that?”
His expression falls flat. “It might.”
“Yeah,” Nellie agrees. “Probably best not to do it now.”
“Wait!” Mr. Bruce blurts so loudly Jinxy jumps off his lap and onto Nellie’s.
I gasp and flinch back, expecting Nellie to shove him off and scream. Incredibly enough, she doesn’t. Instead, Nellie strokes his rubbery-looking spine. “It’s okay, Jinx,” she soothes. “Auntie Nellie’s got you.”
Mr. Bruce smiles warmly at the sight before clearing his throat and shooting to his feet. “Here’s what you do. Start the show by saying, ‘ due to popular demand, my dad and Bruno are back for a special holiday segment.’ That will make it obvious that she’s the copycat.”
My shoulders droop. “That’s true.”
Nellie deflates too. Jinxy starts licking her chin which makes her—not gag, my friends—but giggle and speak in a baby voice. “Aww, thank you for the kisses, sweet boy.”
I shudder and look away.
“What do you say?” Mr. Bruce asks, eyes lit with hope.
I can’t do what he’s suggesting unless we shoot from the federal prison, but I also can’t tell him why the idea won’t work. I don’t want Mr. Bruce’s opinion of my father to change. Dad’s a very good man who just…did a very bad thing, something he regrets terribly.
It’s the reason I couldn’t swallow my pride and call Jude after it all went down.
So, despite the fact that my mind is screaming, despite the fact that my insides are teeming, I nod and say something I don’t mean.
“Sure, why not?”
Nellie’s giving me a look that says, ‘you know why not, ’ but I glance back at Mr. Bruce and tack on another lie.
“I’ll give him a call.”