Chapter 18 Do the math.
Do the math.
Josie
I SLAM THE door to the trailer, throw my purse onto the couch, and change into my purple-and-black Halloween pajamas and my super-fluffy pink sherbet robe.
In my RV-sized fridge, there are two Coronas that have been astral projecting themselves into my brain ever since I left the studio.
I plop down on the couch with one of them and enjoy an ice-cold sip.
Taking a deep breath, I open a browser tab on my phone. Here we go.
My thumbs tap the words Josie Days into the search bar.
“Please, please, please, nothing new,” I whisper, squeezing my eyes shut as I hit ENTER.
It’s been a week since my date with Sean.
Six days since my interview with Hugo. Yes, I expected chatter in the aftermath of all that, but it should have died down by now.
I mean, there’s nothing left to say. Nothing new has happened.
The main cast has been filming on location all week, and when Sean was in the studio, I either avoided him or made myself too busy to talk.
Not that he came looking for me. All that adds up to surely everyone has shut up about me by now.
Unless they’ve figured out who I really am, which, of course, is the doomsday scenario.
I grit my teeth and pop open one eye. There’s a ridiculously long list of results—again. Dammit. And… wait. Is that Emmy’s vlog? Tell me she did not.
I tap the link.
VLOG, RANDOM YOGA POSES, OCTOBER 13
EMMY: Good morning, everyone! It’s time for Random Yoga Poses with me, Emmy Connor.
As you can see, I’m getting further and further along in this pregnancy, and the poses I’m presenting are getting less and less random and more and more targeted to what a person with a watermelon inside her can do without losing her balance.
And there’s a lot, don’t get me wrong! Yoga is great for pregnant women.
Just check with your doctor or midwife first.
Oh, we’ve got a comment already. All righty, let me just waddle over here to the phone to see who it is. DestinyK says, “Hi, Emmy. Is your friend Josie still dating Sean O’Sullivan? And if so, has she been in his private jet yet? I’ve heard there’s an Austin Powers love nest inside there.”
Wow, DestinyK. So, unfortunately none of that has to do with yoga, except maybe a stretch between crow pose and a love nest. Ha ha, stretch!
Get it? I was accidentally funny there for a second.
It’s hard to be funny at all when you’re staring down the birth barrel at thirty-five weeks, especially when you’ve done this before and know what’s coming, am I right, moms?
Anyhoo, let’s keep it simple today, shall we? Tadasana. Mountain pose. That’s the one where we just stand here. God, even that’s hard. Did I tell you we’re having a home birth? My midwife says second babies often come so fast it’s safer to just have them at home. Isn’t that comforting?
Oh, another comment! Wow, you guys are chatty today. HeyCheyenne says, “Hi, Emmy. Can you please tell your friend Josie that she and Sean make a great couple? Also, what’s her favorite beauty tip?”
Yeah, I’ll tell her that, no problem, Cheyenne.
And I have no idea what her favorite beauty tip is, but her eyeshadow skills would make a grown man cry.
Anyway, back to Tadasana. Let’s connect through all the parts of our feet.
Really grounding ourselves because, if we don’t, we might just scream Why, why, why did I do this again?
And the universe will respond, Because your husband is smokin’ hot.
And we’ll scream back, Yes, but contraception exists for a reason! And that’s on us, so now we shut up.
Okay, hands in prayer position at the breastbone.
Plead to whatever god you worship or just beg for mercy from an ambivalent universe.
What? Another comment? It’ll have to wait, like every woman out there in her third trimester.
Okay, fine, you know what? I’ll read the comment.
It’s getting a bit existential in here anyway, and Kafka gives me heartburn. Or maybe it’s the foot in my diaphragm.
Jojo1611 says… oh, hells no. Sorry, Jojo. Not another message for Josie. Listen, people, we’re here for yoga, okay? Yoga! Not gossip about Josie and Sean O’Sullivan and love nests and blah, blah, blah. That’s not what we come to the mat for! Understood?
[sighs] I’m sorry I yelled. Is that another comment?
I hope it’s you guys forgiving me. Namaste4ever says, “I have another question about Josie and Sean O’Sullivan.
” Gah! You guys! We talked about this! But you know what?
You win. Let’s forget about yoga. I’m exhausted, and even standing in one place is too much.
So, yeah, let’s sit down on the mat, and I’ll answer all your questions about Josie and Sean. Send ’em at me. Let’s go.
I stop the video there. I’m going to kill Emmy!
Except I can’t kill her because she’s my best friend and currently being held hostage by fatigue and hormones.
