Page 11 of Sleeper: The Palisades Edition

“Can your mom come stay with you for a bit?”

I knew she’d ask that. My mother is a saint. She lives in Sedona, Arizona with her boyfriend, but they’re currently driving across the East Coast in their Airstream. When I was a kid, we lived in Flagstaff. On the weekends, she’d drive me two and a half hours away to Scottsdale to meet with agents, audition for commercials, shoot commercials. When I booked the Disney Channel show, she moved with me to Burbank while we shot the episodes, stayed with me during the hiatus when I starred in such stellar straight-to-dvd classics asSpaced CampandThe Santa Blahs. She continued on with me in LA until I turned nineteen, after my ABC Family show was cancelled, and never blamed me for my dad’s affair with his secretary and the inevitable divorce that ensued. So as much as I’d love to just call my mom up and whine that I could really use her help over here—I think she’s earned her road trip with a guy named Hank who’s seven years younger than her.

“She’s traveling for at least a month” is all that I say. “What about your parents?”

“They’re both in rehearsals for the Tom Stoppard play. On Broadway. You know that.”

“Which is why I’m going to have to hire someone.”

She tries to angrily cross her arms in front of her chest, but she can barely move them and just ends up in some stubborn Victorian lady Incredible Hulk pose. Do I laugh at her? Yes. Yes, I do.

“It has to be someone we both agree on. You promised.”

“It’s not like I’m going to drag someone in off the street. I’m gonna start making calls. I’ll keep you in the loop. Skype ya later when the kids are home.” I end the call before she can complain.

I’m about to kill two birds with one stone by calling my agent and asking if his wife can recommend someone, when Nico Todd’s annoyingly handsome smirky face shows up on my phone and I realize he’s calling me. “Yo.”

“You on your way?”

“On my way where?”

“To meet me for coffee.”

“Oh yeah.”Shit.I haven’t seen Nico in ages. Between us living on opposite ends of LA, me having kids, my shooting on location in Maine and him being on tour, we’ve only seen each other twice in the past few months. Which is crazy because he’s my best friend.

There goes my grown-up shower and nap.

“Yeah. Leaving now. Where am I meeting you?”

“You totally forgot, didn’t you?”

“Yeah, I’m having sleep issues and I’ve had a shit week. Listen, I need to buy groceries and I have to pick the kids up at three, so can we multi-task?”

“Doesn’t your nanny do that?”

“She did before she quit.”

“Can’t you just order online?”

“Yes, but I’d have to be at home to put the cold stuff away when it’s delivered—just meet me at Erewhon.”

“Which one?”

“On Beverly.” Nico and I always meet upmidway between his place and mine because it takes a fucking year to get between the Palisades and downtown. I know exactly what he’s thinking right now—there are always hot women at Erewhon. Organic cold-pressed green juices plus overpriced superfoods and gluten-free donuts equals starlets in tight little tank tops and yoga pants. It’s basic LA math.

“Okay, but I’ve got my sister with me.”

“What?”

“My sister. She’s crashing with me.”

“Not willingly!” I hear her mutter in the background.

I get a surprising shiver up and down my spine. I remember Nico’s sister. Quirky. Adorable. So far, she’s still the only person who has ever kissed me on the back of my hand. She was so young, but how could I forget her? “Hey, Willow!”

“It’s Willa. We’ll be there in like twenty minutes.”

“Yeah, I’ll be there in half an hour.”