by Dyan Sheldon
“Don’t you understand English? I don’t have time for this now.”
“But it’s important. A family’s life is being ruined. Tiny children with doe-eyes and dark curls are being turned into the street where they’ll have to survive on scraps of food they find in the rubbish bins.”
Ben put a very unfatherly hand on my shoulder. “Come on. You heard Mr Hottle. Why don’t you go home before you find yourself in serious trouble?”
“Please, Mr Hottle. Please, please, please! You have to listen to me.” I would’ve clasped my hands in prayer if I could’ve let go of the door.
Not that holding on did me any good.
Ben took his hand from my shoulder and lifted me into the air.
“Let’s just back off a little here.”
Charley Hottle scuttled past me, heading for Bergstrom’s.
“You let go of her!” Ella came charging across the parking lot like the cavalry across the Great Plains. “My father’s a lawyer!” she screamed. “A very good lawyer! Unless you want to end up in court you’d better put my friend down!”
I don’t think it was the threat so much as the distraction of seeing a woman in a pink summer suit, clutching a floppy picture hat with roses on it to her head, running towards him that made him release me.
“What the hell—”
“I want your name and address!” Ella slowed to a brisk walk, taking a notebook and pen from Mrs Gerard’s tasteful straw bag as she neared him. She’s not her mother’s daughter for nothing.
I had already bolted after Charley Hottle. He had his hand on the door of Bergstrom’s, but I didn’t care.
“Mr Hottle! Mr Hottle!” I threw myself in front of him. “You have to listen to me! I saw who took your watch. I can describe him. I can pick him out of a line-up.”
“I’m warning you. Get out of my way.”
“But I saw him! It was the guy you sent to your room to get your notebook. I saw him put it in his pocket!”
He was surprised that I knew about the notebook.
“And how could you know a thing like that?”
“I told you. Because I saw him! I saw him put it in his pocket.”
“And where were you when you saw this?”
“In your closet.”
People are always blanching in old novels, but this was the first time I’d ever seen someone actually do it right in front of me. His face went the colour of a peeled nut.
“You were where?”
“In your closet. I wasn’t doing anything – I just wanted to talk to you so I was waiting—”
It was beginning to look like his blood was draining out through his feet. “You were waiting for me in my closet? How long were you in there? Is this some kind of set-up? Just who the hell are you?”
This was my moment to restore order and get his attention by letting him know that I knew about his girlfriend and that he could consider me a friend. “Don’t worry, Mr Hottle,” I assured him, “I won’t tell anybody what I overheard. I—”
“Won’t tell anybody? Won’t tell anybody what? Are you threatening me?”
I was about to say that of course I wasn’t threatening him, I just wanted to talk, when, in a pretty graphic and aggressive way, all hell broke loose.
Ella and Ben joined us, arguing amongst themselves. (I’d never heard her scream so much; Mrs Gerard would’ve fainted on the spot.)
And Mrs Seiser loomed on the other side of the glass doors, looking like the Hotel Manager Possessed by Demons.
What’s she doing here? screamed my brain. She’s supposed to be at home terrorizing Mr Seiser.
I was so surprised to see her that I jumped back from the door.
“What in God’s name’s going on here?” shrieked Mrs Seiser. “Let go of this man! He’s a guest in this hotel!” I had this cloth doll when I was little that was Little Red Riding Hood if you held it one way, and the Big Bad Wolf if you turned it inside out. Mrs Seiser did a pretty good impersonation of that doll. When she was screaming at me she was the Big Bad Wolf, but when she turned to Charley Hottle she was Little Red Riding Hood on her very best behaviour. “Mr Hottle,” she purred, “are you all right? You don’t have to worry, I called the police.”
That was the last clear sentence I actually heard because everybody started shouting at once (mainly at me – though, for my part, I concentrated on Charley Hottle). And then the police arrived, with their lights and siren going. Everybody came out of the diner and cars pulled over to the shoulder to watch (anything bigger than someone going through a stop sign is pretty exciting in Dellwood).
