Concealed
Amanda
Mom had warned me about a possible guest so I let my dog out once Cameron was sitting comfortably at the table. Immediately, Minnie went running for him. He looked a little intimidated and I didn’t blame him. Minnie was a pure black lab with naturally white teeth and could look frightening when growling and barking.
“Er….”
“This is my service dog,” I said. “Her name is Minnie. She’s harmless, I promise. Just let her sniff your hand.”
He hesitated but did as I said. Minnie sniffed him twice then her tail started wagging frantically as she tried to jump on his lap. I laughed and clipped her leash on him.
“All right, Minnie, that’s enough,” I said and took my seat by my father.
Mom had gone all out on dinner tonight. She made her famous roasted rosemary chicken with red potatoes and corn. She had my brother, Ronald, sit beside Cameron and I was placed across from him. My mom sat by my father as usual.
I wasn’t sure of Cameron’s religion but that didn’t stop my mom from saying grace. Normally we held hands but I refused to hold theirs.
“So, Cameron, this is my son Jim, Jr.,” my dad said and Cameron shook his hand. “And this is my daughter, Amanda.”
I nodded at him but didn’t shake his hand. He looked confused but took a bite of the food and immediately complimented my mother. She laughed and made conversation. I ate in silence, shooting him quick glances.
None of my family recognized him but I did. I had been a fan of Cameron Drake since he started. There had been rumors that he was moving away from LA but I never thought he would move right across from us. Of course, as soon as I got the chance, I would be out of this house again.
“So, what do you do?” my dad asked.
“I’m… an artist,” he said.
“Oh? What kind?” Mom asked, oblivious to his discomfort.
He cleared his throat. “Music.”
“Amanda loves music!” my mom said. “What genre?”
I almost answered for him.
“Mostly alternative rock,” he said. “I’ve branched out to EDM recently and people seem to enjoy it.”
“We’ll have to look up your music then,” my dad said.
My mom laughed. “I’m sure Amanda already has his music.”
“Mom,” I groaned.
“What?” she asked innocently. “I’m just saying that you’re a music fanatic.”
“Not as much as a movie fanatic,” my father laughed.
Thankfully, my phone rang and I got up to answer it. I walked into the living room and took a few deep breaths before answering.
“Amanda Peterson,” I said, sitting down.
Minnie jumped on the couch just as my least favorite client started speaking.
“I have been waiting on this document for three days, Miss Peterson,” George Henderson said. “Where is it?”
“I told you I had a sei-”
“That’s not an excuse,” he interrupted. “Surely you’re recovered by now!”
“I have just an hour left on it,” I said. “I have a guest for dinner tonight, though, and-”
“Oh. I see. You’re healthy enough to entertain a guest but not do your job?”
I gripped my cell phone.
“Okay, first of all, Mr. Henderson, if you keep talking to me like this then I will no longer work with you,” I snapped. “Second, it’s none of your business if I have guests for dinner anyway. Finally, I’ll have the document to you by noon tomorrow. You knew when you asked for my services that my health is unpredictable.”
“I’ll just go with someone else next time,” he said huffily and I laughed.
“Good luck finding someone who charges less than me. You’ll receive it in your email tomorrow.”
I hung up and threw my head back with a groan. I couldn’t stand Mr. Henderson. Maybe this is a good thing. Maybe now he’ll leave me alone. Lord knows I won’t be losing out. He wasn’t paying me my normal rate because he claims that he doesn’t have the money. One look on his website told me otherwise but the contract had been signed and I couldn’t renegotiate the price.
Minnie started to wine and crawled over. I smiled at her as she licked my face, nudging my chin with her muzzle. My mom practically ran into the room when she heard Minnie.
“Are you okay?” she asked immediately. “Are you going to have another seizure?”
I smiled at her. “I’m fine, Mom. Just a stressful phone call. Minnie’s just calming me down.”
Her eyes narrowed. “Henderson again?” she asked and I nodded.
