Free Ice by V. C. Andrews

there was this phone call for Ice and I'm asking about that now. Is all this okay with you or do I need special permission to talk to my own daughter?"
Daddy didn't respond. He drank some coffee and began to prepare himself some eggs. He made omelets better than Mama. but I was afraid ever to say so.
"You eat yet?" he asked me. I shook my head. "Lena, you want an omelet. too?"
"No. I don't want any omelet. Damn," Mama said frustrated. She sat looking stunned for a moment. I went to put up some toast. "What was I saying?" she muttered, squeezing her temples between her thumb and fingers. "Oh yeah, New York... what about this boy, Balwin? What's he want?"
I took a breath. turned to her and began.
"When I was singing last night. Balwin was playing the piano. He's a very talented musician and he goes to the Kit-Kat occasionally to sit in with Barry Jones,"
"Wow," Daddy said. "He must be very talented to have them let him do that."
"He is. Daddy."
"Well, that's just wonderful for him," Mama said. "but what's it got to do with you?"
"Barry Jones called him this morning to tell him a New York entertainment agent was there and heard me sing and wanted me to audition for a school for the performing arts."
"No kidding?" Daddy said. "That's terrific."
"What's terrific about it? How she going to go to a school in New York? You know what kind of money that means," Mama practically shouted at him.
"Well, let's see about it first," Daddy said.
Mama stared at him. Her frustration had made her eyes bulge and whitened her lips. She looked at me with growing suspicion now.
"Who brought you home last night?" she asked.
"'Well?" she demanded when I hesitated.
"Balwin," I confessed.
"Thought so."
"What's this?' Daddy asked, turning from the stove. "What happened. Ice?"
"I told Mama they all wanted to go to someone's house for a private party and I refused to go. Shawn didn't understand. Mama, and he didn't respect me for saying no. He got belligerent and he left me there."
"He did what? I told you..." Daddy stammered.
"Oh. shut up, will you, and let the girl talk. finally." Mama said.
"They were drinking a lot and Shawn was too. We never even had any dinner."
"That's what I expected," Daddy said nodding.
"Oh, you expected. What are you, a fortuneteller now?" Mama sat there fuming.
"You didn't act mute or nothing all night, did you?" she asked with accusation written all over her face. "You didn't make them all think you were stuckup?"
"No, Mama. I talked when I had something to say and when they asked me questions, but the other girls didn't want to hear me talk."
"I bet," Daddy said. "What a mess you put her into!"
"Me? I did no such thing. I tried to get her out with people, to become someone. Don't you go making statements like that. Cameron Goodman,"
"It wasn't Mama's fault. Daddy. There was no way for her to know what it would be like."
"A woman with all her worldly experience ought to have known better," Daddy muttered and returned to his eggs.
Mama took the plate on her table, lifted it above her head and smashed it at his feet. He jumped back instinctively, accidentally hitting the handle of the pan, which sent it sliding over the range and onto the floor, spilling our omelets. It was all over in a split second, but it was as if the roof had caved in on our apartment.
"Look what you've gone and made me do!" Daddy cried.
"I'm tired of you making remarks about my past as if I was some kind of street girl, Cameron. I've told you that a hundred times, and I especially don't appreciate it in front of our daughter.
"Now, you've gone and filled her head with so much nonsense about this music thing, she thinks she can run off to New York and be a show star or something. She goes out on a date and gets up on a stage. I bet Shawn felt stupid."
"Why? He should have been proud she was with him. He should have appreciated her more."
"A man likes his woman to give him all her attention, not flirt with some piano player."
"I didn't flirt with him. Mama.