Amazon Renee Kohl Alibris SM Group Publishing Category:  Action/Thriller Publisher: SM Group ISBN-10:  0979853893 Pages: 156 Copyright: November 2008 ISBN-13: 9780979853890 It’s Time for Your Close-up is a modern coming-of-age fiction novel. The storyline follows the life of a 9-year old, street-wise orphan girl named Shan from Spanish Harlem through her transition into adulthood. When her parents are killed, her staunch Christian grandmother who lives in Los Angeles takes her in. In L.A., Shan forms a close relationship with her babysitter Joey, the teenage boy who lives next door to her. Like her grandmother, the sitter becomes a guiding force in the little girl’s life, and Shan is supportive of Joey’s aspirations to become an actor. By the time Shan becomes a teenager, the young man is already a star. Even then, Joey maintains his protective demeanor towards Shan. At the height of his career and at the onset of hers, their highly scrutinized relationship gives rise to a scandal that rocks Hollywood and threatens both their livelihoods. Excerpt PROLOGUE Panama City Summer 2008 Each time a taxi pulled up in front of the hotel Shan ran up to it and peered into the windows. On the fifth such occurrence the taxi driver had barely stopped the car when Shan opened the door to let Joey out of the taxi. When she clasped her arms around him, he twirled her around. Then they sat on the bench. Shan said to the bellhop, “Will you take his luggage to room 308 please?” Then she turned back around to Joey and said, “I already got you a room. Are you tired, or hungry?” “Slow down. I ate on the plane just before it landed and I’m well-rested. So let’s talk about you, and what you’re doing here. Shan took her eyes off Joey long enough to glance at the bright lights across the street. Then she said, “Let’s walk. We can walk and talk at the same time, can’t we?” Joey did not answer her, but got up from the bench and walked with her to the busy intersection. She put her hand out to him and he took it. He had learned years ago to hold her hand when they crossed the street. As they walked, Shan gave Joey a detailed account of the events that had landed her in Panama. Along with walking and talking, they ducked in and out of some shops and restaurants as they passed them. An hour later, they were back at the hotel sitting on the bench. Joey said, “You know we’ve come a long way.” For the next two hours, they talked about things that had happened to them, the good and the bad, in the last nine years. They had a lot to talk about. 1 Los Angeles Spring 1998 It was a muggy eighty-five degrees in Los Angeles. Joey, dressed in a white Nike t-shirt and jeans, wiped sweat from his forehead with the bottom of his t-shirt as he sauntered over to the car he had noticed parked in front of Miss Helen’s house. He knocked on the driver’s window and in a deep mocking voice said, “You boys looking for somebody?” Joey peeped into the car. He could tell by their oldfashioned haircuts and their cheap suits they were some kind of cops, Probably detectives, he thought. The driver let his window down. Under his thick brown moustache, his lips forced a smile as he asked, “Do you know where Mrs. Helen Brooks lives?” “You got her address. Don’t you?” Joey responded as he leaned against the car. The stranger handed Joey a piece of paper and said, “Yes. It’s right here.” Joey looked at the paper and said, “You see those large white numbers over the top of the door you’ve been watching? They match the ones on this piece of paper.” “We just wanted to be sure,” he said as he and the other man got out of the car. Joey thought, I can’t imagine why they’re looking for Miss Helen, as he walked the two men up to the door. He watched one of the men ring the doorbell and then stepped back ready to protect Mrs. Brooks if necessary. “Lord Jesus... I’m coming. I’m coming. You don’t have to ring the doorbell off,” Mrs. Brooks mumbled as she hurried from the kitchen to the front room. As she opened the door she took a step back, surprised to see two blue-suited strangers standing in front of her. “Are you Helen Brooks?” the man with the moustache asked. “I am. What can I do for you?” Each man showed a police badge. Then the clean-shaven man said, “We’re from the Los Angeles Police Department, and we’re here to talk to you about your son Vance and about other matters. May we come in?” Mrs. Brooks saw Joey standing behind the policemen. She knew he would wait to make sure she was all right, so she left the door open and pointed the men toward the overstuffed sofa, and plumped her stout body down in a chair across from them. “I hope it’s good news, because I haven’t seen or heard from Vance in ten years,” Miss Helen said. The officer with the moustache said, “I’m sorry to have to tell you this, but it’s not good news. Your son is dead. Police found Vance and his wife stabbed to death in a park in Spanish Harlem four weeks ago.” Mrs. Brooks covered her face with her hands, moaned and began to rock back and forth as tears rolled down her face. Using her apron she tried to wipe them away but the