The Truth About Hollywood

"How was the meeting?" Dad asked as I walked into the car. My spirit instantly brightened even more, which I didn't even think was possible.

It was shocking, how much more I liked my dad than my mom. He was a lot more like me, chill and not into controlling people. We also shared a pretty similar sense of humor.

"It was pretty good," I answered, turning on the radio. "My cast members are really nice."

"I couldn't tell you before, but I can now. I am so proud of you, baby. It's not easy to get a TV role, or any role, and you did it." He was grinning so widely that I thought his face would fall off.

"Thanks, Dad." I smiled back at him.

"How about we go for ice cream to celebrate?"

I bit my lip and nodded enthusiastically. "Don't tell Mom though. She'd flip."

"It'll be our secret," Dad promised. We pulled into Dairy Queen and went up to the window. I ordered a twist in a cone with chocolate sprinkles while Dad got some sundae that was so big, I couldn't even comprehend it. As usual, I knew that I was going to be talked into trying a couple of bites of it.

As we sat in the car, I told him detail by detail about the whole meeting while at the same time trying to keep my ice cream from melting all over my hands.

"That Stella sounds like a handful, doesn't she?" Dad joked.

"A bit," I rolled my eyes. "But everyone else seems really nice. I can totally see myself getting along with them."

"That's great, Claire-bear. You have to get along with your costars, or the tabloids will have a field day."

"Which is why I'm counting my lucky stars," I grinned right before finishing off my cone. "So anything interesting happen with you today?"

Dad sighed. "Nope. Just another boring day doing accounting. It's weird...I never thought I'd do accounting, since I hate math so much."

"Then why do you?" I asked. "Why didn't you stay in show business?" He shot me a look. "No, I know that reason, but like...you could have been a casting agent or something, right? You didn't have to keep trying out to be an actor."

"I just didn't want to stay in that business, that's all." Dad's voice was cold, and I knew that it was time to change the subject.

"So filming starts in two weeks," I informed, taking a sip of the water bottle that we'd gotten with the ice creams. For some reason, I always craved water after eating ice cream...

"Very nice," Dad smiled. "You needed the first day on set?"

"Yeah." Dad handed over his ice cream to offer me a couple of bites. I rolled my eyes as I took the bowl from him. Never could I resist the temptation... "They want all the actors on the set on the first day just so that we can see how production will go and stuff. I'm really excited."

"That's great, honey," Dad agreed, leaning over to kiss me on the cheek. When he was pulling back, he sneakily took his ice cream back with him.

"Very smooth," I commented, laughing a little.

"I thought so." He grinned at me and took a bite of his ice cream. "Damn," he commented, looking at the clock. "Your mom wanted you home by five."

"It's quarter to. We'll be fine." I leaned back in my seat and put my feet on the dashboard. Dad shot me a warning glare, and with a huff, I put my feet back down on the floor.

When Dad finished with his sundae, he put his head back against his seat and let out a loud groan, patting his stomach.

"I guess I'll throw away your stuff?" I offered, laughing at his display.

"Oh, you're so nice to me, baby," he sighed like I was a life-saver before handing me the paper bowl.

I got back to the car, and Dad pulled out quickly, speeding back to our house. For some reason, he was much more uptight about following what Mom wanted lately. It made me suspicious, but my parents were all about respect; they were the parents, and I was the child. I knew that if I brought it up, I'd get scolded for going out of my place. So, I'd just keep quiet.

"Where were you?!" Mom burst out as soon as we got into the house.

"Getting-" I started, but Dad stepped in front of me.

"We were spending some quality time together. I'm at work a lot lately, so I just wanted some time to spend with Claire. Is that a crime?"

Mom looked like she was about to argue, but she took one look at me and dropped the whole subject. She turned like a zombie and walked up the steps.

"She's such a control freak," I muttered, blowing a piece of hair out of my face.

"Now, Claire...she's just trying her best. She's really stressed."

"Stressed about what?"

"Nothing. Just go do your homework."

Ah, the not-so-subtle hint that I wasn't going to get any more information and Dad no longer wanted to talk to me for fear that he accidentally would say something else.

Grumbling to myself, I climbed the stairs to go to my room, where my backpack was. Mom didn't like it downstairs because she thought it caused a mess, even if it was the only out-of-place thing in the room.

As I passed Mom's room, I could hear her stifled cries. I continued the journey to my room, biting my lip. Something bigger was going on right now, something that Mom and Dad weren't telling me...