Spiral by Jacqueline Levine Read Free Book Online Page B

stoically beside the caskets, dabbing occasionally beneath her sunglasses with a small handkerchief. Her grandparents clutch tightly to her and can barely stand as the rabbi reads the burial prayers. But Cherie doesn’t waver; she doesn’t even flinch when she is given the shovel to throw dirt onto each of the caskets. Like a dainty china doll, she deposits a tiny smattering of earth upon each casket. Then she stands off to the side as the rest of us do the same. Mom is behind her every step of the way, waiting to be needed, but she is more of a mess than Cherie has ever been in the last few days.
    Megastar Caz Farrell is here, much to my dismay. The women all ogle and obsess over him as he does his part and tosses dirt onto the caskets. Aunt Darla makes it a point to introduce herself, and he is generous enough to give her an autograph discreetly. He makes his way to Cherie as the relatives and friends begin to disperse. Cherie greets him with a warm smile and sparkly eyes and a kiss on the cheek; I am close enough to smell the confidence on him, and it is nauseating. I can’t see what the big deal is, but I do notice that he is definitely
my
definition of a pretty boy.
    “Thanks for coming, Caz,” she says softly.
    He smiles the perfect, white smile of a modest hero. “Of course. I’m so sorry, Cherie. I’m praying for you. If you need anything, please don’t hesitate to call me.”
    He’s
good
, I think bitterly. I hadn’t thought to say anything like that.
    Well, whatever. Isn’t he 25 years old or something – and an actor? He’s supposed to know what to say and what look to give.
    She eats it up and grins a little brighter. “That means a lot. Thank you.”
    “Will you still be joining me for the New Year’s special?” he asks.
    She nods emphatically. “Yes. I should be fine by then. Just have to get some things straightened out.”
    He grins again. “Well, I look forward to seeing you then. If you’re back in the Hills this week, text me; we’ll get lunch.” I resist shaking my head, thinking over and over how a 20-something year old taking a 16 year old to lunch has to be against the law somehow. He nods briefly at me and smiles, but I can only glare at him when I tip my head in response.
    With that, Caz is off, headed for his own limo, accompanied by glamorous and extravagantly dressed celebrifriends and assistafriends, and they’re all swarmed by photographers as they reach the cars. When I look back at Cherie, she is listening half-heartedly to the rabbi. He tries to give her words of encouragement before she departs. She’s all polite smiles and head nods.
    Jim lays a hand on my shoulder and murmurs, “Can you keep an eye on Cherie while I get everyone to the limo?”
    I nod and stay by her side, hands shoved deep into my pockets, watching as Jim shields his parents from the same photographers. He helps his old, shattered mother into the limo with a gentleness I’ve never seen him use, even with Mom. Then he returns to help my mother through the snow, holding out his arm for her like a gentleman from the 1800s. The twins and Leroy follow, and Aunt Darla carries Britney and holds Brenton’s hand. It feels like a scene straight out of a drama Caz would probably star in.
    A stout older man and an Aunt Darla-type woman approach us. “Hiya, sweetheart.” The man hugs Cherie, then holds out his hand to me, and I shake it, staring at his bulbous nose.
    “Carl Schwartz. I’m Cherie’s manager. This is Betsy Calves, her publicist. And you are?”
    “Jack Hansen,” I reply, hoping my handshake is firm enough for Hollywood bigwigs. I don’t add a title; I don’t think I have a title. Cherie’s step-cousin? That just sounds weird.
    Her manager looks me over before turning his beady eyes back to Cherie. “Coming, sweetheart?” he asks, and he points a fat thumb toward their Rolls Royce limo.
    She smiles and shakes her head. “It’s okay. Maybe you can take Danika with you?” She turns