tears kept coming. A few minutes passed before she managed to ask, “Are you sure it was my son? I didn’t know Vance had a wife.” “Yes Ma’am. They identified him from police records. He had a string of charges, mostly drug-related. Did you know about his record Mrs. Brooks?” “Yes. Now what about this wife you’re talking about? I did not know anything about him having a wife.” “His wife’s name was Ena Brooks. The only difference between his police record and hers included prostitution. We think he pimped her out,” the clean-shaven officer said. “Lord Jesus! His father and I tried to raise our son right. You see my husband died waiting for Vance to come home. Every time he heard a car door slam he jumped up and looked out the window. Then he’d lie back down and say, ‘I guess he’s coming later.’ What do you want me to do now, pay for my son’s burial?” The clean-shaven officer answered, “No Ma’am. The state of New York had him cremated.” The officer rose and handed Mrs. Brooks a piece of paper, “You can call this number for more information about the disposal of your son’s body. However there is more.” “Go ahead,” Mrs. Brooks said as she lowered her head, and pushed her salt and pepper curls from her face with the palms of her hands. “If you didn’t know about the wife, there’s no reason for you to know about the little girl.” Mrs. Brooks raised her head. Her curious eyes looked at the two men’s faces, going from one to the other, but she did not say a word. “All right then,” the officer continued. “They had a little girl. We think she’s about nine or ten, but aren’t sure because the officers in New York couldn’t find any documents about the child in her parents’ apartment. When the officers talked to the neighbors, one of them asked what they were going to do with the child. The police officers did not know about her until then. The officers found the little girl alone in the apartment holding a doll and watching TV. They took her to a temporary children’s shelter in Harlem where she is now.” Mrs. Brooks looked distressed. So the officer sped up his story. “It took weeks of going through your son’s police records, but the officers finally found your name, and then it took them another week to find you.” The officer with the moustache butted in. “Mrs. Brooks, you are the child’s next of kin. Do you want to claim her? If you don’t, the City of New York will put her up for adoption.” To their surprise, Mrs. Brooks stood up and with a sad smile said, “Tell me where she is and I’ll take the next plane out.” The officer handed Mrs. Brooks a computer printout, which contained a brief paragraph about the little girl and the children’s home she was in. He smiled back at her and said, “All the information you need is on this paper.” Mrs. Brooks looked at the paper, “My grandbaby’s name is Shandalyn…Shandalyn. I bet they call her Shan.” The officers left feeling relieved. After they left, Joey peeped his head inside the house and asked, “Miss Helen are you all right?” “Did you hear them?” “Yes Ma’am, I heard.” “Will you ask your mother to drop by when she comes home from work? Better yet, I’ll come over myself and tell her I have a granddaughter!” Joey left and Mrs. Brooks softly closed the door, leaned against it and exclaimed, “Lord Jesus, thank you for giving me back a part of my son.” 2 Mrs. Brooks walked up to the receptionist sitting at the front desk of the children’s shelter and said, “I’m Mrs. Brooks. They’re expecting me, I’ve come for my granddaughter.” The receptionist said to the girl standing beside her, “Tina, find the house manager and tell her Mrs. Brooks is here for Shandalyn.” Then the receptionist turned to Mrs. Brooks, “Did you have a pleasant trip from California?” “I can’t complain about a nonstop flight leaving on schedule. It’s my fault the seats were tiny. I should have gotten business-class tickets.” “Well, I hope your trip back will be just as n… Oh, there they are,” the receptionist said as she turned toward the shuffling sounds. Mrs. Brooks’ face lit up as she saw the short, plump thinhaired woman and the little girl. The woman held a beat-up looking metal suitcase in one hand, and the little girl’s hand in the other. The little girl had on a drab calico dress and sandals too large for her. Mrs. Brooks walked up to the girl and said, “I’m your grandmother, and you’re going to live with me in California.” The little girl smiled and said, “You don’t look like a grandmother. My friend, Tabitha said grandmas are old and ugly and mean. You’re beautiful like the people I see on TV and you don’t even look mean.” “Thank you for the compliment, but I am your grandmother, and you my dear, are a very pretty little girl.” She’s Vance’s daughter all right—pretty as a picture, Mrs. Brooks thought with a smile. “There’s a taxi waiting to take us back to our hotel. We’ll spend the night there, go shopping tomorrow morning, and take a flight back to California later tomorrow. Have you been on an airplane before?” “Uh-uh...” the little girl replied. “No, but I want to.” “You can call me grandmother.” “Yes, grandmother.” Mrs. Brooks