Free Holly Hearts Hollywood by Kenley Conrad Page A

waving her hand in my face. I had to lean away to avoid her long fingernails. “It’s no big deal,” she said.
    But it is a big deal. Lacey paid for me to get my hair done by a celebrity stylist. Who does that for someone who’s practically a stranger? Does this mean that Lacey and I are friends now?
     
     
    Later, 8:30pm—Pink Palm Motel
     
    Mom was a little miffed when she saw my hair. She doesn’t approve of hair dye because of the chemicals and the general belief that you should embrace the way you naturally look. But what does she know? She looks like Demi Moore without even trying.
     
     
    February 17 th , 1:30pm—Pink Palm Motel
     
    I was slammed this morning. I had history with Jennifer, and then Mr. Salazar wanted me to re-record the bridge to “Get Outta Town,” my least favorite song on the album. When I finally got home, I found my mom panicking, something I only remember her doing one other time in my life.
    She had stacks of papers on the table, and her dark hair was held on top her head with chopsticks, presumably from her dinner from Mr. Chow’s Super Chinese Takeout. Chinese food in LA is much better than the Chinese place in Cedar Junction. I don’t even think Mrs. Summer, the owner, has ever even been to China.
    Anyway, Mom was punching in numbers on a calculator with a scary amount of anger for someone who talks to plants every day.
    “Um, are you okay?”
    Mom looked at me. “Oh, Holly. I didn’t notice you.”
    Her eyes were red, and I began to panic. My mom may be a little emotional, but she’s never let it show like that before.
    “Do you want some green tea ice cream?” She thinks we don’t notice, but Mom always devours green tea ice cream when she’s upset.
    Mom smiled. “No, honey. I’m trying to balance the books before the shop opens.” She paused and took a deep breath. “Would you be angry at me if I borrowed from your college fund?”
    My college fund is a source of great pride for Mom. When Dad died, Mom put the life insurance check straight into college funds for Ivy and me and hasn’t touched it since. That was when I knew things were bad. If Mom needs money from those accounts, we must be broke.
    “What about my paycheck from the record company? Wouldn’t that help?”
    Mom smiled sweetly. “Your paychecks are helping us so much right now; but until the album drops, it isn’t a lot.”
    I don’t know why I was so hesitant. I’ve been dreading any mention of college. I felt so selfish. But that college fund has always felt like Dad’s last gift to me. It was his guarantee that I’d have opportunities he never had.
    I thought about everything Mom had given up for me. She left Cedar Junction, where she was born, and a job she loved to allow me to have some weird, backward attempt at a music career I never wanted in the first place.
    “Use the money, Mom,” I said. “Hopefully the album will sell well, and we won’t have to worry anymore.”
    Mom stood up and hugged me. She smelled like wet soil, like always. “I’m sorry,” she said.
    “Dad would’ve wanted you to use the money for something you wanted.” I was halfway lying. Dad would’ve paid for the shop, but he hated what he called “hippy-dippy places.” I still don’t understand how my parents ended up together.
    Mom tends to keep details about their relationship a secret. I guess it makes her sad to talk about. I think she keeps these memories to herself, because somehow it makes them special and more memorable.
    “Your dad always was a penny pincher.”
    I’d be lying if I said that didn’t make me feel sad. I couldn’t relate with Mom about this. My memories of Dad are limited to Christmas and summer trips to swim in the lake.
    “Do whatever you need to do, Mom,” I said, suddenly feeling weirdly emotional. “If you want a flower shop, make it the best in town.”
    I guess a part of family is making sacrifices. Compared to what my mom has done for Ivy and me, I can’t help