Melinda’s Story

After our snack, Pat showed me the rest of the house, including the recording studio, home gym, and theater in the basement. We were heading back up the front staircase when we heard the stylists entering the house.

Pat led me back to Meghan’s room, stopping just outside the door to give me a lingering kiss. He pulled me close, resting his forehead against mine and speaking in a low voice.

“In case I forget to say it later, I’m really glad you’re here tonight.”

When Pat left, I showered, combing my hair but leaving it damp. After brushing my teeth and putting on my dress, I searched Meghan’s closet for a bathrobe and headed down the stairs.

A salon chair sat beside a dresser, upon which I saw a large array of hair care products. Miss Kara was sitting in the chair while a man combed something white through her hair. She smiled when she saw me.

“Sergei, this is my son’s friend, Melinda. We’re going to do her hair next.”

The man nodded. “Yes, yes.” He had the hint of an accent I couldn’t quite place. “I have something in mind already.”

“Melinda, sweetie, why don’t you sit over there and Robin can do your nails?”

I had painted my nails a few days ago, but I hadn’t had a real manicure since my last trip to the mall with my roommate. I was a little excited about the pampering. Robin looked only a little older than Meghan, with spiky blue hair and bright white teeth. She sat me in a folding chair near the bed, placing my feet in some sort of portable spa. Then she wheeled over what looked like a hospital tray table and soaked my fingers in a bowl. After sitting across from me, she placed a tackle box between my hands and began pulling out various shades of nail polish.

“Alright. So, we can do the traditional reds and pinks, but I think with that dress, this purple would match perfectly.” Robin held out a shimmering lavender polish.

“I like it. What’s it called?”

“This brand? They name all their polishes after instruments. This one is Flute Fantasy.”

“Definitely.” I giggled, wondering how that purple was anything like my beloved flute.

Robin removed my hands from the water bath, treated my cuticles, and brought over a wax warmer. After coating my hands and covering them with plastic and warm towels, she began to care for my feet. I couldn’t quite get over the fact that I was receiving the same treatment I received at the spa, but in a guest bedroom.

By the time I was done with my mani-pedi, Miss Kara was done with her hair. She had moved onto a stool while someone worked on her makeup. I moved into Sergei’s chair, where he immediately brushed out my damp hair.

“I love this hair. It’s so healthy.”

What was I supposed to say? “Thanks?”

“So, I have a few ideas, but do you know what you would like?”

I could hear Pat coming up behind me. “A ballet bun. Melinda’s a dancer.”

“Yes, yes! I have the perfect thing. You just rest and let Sergei work his magic.”

I held up a hand to show Pat my nails. “Guess what my fingers are called.”

Walter smiled as he came beside me. “Phalanges.”

I sent him a confused look. “What?”

“It’s another name for fingers. And toes.”

Pat shook his head. “You should write a book. Useless information.”

“Hey. That’s not useless. It could come in handy someday.”

“When? When would that ever —”

“Boys!” Miss Kara’s sharp voice carried across the room. “If you don’t behave yourselves, you’re not going to the premiere. I’ll take Melinda and you two can stay home and bicker.”

Pat sent his mother a mischievous smirk. “You can’t go alone. It’s my movie.”

“I have the passes. I don’t recall giving you yours yet. I’m holding it hostage until you can show me you are mature enough for this. Do you both understand me?”

“Yes,” mumbled both boys.

“Good.”

While Sergei worked on me, Robin set Pat in a nearby chair to soak his fingers while Walter watched from the bed.

“Are you guys getting manicures, too?” I couldn’t quite keep the surprise out of my voice.

Walter’s face turned red. “If you tell anyone—”

I giggled. “What color are you getting?”

Pat smiled. “I don’t know. What do you have?”

“It’s called Flute Fantasy. You should get guitar.”

“What color is that?”

I shrugged. “I don’t know. But it would be funny.”

Robin sent Pat a disgusted look. “Gilded Guitar is a canary yellow that would clash horribly with that tie.”

Pat flashed her his famous smile. “We’re just fooling around, Robin. Just the regular manicure for us.”

“So, Patrick,” Robin asked as she filed Pat’s nails. “Are you excited about tonight’s premiere?”

“I am. I really enjoyed making this movie.”