pushed her large chest out prouder than ever as the little girl called her grandmother for the first time. She held her granddaughter’s hand as they followed the house manager into her office. Mrs. Brooks showed her ID, and signed the papers the manager asked her to. Then the manager handed Mrs. Brooks a manila envelope and said, “These are your granddaughter’s records.” Mrs. Brooks folded the envelope in half, put it in the purse hanging from her shoulder, picked up the suitcase, and took her granddaughter’s hand with her free hand as the two walked out. 3 Mrs. Brooks and her granddaughter got up early the next morning. She laid out the only dress in the child’s suitcase for her to wear. It was a faded green cotton sack-like dress. Added to this catastrophe, the child would be wearing the brown sandals that were too large for her. Mrs. Brooks looked toward the ceiling and exclaimed, “Lord forgive me for taking the child out dressed like this, but it’s all she has.” Thirty minutes later, Mrs. Brooks and Shan were on a subway to midtown Manhattan. When they got off, Shan asked her grandmother, “Where did you say we were going?” “Morgan’s Department Store. Have you heard of Morgan’s?” “Nope,” the little girl replied as she stumbled along holding her grandmother’s hand and looking around at the street vendors. When they reached the store, Mrs. Brooks stopped in front of the ten-story building and looked up in admiration. Shan started pulling away from her. “What’s wrong sweetheart?” “We can’t go in there. The police will get us!” “It’s just a store. We’re going to get you some new clothes to wear,” Mrs. Brooks replied. With fear in her eyes, the little girl looked up at her grandmother and said, “My mama took me to a big building one time. She said it was a police building. We went to get my daddy and when he came out he was all beat up.” Mrs. Brooks bent down, hugged her granddaughter and said, “Now don’t you worry. This is a shopping store, not a police station, and we’re going to have fun looking at pretty clothes for you.” “Well...okay,” Shan replied as they walked into the store. Two hours later, the two left Morgan’s carrying several large bags. When they got back to the hotel, Mrs. Brooks opened the beat-up metal suitcase for the second time, held up a pair of black, patent leather, pointed-toe, high heel shoes and said to herself, Maybe these belonged to Shan’s mother, and she wants to keep them to remember her by. So she put the shoes and the few clothing articles she took from the child’s suitcase into her own suitcase. Then she threw the metal suitcase in the trash. Mrs. Brooks helped Shan dress in her new clothes. The little girl kissed her grandmother and thanked her for the new outfits. Mrs. Brooks responded by telling her they would go shopping again when they got back to Los Angeles. At two o’clock they were in a taxi on their way to JFK airport. Mrs. Brooks smiled as she reflected on the morning she had spent with her granddaughter. She had enjoyed watching the excited little girl try on new clothes. She thought, Seems like I heard my little girl say a bad word or two. I must have been mistaken though because she talks so fast. When Shan walked up the ramp to board the plane with her grandmother, she looked like the other children traveling, only prettier. Her sparkling brown eyes were the same color as her hair, and Mrs. Brooks had put her medium-length hair up with a ponytail on each side of her head. Still, ringlets of curls dangled about her face and ears. She had dressed the dainty, tawny colored girl in a red flowered sundress and matching red sandals with painted toenails. Mrs. Brooks had one son and no girls so she enjoyed painting her little granddaughter’s toe nails as much as the child had enjoyed getting them painted for the first time. They were on a nonstop flight to Los Angeles. Mrs. Brooks did most of the talking, and little Shan asked a lot of questions. Mrs. Brooks liked Shan to ask questions. This shows the child is eager to learn, she thought. She told Shan about their house, their neighborhood, and about the young man who lived next door named Joey Alexander, who would be babysitting her during the summer. “So now I know my babysitter’s name. I never had a babysitter before. He’d better be damn good to me, or I’ll hit him real hard with my fist.” Shan made a fist as she said this. Mrs. Brooks flinched as she leaned toward Shan, placed a finger to her lips and said “Shh!” “But I didn’t finish,” the little girl exclaimed. “Okay, but speak quietly.” “Grandmother, I don’t know your real name. I thought I heard someone call you Mrs. Brooks.” “You certainly did. My last name is the same as yours and your father’s. It’s Brooks. My first name is Helen and my middle name is Jeanette. Back home everyone calls me Miss Helen.” “Helen Jeanette Brooks,” Shan repeated the words almost in a whisper. Then she paused for a few minutes, looked up at her grandmother, smiled and said, “I was thinking. I like calling you Grandmother all right, but you’re kinda, sort of my mama since I don’t have one. So can I