Losing to Win Read Online Free

five-inch stilettos. “Before we start yammering on, I got one quick question for you, Carissa Melody.”
    â€œWhat?” I frowned at her.
    â€œWhat is a shebacle?”
    â€œOh. It’s a combination of bullshiggity and debacle.”
    Middle Mike covered up a laugh with a cough and turned his head to the side.
    Ruby Ann spoke up. “You hate us all you want. You’ll get over it. You always do.” I tried to interrupt and she put her hand up. “Nuh-uh, you wanted an explanation. You gotta let me get through it.” She paused and I shrugged to indicate that she could continue. “All right, then. This here is a win-win for everybody. So what you got a little embarrassed, Rissa. It’s not like you don’t know you could stand to lose a pound or two. Before you start squawking again, listen: these Hollywood folks are going to be here for at least three months or so, not counting postproduction. This town needs that cash influx, not to mention the exposure.”
    Taylor added, “As you know, we’re a distant suburb of New Orleans; people may or may not find us even when they are looking. This is not just a few dollars, Ris. This show can single-handedly revitalize the Belle Haven economy. You know how tough it’s been around here since the flood, the oil spill, and the economy crashing. This is an opportunity to get people into Ruby Ann’s restaurant, Sugar’s bed-and-breakfast, my gallery. Mac might actually have a few people hand over cash for their house repairs instead of paying him with gumbo and homemade biscuits.”
    â€œGreat. So everyone profits from my humiliation?” I was far from mollified.
    My mother stepped right in front of me. “Carissa Melody Wayne. How many times have you said you wished you could do something more to boost the economy around here?”
    â€œYeah, but—”
    â€œBut nothing. This is something more. So what if you have to run on a treadmill thingy for the world to see and actually spend some time with the man you used to adore? Who cares what the rest of the world thinks? You have always carried yourself with class and dignity. A few cameras are not going to change that.”
    I sighed. My mother had a way of breaking things down in such simplistic terms that I felt foolish for bringing it up in the first place. And then I remembered standing on that damn scale with my weight flashing on a huge screen and bright lights blinding me. And I asked the one question I really needed an answer to. “What about Dad?”
    Eloise’s face took on the resigned, pinched look associated with any mention of her ex-husband. “What about him?”
    â€œC’mon, Mom! Cameras, publicity, money? How long until he rolls back into town from whatever misadventure he’s been on and makes this situation even worse than it already is?” My father, Stacy Wayne, known to all as “Blue,” was the quintessential rolling stone. Blue was a talented musician and entertainer but a lousy father and husband. He wanted to be wherever the action was and the spotlight shone brightest, preferably on him. He met my mother when she was singing and playing piano in a New Orleans lounge. One year later they were married with Ruby Ann on the way.
    The first time Blue Wayne was forced to come home to a tired wife and a screaming baby, he announced that he was going out for formula. He didn’t come back for three years. Swearing to do right by Eloise, he talked his way back in. A year after that, I arrived. Six months later a talent scout offered Blue an opportunity to do session work in Nashville. He was packed and gone before sunset. The first time I spent more than twenty-four hours in a row with him, I was three years old. And I could count on one hand the number of times we’d spent significant quality time together since.
    His visits home had been both infrequent and insincere. Finally, one hot summer