Walter smirked from the couch. “Of course you did. You were in Hawaii. And missed like six weeks of school.”

Pat tried to hit his brother with the hand Robin wasn’t holding, but Walter moved just outside his reach.

---

An hour later, I stood in the bathroom, examining myself in the mirror. My hair was in a ballet bun at the top of my head, with a braid wrapped around the outside. It A glittery gel plastered it to my head to prevent stray hairs from flying out. The make-up artist had applied just enough cosmetics that I couldn’t tell I was even wearing any, although it made me look several years older.

I saw Pat enter the bathroom behind me, but he looked different. It took a minute to figure out what had changed. When it hit me, I spun around with a shriek.

“You cut your hair!” This morning, it had been shaggy enough that he was constantly brushing it out of his eyes. Now, however, the lower half sported a buzz cut, while the top half, though still a couple of inches long, was much shorter than before.

Pat flashed me his famous smile. “What do you think?”

“I love it! I hated that long hair.”

He kissed me just under my ear before whispering in it.

“You look gorgeous.”

“I don’t look like a clown?”

“I’m sorry I said that earlier. Is that’s what’s bothering you?”

I shrugged. “Not exactly. It’s just . . . I don’t feel like me anymore. And you’re not Pat. You’re Patrick McGregor. You look different. You’re already acting different.”

“Is that okay?”

“It’s weird. Because I didn’t fall for Patrick McGregor.”

Pat squeezed my hand. “It’s still me under all this. Having you by my side reminds me who I am. I would kiss you right now, but I don’t want to ruin your makeup.”

I smiled, turning to him and locking my arms around his neck. “I have extra lip gloss.”

My lips were a hairsbreadth away from Pat’s when I heard Walter’s voice from the doorway.

“Dad is freaking out that you two have been in here for too long.”

Pat growled. “It’s been, like, one minute.”

Walter held up his hands. “I’m just the messenger. Mom also says she wants to talk to you. Alone.”

Swearing under his breath, Pat huffed out of the bathroom while Walter came to stand beside me.

“You look amazing.”

I smiled at him. “You clean up pretty well yourself. I like the suit. It’s a far cry from baggy khakis and tee shirts.”

Walter smiled. “You almost ready? The limo’ll be here soon.”

I followed him out of the guest room and into the living room. “I’ve been thinking. I was watching everyone interact with you guys. It was like, as soon as we got to LA, you became Wally. He’s Patrick.”

“Does that bother you?”

I shrugged. “No. It just makes me feel like I need a Hollywood name, too.”

Walter’s response was almost automatic. “Daphne.”

I cringed at the sound of Pat’s former nickname for me. “First of all, you saying that is just weird.”

“Yeah, I heard it.”

“Besides, he doesn’t call me that anymore.”

“I noticed. What does he call you?”

“Nothing.”

Walter smirked. “Why? Why bother lying? You know you can’t.”

I scowled. “It’s embarrassing.”

“Eww. I don’t want to know. Fine. What about—What are some nicknames you had when you were little?”

“Umm . . . Bookworm. Rocket. Smelly Melly.”

“Oh yeah,” Walter said sarcastically. “That’s a fantastic nickname.” He extended his hand and spoke in a near perfect imitation of a valley girl. “Hi. I’m, like, Smelly Melly. Nice to, like, meet you.”

I was nearly doubled over with laughter. “You don’t do that at school. Your voices.”

“Nah. I save ’em for my family.”

“Well, I’m glad you’re comfortable enough with me to do them.”

Walter’s face lit up. “What about Mel?”

“Who’s Mel?”

“You.”

I made a face. “Makes me sound like an old bald man. I think it’s Mr. Pilgarlic’s first name.”

Walter laughed at the mention of one of the baldheaded characters he voiced. “Fine. What does your mom call you?”

“Melinda.”

“Come on. She must have a nickname for you. You already know my mom calls me Bubba.”

I giggled. “Yeah she does. My mom usually just calls me Baby Girl.”

Walter frowned. “That doesn’t work. I give up. This is harder than I thought.”

A memory flashed through my mind. I sat up a little straighter. “Mae!”

“May what?”

I shook my head. “No. When I was in sixth grade, we had to sample each of the language classes for a term before deciding which to take. In French class, the teacher assigned us French names. Mine was Mae.”