call you Mama Helen?” “Of course my dear. You may call me Mama Helen.” “Do you work, Mama Helen?” “Oh yes. I’m a retired social worker, but I work parttime at the church. I’m the church secretary. Reverend Hastings and The United Methodist Women’s Group know you’re coming. The sisters can’t wait to get you involved.” “Do you mean I can work too?” Shan asked. “You can do volunteer work. We’ll find fun activities for you, like decorating the bulletin board or singing in the children’s choir or you can be an altar girl.” “What’s an altar girl?” “Altar girls and boys light the church candles just before service, and put them out when service is over.” “Okay. I’ll be an altar girl and I’ll sing in the choir as long as the big fat preacher doesn’t scream at me. Do you want to hear me sing?” Shan was already talking louder than anyone else on the plane. So Mrs. Brooks quickly said, “I’d love to hear you sing, but we’d better wait until we get home. I believe that man sitting across the aisle is trying to sleep. Shan then blurted out, “This bus comes to the shelter every Sunday to take us to church. I never did go, but my friend Tabitha went one time, and she said a big, fat, sweaty man yelled at them for a long time about going to Heaven and other shit that made no sense at all.” The expletive the child used became a secondary concern as Mrs. Brooks said to her in a shocked voice, “So you’ve never been to church!” “No Mama Helen.” While Mrs. Brooks was trying to compose herself, the flight attendant had begun serving drinks. Mrs. Brooks drank her iced tea, closed her eyes, and said to herself, Lord Jesus, I do believe I’ve got my work cut out for me. Then she heard her granddaughter say, “I don’t like this damn drink. It tastes like juice. I wanted Kool-Aid.” “You must never say that word again. It’s a very bad word.” “What word?” Shan asked. “Damn, drink, juice or Kool- Aid? All the children in my apartment building drink Kool-Aid. Is Kool-Aid bad like whisky and beer and and....” “Forget it darling,” Mrs. Brooks interjected. “We’ll talk about bad words when we get home.” 4 The neighborhood had undergone fifty years of transformations, finally settling to one of artistic charm. All the houses on Edgemere Court had flat Spanish tile roofs. Some were one-story and a few were two-story. The exteriors were white or light-colored stucco. Some had enclosed porches with arched openings matching the exterior walls, and all were trimmed with bright colors and a lot of wrought iron. At six in the morning lights started to come on inside most of the houses. The lighted houses against the background of a gray but brightening sky created a striking view of the neighborhood. Miss Helen’s large two-story pale blue house stood on a corner lot so she had only one next-door neighbor. At six o’clock in the morning in her next-door neighbor’s house, Joey kicked the bed on which Kyle laid and said, “Get up. I want my first picture to be of the sunrise.” Kyle, Joey’s best friend, had spent the night at his house. “You’re nuts,” Kyle sleepily responded. “The sun comes up every damn day. You can catch it on another morning, when I’m not here.” “Ah come on and get up, I might want to take a picture of you looking stupid in those pajamas. Anyway, where did you get Barney pajamas in your size? You’re almost as tall as I am, and I’m five-foot-seven,” Joey said. “Fuck you about my pajamas. I’m coming, but don’t expect me to be a part of whatever you’re doing unless you want to get a picture of me asleep in the hammock in your backyard.” “Okay. Let’s go then.” When Kyle fully woke up he decided against going to sleep in the hammock. Instead, he sat on the old picnic bench and gave orders. “Why don’t you take a picture of the chimney, or the car in the alley, or the gray cat creeping around the corner of the house?” “Good idea. My old man used to say, ‘A good photographer is like an artist. He can take an insignificant item and make it look special.’ He told me this before he left home. He said he was going to live in an artists’ commune but mom said he went to live in a nudist camp. He came back eight years later. By then, mom had replaced him with gin. She sent him away and kept on drinking. I find it amazing how mom can drink most of the night and go to work every day. You saw her drinking last night. I hear her starting up the car right now.” “You’re lucky, considering what’s going on in my house. I’ve got a mother and a father in the house, and dysfunctional can’t begin to describe my family.” “As long as we can act, we can get away from all of them. And I think we’re both good actors, and we’re still learning,” Joey said. “We’d both better be damn good actors, because neither one of us look very good,” Kyle responded. “You speak for yourself. I look better than you. Face it Kyle, you’ll never make it in the ‘Hollywood Hunk’ category. Your face is plain and your body is average. At least I’m going to be tall. The girls at school say I have a gorgeous face. I’m just tall and lanky. I’ll look better when I gain weight, but you’ll be a fat motherfucker if you