Free Odd Mom Out by Jane Porter

but even a really good long chatty call isn’t the same thing as a good long chat in person.
    “Kind of having a bad day,” I say.
    “Work?”
    “Eva.”
    “So what are you doing right now? Feel like taking a trip?” she asks.
    Suddenly I have a ridiculous lump in my throat. It’s so good to hear Shey’s voice and hear her throaty laugh. I felt like such a freak in Taylor Young’s living room and then so hurt when Eva attacked me here. “I wish we could come to New York, but Eva starts school Tuesday.”
    “I’m not in New York, baby. I’m on Orcas Island, just across the Puget Sound.”
    “You’re
where
?”
    She’s amused, and I can picture her smiling like the fat Cheshire cat. “Orcas Island. Hop on the six-forty seaplane and come see me.”
    “Get out.”
    Shey laughs, and she sounds exactly the way I remember her—beautiful, laid-back, very much in control. “I’m here for a shoot, and the shoot wrapped up early. I was supposed to fly home tomorrow, but John called and he’s decided to take the boys fly-fishing, and I thought maybe, just maybe, you might want to come and hang out with me.”
    “Yes,” I breathe. “Yes, yes, yes.”
    “Do you need to ask Eva?” Shey says. “She might not be so eager.”
    “Eva might not adore me,” I said, the husky note back in my voice, “but she loves her Aunt Shey.”
    “I’ll see you soon, then.”

 

    Chapter Five

    I drive up to the house and park without pulling into the garage. As I head in, Eva comes tumbling out.
    “Sorry,” she chokes, tears on her cheeks. “That was so mean, and I’m really sorry.”
    I hug her. I don’t know what else to do but hug her. She’s just a person, and so am I. “I love you, Eva.”
    “I know, Mom. And you can’t help being different. You were just born that way.”
    I’d laugh, but I’m afraid this time I
would
cry. “Your Aunt Shey called,” I say, dropping a kiss on her forehead before letting her go. “She’s on Orcas Island for the weekend and wants us to join her. Feel like going?”
    “
Yes.
”
    “We’ll miss the beach picnic and bonfire.”
    “I don’t care. I didn’t really feel like going to the picnic after all.”
    “I could change, Eva, put on a cute dress and curl my hair—”
    “No.” Eva giggles. “Going to see Aunt Shey on Orcas Island sounds much better.”
    “All right. Then let’s get packing.”
    I’ve two best friends, Shey Darcy, a New York model who started an agency, ExpectingModels, with another top model when both of them became pregnant, and Tiana Tomlinson (“Tits” for short), a popular face and name in the entertainment industry, buried deep in the Hollywood Hills with a Mensa mind, dazzling teeth, and . . . well, a great pair of tits.
    Shey, Tiana, and I met during our senior year of high school when we’d all been packed up and sent off to the St. Pius Academy by the Sea in Monterey, California, where we were to finish our education in a more rigorous academic and moral environment. It was definitely more rigorous than my high school in Seattle and thankfully only slightly more moral.
    From the time I met her, Tiana wanted to be an actress or entertainment reporter, a career entailing cameras, lighting, and makeup artists, and it did take her a while to get from behind the cameras to in front of them, but she’s succeeded beyond her wildest dreams. Now her social life is news of the day. Want to know what she’s wearing, where she’s shopping, or whom she’s hooking up with? Open
Us Weekly
or
Star
and it’s all there.
    I tell Tiana the mags are better for our friendship than the BlackBerry, and she just laughs. I think she likes it that I tell her to f—— off and respect her bizarre rocket ship to fame about as much as I respect the mommies at Points Country Club comparing manicures and waxed brows.
    Shey, on the other hand, didn’t know what she wanted and bummed around Europe after college before running out of money outside Budapest.