“So, are you going to be one of those people who just has one name? Or do you want some sort of made-up last name, too?”

“Um . . . Dupont. That was my teacher’s last name.”

Walter raised his eyebrows. “You pronounced that really well.”

“It’s pretty much all I can say in French. I ended up taking Italian for the rest of middle school.”

Walter extended his hand. “Well, Mae Dupont. It’s nice to meet you. I’m Wally.”

“Car’s here,” Pat grumbled from the doorway.

I put an arm around his waist as I passed him. “You okay?”

“My parents are being vexatious.”

“Huh?”

Pat shook his head. “Aggravating. Annoying. They think that if you and I are alone together for more than thirty seconds, we’re going to end up—”

“Doing something other than kissing?” I rubbed Pat’s back as we headed out the front door. “This is all because of the plane, isn’t it?”

When Pat nodded, I shook my head. “Well, it’s time to focus on your premiere. Forget about them. Oh. Wally and I came up with a Hollywood name for me. I’m Mae Dupont.”

“You know what? I think that fits you perfectly tonight.” Pat squeezed my hand, kissing my forehead just lightly enough not to smear my makeup before helping me into the limo.

Pat’s Story

After my shower, I put on my suit and headed to the guest bedroom, standing in the door to take in the scene for a moment. Mom was sitting on a stool with the makeup artist. Melinda was in a salon chair where the hair stylist was playing with her hair. When he spoke, a hint of his native Ukraine sang in his voice.

“So, I have a few ideas, but do you know what you would like?”

An image popped into my mind as I made my way toward them. “A ballet bun. Melinda’s a dancer.”

“Yes, yes! I have the perfect thing. You just rest and let Sergei work his magic.”

As Sergei began brushing her hair, Melinda showed me her purple nail polish.

“Guess what my fingers are called.”

“Phalanges,” Walter said as he snuck up behind us.

Melinda’s bafflement was adorable. “What?”

“It’s another name for fingers. And toes.”

I turned to my brother. “You should write a book. Useless information.”

“Hey. That’s not useless. It could come in handy someday.”

“When? When would that ever—”

“Boys!” Mom had mastered the art of yelling at us, even when someone was applying gunk to her eyes. “If you don’t behave yourselves, you’re not going to the premiere. I’ll take Melinda and you two can stay home and bicker.”

I saw a serious flaw in her threat. “You can’t go alone. It’s my movie.”

“I have the passes. I don’t recall giving you yours yet. I’m holding it hostage until you can show me you are mature enough for this. Do you both understand me?”

“Yes,” Walter and I both muttered.

The nail stylist set me in a chair facing Melinda, rolled over a portable table, and placed my hands in a bowl of water. Walter sat on the nearby bed while he waited his turn.

Melinda was a little surprised that my brother and I were getting manicures. It certainly wasn’t the first time. I usually got one before beginning a new movie. Walter had them before every premiere. Mom had always made us do it when we were little. Now, we just accepted it as part of the pre-premiere preparations.

Was I being a pretentious celebrity again?

---

Sergei was still finishing my hair when I saw Melinda walk over to the bathroom, presumably to check herself out in the mirror. As soon as I was done, I joined her. She looked uneasy as she examined her reflection. Her hair glittered and her makeup made her look my age, even though she was three years younger. She was wearing a dress I had never seen before and looked gorgeous.

Her eyes met mine in the mirror. She squealed and turned to face me.

“You cut your hair!”

I smiled. “What do you think?”

“I love it! I hated that long hair.” She smiled, although it didn’t quite reach her eyes.

I wanted to kiss her, but I knew there was a room full of people who would freak out if I smeared her makeup or if either of us had a hair out of place. I found a spot just under her ear to kiss her.

“You look gorgeous.” I reached out to run my fingers along her back.

“I don’t look like a clown?”

“I’m sorry I said that earlier. Is that’s what’s bothering you?”

“Not exactly. It’s just . . . I don’t feel like me anymore. And you’re not Pat. You’re Patrick McGregor. You look different. You’re already acting different.”

I understood what she was trying to say. After she recently pointed it out to me, I had noticed how my behavior changed when I interacted with different people. She was going to be seeing a lot of Patrick McGregor tonight. As much as I loved her being here with me, I questioned whether inviting her had been a mistake.