gain one more pound.” “Shut up and listen,” Kyle said. “There’s a rumbling noise on the other side of the gate. Might be a squirrel, you can take its picture.” The gate slowly opened and a four and a half foot little girl appeared. She wore tight pink hot pants, pink socks, and black high heel patent leather shoes a few sizes too large for her. Her brown ponytail fell from the top of her head. She wore bright-red lipstick, heavily applied blush and chunky earrings. The little girl carried a Barbie doll that matched her own outfit. Kyle still wore his Barney pajamas, and Joey had on jeans and a T-shirt. The little girl saw the boys and walked toward them, stopped long enough to look each one up and down, and then walked up to Joey and said, “You’ll do.” Then she turned around in the direction from which she had come and started to walk away. Joey said, “Wait! It’s time for your close-up.” The little girl stopped, turned back around and smiled. Joey thought, Wow! What a pretty smile. He snapped her picture. The little girl said, “I’ve got to get back. Mama Helen saw you out here so she said I could come outside to meet you. Then I have to go upstairs and change my clothes because Mama Helen doesn’t like what I have on. I know who you are though. You’re Joey, and you’re going to be taking care of me this summer, and you’d better treat me nice and buy me stuff. My real mama said men are supposed to treat women real good, and I’m almost a woman. She told me this before she died. Good luck, chump,” the little girl said as she twisted her little round butt away. Joey hollered out, “Hey kid. What’s your name?” This time she did not turn around, but yelled back, “Shan. And I’m not a kid.” Joey and Kyle were speechless for a few minutes. Kyle looked at the backside of the fading figure, then looked at Joey and asked, “Do you know her?” “I think she’s the little girl Miss Helen went to New York to get, the one I’m supposed to babysit while school is out. Mom thinks babysitting her will help keep me out of trouble. Now I think the kid’s going to get me in trouble with Child Welfare because I might have to put a belt to her little ass, just like Mom did to me.” “Isn’t whipping a kid with a belt illegal?” Kyle asked. “Could be. I’m glad you finally get my point,” Joey replied. 5 Later that afternoon, Joey and Kyle were in the driveway playing basketball. They saw Miss Helen and Shan get on the bus and waved at them. Miss Helen waved back and smiled, but the little girl stuck her tongue out and made a face at them. “I hope they’re going to buy the kid new clothes,” Joey said to Kyle. “The only time Miss Helen takes the bus is when she goes shopping downtown. She does not like driving in city traffic.” Miss Helen thought she saw Shan make a grimacing expression at the boys but she was not quite sure. Anyway, she thought, it’s time to lay down some rules. Miss Helen told Shan that she had to be extra kind to Joey and that she had given him permission to discipline her in any way he felt necessary. “Do you understand?” Miss Helen asked her granddaughter in a firm voice. “Yes Ma’am,” Shan answered. “I’ll be real nice to him from now on. I promise.” Then Miss Helen talked to Shan about using bad words, a conversation that continued for the next two weeks. She taught Shan how to replace the inappropriate words with acceptable ones. On Sundays Shan stepped out of Miss Helen’s car and up the steps of the First United Methodist Church dressed like an elegant little girl. If she saw someone looking at her, she would walk up to them and say in a friendly voice, “Hi. I’m Shan. I’m Miss Helen’s granddaughter...” Keeping a close watch on her, Miss Helen would dart over to talk for Shan. A month passed before Miss Helen would let Shan talk unguarded. Shan could sing no better than the other children in the children’s choir, but she had more nerve. She would sing louder than many of them and with more expression, so Mrs. Wilder, the children’s choir director, chose Shan to lead a song the children’s choir would be singing on the third Sunday of the following month. Miss Helen beamed with pride as she sat on a second row pew watching her granddaughter sing her heart out during practice. The big day finally arrived. Shan had insisted on her babysitter coming to church to hear her sing. Joey knew he had to go if he wanted peace in his life. Miss Helen dressed especially stylishly that Sunday. The beautiful, stout woman wore a taupe Giorgio suit and matching hat. Her hair was in an up-do styled around the hat she cocked to one side of her head. Her outfit was accessorized with pearl earrings and a peal and diamond necklace, which sparkled against her flawless light brown skin. Instead of wearing jeans and a t-shirt, his usual attire, Joey wore khaki pants, a white shirt and a tie. He looked just as proud as Miss Helen as they sat on a front-row pew awaiting the big event. The choir consisted of twenty-five girls and boys under the age of twelve. The children wore bright-colored tops and black skirts or pants. Miss Wilder made a hand gesture for Shan to come up to