“I don’t think he’ll be contacting me again, though. He’s pretty mad at me.”
“Why?”
She helped me stand up and I scoffed.
“Apparently, recovering from a seizure shouldn’t take longer than 24 hours.”
“That man is so insensitive!” she shouted as we walked back in the dining room and my dad frowned.
“Who?”
“No one,” I said quickly and sat back down.
The air at the table was tense and I had a feeling Jim had been an asshole to Cameron. He hated musicians. I didn’t know why but Cameron didn’t seem insulted. In fact, he was joking around with my dad about something.
Ever since I moved back home with my parents because of my health, my brother resented me. He thought I was going to take over our family’s restaurant. I’ve lost count of how many times I’ve told him I had no interest in restaurants. I was happy with my job.
My phone rang and I gasped. My mom looked at the caller ID and gasped, too.
“Answer it!” she said excitedly.
“Sorry,” I breathed to Cameron and tried to get up but my joints had locked up from trying to stop the panic attack that was trying to come on.
“It’s okay,” he shrugged and I answered.
“H-Hello?”
“Hi. My name is Katy Allen. Is this Amanda Peterson?”
“Yes,” I breathed and everyone was watching me, Cameron curiously.
“I wanted to call you and tell you that your manuscript was not accepted,” she said in a sympathetic voice and I shut my eyes. “However, I’ve sent you an email of other publishers who might be interested in it. Please don’t take this as your manuscript is not good,” she added quickly. “It’s just not what we publish.”
“I understand. Thank you very much for calling me and emailing me that list.”
“Of course. You have a pleasant evening, Miss Peterson.”
“You, too.”
I sighed and hung up.
“No luck?” my dad asked gently.
“No,” I muttered. “She sent a list of other publishers, though.”
Jim laughed harshly. “That was number, what, 14? No one is going to publish your shi-”
“We have a guest,” my dad said through clenched teeth.
Cameron shifted awkwardly in his chair.
“Perhaps I should go,” he said. “Thank you for dinner.”
He stood and left and my dad glared at Jim while my mom chased after Cameron. I managed to stand and collected the plates but Dad stopped me.
“Go rest,” he said gently. “I can see you’re in pain.”
“I’ll be fine,” I muttered, tired of Jim making fun of me for my illnesses.
The front door opened and closed and my mom stormed it, glaring at Jim.
“That was awful of you!” she shouted. “You could at least have waited until he left!”
Jim scoffed, standing up. “We don’t need some fag musician as a friend.”
I didn’t wait to hear the rest of the argument. I went upstairs to my bedroom and sat down heavily on my bed, staring miserably at the floor. Jim had been right; that had been the 14th publisher to reject my manuscript. Maybe he was right that no one would, too.
I had finished taking my pills when someone knocked.
“C’mon in,” I muttered.
Minnie was chewing on her bone but her tail wagged happily as my dad walked in. He sat down.
“Where’s the pain?” he asked, holding a bottle of Bengay.
“Where isn’t it?” I asked sarcastically then sighed. “My neck and shoulders mostly.”
He rubbed it in. “Don’t listen to your brother, Amanda,” he said. “Your book is perfectly worth publishing, baby. Look at J.K. Rowling. She was rejected 12 times and told she never would be able to. Now she’s one of the best authors in the world!”
“I’ll never be on her level,” I muttered.
“Here,” he said, passing me a box. “Your mom and I were going to wait until your birthday but, after tonight, I think it’s a good time.”
I opened the box and smiled. It was a copy of Stephen King’s On Writing. I saw it on Amazon last week and told my parents I was interested in reading it.
“We took a sneak peek,” he admitted. “He talks about rejections in there. Follow his advice, okay?”
“I feel so embarrassed with Cameron,” I groaned. “Why does Jim have to be such a jerk?”
He shook his head. “I don’t know. Your mom is talking to him now, though.”
I nodded. “I’m going to get some rest.”