“Is that okay?”

“It’s weird. Because I didn’t fall for Patrick McGregor.”

I took her hand and squeezed it, to reassure myself as much as her. “It’s still me under all this. Having you by my side reminds me who I am. I would kiss you right now, but I don’t want to ruin your makeup.”

Melinda turned to me with a mischievous smile and a glint in her eye as she locked her arms around my neck. “I have extra lip gloss.”

My hands were around her waist and her lips were dangerously close to mine when my brother magically appeared in the doorway, killing the moment.

“Dad is freaking out that you two have been in here too long.”

I glared at him. “It’s been like one minute.”

“I’m just the messenger. Mom also says she wants to talk to you. Alone.”

I swore as I stomped out of the bathroom. Mom was nowhere to be seen. Dad was getting his hair done. Since he was on tour, he had been receiving regular treatments and required the least amount of primping. I glared at him.

“Where’s Mom?”

“She went upstairs. She wanted you to go find her.”

I grumbled my way up the stairs and knocked on Mom’s open door. I didn’t see her, so I called into the room. “You wanted to see me?”

“I’m in my dressing room,” she called back.

I walked through her bathroom to the walk-in closet where my mother was putting on her jewelry at a lighted vanity.

“You wanted to see me?”

My mother met my eye in her mirror. “Are you all set?”

“Yeah, I think so.”

“Are you nervous?”

I leaned against the doorjamb, crossing my arms mostly so I would have something to do with them. “It’s not my first premiere, Mom.”

“I might be mistaken, but I think this is the first time you’re doing interviews solo.”

I smiled. “Are you nervous?”

“I still remember bringing you to your first premiere.”

For the life of me, I couldn’t even recall the name. “I give up.”

“You were a brand-new baby when Trouble with Tommy premiered. I didn’t want to leave you home. Granny made you the most adorable little suit.”

Mom looked like she was going to cry and I really didn’t want to risk my girlfriend overhearing baby stories. I tried to change the subject.

“Would you like help with that necklace?”

Mom blinked a couple of times. I think she had gotten lost in the memory.

“Huh? Oh. Yes. Thank you. Would you mind if I skip the after party?”

I secured the clasp as I shook my head. “I don’t mind. Don’t you want to go?”

“I have to be on set early tomorrow, and your father is exhausted.” She turned to face me. “Can I trust you and your brother on your own?”

“Mom, we’ve been to parties without you.”

“Patrick, you’re going to be at a hotel with your girlfriend. It makes me uneasy.”

I closed my eyes and took a few deep breaths. I knew if I snapped at my mother, she could ban me from my own party.

“Mom? I really don’t know how many times I can stress this point. Melinda and I are not sleeping together. Or anything close to it.”

“Your father said he saw you making out on the bed.”

I felt my face grow hot. “We were watching a movie and fell asleep. When I woke up, I gave her a quick kiss to say hi.”

“If your father hadn’t interrupted, what would have happened?”

“Nothing! I probably would have gone looking for leftover pizza, which is what I did after Dad yelled at me.”

Mom spoke slowly, as if she were choosing her next words carefully. “I need to know you have thought about all the consequences of the two of you being together.”

I groaned. “Yes, Mom. I’ve heard all the lectures. But it’s a moot point because we’re not together like that.”

I knew Mom wanted to say more, but Dad entered the room to announce the limo was here. I tried to sneak past him, but he caught me in the bedroom.

“Can you please tell your brother and Melinda the car is here?”

“Yeah. No problem.” I started toward the door.

“And, Patrick? Promise me you will make responsible choices tonight?”

I wanted to scream. I stormed out of the room and down the stairs. I stuck my head into the living room to announce that the car had arrived.

Walter headed outside, but Melinda took her time, putting an arm around me when she reached me.

“You okay?”

“My parents are being vexatious.”

Her baffled expression made me feel ten times better. After I took a moment to explain what was going on, she told me how she and Walter had created a new name for her for that evening. I gave Mae Dupont a quick kiss on the forehead before helping her into the limo.

Attention Hammerheads

Melinda is always trying to build her vocabulary. What were some words in this episode that were new to you? She will add them to her vocabulary journal.