Page 72 of Witch You Would
I realize also that I never actually introduced myself as not my boss because I usually don’t do that for work emails. My name is Penelope and this is my personal email if you want to stay in touch about recipes and book suggestions andstuff. Maybe we could hang out sometime. Not for a few weeks because I’m going to be not available but if you don’t mind waiting and it’s cool with you. No worries if not.
Penelope
Now that I had met her, I could hear it all in her voice. And I could tell she’d written it fast, because it was way morerambling and grammatically questionable than usual. But she told me her name, finally. She asked if we could hang out. Shedid want to meet me! Our friendship—and maybe more—wasn’t totally in my head.
Sam was right: I should have asked her out sooner. And now, here I was, and here she was. Except I was Leandro, not Gil. Andshe’d sent this before we’d started making out in casting booths.
What did that mean?
I called Grandpa Fred, hoping he was near his phone. Sometimes he left it to charge and wandered off. After a few rings, hepicked up.
“Hey, hey, if it isn’t little Bert!” Grandpa Fred’s voice boomed into my ear. “Aren’t you supposed to be incommunicado rightnow, buddy?”
“Hey, Grandpa, yeah,” I said. “I’m still at the hotel. We can talk, I just can’t tell you how the contest is going.”
“Zip those lips. And before you figure out a slippery way to ask how I’m feeling, I’m fine. My blood sugar got away from me,and your mom made a scene, but the doc isn’t worried.”
That explained the angry message.
“That’s good. I know how Mom can get.”
“She started going through my cabinets and fridge and checkingthe sugar content on every package. I told her if she threw anything out, I’d go to her house and return the favor with every bottle of rosé I found.”
I laughed. “You’d mess up your back trying to clear out her wine closet. She buys in bulk.”
“For her book clubs and whatnot, I know. It was not an idle threat. But what are you calling me for, huh? You bored or doyou have a story?”
In all the months I’d been writing to Penelope, I hadn’t said anything to my grandpa. I scooted back against the headboardand crossed my legs in front of me, trying to figure out where to start.
“You know all the rules you gave me about showbiz?” I asked.
“Sure, yeah. I probably made some of them up on the spot, but not from nothing. Why?”
“I’m just wondering what to do about... you know, girlfriends?”
“Oh ho ho!” Grandpa Fred made a sound like he’d slapped his leg. “And here I thought you were hiding your love life from me,like it was a dark secret.” He paused, but before I could say anything, he added, “So which rule exactly is the problem here?Refresh my memory.”
“Rules one and two,” I said. “Be someone else and stay in character.” I banged my head against the headboard, then filledhim in on everything, starting with my first emails to Penelope and ending with an extremely edited version of the last fewdays, plus the email.
“Ah, so. You had a good thing going with your pen pal, but you never made a move. And now she’s interested in Leandro Prestoinstead of Gilberto Contreras, except they’re both you.”
“Yeah. Basically. I kept him separate like you said. Rule four: leave work at work. But I have to be on all the time here,so I can’t do that. And now...”
“Aw, buddy.” Grandpa Fred must have sat down in his leather recliner, because I heard it creak and squeak. “You were always such a little lawyer. Not like your dad, though. You wanted rules so you’d know what to do, how to behave so your parents wouldn’t go for your neck.”
“It didn’t help,” I said quietly.
“No, it didn’t. Your dad wanted to be right, your mom wanted attention, and they fought like cats in a sack. Except you werestuck in the sack with them, trying not to get scratched. But I digress. The thing is, kiddo, you’ve taken this alter egothing way too far. I know you enjoy being Leandro Presto, and that’s good, but not if you’re shutting out every other partof your life.”
“But what about that stalker who—”
“The Stalker Incident, as you call it, is not your fault,” Grandpa Fred said, his voice hard. “I told you when it happened,you didn’t do anything to make her go after you like that. Some people take things the wrong way and run with them, rightoff a cliff.”
Fine. I wasn’t going to argue with him. “Nobody ever knew you were Alan Kazam,” I said. “Except Mom and Grandma, and youragent, I guess. But you were already with Grandma when that started.”
“More people knew than you think. Contract guys, mostly. Their jobs depended on them keeping their mouths shut, though. Butapparently I instilled too much healthy fear in you of what might happen if folks knew who you were. Everything is on theinternet now: names, addresses, all kinds of crap that used to be harder to find.”
“Yeah. And if I tell the wrong person...”
