You’re Invited Too (13 page)

Bubby?

My heart about leaps out of my chest. I know that's entirely impossible, since one's heart is firmly planted in the chest cavity, but that's what it feels like. It's not Mom or Dad come to give me disappointed eyes, but Bubby.

“Mrs. Simmons?” Officer Rodriguez stands up at his desk again. “Ma'am, I don't think you can fit that in here. Let me help you.” He moves toward the door.

“Please, Diego Rodriguez. I've known you since you trotted around town in your Spider-Man costume for a whole year. You can call me Gerry. Or Bubby. Everyone does.” Bubby giggles. She
giggles
. Then Wanda bumps the door frame again, and Bubby utters one more choice word outside the door before she revs Wanda's motor. The sound of it disappears as the door shuts. Officer Rodriguez opens the door again.

“You can park it right there, ma'am,” he says. “That's the captain's spot, but he's not here tonight.”

“Is that
Bubby
?” Sadie finally whispers.

I nod. “I think so.”

“Let me help you, ma—I mean, Bubby.” Officer Rodriguez disappears from view and returns a minute later with Bubby on his arm.

Bubby's smiling like she's coming to collect me from a victorious It's All Academic meet, not at the police station because I've been picked up for reckless golf-cart driving.

She wiggles her fingers at me, beauty-queen style. “Hey-o, my LoLo!”

“Hi, Bubby . . .” is about all I can manage. She's not mad, that's for sure. She probably thinks this is some exciting adventure.

Bubby takes the hard plastic seat that Officer Rodriguez pulls out for her.

“Would you like some coffee? Water? I think I've got some Cheerwine in the fridge,” Officer Rodriguez says. He's probably about ready to make Bubby some soup, too. Somehow I think he likes having company, even if that company remembers every embarrassing thing he did as a kid.

“That's so kind of you,” Bubby says. “But let's get down to business. How much to spring my granddaughter from this joint? What's the bail?” She opens her purse and drops a pile of bills on the desk.

Sadie's mouth flops open. I think mine does too. Who knew Bubby toted around so much money?

Officer Rodriguez stares at the cash for a moment. It's probably more than he makes hanging out here with us. Then he shakes his head. “Oh, no, Mrs.—Bubby. Lauren was just driving the golf cart without a headlight. That's all.”

“I see.” Bubby tucks the money back into her purse. “And she gave you the four-one-one without a lawyer present?”

Officer Rodriguez laughs. A little nervously, I think. “She's not under arrest. We just didn't want the girls driving home in the dark.”

Bubby stares him down for a moment. Then her face changes completely—she smiles and bats her eyelashes. “Well then, I so totes appreciate you taking care of my Lo Baby and Sadie.” She stands up and reaches out to touch his arm.

I bite my lip to keep from either laughing or throwing up. Sadie smothers a giggle behind her hand.

“Now give me the dish,” Bubby's saying to Officer Rodriguez as she snakes her arm around his. “Did the girls sign anything while they were here? Any kind of . . . confession, perhaps?”

Officer Rodriguez glances down at his arm, which is imprisoned by Bubby's. He's looking just a tiny bit uncomfortable, poor guy. “No, ma'am. I just need a parent or guardian to take these girls home.”

Bubby rewards him with a tinkling laugh.

“Can I go home with you?” Sadie whispers. “I'd rather play pinochle with Bubby than face my mom.”

What Sadie doesn't realize is that Bubby is the calm before the storm of my parents. “Bunco,” I say. “Bubby likes Bunco.” Because that makes sense to say right now.

“Well, you see, Officer Diego Hotriguez—you don't mind if I call you that, do you? It's just so fitting.” Bubby doesn't even seem to notice that Officer Rodriguez is flushing more than anyone thought possible. “My son and his wife are on their way back from Wilmington, and they called and asked me to pick Lo up and take her home. Now, that won't be any problem, will it? Has anyone ever told you that you have the nicest eyelashes? They're so long and . . . eyelashy.” Bubby gives him her most winning smile.

Sadie buries her face in my shoulder as she shakes with laughter. I'd probably be laughing more if I could stop thinking about my parents cutting their date night short and driving home right now.

