Today People

by Barbara G. Tarn

  Not good, she scolded herself. You'll soon be forty, stop behaving like a teen! Prince Charming doesn't exist, or better, he doesn't have Carl Martin's face, so forget him.

  She needed a reality check. Working at the hospital obviously wasn't enough anymore, if she only needed to meet a former classmate to feel like a teenager again. Yes, Carl had been important for her. But they'd never dated or anything, they were just friends. Why was she surprised he didn't remember her? He had eyes only for Pamela Lynch at the time.

  She heard the door open and quickly hid the drawing. She didn't want Warren to know she might be obsessing again.

  But it was Cindy, so she sighed with relief and resumed working.

  "You're good." Cindy sighed after watching her draw for a few minutes. "Oh, I got something for you!"

  She pulled a magazine from behind her back and offered it with a big grin. Bonnie gasped at the cover. She'd seen and bought the tabloids with Carl's wedding pictures, but she'd never considered looking at other sections of the newsagent.

  "I knew you'd missed it, and it was the last copy on the stand, hidden in a corner," Cindy continued proudly. "In fact it's a little ruined," she added disappointed.

  "It's fine, thank you." Bonnie snapped out of her surprise and took the magazine. She flipped to the interview pages and her heart missed a beat when she read "photos by Pamela Lynch". She checked the issue date – the pictures had been taken before the wedding. So Carl had met Pamela, but married Vanessa Gold anyway. Interesting.

  "You think you can do more drawings with these?" Cindy asked.

  "Yeah, definitely!" Bonnie grinned. "Thank you!" She hugged her friend. "Let me finish this now, okay?"

  Cindy giggled and left her alone. Bonnie stared at Pam's pictures of Carl – okay, she was a professional, damn her! – then resumed drawing with a sigh.

  ***

  Carl handed back the signed files without looking at his assistant.

  "Thank you." Paul hesitated. "Are you all right? You don't look like the happy newly-wed you should be..."

  Carl scoffed. "Don't you guys have anything better to do than wonder about my married life?" he snapped.

  "I'm sorry, Mr. Martin." Paul averted his eyes.

  "Yeah, I bet you are," he muttered, shooing his assistant out.

  He went back to work until Paul called to tell him the lawyer had arrived. Andy, a middle-aged man, entered Carl's office with a folder in his hands.

  "Andy, I hope you have good news." Carl stood to shake the lawyer's hand over his desk.

  "I'm afraid not." Andy plopped into the chair in front of him with a sigh. "The DNA test is in the judge's hands."

  "And?" Carl sat back, raising his eyebrows.

  "I don't know, they will call me, but it doesn't look good." Andy frowned and stared at him. "You'll make the tabloids if that story is true."

  "My prenuptial agreement doesn't contemplate past flings with married women," Carl replied. "Besides, adultery is not really a reason for divorce these days."

  "Not with your deal." Andy nodded, thoughtful. "It's not your marriage I worry about, it's your reputation."

  "What, you think people won't do business with me if I fathered that girl?"

  "I don't know, people are strange. And if she wins, she'll walk away with a lot of your money."

  "Come on, Andy, you're my lawyer, clean it up!" Carl chided impatiently.

  "I'll do my best." Andy stood, leaned forward to shake his hand and left.

  Carl scoffed and pondered.

  I used to have friends. Real friends.

  He pulled out the card with Bonnie's – and Warren's – address and phone number.

  How many would stick by my side if I decided to change my life?

  He frowned at the card, snorted, staring at the ceiling, then looked at the card again.

  He picked up the phone and dialed.

  "Hi, Cindy, this is Carl. I would like to talk to Warren, is he... Oh. Do you have the number?" He scribbled down Warren's work number. "Thanks, Cindy, appreciate it."

  ***

  Warren told him they could meet during lunchtime, but Carl wasn't hungry. He ordered a coffee and looked around, uneasy.

  "What's wrong?" Warren asked, wolfing down his food. "You don't like this place?"

  "No, it's just... I haven't been in a place like this in ages," Carl admitted, embarrassed.

