Chapter 945 The Real Deal

945 The Real Deal

Everyone was staring. First at Mom, looking her usual unassuming self, then practically cranking their neck at the sun—at Dad, dressed in his overalls as if he was about to go plow the field right after this. Meanwhile, Sammy attracted the least amount of attention, those half-second glances of curiosity people give at little odd things before continuing on their way; that drop of interest evaporating within like five paces. Nothing odd about that. I mean, if things happening to catch your eye were considered abnormal behavior, we'd all be institutionalized the moment after our first blink. What was definitely odd though was the fact I noticed everyone noticing to begin with. I never used to do that. Before, whenever in public, my family was just like any other family you caught in the corner of your eyes: just another group of faces in a sea of faces. But now, with a fresh, new perspective on things, on them... it's hard not to wonder if there was more to those throwaway glances than just simple curiosity. If maybe they weren't just seeing a happy, little family like I've always believed. I stepped off from the set, navigating across the coiled maze of cables hidden within the grass. All the while Amanda's grip around my hand squeezed tighter and tighter almost like cuffs and chains... except I don't think it was my execution we were walking towards. Sammy sprinted forward, the first to meet us, greet us... and to tease me, of course. Always on the top of the checklist, that one. "You know what, Big Bro? I'm actually beginning to see it now," she said with a leer, walking with us. "That fancy outfit with that schmancy pretty-boy voice—you're almost as handsome as mom says you are." "Yeah, go ahead and laugh," I said. "But when I'm walking down the red carpet, drowning in fame, don't think you can come to me saying 'pretty please'." Sammy rolled her eyes and promptly landed on Amanda's, the apprehension so barely hidden in her expression that you'd think she was showing off what a nervous wreck she was. "Nervous?" Sammy asked the obvious.

Amanda formed a smile. Not a very good one either. "Just a bit." "Chill," she assured her. "My folks are simple and easy. Just smile, be nice and they'll be all over you before you know it. Remember, you're the famous one around these parts. They're the ones that should be nervous, not you." "Except I'm not just meeting them as Amanda the streamer, am I?" "Oh, right," Sammy nodded in thought. "Alright, listen, Mom loves to tease and taunt—

the trick is to not clamp up, fight fire with fire, and you'll be just fine. Dad's a lot more straightforward. Basic questions, just say the first thing that comes to your mind. Do that, and you'll gain two more devoted followers. Got it?"

"Yes, got it, thank you," Amanda's face flooded over with a tidal wave of relief, then she turned to me, a frown surfacing from the receding tide. "See? Now that's actual advice. Why couldn't you have told me that?" "Except I did, didn't I?" I whispered back, just as we reached. "Be yourself." And for just a brief moment there, it was like a shootout. A weirder, awkwarder variation of a Mexican standoff with everyone's gaze locked onto one another. The only one seemingly immune to the effect was Mom, boldly stepping up before reaching over to straighten the little wrinkles in my suit, her eyes on mine in glee.

"I can get used to this," her fingers tugged at the ends of my collar, pointing the tips upwards at a sharp, sleek angle. "My son, famous movie star. I'll get to see you every evening when they air your reruns."

"Afraid you'll have to settle for less," I told her. "This is just a one-time gig, a favor." "So I've heard. But I suppose with the right person, the right incentive... I'm afraid you'll be doing one-time favors all your life," Mom said, turning both her smile and attention elsewhere. Immediately, I felt the throb of Amanda's grip squeezing the circulation out of my fingers once again. "Lucky you, it seems you fit both criteria. All the favors you could ask for. Isn't that nice?" Amanda formed another smile. Luckily this time, she remembered how to make one. She then quickly let go of my hand only to instead wrap herself around my entire arm. "Only when I'm feeling particularly needy," she said. "Every other time, I'm perfectly reasonable." "So lovely to see you again, Amanda," Mom raised a hand toward her. "We didn't get a chance to be properly introduced the first time we met. So this is nice. Oh, and thank you for letting us visit the set. We must have really made you panic, didn't we?" "No, not at all. Of course not!" Amanda took her hand, shaking it eagerly. "It's really my pleasure." Mom took another step, and at the same time, lightly tugged Amanda closer. Her gaze went askew as if appraising a glittering jewel to behold. A moment later, and I wasn't the only one to have his costume be rifled through. She plucked a small rose from the bed of flowers resting on her head.

"By the way, what were you talking with Samantha about earlier?" Mom asked her. "Some last-minute rehearsals before your big performance, perhaps?" "Well," she paused, responding a split-second later. "Gotta know your target demographic, right?" "That you do," Mom agreed. "And with such fierce competitors pitted up against you, no doubt you're determined to stand out." "Just enough to earn your approval, I hope." "Only my approval?" Mom cocked her head at her. "Meaning you're not gonna try to reach for any higher?" Amanda's eyes widened a little; her calmness starting to rock like a flimsy raft in a violent storm. "I mean, sure. If possible, I would like to..."

"If possible?" Mom raised her brows next; shaping them in that dubious, devious arch. "You don't sound too hopeful." "No, I didn't mean it like—"

"Alright, that's enough of that now," I chimed in, putting myself in between them. "You weren't invited here to play mind games with her. Cut it out."