The cops managed to get everyone to stop screaming.
Officer Pintelli took out his notebook. “All right, I want you to tell me what’s going on – one at a time.” He aimed his pen at Mrs Seiser. “Starting with you.”
But it wasn’t Mrs Seiser who spoke next. It was someone behind us.
“Chrissake, Lola,” he said. “Now what’ve you done?”
We all turned around.
Charley Hottle looked like he was going to hug him. “Sam! Do you know this lunatic?” He was pointing at me.
“Yeah,” said Sam. “This is Lola. She’s the girl I was telling you about.”
Into The Future – Forget The Past
The words “I hope you learned something from this” have been part of the constant background music of my life for as long as I can remember. Now was no exception.
“I hope you learned something from this,” said Sam.
“I hope you learned something from this,” said Ella.
“I hope you finally learned something from this,” said Karen Kapok.
Well I’d definitely learned something this time. I’d learned that a lot of those old sayings that seem so trite and boring actually have a lot of truth in them. Especially the one about being your own worst enemy.
“I was going to tell you about Charley Hottle coming into the garage the night you decided to stalk Bret Fork,” said Sam.
Hell hath no fury like a grease-monkey scorned. I said, “Oh.”
Charley Hottle knew the value of a good mechanic because his father had been one, so when the people carrier kept stalling on him, he took it to Creek and Son himself. Mr Magnolia recommended them. Sam and Charley Hottle bonded while looking under the bonnet together, the way men do. Charley Hottle said Sam would’ve been a lot better for Bret Fork’s part than Bret Fork, but in his opinion the world needed more gifted mechanics than it did mediocre actors.
Sam gave me one of his who’s-been-riding-the-clutch-again looks. “My dad even tried to introduce you to him.” He made it sound like an accusation.
I don’t see how I could’ve known that. I’m highly intuitive like all great actors, but I’m not psychic. I said, “Oh.”
It wasn’t chance that brought Mr Creek to the Dellwood Diner that morning as anyone would have supposed, it was a power breakfast with Charley Hottle. Since all the rented vehicles had problems, Charley Hottle wanted to get to the head of the line and he figured the best way to do that was to buy Mr Creek his fried eggs and hash browns.
“And I tried to tell you, too,” said Ella. “The night we rescued you from Bergstrom’s, but you wouldn’t listen.”
It was Sam’s idea to deliver Charley Hottle’s car to the travel lodge after Ella called him the night I hid in the closet. Sam thought that if he could talk to him he might find out what had happened to me. When he realized Charley Hottle hadn’t seen me, he figured that, unlikely as it seemed, there was a chance I was still in the room. He was just about to go looking for me when I came out of the building.
I could see that I hadn’t exactly been helping myself by being a little single-minded and alienating my closest allies. I said, “Oh.”
On the other hand, in a way I was also my own best friend.
Charley Hottle had been meeting Sam the night I confronted him in the parking lot (the night described by the local paper as Bust-up at Bergstrom’s). Sam wanted to talk to him ab
out me. He said he thought that after the way I’d stood up for Gracia I deserved some help.
So after all the trauma and emotional upheaval had settled down, Charley Hottle invited Ella, Sam and me to go to Triolo’s with him for supper.
We laughed a lot about Ella’s and my attempts to get in the movie (especially the part where we staggered over the cliff like soldiers who just found out the war’s been over for forty years).
Then we laughed some more about our adventures in the cleaning industry (especially the part where I fell asleep in the closet).
Charley Hottle looked from me to Sam. “She’s exactly as you described her.” He sounded really surprised.
But I had been totally right about one thing. After everything had been explained to him (and Mr Triolo’s aubergine parmigiana had worked its magic), Charley Hottle acted like a man of reason and generosity.
“Don’t worry,” said Charley Hottle. “I’ll have my watch back tomorrow. And before my ex-employee leaves, he and I will have a talk with Mrs Seiser. You can tell Gracia to expect a call to come back to work and an apology.”