the front, but before Shan walked to the microphone she whispered to the girl standing beside her, “This choir’s too dull.” Miss Wilder started playing the contemporary gospel song, the choir joined in, and then Shan sang her part. The congregation started applauding, saying phrases like, “Sing it children!” and making other sounds indicating they were enjoying the music. Halfway through the song Shan had convinced herself the choir needed even more life. So she started doing a dance she saw on a TV music video. Miss Helen looked up, threw her hands up in the air and said, “Oh my God.” One of the ushers came over to fan Miss Helen thinking she had been moved by the music. Joey turned around, picked up his church bulletin and started fanning her too. Finally Miss Helen whispered, “Joey, what’s she doing? Can you get her to stop? Try to get her to stop dancing.” Joey loudly whispered, “Shan. Shan.” She heard him, and saw him shake his head from side to side. “Don’t dance,” Joey said in a loud whisper. She stopped dancing, not because of what he had said, but because the song had ended. Miss Helen spent the next two days trying to recover from Shan’s musical performance. She had to get going again because school would be starting in three weeks, and she had to get Shan enrolled. So Miss Helen opened the manila envelope to inspect for the first time the documents the house manager at the shelter had given her. She found recent shot records and admission and release papers from the shelter. When Miss Helen called the shelter manager and told her she had forgotten to put Shan’s birth certificate in the envelope, she discovered that as far as they knew, Shan never had a birth certificate. “You do know the child never attended school and we’re not sure how old she is? One doctor placed her age at nine, another said she was ten, and she said she did not know her birthday. I’m sorry I forgot tell you,” the manager said. “Thanks anyway,” Miss Helen replied, and hung up the phone. Shan was sitting so close to Miss Helen she could hear both women talking. With tears streaming from her eyes, she said, “I wanted to tell you I don’t know how old I am, and I’ve never been to school, but I didn’t know how to. When I asked my mama and daddy about my birthday, they always told me I was born on the twenty-second, but they told me a different month and year each time we talked about it. One time my daddy said me and my mama were born in another country, but he could never remember the name of it. I want to go to school like other children. I promise if they let me go, I’ll be good and learn everything they tell me to.” Miss Helen put her arms around her granddaughter and wiped the tears from the little girl’s eyes with the palm of her hand. “My little darling, of course they’ll let you go to school, and I know you’re going to do just fine,” she said in a comforting voice. The next day Miss Helen and Shan went to talk to the school’s principal, Mr. Green. Miss Helen told Mr. Green about her granddaughter’s dilemma. The principal used Shan’s shot records as ID and they gave her a birthday. Three months earlier, in March, doctors at the children’s shelter had estimated Shan’s age at nine, almost ten. So they agreed to make her birth month three months later—in June. At that time she would turn ten. Shan wanted her birthday to be the same as her grandmother’s. So her official date of birth became June 22, 1990. Later, the psychometrist gave Shan a series of achievement tests. She and the principal decided to start her off in the second grade. They asked Miss Helen how she felt about their decision. Miss Helen asked Shan, and she answered, “I don’t mind starting in the second grade. I know I’ll be bigger than the other kids, but I don’t care ‘cause I’m going to read lots of books and pass all the other kids.” The psychometrist advised Miss Helen to enroll Shan in the Summer Library Book Club so she could start studying right away. “The library recently opened a branch in the old YMCA building. I think it’s a few blocks from your house. It’s a brown two-story brick building with a fountain in front of it—the only one of its kind in the neighborhood. Do you know where it is?” the psychometrist asked. “Not yet. But we’ll know before the day is over because we’re going there as soon as we leave here,” Miss Helen replied. On their way to the library, Shan kissed her grandmother and said, “I like those people at the school, don’t you Mama Helen?” “I like them too.” “There’s the fountain! There’s the building!” Shan said with excitement. The next day, as they sat in Miss Helen’s kitchen, Miss Helen said to Lorene, her best friend, “I can understand her parents never going to church, but the child not going to school is unheard of.” Lorene replied, “Helen you know as well as I do how drugs destroy reasoning, and lives. You lost a son to drugs, and I lost my daughter and husband.” “And don’t forget, I lost a daughter-in-law I never got to see,” Miss Helen said. “How’s the child doing?” Lorene asked. “She still uses a lot of curse words, but before I start punishing