Excerpt from PlATINUM DIARIES: Sayra just spent an afternoon with her friends and found out a couple of them had read the books her mom wrote, and they aren’t books targeted to teens.
That reminded me, and before they could speak I said, “Guess what I learned today?”
They both looked at me with mild curiosity.
“Mom writes porn.”
Dad’s café sprayed the counter as he choked on his mouthful.
“Excuse me?” Mom’s face took on an expression that had me thinking, ‘oh shit’. Say something, stupid, or run out of the room faking impending projectile vomiting. Granted, if Mom kept looking at me like that, there would be no faking involved.
“I…well, I mean…Chaz told me that you write about heaving bosoms and throbbing loins and—”
Dad choked again, but this time it was on his laughter.
Mom aimed her daggers at Dad. “You find it funny that our child is being disrespectful?”
“Well, no, but—”
“Sit,” she snapped and I plopped my butt on one of the high-back stools at the island. Dad sat on my right at the end of the island, with Mom on the other side, squaring off with me.
“What do you know of the books I write?”
I licked my lips, annoyed that now they seemed glued together when they should’ve been sealed shut minutes ago. “Um, well, nothing. I just—”
“Exactly. You know nothing about it, and do you know why?”
Did she want me to answer that? “Well, because you told me that I couldn’t read them.”
“Years ago, yes. But natural curiosity should’ve made you question me by now. You’re just not concerned with anything that doesn’t have to do with car parts.”
Ouch. That was the second person to tell me I wasn’t normal. I starred at her as a bit of anger flared up side. “So Chaz lied, you don’t have characters named Storm or Sebastian in your novels?”
When she glared at me, I dropped my eyes. “I do,” she said. “But give me some credit not to be such a cliché as to have heaving bosoms and throbbing members. I write romance and fantasy, but it’s in a real way. You’re not a child anymore, Sayra, why are you so upset by this?”
“Because…people will make fun of me at school. Hillary knows now and I don’t know how, but she’ll make my life hell because of it.”
Mom shook her head and walked out of the kitchen. I stood to go after her, but Dad clamped a hand over my forearm. He gestured for me to sit back down. A moment later Mom returned. She resumed her position on the other side of the island and tossed a book in front of me. It had a metallic blue jacket with the word, FIRSTS written in silver.
“That’s one of the first books I had published. It’s about a twenty-year-old girl going through an identity crisis and experiencing a series of firsts, including her first sexual experience. You’ll be twenty soon enough and will be having sex soon enough too.”
Dad jerked like someone had touched the back of his neck with icy fingers. He hissed something in Spanish, but Mom ignored him.