Scarlet Oaks and the Serial Caller

by Michaela James

  Narrowing her eyes at Niles, Scarlet responded, “I know lots of happily married couples who met on these sites!”

  Niles conceded, “I agree with Tom, he was probably just nervous.”

  Tom looked out from under dark lashes. “And mesmerized by that smoky look you gave your eyes this evening.”

  Scarlet gave a coy smile. “Thanks, Tom. I watched a YouTube video on how to get the movie star look.”

  Stating it was way past the witching hour and they must make a move, Niles stood. Stretching, he asked, “Why is that pig naked?”

  Smiling despite herself, Scarlet said, “Shh, you’ll make her self-conscious. I must have shrunk all her clothes in the wash, nothing fits her any more.”

  Unsuccessfully hiding furtive glances, Tom and Niles covered by saying they now knew what to get Prudence for Christmas. The two men left Scarlet with sincere assurances she had nothing to worry about. Except … what dress to wear for the party next weekend.

  Letting that wardrobe dilemma fill her mind, Scarlet fell into bed, smoky eyes and all.

  Sunday was spent cleaning her bedroom, then messing it up again when she threw half her closet onto the floor. Burying poor Prudence under a mound of clothes, Scarlet scooped her up, complaining to the little pig she hated her entire wardrobe.

  Prudence’s expression showed heartfelt sympathy, prompting Scarlet to feel guilty that her faithful companion had no clothes at all.

  An ‘aha’ moment followed seconds later. Excited energy had Scarlet running to the kitchen for scissors. She then eased Rose’s old sewing machine down from the highest shelf in her closet.

  By ten pm, Prudence had three new outfits and Scarlet, fewer clothes to take to goodwill.

  Significantly rejuvenated, Scarlet strode into work the next evening, ready to tackle the week ahead. She and Prudence had embraced the glorious autumn day by taking a walk through the Golden Gate Park. Prudence’s new outfit had drawn many an eye, and Scarlet felt refreshed with each delicious crunch of foliage beneath her boots.

  Looking for suitable party attire had led to her sorting through more than just clothes. She’d found some photos, candles, and sentimental knick-knacks for her studio. With the top forty show, she’d had too many people filing in and out, for her to feel comfortable having personal items on display. Now alone and at night, Scarlet felt the nostalgia was warranted. After strategic placing, she gave the cavernous room an appraising look. Almost there, she decided. Just a few string lights and it would feel all hers.

  Levels were adjusted, sports’ pages opened, and then all Scarlet needed was a little positive self-talk, and she was ready to turn on the mic.

  The first caller was Rod from Modesto. Scarlet, smugly, opened her thermos and poured a mug of hot chocolate. Instead of his usual prediction of future games, Rod began ranting about the 49ers loss to the Seahawks. Scarlet let him instruct the Bay Area on how the game should have been played, and then skillfully cut him off. She was, thankfully, getting better at doing that.

  Two more men called to weigh in on the 49ers, Hawks game. The first was in Rod’s camp and the other utterly furious at the last two callers’ lack of understanding. Relieved her three callers had no desire for her input or advice, Scarlet welcomed her fourth caller to the show.

  “This is Barry from Daly City,” he began.

  Scarlet inwardly grimaced. “Welcome back to Mending Men, Barry. How can I help?”

  “Why do women wear low-cut tops, then get upset when you look at their boobs?” he enquired.

  Cringing, Scarlet said, “Well …”

  Barry interrupted her, “There’s a woman who works at the same place as me. She looks at me, and I look back at her. When I’m getting a soda, she always seems to be there at the vending machine too. I’ve paid for her drink a few times, and she seemed pleased. This morning, I bought her a Reece’s peanut butter cup and then I asked her out. She said no. She didn’t say she was washing her hair or nothing, she just said no.”

  Finally, able to get a word in, Scarlet said, “Don’t let it get you down, Barry. You put yourself out there, and it didn’t work out for you this time. It doesn’t mean you shouldn’t try again. Sometimes you hit singles, sometimes doubles, then every once in a while, you may be able to hit a home run.”

  Cutting him off, almost as expertly as she had Rod from Modesto, Scarlet finished with, “Here’s Crimson and Clover by, Joan Jett and the Blackhearts for you. Take care, Barry.”

