The Almost Murder and Other Stories Read Free Page B

hadn’t said or done a thing.
    David told me Agatha wanted to interview me on camera, too. I headed for my director’s chair again and David shot while Agatha stood nearby, relaxed and cool. Her questions were different: like whether I was closer to my dad or mom, what I’d want to change about my life if I could and whether I’d ever experienced prejudice. I told Agatha the truth, like I was used to being interviewed by a total stranger—Not!
    I admitted that my dad drinks too much, but we love him anyway, at least when he’s sober. I described Moms as the rock of our family, and you as the sister I never had. Agatha asked me what role I played in our “household.”
    â€œI’m the bigmouth comic relief of the family,” I blurted. Moms nodded in agreement. I told her that you’d escaped to college, the first Rodríguez to do so, and that I want to go to NYU, just like you.
    I even told Agatha that my brother, mistaken by a cop for a gang member, was shot in the leg. I heard Moms gasp, but it felt right to say. I explained that he’d survived, gotten a settlement from NYPD and moved with his wife and baby to Florida. He felt it had happened for a reason: to get his family down south, where he’s become a church deacon, bought a home and opened a small restaurant that’s always packed.
    Agatha and David were elbowing each other. Mr. Oliver nodded and grinned, which made him look even more like an elf. All three acted like they’d just discovered the new America Ferrara [but you know I’m prettier, and skinnier, even with my big butt].
    Moms’ cell rang—loud. She apologized and shut it off, but giggled from nerves. That made me crack up, so wehad one of our laughing fits, and I nearly fell off that high chair. David kept the camera rolling and asked if he could shoot Moms and me together.
    Agatha suggested we sit side by side on a small, tan sofa. We settled in, and David turned on the camera. He asked us about each other and our relationship. Agatha watched intently. After a while, she said, “They’re the Hispanic Gilmore girls! Oh, and the hair! Two Latina redheads, perfect, just perfect.”
    Agatha said that she had kids, so Moms warmed up to her. They traded mother stories. Next, Agatha asked if I’d like to be a mother like my own Moms.
    I said, “Yes,” and went on and on about what an adorable creature Moms is—the best on earth.
    Charlie, the receptionist, brought in mini sandwiches. This time, when asked if we wanted drinks, Moms asked for coffee and I ordered a Coke. Charlie was back in a flash, my Coke in a fancy wine glass, Moms’ coffee on good china.
    Agatha and David asked questions while we munched our sandwiches. They were delicious but so small they’d barely fill a cavity. By then, we were calmer and hungry. Charlie put fancy Italian cookies on a table by me. As we finished, Agatha nodded at David, who shut off the camera. He asked us to excuse them and all three left. Sticky-fingers Moms slid the last two cookies into her purse.
    Agatha and David came back, saying Mr. Oliver had sent his goodbyes, since he had to “make his curtain.” Maybe he sews costumes—I don’t know. Agatha handed Moms TWO contracts, saying we can sign right there and then, or take them home to show “Red’s father.” A joke since Pops is usually too drunk to decide on anything.
    David and Agatha took turns giving us details: that the show starts shooting in two weeks, we’d meet the rest of the cast at “an event” before it started and the set wouldbe “family-friendly.” Since I’m a minor, and the other
Brooklyn
teens are, too, there’d be a social worker and teacher on the set all day.
    Moms asked if both my parents had to give permission for me to do the show and Agatha said, “No, unless you’re divorced.” Big relief. Since they ARE married, Moms could