Two air kisses later followed by a motherly tsk-tsk as she looked at the way the bridesmaid’s dress just hung off her no-ass, no-boobs, no-ultra-desirable-curves-in-the-right-places frame, her mom walked back to the RV. Thea knew what her mom was thinking. If Thea worked out more. If she’d been more outgoing. If she’d go see that plastic surgeon everyone used to refresh and enhance. If she’d only do those things, then she wouldn’t be working in a museum with a bunch of dusty old bones but could instead be among the sparkling stars like her sister.

She knew that’s what her mom was thinking because she’d told her directly to her face more than enough times that Thea had it memorized.

It was the story of Thea’s life.

Jackie as the former child star of two kid channel TV shows was the gravitational vortex for their family since their mom uprooted them and moved to Hollywood after deciding her kids were going to be famous. Through pure determination and some questionable deals, Mom had made it happen with Jackie.

Introverted, sarcastic, dinosaur-obsessed kids like Thea didn’t do so well in showbiz. So Thea had opted for college, graduate school, and a degree in paleontology, as well as an ugly divorce from a tenured geology professor. All while Jackie had moved on to being a twenty-eight-year-old playing a high school senior on the CW and getting married to her former costar in what maybe, possibly, could be a publicity stunt gone horribly wrong.

Even now, minutes before the wedding festivities were set to begin with a to-be-filmed dress fitting, the head producer was in the RV Thea had just left, poking at every one of Jackie’s insecurities while simultaneously priming her woe-is-me-why-doesn’t-everyone-adore-the-bride sense of entitlement. Thea had tried to get her to stop, but Jackie had shot her a rich-bitch villain-of-the-week glare. Then she’d followed up with a lecture about how Thea didn’t understand how things worked in Hollywood and that she just needed to mind her own business.

Standing outside in the hellfire and brimstone stench of the Stinkingwater River was better than having to hear more of that, so Thea had left. Sure, it was a record-setting ninety-three degrees and the parasol-hat combo did next to nothing against the powerful rays of Wyoming in August sun, but she’d followed her therapist’s advice and had chosen flight!

Of course, now sweat was starting to trickle down the back of her neck and the idea of just keeping her mouth shut and doing what she was told in the air conditioning was sounding like a much better plan of action. She’d made the short walk back to the RV before realizing what she was doing. Old habits really were a bitch to break.