  Scarlet had one more open call time after the nine songs in a row. She’d started the evening with so much gusto, but now as the hours rolled on she was feeling the results of a busy and stressful weekend.

  Keeping one eye on the clock and the other on the phone line, she groaned when a call came in two minutes before cut off time.

  Scarlet immediately relaxed when the caller introduced himself as Stewart, but you can call me Stew. He was a little creepy sounding, but beggars couldn’t be choosers. This man, she had actually helped. He’d even called back to tell her as much. More importantly, he told the whole Bay Area.

  “You remember how you helped me with my wife, yes you do,” he voiced slowly.

  “I do,” Scarlet replied. “You called to tell us things are so much better now.”

  “Not anymore. I have a problem with another woman now, yes I do.”

  Closing her eyes, Scarlet tried to fully understand his meaning and moreover where to go with his statement. “Um, this other woman, is she part of you and your wife’s life?”

  “She wants to be part of my life, yes she does,” Stew replied. “But she’s no better than my wife. She keeps talking and doesn’t know when to shut up.”

  Going off the man instantly, Scarlet attempted to stay focused. “If you and these women were all part of a team, how would you find a way to work together?”

  “Do you think I should do the bath thing you suggested for my wife?” Stew asked.

  Feeling relief that she’d soon have him off the line, Scarlet replied, “It did work well with your wife; didn’t it Stew? Why wouldn’t it work for this other lady too?”

  “I’ll do it. Yes, I will,” Stewart said at a marginally faster pace.

  “Wonderful!” Scarlet said. “Let’s get some more great music going, starting with Rocket Man by Elton John. Thanks for calling Mending Men.”

  Tired but with a feeling of accomplishment, Scarlet walked to her car at the end of the evening. She didn’t carry a sock, a bar of soap or a flashlight. She wasn’t even worried about finding flowers on her car.

  She hadn’t seen her P.I.B. all evening and had no idea if Sylvia and her criminal boyfriend had even been in the building.

  “I’m not afraid,” she shouted out to the empty parking lot. Strange times demand slightly strange behavior she told herself and felt much better for it.

  Tie straight, stripes who knows, bowtie other team. Scarlet repeated this over and over in her head while standing in her closet regretting the decision to give half her clothes away. Only herself, Tom and Niles were in on the ‘let’s find Scarlet a boyfriend’ theme. The other party guests had been informed it was a casual get together before the busy Thanksgiving and Christmas season.

  Scarlet reasoned the dress should reflect not too much effort made.

  “Less is more,” she informed Prudence while scanning her rack of clothes. Half an hour later, hot and sweaty after trying on countless outfits, Scarlet settled on a little black number. She’d found it on the clearance rack at Nordstrom and, like many bargains in her closet, had never worn it. Though not intentional, she’d certainly lost enough weight to do the dress justice. The bodice was fitted with a sheer chiffon overlay gathering at a dropped waist. The short slinky skirt was just visible under corded lace. After viewing the dress from all angles in her full-length mirror, Scarlet deduced it was certainly less is more, but maybe not in the way she’d intended. Far too pleased with her reflection to wear something else, she instead went for subtle shoes, jewelry, an
d makeup.

  Nerves strongly in play, she made the very short drive to Niles and Tom’s Tudor mansion on Palo Alto. A line of taxis hummed in unison on their steep drive. Feeling grateful, Scarlet clicked the remote Niles had pressed in her hand the previous day and steered her MINI into their garage.

  She made her way back up to the large wood paneled front door, surreptitiously pulling at her skirt a couple of times before joining the huddle of guests in the entrance hall. Tom spotted her immediately and taking Scarlet’s arm, led her into one of their many reception rooms.

  Adele was playing in the background, letting everyone know she’d find someone new. Scarlet felt herself relax as the sounds of clinking glasses and laughter filled the house. Then she saw Niles. He was as red in the face as she’d been earlier changing clothes. Registering his exaggerated eye movement to the right, Scarlet untangled herself from an oblivious Tom and followed Niles into the kitchen.

