How to Date a Dragon(82)
Malinda smiled sweetly and sighed. “My youngest was the perfect child. So kind and selfless. Always helping around the house…”
To say Bliss was stunned was an understatement. Who is her mother talking about? I am her youngest… at least I thought I was. So why isn’t she telling the world what a hellion I was and how I gave her three-quarters of her gray hairs… like she usually does.
The doorbell rang at that moment, and Bliss practically jumped out of her chair. “That must be Drake. I’ll get it.”
Malinda followed her. “Or it could be your brothers…”
Bliss stopped in her tracks and whirled on her mother. “Are you kidding me? I thought the deal was if I called Drake, you wouldn’t call Emilio and Ricky, and since when do they knock?”
Malinda pointed to the director. “Well, this nice man here said I should. I’m sorry. I’ve forgotten your name.”
He rose and buttoned his suit jacket. “Boguchwal Mickolajczyk.”
“Hmmm… I may forget again. Do you have a nickname?”
He smiled indulgently. “Yes. You can call me Bo.”
Malinda followed Bliss to the door, mumbling something about long, difficult Polish names. Bliss almost said something about long Italian names, but Malinda wouldn’t equate the two—ever. Bliss made sure she reached the door first and opened it, only to have her brothers push past her.
Ricky ruffled her hair. “Hey, squirt.”
“Christ, Ricky! Do you know how long it took me to do my hair and makeup today?”
Emilio snorted. “Oh, that’s right. You’re a big movie star now, huh?”
“Oh, for frig’s sake, it’s TV and you know it. Ma, did you have to invite them?”
Malinda threw her hands in the air. “As I said before, your producer told me to. I’m just trying to cooperate… like you asked.”
Bliss almost swallowed her tongue when she realized the cameras were rolling. That must be why the guys rang the bell. To warn the cameraman to start rolling.
The boys made a beeline for the kitchen.
Ricky said, “I smell Ma’s chicken parmigiano-reggiano.”
“Don’t you touch that,” Malinda called out as she followed her sons. “I want it to look perfect on television.”
Bliss rolled her eyes. Like her dinner is going to be the center of attention. Though she had to admit, it usually was.
She looked directly at the cameraman. “Can you possibly roll that back and erase it?”
He smiled and kept filming. “You know I can’t. If Bo wants to edit it out, he will.”
She blew the bangs out of her eyes, then strolled to the mirror to check how badly Ricky had ruined her hair.
The door opened and a cameraman poked his head in. “Judith is here, Bliss. It’s showtime.” He closed the door again and the second cameraman focused on the front door, ready to capture the big moment.
Butterflies used to invade her stomach in the beginning of filming the show, but Bliss thought she had gotten used to it. Apparently that wasn’t true, because moths were flapping around in there now.
The doorbell rang and Bliss quickly finger-combed her hair into place. She tried to look natural as she strode to the door and opened it.
“Hi, Judith,” she tried to say enthusiastically upon seeing the tall blond who had cruelly trashed someone’s work in every episode.
To her shock, Judith kissed her on both cheeks.
“Bliss! How marvelous to see you again. I can’t wait to hear all about your hard work over the last six weeks. I understand it was even more difficult because of some unusual circumstances.”
Bliss groaned inwardly while keeping a pleasant smile plastered on her face. She knew exactly what the attention grabber was talking about. Judith wanted her to elaborate on the near disasters—not the work she’d done creating her Hall-Snark cards.
As she’d been coached, Bliss said, “It’s wonderful to see you too, Judith. Come in. I’d like you to meet my family.” Yeah, right. I’d like to hide them in the bushes in the backyard.
She led the woman into her mother’s kitchen where Malinda stirred an empty pot on the stove. Her brothers were sitting at the kitchen table along with her father, who’d apparently decided to leave his man-cave in the basement and make an appearance.
The three men rose and waited to be introduced, almost as if they’d developed manners in the last three minutes. Malinda wiped her perfectly clean hands on her apron and joined the family ticking time-bomb.
“Judith Applebottom, these are my parents, Malinda and Romeo Russo, and my brothers, Ricky and Emilio.”
The host stuck out her hand and shook those of each family member. “Yes. I can see the resemblance,” she said.