Officer Rodriguez gives a nervous cough and makes a halfhearted effort to pull his arm away from Bubby, who's holding on way too tight. “Um, of course you can take her home,” he says, probably dying to get her off him and out of the station. “Just let me call her parents first to make sure.”

“Fab!” she says. “Do I need to sign anything? And can you tell me about expungement? I don't want this little incident going down on my Lo's permanent record. She's going to Harvard, you know.”

I'm not at all sure where I want to go to college yet, but Bubby's compliment makes me go warm all over. And then cold. Will my future college
know
I got hauled into the police station for driving without a headlight?

“Oh no, of course not,” Officer Rodriguez says. “There's no record or anything.”

I lean back against the couch with a sigh. At least something is going right.

“Why, that's just the bee's knees,” Bubby says as she gives Officer Rodriguez's arm a little pat.

“Now if you'll just let me . . .” He pulls his arm again.

Bubby giggles. She lets go, but only to stand on her tiptoes and plant a kiss on his cheek. “Thank you for being such a dear.”

Officer Rodriguez is lobster red. He rubs his arm, and it takes him a moment to find his voice. “Let me, uh, make that call.”

I lean over and hug Sadie. “Good luck,” I tell her.

“Text me and let me know how your parents take it,” she says.

“If you don't hear from me, I'm probably confined to my room with bread and water.” I stand up and join Bubby at the door. Officer Rodriguez joins us after he hangs up with my parents.

“Now, don't you worry, Diego Hotriguez,” she says. “I have an extra-bright headlight on ol' Wanda here.”

“But two people can't fit on that. Are y'all walking back home?” Officer Rodriguez rubs the back of his neck. “It's a little late.”

“Oh no, no. I got Mr. Wheeler to drive us. He was just dying to take me out for a spin in his Caddy.” Bubby waves at an enormous car parked at the end of the lot. A tiny old man in the driver's seat waves back. “Now, why don't you show me how strong you are and put ol' Wanda into the backseat, Officer Hotriguez?”

•  •  •

I'm curled up on our boat-patterned armchair, arms wrapped around my knees, while Mom sits stiffly on the couch. Dad's gone to make coffee. I guess they need caffeine in order to handle this situation, even though it's almost ten o'clock. Mr. Wheeler drove Bubby back to Sandpiper Active Senior Living just a few minutes ago, right after Mom and Dad got home.

And now I'm really in for it.

I'm probably the only person I know who's never been grounded. That's not so hard to accomplish when you've got brothers like mine, who require Mom and Dad's constant disciplinary attention. Accidentally breaking a statue was barely even a blip on their radar. Somehow I think I might ruin my perfect record tonight. Why did I let myself go so crazy with the having fun thing, again?

Dad comes back into the living room with two mugs (one with a sailboat, the other with a paddlewheel steamboat) for him and Mom. I rest my chin on my knees and brace myself for one of the scenes I've overheard between them and Zach.

Mom takes a sip of coffee, sets it on the table, and then places her hands on her legs. She's still in her going-out clothes—nice black dress with a sparkly red sweater, and heels. Her dark curly hair frames her tired face. “I don't know where to start,” she finally says. “I'd say that we're disappointed in you, but mostly we're just confused. We'd expect something like this from your brothers, but not you.”

Well, that's new. Usually I think they're just waiting for me to turn into Zach or Josh. Wait, this isn't good. Maybe now I'm proving them right.

“How about we start with: What in the world were you thinking?” Dad asks.

I pull my hands into the sleeves of my sweatshirt and take a deep breath. “It was a business emergency.” Maybe if I frame it that way, they'll understand. I mean, Dad runs his own business, and Mom is constantly on call at the hospital.

Mom raises her eyebrows. Dad sighs and crosses his arms over his belly in its yacht-embroidered polo shirt. My parents are like night and day—Mom all neat and pulled together, Dad a boat-patterned mess.