  "Well, you can afford better, I guess, but us mortals will have to live with this." Warren grinned and toasted with his coffee before sipping it.

  Carl smiled against his will.

  "Right, sorry about that." He hesitated, lowering his eyes. "I thought we could talk... you know, man to man, without he girls around."

  "Sure. It's been a long time since we talked... last century if I'm correct!" Warren grinned.

  "Yeah, can you believe it, one century ago." No wonder it felt like another life.

  "Well, you were the best with math, you should know," Warren teased. "Don't you have any new friends to talk to?"

  "No," Carl snapped. "How are you doing?" he asked less sharply. "You can say the truth now that Bonnie is not present."

  "I can't complain in that department – except she doesn't want to marry me, nor want my babies," Warren said. "And of course my job is not as high-paying as yours, but I like it."

  "So you love your job, and you love Bonnie."

  "Don't you?"

  "Yeah, I love my job."

  "And your wife?"

  "Wasn't part of the deal." Carl averted his eyes.

  "Deal?" Warred dropped his fork in surprise. "Oh, God." He shook his head. "Hey, why don't you come to our next reunion?" he suggested, brightening. "You skipped so many..."

  "I don't know, I think it's pathetic," Carl replied, uneasy. "And I'd rather remember you all young and beautiful."

  "Yeah, right." Warren chuckled. "Still, you could show everybody what a successful person you've become, along with Pam Lynch..."

  "Does she show up?" Carl asked, intrigued.

  Warren rolled his eyes. "Always." He sighed with mock exasperation. "To throw at us how good she is and what nerds and geeks we still are. You could give her a reality check."

  Carl shrugged. "We met. She photographed me for a magazine," he grumbled.

  "Then you could show everybody else that you've done even better than her. Your career is amazing, you have a pin-up wife..."

  "Who would never set foot in our high school and thinks I went to Beverly Hills High," he commented sourly.

  "Really?" Warren was puzzled. "She doesn't know where you grew up?"

  "I don't want anybody in the present to know where I come from," he answered, determined.

  "You haven't changed that much, I'm sure many of our schoolmates recognized you from the tabloids, just like I did," Warren replied with a shrug.

  Carl went back to his office without eating, but he still wasn't hungry. He took out of the drawer the magazine with Pamela's pictures and flipped through the interview.

  I might look the same, but I don't feel the same.

  He stopped to stare at the Contributors page – again.

  Although some people don't remember my face or my name, others still do.

  Pamela's face smiled at him from the page.

  Maybe I should go down this road and see where it takes me.

  He stared into space, then picked up the phone and dialed.

  "Warren? You won't have to tell everybody I'm dead after all. Yeah, I changed my mind. Can we go together, though? Great. Call you back."

  6.

  Carl entered the small condo apartment and looked around at the sparse furniture and layer of dust. One room with kitchenette and a small bathroom, enough for one person with not much money – Carl's own ghost of the past. The only "luxury" was a bookshelf full of battered pocket sci-fi books.

  Now I remember. But I'm on the wrong path.

  He dropped the small travel bag and slumped on the single bed, staring at the ceiling f
or a moment.

  Can I change it? Can I go back to my roots and find my way without getting lost again?

  His cell phone buzzed. He checked the caller and clenched his teeth.

  "Yes, Paul?" He answered coldly. "I'm about to board the plane." His assistant was checking on him or what? He gave him sharp instructions and hung up with a snort. "Fucking assistant," he muttered. "I should get rid of him."

  His phone buzzed again, but it was Warren, so he relaxed before answering. Warren wanted to be sure he hadn't changed his mind. He hung up and switched off the phone. He'd told a lie to both Vanessa and Paul – said he was going to a reunion at Beverly Hills High.

  "Here I am, flying to LA!" He opened his arms as if he had airplane wings and did airplane sounds. "Beverly Hills High reunion, ha!" He chuckled, then slowly turned serious again.

  God, I'm even talking out loud to myself! I must have lost it completely! He put a hand on his chest, but the discomfort was gone. Right, lost my mind, not my heart.

