The Perfect Homecoming (Pine River #3)

Correction.

Tallulah was the vessel who had brought the little shit into the world, but she was no mother. She deferred every decision to the pubescent monster and quaked in the marquee glow of her daughter’s displeasure. Emma wanted to slap both of them.

It became quickly apparent to Emma that in spite of the kid, the bat mitzvah would be stunning, even by Hollywood standards. CEM had booked the Beverly Hilton and would erect three distinct lounges. The first lounge was for younger children who were forced to accompany their siblings and parents to this event. Those children would be treated to little bowling lanes with Nerf pins and plastic bowling balls, a bouncy castle, a big foam pit for jumping into, and a face-painting station. Teens who were not as privileged as Cayley, who had to work summer jobs for spending money, had been hired to babysit.

The main lounge was built for Cayley and her friends. Cayley had decreed it would be pink. The teens would feast on cheeseburger sliders, Chinese food, and french fries served in cones. Cayley had planned entertainment stations to include temporary tattoos, a smartphone bling station, and of course, a Guitar Hero stage complete with microphones and a running video. But what Cayley was clearly most enamored with was the three photo booths that would grace the teen lounge.

As if all that wasn’t enough, CEM had hired a handful of “party motivators.” These were out-of-work actors hired to walk around and make sure the brat and her friends were having a good time.

The motivators had been Tallulah’s grand contribution. “I just worry that the kids will be a little self-conscious and won’t want to take advantage of all the great party treats,” she’d apologetically explained to Emma in a high-pitched, wispy girl’s voice.

“Heaven forbid that the kids actually pick themselves up off the pink velvet beanbags and walk around the pink lounge,” Emma had said, and ignored the dark look Francine shot in her direction.

“Yes, well, that’s a vulnerable age,” Tallulah explained.

Well then, thank God for party motivators!

“God, Mom, you’re so stupid,” Cayley had said as her fingers flew across her phone, and Emma couldn’t help but agree. “Anyway, those party people are all, like, old. I don’t want them there.”

“We’ve already hired them, honey,” Tallulah said.

Paul and Francine exchanged a wary look, and the adults held their breath, waiting to see if Cayley would look up from her phone and insist they fire the four party motivators, or forget her displeasure.

When her fingers continued to fly across her phone, Francine carefully turned the attention back to the event.

The third lounge was intended for the adults. Cayley had become nearly hysterical when at first it appeared the adults would actually mingle with their children, and in the end, she’d gotten what she wanted—a separate lounge. It would not be pink. She’d agreed it could have a bar, and even a buffet. Apparently, Tallulah had suggested movies for the adults to watch, to which Cayley had agreed, but had recently changed her mind in favor of what she thought was a better idea: karaoke. She’d also agreed to have seating with power outlets and televisions hung overhead. That way, parents could watch sports while staying plugged into the world they’d abandoned just beyond the Hilton’s doors.

But as they reviewed the plans for the adult cave, Cayley changed her mind again. “No,” she said. “They don’t get that.”

“Oh honey—” Tallulah started.

“No, Mom,” Cayley said sharply. “It’s my party. I don’t get TVs! Why should the parents get TVs?” She shouted this while texting.

“We’ve already planned it. It won’t hurt—”

“I said no,” Cayley said in a voice that reminded Emma of The Exorcist.

Paul and Francine looked helplessly at Emma. She knew what they were thinking—to cancel the AV equipment and setup two days before the event was an expensive change, not to mention a coordination nightmare.

This was where Emma excelled. She stood up and looked to the big glass back doors and the stunning view of the Pacific Ocean. “Cayley, can we step outside? I want to ask you something.”

“What?” Cayley looked up from her phone. “No,” she said, sneering at Emma. “Ask me here.”

Emma bent over so that she was at eye level with Satan’s Spawn. “It’s about the photo booths,” she said low.

Cayley hesitated, sizing Emma up. She finally stood and walked to the back door.

Once they were outside, Cayley impatiently demanded, “What?” And returned a text.

“God, you’re despicable,” Emma said.

That brought Cayley’s head up, her brown eyes as big as teacups. “What did you just say?”

“You heard me.”