I couldn’t have been happier if I’d just won an Oscar. Not that Gracia needed the job at Bergstrom’s any more. Between Morty’s mom and Sam’s dad, she was already in full-time employment. But it meant she could tell Mrs Seiser to take her uniform and her nametag and her cleaning cart and shove it down a toilet.
Charley Hottle pushed his empty plate away. “There’s one other thing I’d like to do.” He looked from me to Ella. “I’d like to give you both a little spot in the movie. We need a couple of girls to walk past Lucy Rio in the high school corridor.”
Ella smiled. “Really?”
But I didn’t smile. I was surprised to realize that this announcement didn’t exactly make jubilation race through my heart.
Sam caught the look on my face. “Now what?”
“Well…” I shrugged. “I don’t know if I really want to be in the movie any more.”
“What?” Charley Hottle was surprised, too. “I thought you’d be happy. I thought that was what you wanted.”
“It was,” I said. “It is. It’s just that…”
Charley Hottle, Ella and Sam all said, “It’s just what?”
It was the hypocrisy. If Charley Hottle wasn’t always going on about family values and his kids and his wife I really wouldn’t care what he did in his spare time. I mean, it wouldn’t be any of my business, would it? But he was always going on about it. He was like that TV preacher who told people what a major sin adultery is, and then they caught him with a prostitute. I figured that if I accepted a part in the movie I’d be saying it’s all right to say one thing and do something else.
I shrugged. “It’s just that I feel uncomfortable.” I kept my eyes on the candle in the middle of the table. “You know, because of your girlfriend.”
Ella sighed. “Oh… I get it.”
Charley Hottle turned to Sam. “Now what’s she talking about?”
Sam said, “Umph.” He looked like he was hoping the floor was going to collapse and take him with it.
“You know…” I was mumbling. “The woman you had in your room.”
Charley Hottle turned to me. He was half-smiling, like maybe I was making a joke he didn’t understand. “You mean my wife?”
Ella looked hopeful. “That was your wife?”
“Of course it was my wife.”
But I wasn’t going to start ringing the bells of joy just yet. “I thought your wife’s called Tamara.”
I’d expected Charley Hottle to get all angry and defensive, but instead he grinned. “It is Tamara.” He gave me a wink. “Maybe you’d like to take a wild guess at what my nickname for her is.”
“Oh, let me.” Sam shot me a you-forgot-to-check-the-oil-again look. “It couldn’t be Lil, could it?”
“So is it OK now?” Charley Hottle asked after we’d all stopped laughing. “Do we have a deal?”
I said we had a deal.
Sam wanted to know if being friends with Charley Hottle and getting the part and everything meant that we didn’t have to go to Carla’s party.
I said no.
“Ella and Morty are going with us. And besides, everybody’s going to be there. You can’t possibly think I’m going to miss my last chance to wipe the smile from the Santini’s face when she sees me being all pally with Charley Hottle. I’ve been waiting my whole life for this.”
“You haven’t known Carla for your whole life.”
“Well it seems like I have.”
There was a communal gasp inside the Karmann Ghia as Carla’s house came into view.
Just in case you weren’t sure which mansion belonged to the Santinis, coloured floodlights waved gently across the New Jersey sky from the front lawn. There was a woman done up as Marilyn Monroe checking invitations at the door and a man dressed as Charlie Chaplin telling people where to park.
“Chrissake,” muttered Sam. “Doesn’t she know there are people starving on this planet?”
“I’m surprised she doesn’t have photographers lined up,” said Morty.
“She’s really surpassed herself this time, hasn’t she?” said Ella.
I sighed. “It’s exactly what you’d expect from someone who’s never gone without anything except a soul.”
“How long do we have to stay?” asked Sam as he came to a stop at the end of the street. He’d agreed to come, but he wasn’t going to be too gracious about it.
“For God’s sake, we haven’t even got out of the car yet.”