  He took a deep breath. Of course I can change my ways. I'm an adult and responsible, watch me leave the old path and start a new adventure.

  He loved challenges, or wouldn't have reached his current status with sheer ambition and determination.

  He pulled himself up and looked around, between worried and sad. He opened the drawer of the night-table and found a picture of himself in a suit among a dozen execs, including his father-in-law. The company logo behind them said Gold Corporation – not St. Martin, LLC. He'd started his climb with Mr. Gold, becoming his assistant before setting up his own company. He still liked the father more than the daughter.

  He threw the picture back in the drawer and sighed. He even found the notebooks, on a shelf by the bed. His stories, handwritten during any free time he'd had at school. Battered notebooks that had been passed along to Warren, Matt, Bonnie... not Pamela, since she didn't read much.

  He flipped through the forgotten stories – mostly sci-fi. A broken starship with a sad ending for its single occupant. A population of androids behaving way too much like human beings, destroyed by a magic stone. The humorous tale of a futuristic bus driver, dedicated to Cherry, who at the time had a crush on a bus driver.

  Carl smiled at the silly stories and sometimes awkward phrasing. He did have a very personal voice. But he hadn't written fiction in years – could he try his hand at it again?

  Like, borrowing from abduction theories and writing about alien humanoids trying to steal souls – if humans had souls, that is. In the soulless business world, I've met many people, but very few human beings. But I digress. This is fiction, anything goes.

  As he prepared for the reunion, ideas kept popping up in his head. He found his old moleskin with a few empty pages and used it to jot down notes on the story he planned to write. Very handy having found old Carl just before a high school reunion.

  The suburban high school had seen Rebel Carl who wore torn jeans and often had empty pockets, since he spent all the scraps his mother gave him on sci-fi books. His little collection was gathering dust on the shelves, but Carl didn't want to bring it to the mansion – where he had a whole room as library – or on the yacht where he kept most of the hardback versions of those battered old books. What about the new story forming in his head, though? Should he just type it on his computer and forget the old notebooks? And who would read it once he was done? Maybe he'd find someone available at the upcoming reunion...

  ***

  Carl, Warren and Bonnie entered the room after the reunion had already begun. They stayed in a corner by the entrance, discreetly observing the others.

  "Welcome to your past," Bonnie said.

  "Thanks," Carl muttered. "Not sure it was a good idea anymore."

  His creative brain wanted to go back to the apartment and start writing immediately. At first glance he didn't recognize anyone and felt lost.

  "Oh, there's Matt and Diane," Warren said. "Still together, just like us." He glanced at Bonnie who looked away. He then waved at Matt and Diane who both brightened at the sight of the trio and immediately joined them.

  "Oh my God, Carl, is that you?" Matt's eyes widened in shock. "We thought you were dead!"

  "Until we saw your wedding pictures in that magazine, that is," Diane added with a smile.

  "It's great to see you, man, how are you?" Matt slapped playfully Carl's shoulder since Carl had sunk his hands in his pockets to avoid handshakes. Yes, he recognized Matt now – and wondered if anyone remembered his old stories.

  "I'm fine, thanks," he answered, stiffening under his classmate's touch. He balled his fists in his pockets to keep control and managed to speak with a steady voice. "What about you guys?"

  "We are still married." Matt showed his hand with the wedding band.

  "We tied the knot shortly after college," Diane explained. "Had three kids."

  "You look great for a mom," Carl said, giving her the once-over. She was still slim and apart for a few wrinkles around the eyes and probably colored hair, she hadn't changed much.

  "Thanks... you don't look bad for a dad either," Matt said.

  Carl looked at him, wary. "I don't have kids. I just got married."

  He was expecting old things to be dug up at the reunion, not the new stuff. Besides, the paternity suit wasn't public yet.

  "Yeah, whatever." Matt winked. He obviously knew something.

  "So, you're a lawyer now?" Carl asked him.

  "Yep."

  Matt worked at the firm where Angela Byrne had hired her lawyer. Small world.

  "You defend Angela Byrne?" Carl inquired, a little wary.

  "Nope."