“Okay. I love you.”
“Love you, too,” I said and got into bed, turning on my stomach so the Bengay didn’t rub off onto the sheets.
“Er….”
“This is my service dog,” I said. “Her name is Minnie. She’s harmless, I promise. Just let her sniff your hand.”
He hesitated but did as I said. Minnie sniffed him twice then her tail started wagging frantically as she tried to jump on his lap. I laughed and clipped her leash on him.
“All right, Minnie, that’s enough,” I said and took my seat by my father.
Mom had gone all out on dinner tonight. She made her famous roasted rosemary chicken with red potatoes and corn. She had my brother, Ronald, sit beside Cameron and I was placed across from him. My mom sat by my father as usual.
I wasn’t sure of Cameron’s religion but that didn’t stop my mom from saying grace. Normally we held hands but I refused to hold theirs.
“So, Cameron, this is my son Jim, Jr.,” my dad said and Cameron shook his hand. “And this is my daughter, Amanda.”
I nodded at him but didn’t shake his hand. He looked confused but took a bite of the food and immediately complimented my mother. She laughed and made conversation. I ate in silence, shooting him quick glances.
None of my family recognized him but I did. I had been a fan of Cameron Drake since he started. There had been rumors that he was moving away from LA but I never thought he would move right across from us. Of course, as soon as I got the chance, I would be out of this house again.
“So, what do you do?” my dad asked.
“I’m… an artist,” he said.
“Oh? What kind?” Mom asked, oblivious to his discomfort.
He cleared his throat. “Music.”
“Amanda loves music!” my mom said. “What genre?”
I almost answered for him.
“Mostly alternative rock,” he said. “I’ve branched out to EDM recently and people seem to enjoy it.”
“We’ll have to look up your music then,” my dad said.
My mom laughed. “I’m sure Amanda already has his music.”
“Mom,” I groaned.
“What?” she asked innocently. “I’m just saying that you’re a music fanatic.”
“Not as much as a movie fanatic,” my father laughed.
Thankfully, my phone rang and I got up to answer it. I walked into the living room and took a few deep breaths before answering.
“Amanda Peterson,” I said, sitting down.
Minnie jumped on the couch just as my least favorite client started speaking.
“I have been waiting on this document for three days, Miss Peterson,” George Henderson said. “Where is it?”
“I told you I had a sei-”
“That’s not an excuse,” he interrupted. “Surely you’re recovered by now!”
“I have just an hour left on it,” I said. “I have a guest for dinner tonight, though, and-”
“Oh. I see. You’re healthy enough to entertain a guest but not do your job?”
I gripped my cell phone.
“Okay, first of all, Mr. Henderson, if you keep talking to me like this then I will no longer work with you,” I snapped. “Second, it’s none of your business if I have guests for dinner anyway. Finally, I’ll have the document to you by noon tomorrow. You knew when you asked for my services that my health is unpredictable.”
“I’ll just go with someone else next time,” he said huffily and I laughed.
“Good luck finding someone who charges less than me. You’ll receive it in your email tomorrow.”
I hung up and threw my head back with a groan. I couldn’t stand Mr. Henderson. Maybe this is a good thing. Maybe now he’ll leave me alone. Lord knows I won’t be losing out. He wasn’t paying me my normal rate because he claims that he doesn’t have the money. One look on his website told me otherwise but the contract had been signed and I couldn’t renegotiate the price.
Minnie started to wine and crawled over. I smiled at her as she licked my face, nudging my chin with her muzzle. My mom practically ran into the room when she heard Minnie.
“Are you okay?” she asked immediately. “Are you going to have another seizure?”
I smiled at her. “I’m fine, Mom. Just a stressful phone call. Minnie’s just calming me down.”
Her eyes narrowed. “Henderson again?” she asked and I nodded.
“I don’t think he’ll be contacting me again, though. He’s pretty mad at me.”
“Why?”
She helped me stand up and I scoffed.