“I’d be really happy if we could do that straight away,” Morty grunted. “I think I may be permanently crippled.”
“I don’t know why I bothered ironing this dress,” complained Ella. “It looks like I slept in it.”
Sam still hadn’t taken the keys from the ignition or made any movement to open his door. “So how long?”
“No more than an hour.” I pulled the handle on the passenger side and more or less rolled out. “Just long enough to mingle a little and bid the Santini a fond farewell.”
“Right,” said Sam. “But if you’re not ready in an hour I’m leaving without you.”
The Hollywood theme was continued inside the house. All the waiters were dressed as movie stars, too, and Mr Santini was wearing a beret like an old-time director.
Morty and Sam went off to find a quiet corner where they could play backgammon until the hour was up.
Ella and I mingled.
“Gosh,” said Ella as we fought our way through the merry throngs. “She really did invite everyone, didn’t she?”
“Not everyone.” I didn’t see Charley Hottle – or anyone else from the movie for that matter. How was Carla going to see me being all pally with Charley Hottle if he wasn’t there?
Ella was less than sympathetic. “Does that mean we can leave?”
“No.”
Most of the revellers were in the back yard. Music was playing through a sophisticated sound system that seemed to be embedded in the trees and more floodlights wafted over the patio and the pool.
Never let it be said that Ella has no talent for stating the obvious.
“I can’t see her,” said Ella.
Neither did I. “That’s funny… It’s not like Carla to hide herself away.”
We went back into the house.
There were at least fifty people dancing in the living room, but none of them was related to Mr Santini.
Nor was Dellwood’s reigning monarch in the games room (ping-pong, pinball, video games and shuffleboard) or the dining room (more food than most of the world sees in a year) either.
“Isn’t the hour up yet?” grumbled Ella as we reached the entertainment room. “I’m exhausted. It’s like trying to get through the mall on Christmas Eve.”
“No. We go nowhere until I’ve accomplished my mission.” I opened the door.
The room was packed with people, and dark except for the light coming from the enormous TV screen that fi
lled almost an entire wall, but I spotted Carla immediately. She was sitting in the middle of the sofa, flanked by the witches of Dellwood on either side. Everyone was watching the screen.
“I don’t get it,” whispered Ella. “What’s going on?”
Voices I’d barely heard at the time because I was kind of busy came back to me. You mean Dellwood’s answer to Fellini…? The last time I saw her she was taking pictures of Lucy… I think she was going to shoot Bret eating his lunch…
“It looks like Carla’s made a movie.”
What I did on My Summer Vacation.
A great actor has to trust her instincts, but my instincts were taking a break right then because instead of backing out of the room I stayed where I was, riveted to the spectacle unfolding before my wondering eyes.
There was Charley Hottle waving his hands around like he was besieged by a swarm of flies. There was Lucy Rio sitting on a motorcycle. There was Bret Fork talking on his cell phone. And in almost every scene there was Carla, smiling like she’d just invented air. Alma must’ve been in charge of the camera.
Carla really has to be a witch, there’s no other explanation for what happened next.
The image on the screen froze and she suddenly turned around, as though she knew we were there all the time.
“Lola!” she cried.
Everyone else in the room turned around too.
“I was afraid you were going to miss the best part. It’s just coming up.”
Ella pulled on my arm. “Let’s go.”
My instincts weren’t just taking a break; they were asleep at the wheel. Instead of bolting I said, “I just wanted to say how sorry I am we didn’t see you on the set this summer. Charley Hottle said you made a great waiter in the scene in the diner.”
Alma, Marcia and Tina all tittered, but everyone else stayed silent, watching us the way you’d watch a gunfight.
“Maybe we didn’t see you because you weren’t actually in the movie like you said,” suggested Alma.
[Cue: raising of chin and confident smile.] “Oh, we were there. You’ll see when it comes out. We’re in the—”
Carla cut me off. “Of course they were there, Al.” She pressed the remote and the movie started playing again. “And here’s the proof.”