Ever.
But my mom? She gets whatever she wants, and that’s been one of my greatest joys in life.
She lives on the way to Violet’s salon, and I picked something up in the city for her. As I reach the bottom of the hill and pull into her driveway, a familiar sense of pride surges in my chest. She loves her house—it’s a three-bedroom, two-story home on stilts on a small patch of beach in Sausalito, a beautiful seaside town just across the bay from the city. I cut the engine and grab the bag of takeout I picked up from her favorite Chinese restaurant on Chestnut Street. I head around the side of her house, take the steps two at a time to the wraparound deck, and knock on the glass door. But she’s not inside. She calls out from the sand.
“Is that my favorite Chinese deliveryman?” She cups her hands over her eyes.
“Yes, ma’am. One order of spicy eggplant, one order of pepper steak, and one order of scallion pancakes.”
I head to the sand. The breeze blows Mom’s blond hair across her cheek, and she gathers it back. Dyed blond, courtesy of Violet. My mom says she refuses to become a silver fox, especially since she’s not even fifty, so she’s a religiously regular customer at Heroes and Hairoines, with an appointment every three weeks.
Her dog, Miss Moneypenny, a Golden Retriever mix, bounds over to me and plops herself down, asking nicely for food. “Hey, girl,” I say, scratching her silky chin as my mom walks over in a billowy green sweatshirt, a tennis ball in one hand and two Chihuahua mixes, James and Bond, by her side.
The spy franchise, rock music, and football—that’s what my home was filled with growing up.
“I got your favorite and Dan’s,” I say, holding up the bag.
“Always so thoughtful, even though I know I’m just a pit stop on your way to see your girlfriend.”
“Just as I know you’ll be happy to watch The Spy Who Loved Me with Dan, the dogs, and the Chinese food,” I point out.
“Touché.” She leans in to give me a kiss on the cheek and ruffles my hair as she takes the food. “Now.” Shifting her tone, she parks one hand on her hip and stares sharply at me. “Were you ever going to tell your dear old mom?”
“Mom, there’s hardly anything to tell.”
“Seems there’s something. Ready to confess?”
I laugh. “It’s complicated, but in a nutshell, I had to say all that stuff about us being together to prevent some trouble I was having with the owner’s sister.”
She arches a brow. “What sort of trouble?”
“Nothing you need to worry about. Just know I kind of need to pretend Violet and I are a thing for a little while.”
“That seems a bit dicey.”
“It’ll be fine, Mom.”
Mom has never stopped worrying about me in the dog-eat-dog world of pro sports. “Be careful, Cooper.”
“I’m always careful. You’ll keep my secret?”
She ruffles my hair. “Cooper, I’m your mother. Of course I’ll keep my mouth shut, even if I don’t understand why you need to do this.”
“It’ll all be worth it, I promise,” I say, then hand her the bag.
“Wait. Let me amend that. Keep bribing me with Chinese food, and I won’t blab.”
“We’ve got a deal.”
She opens the bag and inhales. “My mouth is watering.”
“Make sure Miss Moneypenny doesn’t eat it all,” I tell her, but her big dog is far more interested in the tennis ball.
“She would never steal food. She’s too well-trained,” Mom says proudly. She flashes me the happiest grin in the world. “Such a shame that training them is all I have to do all day long.”
I smile, too. “And that’s the way it should be.”
She’s the classic football mom. She worked hard when I was a kid, picking up extra money for uniforms and equipment with babysitting gigs in the evenings. She drove me to every practice, attended every game, and cheered the loudest. Mom had rented her whole life, and what she wanted most was to own a home here in Sausalito and to spend her days with her dogs. I made it happen for her, and I’m glad she lives nearby.
I drop a kiss to her forehead. “Enjoy dinner. I have to go see Violet.”
“Good luck getting in. There’s a line out the door.”
10
I wouldn’t say I’m famous.
I wouldn’t even classify myself as terribly well-known yet. I’ve snagged a pack of condoms at the CVS on Fillmore without the paparazzi reporting on it. I’ve bought salmon at Whole Foods without any speculation on whether I’ve started an all-fish diet. (The answer is no, because I like steak too much.)