Monsters by Liz Kay Page A

saying, “Yeah,” and theteacher is telling them all to settle back down, so I write
monster
on the board. Then the teacher hands out paper and they all copy down
Furry bear monster of the dark woods
, which is not exactly seventeen syllables or a very good metaphor. They’re drawing giant brown bears and trees, and I’m just ready to get the hell out of here.
    â€œWell, thank you so much for coming,” the teacher says to me.
    I slip around behind Stevie and hug him goodbye. His
furry
is missing an
r
, and his bear looks like a boulder with ears. “Bye, sweetie,” I say. “Thanks for letting me come to your class.” He nods, but then he kisses me on the cheek with his soft, tiny lips and I feel like I could cry. I don’t though. I just stand back up and leave.
    When I get in my car, I pull my phone out to turn the ringer back on. I have a text from Jenny and a voice message from Daniel. I hit
play
.
    â€œHey, it’s Daniel. Call me as soon as you can.”
    He picks up on the first ring. “Hang on,” he says. “Here’s Tommy.”
    â€œStacey, hey. How’s it going?” He sounds nice. He sounds like we’re friends.
    â€œGood,” I say, though I’m suddenly feeling anxious again. “What’s up?”
    â€œI need you to come out to L.A.”
    This is not what I was expecting, not that I knew what to expect, but if I had, it wouldn’t have been this. “Okay. Why?”
    â€œSo I’ve got my friend Jason coming in to talk about directing. I think he’d be perfect, you know. I don’t know if you know his work? Jason Collier.” He pauses like I’m supposed to answer, and I don’t say,
Are you kidding me?
I just say, “Yeah.”
    â€œAnyway, I think he’s interested, but I want you to be here. I mean, Jason’s a genius, but so much of this comes from you. I want to make sure we’re shaping his vision, you know, that we get this right.”
    This is flattering, and it is January in Nebraska, and the thought of leaving sounds great. “Okay. When?”
    â€œThat’s kind of the thing. Jason’s coming over at eleven tomorrow, so we could have you on a plane at, hang on.” He holds the phone away, and I hear him say, “Daniel, what time is that flight? Four o’clock,” he says.
    â€œAre you serious? That’s not exactly time for me to figure out my kids.” I lean my head back against the headrest, chew on my lip. “Let me call my sister. I’ll see what I can do.”
    â€œLook, the minute Jason’s on board, we get the green light on this. You’ve got to be here. You have to come out.”
    Out the window, the sky is a dull gray. It’s been just warm enough that some of December’s snow has melted. Beneath it all the grass is brown and dead.
Dormant
I guess is more accurate, but it just looks dead.
    â€¢Â Â Â â€¢Â Â Â â€¢
    Daniel picks me up at the airport and takes me back to Tommy’s. His house in L.A. is nothing like the house on Parrot Cay, but it’s definitely as dramatic. The gates are tall and the whole place is hidden behind walls and shrubs, and when we pull past them, it’s this modern beachy-looking spread. It looks expensive, of course, but inviting. Just inside the entrance there are these open, floating stairs to the right, and then this long wide hallway that leads straight back toward this tremendous fireplace, and halfway down, double doors that lead to a living room on the left.
    Tommy is in the living room, and he throws his arms out and says, “Hey, you’re here.” He crosses the room and catches me in a hug.
    â€œHi,” I say. “Good to see you.”
    â€œYou look like you need a drink.” He lets go of me and walks to the bar in the corner. “Red?” he says, holding up a bottle he’s already opened. “Daniel? You staying to drink