"I'm just stating what I see, sweetie," she said. "But you know you can't also keep stepping in for her forever. How do you expect us to grow any closer if you won't even let me talk to her?" 'Then talk. Just don't try and figure her out if possible." "Aw, but just where's the fun in that?" I wasn't even gonna dignify that question with a response. My stare did all the talking for me, and sure enough, she got the message loud and clear. "Fine, I'll behave," she relented, giving Amanda an apologetic bow. "I'll save the fun for later, alright? That aside... you know, I've almost forgotten how pretty you are, just lovely..." Mom gently twirled the thin stem of the rose she took between her fingers, and glanced slightly to her side. "Just look at her, dear. Your dear, old friend, Tressa Yar. Well? Isn't she just as lovely as you remembered?" And then just like everyone else, Amanda glanced toward the heavens turning to dear ol' Dad, as the man took a lumbering step forward, locking eyes with her. "Almost. Not quite. But close," he critiqued. "Tressa didn't talk funny—you could lose that. She also had a pet bird. Always perched on her shoulder. You're missing that." "Yes, Hermmie, right?" Amanda nodded diligently. "We're only adding him into the scenes later in editing, magical birds are kind of a rarity around here. As for talking funny... I didn't know that she didn't... I mean, she talked like that in the game, so..." "The game," Dad muttered, blinking once. "I see," then as if just only remembering to, he slowly reached his hand out too. "You can just call me Michael if you want," he introduced himself, practically swallowing her whole hand with a handshake. "And you're Amanda. The streamer, artist—I looked you up." "Oh, I see. Okay," she said, her smile turning blank. "Did you find... anything about me worth noting?" "That you're a very interesting person. You're famous, talented, smart—interesting. Maybe much too interesting for someone like my son." "Wow," I said. "Thanks, Dad." "I'm not saying you're boring, you're not," he said to me, which would probably have been more convincing if he didn't sound so flat. "She's just exciting, is all, from what I can tell. The boy I know is a lot more quiet. Doesn't stand out. Invisible. Especially to people like her, but you're not. Not to her for some reason." "Well, like you said, he is quiet, but he's certainly not boring," Amanda said in stride, leaning her head onto mine affectionately. "And quiet can also be exciting in some ways. Plus, he did also save my life that one time... so I guess there's that too." "I see," he said. "Is that all?" "Well, obviously not, I mean..." her smile faltered slightly. "He has other, finer qualities too, like, umm..." "Like...?" Amanda seemed to be struggling to think of any at the moment, and it was like opening my eyes for the first time... y'know, maybe I do need a hobby. Or like ten of them. "He's... nice?" Make that a hundred. "Dad," Sammy piped up, her tone with a hard weight of disapproval. "You're seriously creeping her out. Like, how do you even expect her to give you a straight answer with that kind of pressure?"

"Pressure..." Once again, it was like the realization just only dawned on him. Dad backed away a step, grunting regrettably. "I'm sorry. I was just trying to get to know you better. I didn't mean to make you nervous." "No, don't, it's okay," Amanda said. "Honestly, it's more of a me-thing if anything. It's just that when I try to talk to you or look at you even... I can't help but think about—"

"What he was?" Mom interjected, the expression on her face already knowing the rest. "What we were?"

Amanda nodded sheepishly, much too embarrassed to admit it in words. But with that confession out of the way, she began to look at them a little differently. Still slightly fearful, more than just a little apprehensive, but mostly, simply fascinated. Like meeting your favorite actors from your favorite film. Except my parents weren't actors and all was much too real. "Then take all the time you need to adjust, alright?" Mom patiently told her. "In the meantime, I think I saw a buffet line nearby. Should we go take a look, dear?" She said, turning toward Dad. He grunted, lumbering off toward the direction of Tyler's catering, passing through props and equipment and even garnering more stares along the way. "We'll try this again, okay? Give you a chance to aim a little higher too..." Then with a 14:09

parting smile, she strolled away, leaving a faint giggle in her wake. "...if possible." "And whenever you do feel up to it," Mom continued, returning her gaze to Amanda. "We'll try this again, okay? Give you a chance to aim a little higher too..." Then with a parting smile, she strolled away, leaving a faint giggle in her wake. "...if possible." When they were both gone and out of earshot, Amanda heaved out the longest, raspiest croak... it almost sounded like her very soul was being vacuumed out of her lips through a thin straw. "She's teasing," Sammy immediately pivoted to assurance. "It means she likes you, so, so far so good."

But Amanda was miles away mentally from hearing her comfort; staring quietly at the two distant yet ever-so-prominent figures standing in line waiting their turn to be served by Tyler. "Your mom has your eyes," she spoke up after a long while, her faraway stare drifting slowly onto mine. "I know already that they're your parents, but... wow... they're actually your parents." n))O--v/.e-)L-.b/(I)-n

"Tell me about it," I simply said. "They're my parents too, you know?" Sammy said, popping up from the side. "The existential dread isn't just his." "I wanna... I need..." Amanda shook her head, shaking off a few leaves and flowers from their silky-blond meadow. "I'm gonna go clear my head, take a walk—don't need to come, I'll be fine," she added quickly as I tried to speak. "Just gonna go get my bearings real quick, then I'll be back for round two." Before she went, Amanda came in close and kissed me quickly. When she drew back, mere inches apart, I could feel her warm breath coating my now damp lips. She mustered a weak smile at me, shaking her head again. "And you thought my parents were bad," she muttered. "I feel like I got the short end of the stick here." "I never said you'll have it any better," I told her. "But hey, the right person, the right incentive... you wouldn't be doing this if I wasn't worth the hassle, would you?"

Amanda let out a small exasperated giggle, and just silently stared; deep, poignant, the soft shape of her gaze brimming with countless endearments that mirrored within my own. "You really do have her eyes, you know?" she remarked, smiling a little wider. "You're so damn lucky I love you."