  In pantomime style, Niles began to show Scarlet the dumb waiter. Through a grimace of a smile, he asked her, “Do you notice anything odd about our guests this evening?”

  Pressing the elevator type button, Scarlet exclaimed, “I love these things.” Then mimicking Nile’s tone, added, “Apart from the ties and stripes.”

  Taking Scarlet’s hand and leading her into the butler’s pantry, an uncharacteristically rattled Niles said, “You, Scar, are the one and only female among some eighty men.”

  “There you are,” Tom said from the pantry entrance. “What on earth are you doing in here when I’ve got so many people waiting to meet Scarlet?”

  “I’m simply alerting her to the freaky reality of you not inviting a single woman to this party,” Niles retorted through clenched teeth.

  Waving a hand in the air, Tom said, “I didn’t want her to have any competition.”

  “Look at her!” Niles replied loud enough for a couple of passing men to glance in on the odd grouping. Scarlet pulled at her dress hem one more time as Niles elaborated, “She wouldn’t have had any competition. But now,” he sighed dramatically, “we may as well sell raffle tickets to win her for the night.”

  Taking a large gulp of his silver oak wine, Tom mumbled, “I’m sorry guys, I guess I didn’t think that part through. I got so caught up in the dress code and hors d’oeuvres. Scarlet, you have to try the antipasto kabobs,” he finished with a sheepish grin.

  Scarlet affectionately patted Tom’s cheek. “I will and don’t worry about the guest list. Maybe no one will even notice.”

  Niles muttered something under his breath that sounded like, yeah right. He then followed Tom and Scarlet into the throws of single, but sexual orientation in question, men.

  Nerves now heightened, though she’d never let on to Niles and Tom, Scarlet once again repeated the dress code. Tie straight, stripes maybe, bowtie other team. Catching a bemused look from a handsome red-haired man, she realized although emitting no sound, her mouth had been moving.

  Tom, who was supposed to be introducing her to his guests, had disappeared the second they entered the great room. Niles was over at the bar pouring himself a large glass of something. The red-haired man started walking towards her, wearing … a striped shirt!

  Ten minutes later, Scarlet knew Boris was an engineer with World Health Organization or WHO as he called it thereafter. He clearly lived and breathed his work. Scarlet was enjoying the conversation when over Boris’ right shoulder she saw Niles, waving something resembling a tie in the air. Managing to cover the large room in three strides, he appeared at Boris’ side.

  “Scar, I’m sorry to interrupt, but Tom needs a female perspective on his Grand Marnier Soufflé. He’s panicked it hasn’t risen enough.”

  Smiling and offering her apologies to Boris, Scarlet found herself back in the butler’s pantry with Tom and Niles.

  Holding a navy-blue silk bowtie towards Scarlet, Niles said with all seriousness, “This belongs to Boris. The handsome red-haired man you’ve just wasted valuable time talking to.”

  Marveling at how unglued her generally calm and steady friend had become this evening, Scarlet said, “I did not waste time. He’s very interesting, and I was enjoying his company.”

  Taking her hand and patting it, Tom said, “You don’t need to sell us on how interesting gay men are Scarlet. Of course, his company is enjoyable, but that’s not what this evening is about is it?”

  Before Scarlet could come up with a suitable response, Tom continued, “I’m going to turn the heat down, so no one else removes articles of clothing. Until then, only talk to men with regular ties.”

  Wishing she were at home on the couch with Prudence, Scarlet reminded herself, lunatics or not, Niles and Tom had gone to a lot of trouble and expense for her. So, with a nod and a smile, she let Tom lead her to the library where he explained, he’d overheard sports type conversation.

  Sure enough, five men wearing regular ties sat in Georgian style leather chairs, discussing the 49ers’ chances in the upcoming game against the Oakland Raiders.

  Feeling that, at the very least, she’d learn some valuable insights for her show, Scarlet pushed back the urge to retreat from the library as Tom announced her to the room.

  Not surprisingly, all five men found it amusing when Tom explained the nature of Scarlet’s job. It also appeared to break the ice somewhat, and they included her in their discussion. When there was little else to be said about Kaepernicks’ skills, the conversation turned to the merits and pitfalls of being stockbrokers.

