Page 88 of Show Off

But Shirleen doesn’t catch that.

She keeps going with her story, slaying the audience with saucy humor. “If you want to know the rest ofthatlittle tale,” she says with a wink at the audience, “that’s in chapter seventeen. I’ve titled it, ‘Why You Should Always Check Limos for Hidden Cameras.’”

The audience laughs like the teleprompter says to. Beside me, Cass sighs with relief. “We weren’t sure how that would go over.”

“She’s charming. Clever, too,” I admit. “I never really knew that about her.”

“She’s had to be.” Cassidy’s voice shifts with conviction. “An actress who rose as a seventies-era sexpot doesn’t get the option of letting herself go all gray and grumpy and wrinkly like the rest of us. Not if she wants to stay relevant.”

It’s a truth that makes me grateful Lana escaped that world. That I only danced on the fringes of fame and never got fully sucked in.

Jamila shifts into book promo mode. “Now Shirleen, that story comes from your forthcoming memoir,Lemon Light, isn’t that right?”

“It sure does.” Shirleen smiles at Lana, who picks up her cue.

“It’s out next week from Preston Publishing.” My girl’s at ease, smiling at the camera like it’s her closest friend. “Have you guys seen the cover? Isn’t this gorgeous?”

She holds it up, and the audienceooohstheir appreciation. It’s an image of Shirleen in a yellow gown, bathed in golden sun rays as she strolls a forest path, fingers outstretched to skim a dewy pine bough. Cassidy told me the picture was taken near Cherry Blossom Lake.

“I love that photo,” she whispers, and I nod my agreement.

“I can see why.” Say what you will about Shirleen, but I’m impressed she lets Cassidy stay on the Oregon Coast. Not all celebs would feel great having their full-time assistant stuck in a small town so far from Hollywood. “It’s a great picture of her. Very ethereal.”

Jamila slides seamlessly into the pitch portion of the show. “Shirleen, I understand you have an exclusive excerpt you’d like to share with our viewers.”

“That’s right, Jamila. I do.” She takes the hardcover book Lana hands her, making sure to flash the cover again. “It’s a chapter about my sweet little Lemon Drop right here.”

Did Lana just flinch at the nickname? I’m not sure Shirleen noticed. When I met Lana’s parents last night, that’s what her father called her. He looked after Lana as she went down the hall to go over today’s schedule with her mother.

Turning to me, Laurence Judson looked nostalgic. “My little Lemon Drop is something else, huh?”

“Yes, sir.” I cleared my throat. “Lana’s amazing.”

“She is.” He studied me steadily, and I did my best not to blink. “She tells me you’re very protective of your brother.”

I wasn’t sure how to respond. “We look after each other.” It’s the truth, but it made Lana’s father smile.

“I don’t doubt it,” he said. “Your parents must be proud.”

I had to swallow a few times to force words up my throat. “My parents are dead.”

He didn’t flinch. “I know.” He held my gaze a beat longer, letting me know he wasn’t bluffing. “And I don’t doubt they’re proud.”

Thank God Lana came back right after that. Did she notice her father shook me up? I’m not sure, and we didn’t get a chance to talk about it.

Her mother’s reading now, so I order myself to pay attention. It’s a story of Lana as an infant.

“Hard to believe,”Shirleen reads,“but this was the first time in six children that my husband had to pack the diaper bag.”

The audience chuckles on cue, like they all relate to a charmingly inept dad. Shirleen bumps a pair of fashionable reading glasses up her nose, looking a lot like Mari.

“And on this occasion, I wasn’t checking his work.”She smiles and licks a finger before flipping the page.“You can imagine my surprise when my sweet little innocent newborn turned up on set with a nursing pad nestled against her nether region.”

Guffaws from the audience cue Lana to laugh along with them. Shirleen laughs, too, and so does Jamila, so I manage a chuckle from my perch on the side of the stage.

Cassidy snickers beside me. “You’ve gotta give her credit,” she whispers. “Shirleen, she loves her kids.”

I nod but don’t say anything. What’s Cassidy’s mother like? Because Shirleen’s brand of mothering looks nothing like my mom’s. Jenny Yang loved us with every fiber of her being. Until the moment she died, Mom gave us her all. Korain even told me the doctors swore her love for Ji-Hoon and me was the reason she held on as long as she did in that coma.

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