“Apparently, recovering from a seizure shouldn’t take longer than 24 hours.”
“That man is so insensitive!” she shouted as we walked back in the dining room and my dad frowned.
“Who?”
“No one,” I said quickly and sat back down.
The air at the table was tense and I had a feeling Jim had been an asshole to Cameron. He hated musicians. I didn’t know why but Cameron didn’t seem insulted. In fact, he was joking around with my dad about something.
Ever since I moved back home with my parents because of my health, my brother resented me. He thought I was going to take over our family’s restaurant. I’ve lost count of how many times I’ve told him I had no interest in restaurants. I was happy with my job.
My phone rang and I gasped. My mom looked at the caller ID and gasped, too.
“Answer it!” she said excitedly.
“Sorry,” I breathed to Cameron and tried to get up but my joints had locked up from trying to stop the panic attack that was trying to come on.
“It’s okay,” he shrugged and I answered.
“H-Hello?”
“Hi. My name is Katy Allen. Is this Amanda Peterson?”
“Yes,” I breathed and everyone was watching me, Cameron curiously.
“I wanted to call you and tell you that your manuscript was not accepted,” she said in a sympathetic voice and I shut my eyes. “However, I’ve sent you an email of other publishers who might be interested in it. Please don’t take this as your manuscript is not good,” she added quickly. “It’s just not what we publish.”
“I understand. Thank you very much for calling me and emailing me that list.”
“Of course. You have a pleasant evening, Miss Peterson.”
“You, too.”
I sighed and hung up.
“No luck?” my dad asked gently.
“No,” I muttered. “She sent a list of other publishers, though.”
Jim laughed harshly. “That was number, what, 14? No one is going to publish your shi-”
“We have a guest,” my dad said through clenched teeth.
Cameron shifted awkwardly in his chair.
“Perhaps I should go,” he said. “Thank you for dinner.”
He stood and left and my dad glared at Jim while my mom chased after Cameron. I managed to stand and collected the plates but Dad stopped me.
“Go rest,” he said gently. “I can see you’re in pain.”
“I’ll be fine,” I muttered, tired of Jim making fun of me for my illnesses.
The front door opened and closed and my mom stormed it, glaring at Jim.
“That was awful of you!” she shouted. “You could at least have waited until he left!”
Jim scoffed, standing up. “We don’t need some fag musician as a friend.”
I didn’t wait to hear the rest of the argument. I went upstairs to my bedroom and sat down heavily on my bed, staring miserably at the floor. Jim had been right; that had been the 14th publisher to reject my manuscript. Maybe he was right that no one would, too.
I had finished taking my pills when someone knocked.
“C’mon in,” I muttered.
Minnie was chewing on her bone but her tail wagged happily as my dad walked in. He sat down.
“Where’s the pain?” he asked, holding a bottle of Bengay.
“Where isn’t it?” I asked sarcastically then sighed. “My neck and shoulders mostly.”
He rubbed it in. “Don’t listen to your brother, Amanda,” he said. “Your book is perfectly worth publishing, baby. Look at J.K. Rowling. She was rejected 12 times and told she never would be able to. Now she’s one of the best authors in the world!”
“I’ll never be on her level,” I muttered.
“Here,” he said, passing me a box. “Your mom and I were going to wait until your birthday but, after tonight, I think it’s a good time.”
I opened the box and smiled. It was a copy of Stephen King’s On Writing. I saw it on Amazon last week and told my parents I was interested in reading it.
“We took a sneak peek,” he admitted. “He talks about rejections in there. Follow his advice, okay?”
“I feel so embarrassed with Cameron,” I groaned. “Why does Jim have to be such a jerk?”
He shook his head. “I don’t know. Your mom is talking to him now, though.”
I nodded. “I’m going to get some rest.”
“Okay. I love you.”
“Love you, too,” I said and got into bed, turning on my stomach so the Bengay didn’t rub off onto the sheets.