They don't say anything, so I go on. “Our wedding client called and insisted someone come over right away to talk to the Spanish Crooner or something. She pretty much said if we didn't, then she'd have to find another planner for her wedding. Vi was going to walk over there with Sadie, but Miss Worthington's house is all the way down by the beach. I was worried about them walking there in the dark. Because of crime and . . . wild animals, you know?” I cringe as the words come out of my mouth. The most wild animal that exists on Sandpiper Beach is the seagull, whose scariest attack moment is stealing the lunch right out of your hands on the beach.

“And?” Mom prompts.

I twist my sleeve-covered hands together. I'm not about to tell them that I thought driving Sadie there would be fun. “So I offered to drive Sadie. We were just going to be there a few minutes.” I have no idea if this is true, but I don't know that it's not true either. “And then we were going to head right back to Becca's house.”

“And it didn't occur to you to ask Becca's parents for a ride?” Dad asks.

“I, uh, no?” That's such an obvious solution. Why in the world didn't we think of that?

“Or tell this woman to wait until the morning?” Mom adds.

“She wouldn't wait,” I explain.

“I think I need to have a word with her. Expecting twelve-year-old girls to go out after dark to cater to her every whim . . . what nerve.” Mom grips her mug, and I can tell she's just itching to tell Alexandra Worthington where to get off. Which makes me both happy and scared at the same time. I've been having doubts about her, but RSVP
can't
be fired as her client. But, then again, Sadie and I are both in huge trouble because of her.

“What I don't understand—and there are several things I don't understand about this entire situation—is why you and Sadie left without even saying a word to Becca's parents. Lauren, you
know
better than that,” Dad says.

His words sting. Because I do know better than that. I was just so focused on making the most of my six and a half hours of fun that I didn't want to waste even a second. Somehow I don't think Mom and Dad will accept that as an answer, though.

Mom sets her mug on the table. “I cannot believe Bubby just had to pick you up at the police station. I doubt she's even been to the police station before. I'm embarrassed, Lauren.”

I am too. Although I think Bubby actually enjoyed herself.

“After all the stunts Josh and Zach pulled, we never got a call from the police about either one of them,” Dad says.

Well, that might still happen, but I don't point that out. I'm also pretty sure both Zach and Josh have done stuff that would have ended in a call from the police if they'd been caught. But I don't say that, either.

Really, there's only one thing I can say in this situation to try to dig myself out. It's all truth, so I sit up straight and let it out. “I'm so sorry about all of this. You're right that I should've thought the whole thing through before Sadie and I left. I know you're going to ask me to quit RSVP, but I can't do that. This wedding is way too big for Sadie, Vi, and Becca to pull off without me. Although sometimes I think maybe we should drop Miss Worthington, because it's not like we're actually making money with the amount of time we spend on her. But, anyway, that's not the point. The point is that I need to refocus on my priorities. And I'm going to do that, starting right now.” I curl my fingers under my legs as I finish the speech and wait for Mom and Dad's reactions.

“Lauren, honey, we weren't going to ask you to quit your business,” Dad says.

“Although you and your friends might reconsider this Miss Worthington as a client,” Mom adds. “Now, what are these priorities?”

Even though it should be obvious, I fill them in. “Doing exceptionally well in school and my extracurriculars so that I can get into a really great college. I won't get any more Bs. Working at the marina so I can save more money. And working with RSVP. That's all. No more video games with Zach or watching TV. Oh, and I completely understand if you feel the need to ground me.”

Mom and Dad look at each other. I have no idea why they're not nodding in approval or agreeing that I'm making the responsible decision.

“Well, you are grounded,” Mom says.

“Although it sounds as if you've grounded yourself,” Dad says.

I'm not sure how refocusing on my priorities in life is the same as grounding. Truthfully, I should cut out RSVP, too, but I can't let my friends down. I already made the commitment to help them with this wedding. Also, helping to run a business will look really (really, really) good on my college applications.

“We just want you to use your head, Lauren,” Mom says.

They should know that I'm perfectly capable of using my head. I'm not my brothers. Although I suppose they have to say that, since I
did
make a really dumb decision. Which will never happen again.

“If this Miss Worthington asks you to go out late at night or do anything else you know we'd disapprove of, you need to tell us. Okay?” she finishes.