Page 51 of The Star in Room 7

“No, it’s not.”

Zach stares at me. “It’s not?”

“No. It’s made out of a different type of corn. Popcorn kernels wouldn’t explode in the same way.”

“Why not?”

I shrug. “No clue. But popping corn isn’t sweetcorn.”

“Damn. Beth’s going to be so upset.”

I laugh. “Even if it was, I’m not sure it would count as a vegetable by the time it’s got sugar sprinkled all over it.”

“No, probably not.” He flinches at a particularly loud barrage of popping. “I think I prefer buying it pre-popped.”

I wrap my arm around him. “You’re safe with me.”

“Safe from popcorn?”

I kiss his neck. “Safe from everything.”

He melts into my arms. “Thank you, Daddy.”

We divide the freshly popped corn into two bowls, add plenty of sugar to one, and salt to the other, and take them to the sofa. Zach snuggles up to me and puts the movie on. I stuff my mouth full of popcorn, so I can’t comment on the film. It’s not all bad, but the moment Kevin Costner’s character draws a gun during the award ceremony at the end of the movie, I gasp and bite my knuckles. We’re out of popcorn.

Zach hits pause. He had been lying with his head in my lap, but he sits up and stares at me with wide, amused eyes. “What?”

“He’d get tackled,” I say, exasperated. “Besides, he wouldn’t even have a gun at an award ceremony. He probably wouldn’t even be in the room.”

“He wouldn’t?”

“No guns are allowed. Award ceremonies are weapon-free environments. Security is tight. Everyone who gets in is vetted. Agents don’t sit at the table with their principals or⁠—”

“Principal?”

“Client.”

“Oh. Sorry. I interrupted you.”

I smile. “It’s fine, sweet boy.”

He motions with his hand. “Go on.”

“Agents don’t sit at the table with their principals or skulk around the side of the room. The agents are backstage. Observing, waiting. Award ceremonies are as safe as possible. I told you I’d be terrible.”

“You’ve been pretty well behaved until now, Daddy,” Zach says cheekily.

“I had popcorn.”

He laughs, and then his expression gets more serious. “Why would he get tackled?”

“No one else has seen the shooter. By pulling a gun, he makes himself an instant threat. It’s just… The whole scenario is very unrealistic.”

“It makes a good film, though.”

“Maybe.” I cup Zach’s jaw. “But I don’t want you to think something like that could happen at an award ceremony. It wouldn’t.”

He blushes. “I’m a long way off being invited to any award ceremonies. I doubt Confessions is going to get nominated for anything. Except maybe a Razzie.”