  "Who is that?" Warren asked.

  "A woman who wants my money," Carl grumbled. Thank God for the attorney-client privilege, Matt wasn't at liberty to talk about it.

  "I'm sure he can pay the best lawyer in town," Matt teased. "It's another easy win for him."

  Carl didn't have time to reply because Pamela rushed to him and stamped her lipstick very close to his lips, taking him by surprise.

  She giggled. "Oh, sorry, let me take care of that!"

  She eagerly cleaned his face, staring at him with eyes full of lust.

  Another one after my money. Well, Angela was... love? When did it turn into greed?

  Pamela noticed he was too serious for the occasion. "Are you okay, baby?" she asked, worried.

  He recovered his mask. "Yeah, I'm fine. Just had bad news, that's all."

  Pamela glared at Warren, Bonnie, Matt and Diane, as if they were responsible.

  "A woman is after his money," Matt told her, a little sarcastic.

  "Really?" Pamela shrugged. "She's not the first, is she?"

  "You're another," Bonnie snapped, glaring back at her.

  "Carl Martin was the world's hottest bachelor before he got married, dear," Pamela retorted before grinning at Carl. "Weren't you, honey?"

  Carl noticed the disgust on Bonnie's face before lowering his eyes. Was she disgusted with him, Pamela, or both?

  I was indeed the world's hottest bachelor for a year or two. Everybody seems to forget the years it took me to get there, though. And now everybody from my past wants a piece of me – well, of my money.

  As they moved from group to group, with Pamela holding his arm, Carl didn't talk much.

  I'm a rich bastard. Do I really want to go back to... this?

  His former classmates weren't like the sycophants that surrounded him now, though. Warren and Matt felt they had the right to scold or tease him as if years hadn't passed – which was kind of refreshing, for once.

  Eventually a group of men surrounded Pamela, distracting her from Carl. Bonnie came closer again – her distaste for Pam was obvious, she'd kept a distance after the glamorous blonde had attached herself to Carl's arm.

  "Still think it was a bad idea?" she asked.

  He sighed. "Dunno. Had a few lessons tonight."

  "Matt will help your lawyer sort things out with that woman," she said, glancing at
their friend, who was talking with Warren and others a little farther away.

  Carl shook his head. "I don't know what to think anymore," he admitted. "It was a fling. For both of us. And she was married. Slightly older than me." He almost whispered, then took a deep breath. "I had a crush on her, and she helped me to get over Pam," he added, glancing at his first love.

  "So you did love two women in your life," she said, thoughtful.

  "I guess." He lowered his eyes, regretting his words, but it was too late to take them back. "And both have come back to haunt me."

  "Matt and Diane were lucky to find each other," she said. "The rest of us weren't that lucky."

  He stared at her, puzzled.

  "Warren was the most sought-after boy in school," he replied. "You can consider yourself lucky."

  She shrugged. "You know, I still remember what you were like," she said without looking at him. "The cool rebel, not the social climber hungry for money and success."

  He scoffed. "And what was so cool about that rebel?"

  "He was creative," she answered. "And a great storyteller." She turned her head to look at him. "I wonder what happened to that guy."

  "Maybe he died," he grumbled, averting his eyes. So, someone did remember his hidden talent. Someone who had developed a talent of her own, if he considered the drawings he'd seen at her house. She'd called them a hobby. And she remembered his old dream to be a writer – shattered so long ago by rejections and financial needs.

  "Then I wonder what the billionaire is doing here, flirting with the rebel's first love."

  "You're right, I better go."

  She stopped him before he walked away, serious. "Can't you take a joke anymore?"

  "It rings too true to be a joke," he replied sourly.

  She softened. "I'm kidding. We missed you. And if you can have Pamela now, go for it."

  "I'm not sure I want her anymore," he admitted.

  "Well, she sure is hot for you!" She grinned. "Please, stay a little longer."

  He hesitated, then nodded. He considered telling Bonnie of his attempts at getting published, but he decided not to dwell on that. The new story was still boiling in his head, and this time he'd have the means to publish it if he was happy with it.