her I have to make sure she knows which words are bad. When she first got here she did not know there were proper and improper words. To make matters worse, she speaks Spanish along with English. And when she’s excited she often fuses the two languages, making it even harder for me to correct her. But her biggest problem right now is she has nightmares that usually end with her screaming, ‘Leave me alone,’ and then she wakes up shaking and sweating. She has them two to three times a week. And she takes a lot of showers and baths, sometimes three a day. When she goes outdoors to play and comes back in, she thinks she has to take a shower. But we’re working on the problem. I wouldn’t think it worth mentioning except she takes more showers when she’s upset than when she’s had an ordinary day. When I asked her why she bathes so much she said, ‘When Mama left and came back home she always took a shower no matter what time of the day or night. And sometimes daddy ran bath water for her.’ I feel certain this had something to do with her mother being a call girl.” “The poor child!” Lorene exclaimed. Shan knocked on Joey’s door promptly at eight o’clock each weekday morning, though Miss Helen went to work at ten o’clock and only worked three days a week. Joey, an only child himself, often looked forward to the little girl’s company. He thought of her as the bad little sister he never had. On some occasions he found her useful. However, it did not thrill him to learn Shan expected him to walk her back and forth from the library several times a week. He knew Shan wanted to catch up with the kids in her grade at school, and he wanted to see her succeed. So he did it without complaint. For Shan’s first birthday in Los Angeles, Miss Helen bought her a prefabricated tree house. Joey and church volunteers put it together then anchored it in the tree. When Joey asked her why she wanted a tree house, she answered, “So I can be on top of the world, just me and my books.” “Oh,” Joey responded. “If it makes sense to you, I guess it’s all right. Now, what do you want for your birthday?” “Can’t you guess?” she answered. “No way in hell.” “I want binoculars.” “Why binoculars?” “So when I get tired of reading, I can spy on people from up in my tree house.” “Okay. We’ll go buy them tomorrow.” “I love you, Joey.” “Shut up and go home, you little brat.” Shan put her arms around Joey’s shoulders, kissed him on his cheek and ran home. 6 Joey and Kyle auditioned for and got parts in the same teen sitcom. They met at the neighborhood park several afternoons a week to practice their parts. Joey played the older brother in the family and Kyle played his friend. Shan helped them with their parts and acting techniques. Shan was a natural actress. However, she showed no interest in pursuing acting herself. “She’s six years younger than us. Maybe she’s just too young to think about her future,” Joey said to Kyle one day while they were practicing in the park. Before Kyle could respond he saw little Shan nearby screaming and kicking Tiny Theo. No one knew Theo’s age. He could have been anywhere from fifteen to thirty. But everyone agreed “You don’t mess with the six and a half foot, three hundred and fifty pound hoodlum.” Theo yelled, “Get this little brat away from me. Who does she belong to?” Then Tiny Theo let out a yell, “Oww! The little brat just bit my leg, and someone is gonna pay for this.” Joey and Kyle were terrified. “Do we have to claim her?” Kyle asked. “We have to. I can’t go home without her,” Joey replied. “So Kyle, why don’t you go over there and apologize to Tiny Theo for whatever she did to him? Tell him we’ll punish her and make sure it never happens again.” “You’re out of your fucking mind,” Kyle replied. “She’s your responsibility. You’re her babysitter.” As Joey humbly walked toward the gigantic man, he heard Shan’s high-pitched voice hurling curse words at Tiny Theo. Joey thought, I guess I’d better start going to church with Miss Helen so if something like this happens again, I can call on the Lord. Joey walked up to Tiny Theo and said, “I’m Joey. You know me from the hood. This girl’s my little sister. I’ll punish her myself for what she’s done to you. Man, I apologize for her. She can hardly talk because she’s retarded.” “For a retard, she knows more curse words than I do,” Tiny Theo replied. A second or two later, Shan realized Joey had called her retarded. She forgot about Tiny Theo and started fighting Joey. He picked Shan up and held her body under his right arm as she screamed and kicked. Joey said, “You’re going home.” She bit his leg and he dropped her on the ground where she lay whimpering for a couple of minutes. By this time, Tiny Theo’s hoodlum friends were by his side and had watched the little girl attack Joey. Tiny Theo laughed sarcastically and said to his friends, “Looks like Bro’s got everything under control. Let’s go.” As the guys walked away, Tiny Theo yelled back at Joey, “No hard feelings man. Good luck with your little sister!” Hearing Tiny Theo’s voice brought Shan to her feet again. She ran toward Joey. Joey