  Just as Scarlet was devising a plan of escape, she heard a name which greatly peaked her interest. The man with the Kirk Douglas chin asked the man with no chin if he’d heard about Max and Cynthia. Of course, just her bad luck, only moments before this question, the man with piercing blue eyes and designer stubble strayed from the herd to give Scarlet his undivided attention.

  Thankfully, his voice was low and melodic, and by leaning forward in her chair, Scarlet managed to get the gist of the other men’s conversation. Max and Cynthia were no longer together, and Cynthia wasn’t pleased.

  “Only if you’re not busy, of course.”

  Despite having tuned out designer stubble guy, Scarlet heard herself respond, “No, I’m not busy.”

  Head spinning, Scarlet tried to focus on the male to her right.

  The man smiled. “Wonderful. I’ll pick you up at two.”

  Frantically thinking of a way to find out his name and where they were going, Scarlet was further distracted by the arrival of Niles.

  “Scar and anyone else who’s interested,” Niles said to the room, “Tom is about to play a tune he’s been practicing all week.” Pulling a face with the last three words, Niles was rewarded with raucous laughter.

  The occupants of the library adjourned to the drawing room, where laughter was replaced with admiration for Tom’s talent.

  Sitting straight as a board at his baby Grand, Tom played Bridge over troubled water, followed by Your Song. Coffee and soufflé were served, and guests began to sit more than stand.

  Huddled together in a window seat, Scarlet explained her predicament to Niles.

  Niles pulled his chin in. “Smart choice, Scar. James is a nice guy with David Bowie good looks. Two o’clock,” he added, biting his lip. “Where would he be taking you at two o’clock?”

  Grabbing one of his hands in her two, Scarlet said excitedly, “I’m not sure we’ll need to worry about it, Niles. I don’t think I’ll be going anywhere with him.”

  Bemused, Niles reasoned, “But he’s a ….”

  “I think Max is coming back to me. He’s left, Cynthia!” Scarlet interjected.

  All the color appeared to drain from Niles’ face. “What are you talking about Scar?”

  “Your stockbroker friends in the library,” Scarlet said by way of explanation. “That’s why I didn’t hear a word David Bowie said. They were talking about Max leaving Cynthia and how displeased she was with his departure.”

  Niles, in a barely audible voice, responde
d, “Max got married, Scar. To a model from LA. He lives in Venice Beach now.”

  Instantaneously, Scarlet became aware of how much alcohol she’d consumed. A rotund, balding man sang while Tom’s nimble fingers glided across the keys. Certain the wine had begun curdling with the soufflé she’d devoured, Scarlet managed to thank Niles for a lovely evening. Oblivious to the cold and rain, she began walking home. Moments later, a coat was placed around her shoulders and an umbrella held over her head. Neither Tom nor Niles said a word as they walked either side of her.

  Refusing to believe Scarlet would rather be alone, Niles and Tom spent the best part of Sunday plying her with tea and chocolate. Tom had even made a trip to Ghirardelli Square, fought his way through tourists and returned with a decadent hot fudge sundae.

  “How long have you known?” Scarlet asked Niles as he walked into her living room with a fresh pot of tea.

  “A while,” he admitted. “The guys you overheard in the library have just returned from our sister company in Hong Kong. It’s old news to everyone else.”

  “Why didn’t you tell me?”

  Sitting, Niles put his head back. Staring up at the ornate ceiling he replied, “Because it wasn’t the right time. I wanted to wait until you were a little stronger.”

  “And that never happened!” Scarlet interjected with a smile.

  “It did,” he said patting her thigh. “But then I had to ask myself, what was to be gained in telling you.”

  From his place on the floor with Prudence, Tom enquired, “Would you really have taken him back?”

  “Well, I …” Scarlet paused and thought for a moment. “It’s just we never actually fell out. In hindsight, I guess he fell out of love with me. But the way it ended that night was so bizarre. Then to learn he’d moved in with a woman twice his age. To be honest, I think I chose to believe he was going through some temporary insanity and it wouldn’t last. He’d come back, begging for my forgiveness and we’d work it out and be stronger than ever.”

  Tom and Niles exchanged a sideways glance that said, damn, she’s more messed up than we’d imagined.