Hide and Seek Read Free Page B

it's distracting when you're trying something serious.”
    I began to cry
. I couldn't help it. It was the last thing in the universe I wanted to do. I was furious at myself.
    “Hey,” he said, but I had already jammed the song into my briefcase and was heading for the door. I almost started to run.
I wouldn't run though
.
    “Hey,” he repeated. “Stop crying. Hold on a minute.”
    I turned to him. “I'm sorry I took up so much of your precious, valuable time. But if all you can talk about is one lousy rhyme, when I've just sung my heart out, then there's no way we can work together. And don't worry. I won't bother you again.”
    I rushed out the door, past an astonished Lynn Need-ham, and took the fancy Deco elevator to the lobby.
Screw him. Screw Barry Kahn
.
    I was tough enough to deal with this—I had to be. I had a little girl to take care of, not to mention myself to look out for. That was why I had written to half a dozen music companies besides Barry Kahn's from West Point Hospital. Tomorrow I would see one of the others. And then another. And another after that if I needed to.
    Somebody was going to like my music, my songs. They were too good, too
true
, for somebody not to listen, and to feel something.
    It's your loss, Barry Kahn, Mr. Big Shot. Mr. My-Time-Is-So-Precious!
    You missed out on Maggie Bradford!

CHAPTER 4
    D ID YOU EVER want to say, even to shout out loud,
Hey, I'm smart. I'm an okay person. I have some talent
.
    I shouted those very words in Times Square. No problem. Nobody even noticed. I fit right in with the rest of the loony-birds there.
    I wandered for a couple of hours, oblivious to the falling snow, then went to pick up Jennie at her school on West Seventy-third. I felt like absolute crap and hoped I didn't look it.
Sheesh, what a day
.
    “Let's celebrate,” I said. “Tomorrow starts the Christmas holiday. Give your favorite mom a big hug, and we'll go to some fancy New York restaurant. Just the two of us. Where do you want to eat? Lutèce? Windows On The World? Rumpelmayer's?”
    Jennie carefully thought the offer over, wrinkling her forehead and pulling on her chin, as she always does when she has to make an important decision. “How ’bout McDonald's. Then we can go see a flick.”
    “Quarter Pounders it is!” I laughed, and took her small hand. “My sweet bunny rabbit, you're what's important. And you like my songs.”
    “I
love
your songs, Mommy.”
    The two of us began to babble at each other—just like always. We were “best friends,” “girlfriends,” “the original motormouths,” “soul sisters,” “the odd couple.” We would “never be alone, because we would always have each other.”
    “How was your day, Sweetie? Boy, you've got to be tough to make it in New York. Fortunately, we're tough.”
    “School was fun. I made another new friend named Julie Goodyear. She's
real
funny. Mrs. Crolius said I'm
smart
.”
    “You are smart. You're also pretty, and you're a very nice person. You're awfully
short
though.”
    “I'm going to be bigger than you, don't you think so?”
    “Yes, I think so. I think you'll be around seven foot or so.”
    On and on and on like that.
    The motormouths.
    Best friends.
    We were both doing pretty well actually; getting used to New York—kind of; getting over Phillip as well as we could.
    To hell with Barry Kahn
.
    You blew it, Mr. Big Shot!
    It was as dark as Phillip's heart by the time Jennie and I got home. All my feelings of defiance had evaporated, and I looked at the front of our run-down brownstone with complete dismay.
    Shit, shit, shit. I guess we'll have to live here a while longer. Like maybe the rest of our lives
.
    I opened the front door, and it yawned as it always did. Typical New York reaction.
    Damn, damn, damn!
The lights had gone out in the hall and on the first-floor landing.
    All I could see was a pattern of light edging its way through the first-floor window from the lamppost in front of the