held her forehead with the palm of his hand. She waved her arms wildly in the air trying to hit him but missing every time. Joey grabbed her from behind, picked her up at the waist with both of his hands, and dragged her toward Kyle. Shan shouted, “You put me down! Put me down you shithead!” Joey shouted back, “I’ll let you go if you promise to stop fighting!” “Okay.” “Okay what?” “Okay I’ll stop fighting.” Kyle was trying to hide behind a tree. Joey dropped her on the ground in front of Kyle’s feet. Shan turned her face toward the tree, buried it in the tree trunk and uttered between sobs, “It’s a good thing I’m brave, because you are two pussies. I’ve always had to take care of myself.” Then she started crying hysterically. Joey thought about her unfortunate background. He said to Kyle, “From what I hear, she has been on her own most of her life.” They both felt sorry for her. Joey sat on the ground beside her, put his arm around her and asked her why she had jumped on Tiny Theo. “The big ox said my ass wiggles when I walk.” Joey and Kyle no longer felt sorry for her, but instead they were trying hard not to laugh. “It’s no big deal that your butt wiggles when you walk if you’re cute, and you’re cute. When you grow up other women will be trying to walk like you. Right Kyle?” “Oh yes, he’s right.” Then Joey added, “I’ve got an idea. Why don’t we teach you to walk a different way? Then when you get older, you can go back to your natural walk if you want to.” “How?” Shan asked. “Practice. It just takes practice,” Joey answered. “Okay. We can start after I get my jump rope. I left it over by the swings, ” Shan replied. Kyle nudged Joey as hard as he could and said, “You fucking clown. You know we can’t teach her how to walk any other way. She was born with that walk.” “Let’s try anyway. We need to keep the kid happy. We don’t have anyone else to help us practice our roles.” By the time Shan returned, the boys had made up a routine they called walking classes. They told Shan to walk with one foot directly in front of the other. They even held her hips as she walked. Twenty minutes later, Joey said, “You now walk like other girls and your butt does not wiggle as much as it did before. Right Kyle?” Kyle looked away, rolled his eyes around in his head and unconvincingly responded, “Yeah.” “I think you’re both lying, but I might forget you are two lying farts if you buy me new skates and order my Barbie doll new clothes.” “I’ll take you to Sports World tomorrow to buy the skates, and then Kyle can help you order the doll clothes.” “Why can’t we just buy the dam—the doll clothes at the store?” Kyle asked them. Shan answered, “Because my Barbie doll’s Black and they don’t have good colors for Black dolls in stores.” Joey whispered to Kyle, “She makes the Barbie doll orders herself. I go through this with her all the time. Just agree with her.” “Okay.” The three got into Kyle’s jalopy and drove off. Kyle let Shan and Joey out in front of their houses, and then drove toward his house. and don’t give them the finger.” Shan said this as they cut through the alley, the shortcut to the library. Joey said, “You be good, and I’ll be better.” Shan just sighed. The two made it to the one stop sign between their house.

It's Time for Your Close-up
Book review by www.bookshipper.blogspot.com

At first glance, I thought this book would be your typical 'made it in Hollywood - spoiled rotten actress' type of book. However, I am glad that I decided to read on.

This story is in one word 'touching', which is an odd comment to be making about a book that is, at least partly, set in Hollywood.

However, this book opens at a surprising place - our main characters are young and when we meet Joey, Shan and Miss Helen, we are instantly brought into their worlds. Shan is Miss Helen's grandchild - except that she has never met her grandmother. Her grandmother and her father had not spoken for over 10 years - to the point where Miss Helen did not even know she had a granddaughter. However, after Shan's call girl mother and pimp father are killed, Shan goes to live with her grandmother and the two of them end up making a wonderful pair. Miss Helen is written as a tough, smart and warm character who embraces her granddaughter and Shan is written as a bright, inquisitive, well grounded child, despite her horrid past.

Thrown into this wonderful mix is Joey - who lives next to Miss Helen and, at an early age, develops a protective feeling for both Shan and Miss Helen.

Throughout the growing up years of both Shan and Joey, we get to live through their ups and downs and their growing friendship. Shan relies heavily on Joey for moral support and he has grown to develop a bond with her that will continue throughout the years.

While Joey becomes successful in sitcoms and hits Hollywood, he finds himself mentor to Shan and protector to his mom.

What follows is a touching story of friendship, love and commitment.

I highly recommend this book - it is much better than its cover implies and is definitely a great read.
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