Free Fangirl by Ken Baker Page A

Ashley.”
    Her father might have been out of touch when it came to knowing who her celebrity crush of the moment was, but she had to give him credit that he knew her personality inside and out.
    â€œLet’s just say, I’m considering all my options,” Josie said with a smile.
    â€œWant my advice?”
    â€œDo I have choice in the matter?”
    â€œUm, no,” he responded. “Not really.”
    â€œOkay then.”
    â€œTake the high road, Josie.”
    â€œThat’s very noble of you, Sir Brant.”
    Josie went back to unpacking her clothes. She had forgotten to bring an extra tank top. She really needed to start leaving a set of clothes at her dad’s house. She just never felt stable enough to commit to leaving anything. The unpacking, at least for the moment, gave her something to focus on other than her dad trying to lecture her.
    â€œTrust me on this one,” he continued. “I know you’re pissed at Ashley, and I’m sure that girl deserves a little payback. But I’m serious. It’s like when I played hockey. Whenever another player did something like chop my legs out from under me, or spear me in the gut, or cheap-shot me, well, nine times out of ten, I would react stupidly. So instead of the other team getting the penalty, I was the idiot who’d end up in the box. I was a hot head. I should have just skated off and not reacted. You know, taken the high road. Maybe if I did that more often I would have made it to the NHL.”
    â€œLife’s not hockey, Dad.”
    â€œI used to think that too, but the older I get, the more I realize that hockey, basically, is no different than life.”
    Her dad stood by the bedroom door, his thumbs tucked into his jeans’ front pockets. As he shifted his weight from onefoot to the other, a loose plank under his right foot creaked.
    He jumped slightly and looked out the window to the field behind the house.
    â€œDid you hear that?” he asked.
    â€œHear what?”
    He poked his head out the window frame and scanned to the left and right. “Ah, I don’t know. Sounded like someone was back there. Must be hearing things in my old age.”
    â€œAll righty, old man.” Josie shut her drawer firmly with a clunk. “Thanks for the advice. Now what’s for dinner?”
    â€œI thought we could fire up the barbecue. I even picked up some veggie burgers for you. And whole-wheat buns.”
    â€œDaaaaaad,” she said suspiciously. “You’re up to something!”
    He scratched the back of his head nervously and flashed a smile.
    â€œOkay, you got me. Come on out to the dining room. I wanna show you that surprise.”
    He grabbed her hand and led her down the hallway leading to the dining room.
    â€œClose your eyes,” he insisted.
    He stepped behind her and gently guided her down the hallway. Josie tried to sneak a peek through a crack in her eyelid.
    â€œNo peeking, cheater!” He cupped his hands over her eyes and nudged her into the room.
    â€œNow, go ahead,” he added. “Open ’em.”
    Josie’s eyes popped open.
    â€œNo, you didn’t.”
    â€œI did,” he said proudly. “Happy fifteenth!”
    Josie darted across the room to a polished black upright piano set against the far wall. She sat down on the cushioned seat and began tinkling the keys.
    â€œAre you sure you can afford this?” Josie asked.
    â€œLike I said, Josie, I’ve got some projects lined up.”
    She tapped the keys like a kid on Christmas morning, the burn of her BFF earlier in the day suddenly not feeling so painful. “My birthday isn’t for another ten days!”
    â€œI wanted it to be a surprise,” he explained.
    â€œWell, it worked. This piano is amazeballs!”

11
    Peter’s flight from Bakersfield to Oakland International was two-hundred fifty miles—or a little less than an hour up the central valley and