And it’s not like she’s the only one. The Josie Days hashtag is all over the place.
Why do people still care about me? I don’t understand it.
Hugo’s popularity has skyrocketed from my exclusive interview, too, so kudos to him on a successful blackmailing campaign.
He’s been true to his word, though. None of the chatter is about Mexico or what I was doing there, and no one, including Hugo, has shown any signs of recognizing me. All anyone seems to care about is whether or not I’m sleeping in Sean O’Sullivan’s bed and my hottest beauty tips as a makeup artist.
But it feels weird leaving things the way we did at the restaurant, like dropping a coin into a well and never hearing the splash.
I told Hugo I broke Sean’s heart, and as far as I know, Sean hasn’t disputed it.
I probably should have run that by him, but if he doesn’t care, I suppose I shouldn’t, either.
A message pops up on my phone.
Mom: Hi, honey. Are you around?
My pulse spikes, like it does every time I get a message from her.
Savannah: Yes. Is everything ok?
Mom: Everything’s fine. I just wanted to catch up. We haven’t talked in a while. How are things?
Guilt immediately floods in. We haven’t talked much because I have too many secrets. I search for something I can tell her that’s at least partly honest.
Savannah: Work is good. I’ve been dating a new guy.
Mom: Oh? What’s his name?
Savannah: Shane.
Close enough.
Mom: What does he do for a living?
Savannah: He’s a homeless bum.
Mom: Come on, Savannah. I don’t see you enough for jokes like that to be funny.
Savannah: Sorry. He’s a captain.
Mom: Military? What branch?
Savannah: Space Force.
Mom: He’s an astronaut?
Savannah: More or less.
Why did I pick this topic? I should have led with the weather.
Savannah: Hey, so the new sci-fi show is really popular, I hear.
Mom: Yes, it’s up for an award. Juan Ernesto is really proud of it.
Savannah: Lupe makes a great captain.
Mom: I’ll tell her you said so. Or you can do it yourself.
Savannah: You can tell her.
My heart is thumping like I’m in fight-or-flight mode. I wish someone would tell it that there’s no saber-toothed tiger. It’s just my family.
Mom: The awards are going to be announced next week. It’d be great if you could come. Juan Ernesto would love to see you.
Savannah: Mom, you know he wouldn’t.
Mom: He’s mellowed out over the years. And Lupe has changed a lot, too.
Savannah: Let them enjoy their success. I don’t want to ruin it for them.
Mom: Oh, come on, Savannah. That was so long ago. I’m sure everyone’s forgotten about the whole Chuy thing by now.
Savannah: Nope. That meme is back.
Mom: I haven’t been on social media much. But it makes sense since TV Azteca just did a tribute. The montage was touching. Aunt Eulalia cried.
Savannah: Mom! You just said you were sure everyone had forgotten about Chuy by now.
Mom: There was hardly a mention of you, I promise.
Savannah: What do you mean by “hardly a mention”?
Mom: Well, there are still those conspiracy theories about you kidnapping him and holding him hostage.
Savannah: I’m not sure an inanimate object can be kidnapped. Or held hostage.
Mom: Maybe I’m translating it wrong.
Savannah: Right. And you still think it’s a good idea for me to come for a visit?
Mom: Don’t be silly. Of course it is. We miss you terribly.
And cue the guilt. My stomach feels like a wet cloth being wrung out.
I know my mother misses me, but I don’t believe for a minute that Juan Ernesto and Lupe do.
I destroyed everything my stepfather built, and my last words to my sister were to call her a bitch on national TV.
I’m glad their careers have both recovered, but it took a long time, so I doubt they’re ready to forgive and forget.
And it’s not like they didn’t try to do damage control.
Juan Ernesto had a replacement puppet commissioned shortly after Chuy’s demise (departure?
forced retirement?). Anyway, Replacement Chuy went over like flat soda.
So did Replacement Savannah Bateman, for that matter—I think her name was Caroline something-or-other.
Whatever magic Lupe, Chuy, and I had created was not repeatable.
The educational licenses were never renewed.
Club Bilingüe closed out its final season a few months later.
I learned all of this from Castillo Studios’s lawyers via email.
I learned about the financial problems from my mom. They almost lost the house over the scandal. They didn’t, thank goodness. But they could have.
No, Savannah Bateman making an appearance in Mexico is out of the question. It would be like digging up nuclear waste—the radiation poisons everyone and everything around it. Haven’t I done enough damage?
Savannah: I miss you, too, Mom. And I’ll be crossing my fingers for them. Gotta go. Love u.