I hobble slowly down the stairs to the kitchen and take two Advil, and then wander to my favorite napping spot on the porch. I’ll let the ocean breeze lull me to sleep.
I don’t know what the fuck I’m doing.
I’m standing in my driveway, the hood of my car open, and I’m staring at it as if it just magically holds all of the answers.
So far, all I see is a bunch of stuff that I know absolutely nothing about.
All I do know for sure is, the damn car won’t start.
“Don’t do this to me today,” I plead with the three-year-old BMW. “I have to go to PT today, and I’m already running late. Please start.”
With that, I march around to the driver’s side, prop my ass on the seat, and push the start button.
Nothing.
“What the hell?”
I get out and face the open engine again, frowning as if it’s scorned me on purpose.
“Okay, maybe Siri knows.” I pull the app up on my phone and speak into it. “Siri, my BMW won’t start. Can you diagnose the problem?”
“I’m sorry, I don’t understand.”
I roll my eyes and try again.
“Why won’t my BMW start?”
She thinks for a second. “I can’t find that answer.”
I groan and then try again.
“Siri, please give me possible reasons for why my BMW engine won’t start.”
“You should seek a professional.”
I close my eyes and take a deep breath. “Yeah, no shit. Why are you always such a bitch to me, Siri?”
I hear movement behind me and startle when I see Finn standing there, his hands on his lean hips and a smirk on that sexy face of his.
“How long have you been there?”
“Long enough to hear you have an argument with Siri.”
“I thought this was a smart phone.” I wag it in the air. “If that’s the case, wouldn’t she know what’s going on?”
“In theory. Maybe someday they’ll be that smart.”
I sigh and turn back to the car. “I guess I’ll call AAA.”
“Well, hold on. What’s wrong?”
“It won’t start. It doesn’t even make a noise. Just . . . nothing.”
He steps up beside me and glances inside. Suddenly he reaches in and wiggles something around.
“Try it again.”
“Seriously, I can call someone.”
“London.” He looks down at me with hot brown eyes now and leans both hands on the car, as if he’s keeping himself from touching me.
Which is completely all in my head and wishful thinking because he’s a stranger and I’ve been without sex for way too long.
“Yeah?”
“Try it again.”
“Okay, I’ll humor you, but I really think it’s something far more serious than that.” I prop my ass on the seat again and push the button, and just like that, the car comes to life. “What did you do?”
“The cable to the battery was loose, which is odd, but not impossible, I guess. It should be fine now.”
“Thanks.” I check the time and swear under my breath. “I’m late, and they won’t see me now. I’ll have to reschedule my appointment.”
“So you’re free for a while?” he asks, and I look up to find him smiling at me.
“Depends.”
“Well, how about if I take you to lunch?”
“If you’re going to feed me, yes, I’m free.” I smile and then blink, remembering that he showed up out of nowhere. “Wait. Why did you come over here?”
“I was walking out to my own car and heard you talking to Siri,” he says with a shrug. “I wasn’t trying to be nosy, but I figured you could use a hand.”
“Thanks.”
He nods. “So, lunch?”
“Where’s Gabby?”
“I have to pick her up from piano lessons. She’ll join us, if that doesn’t bother you.”
“That doesn’t bother me.”
“Great.” He waits for me to follow him over to his car, opens the door for me, and pulls out of his driveway.
“So, Gabby had horseback-riding lessons yesterday, and piano lessons today?”
“Yes,” he says with a nod. “I have her in several activities. I want her to meet other kids and have fun.”
“I don’t mean to pry, but is she okay?”
He sighs and signals to make a turn. “I’m not sure what’s up with her. She’s been really challenging for her dad, so I offered to bring her here for a few weeks to give him a break. I was hoping it would help her attitude, but so far it hasn’t.”
“Where’s her mom?”
“She passed away about five years ago,” he replies. “Her mom was my younger sister. Carter, Gabby’s dad, is still a good friend, and a partner at the firm, and he was about at his wit’s end with her.”
“Maybe she’s just going through a rough patch.”
He nods and swings into a driveway where Gabby is waiting on the porch of a house with a grandmotherly woman waiting with her. She waves at Finn as Gabby runs down to the car.
“She’s in my seat,” she grumbles as she climbs into the backseat.
“London is my guest and you’ll be polite, young lady,” Finn says, staring her down in the rearview mirror. “Apologize for being rude.”
“Sorry,” she says, and looks out her window as Finn pulls out of the driveway. He takes us to a restaurant by the water that is known for its fish and chips.
“I love this place,” I say when he finds a space to park. “I’ve come here since I was a kid.”
“Perfect,” he says with a smile, and we all climb out of the car and get settled at a table inside. Once we’ve ordered our lunch and have our drinks, I take a sip of lemonade and turn to Gabby.
“So, what musicals are your favorite, Gabby?”
“A Summer’s Evening is my favorite,” she says, not looking me in the eyes.
“Really? That’s the musical that I acted in for a few years.”
She nods. “Yeah, I know. My dad took me a couple of times.”
She shrugs a shoulder, like it’s no big deal. Which is fine with me.
“Uncle Finn has me in those stupid piano lessons, but I’d rather learn how to sing better.”
I glance up at Finn. “Well, I can give you voice lessons.”
Her eyes fly up to mine, holding a little bit of hope now. “You could?”
“Sure.” I shrug, as if it’s no big deal, mimicking her movement from a few seconds ago, and wink at Finn. “I mean, I’ve taken voice and dance since I was a little girl. I could totally help you.”
She clears her throat and then nods. “Yeah, that could be cool.”
“Okay, well, when it works with your schedule, we’ll do that.”
Our food is delivered, and I dig in, suddenly realizing that I’m starving. The meal is full of fat and oil. Tons of carbs. And I don’t even care.
When my basket is empty, I sit back and pat my food belly. “Good lord, that was good. What did you think, Gabby?”
“Pretty good,” she admits, and gives Finn the side-eye, not wanting to show too much enthusiasm.
“Thanks for inviting me along. What do you guys have planned for the rest of the day?”
“Gabby has her first karate lesson,” Finn says, and my head spins. Good God, she goes nonstop, and it’s her summer vacation.
“You’re a busy girl.”
“Tell me about it,” she says, rolling her eyes again. “I thought we would come here to relax, I mean, school’s out and all, but Uncle Finn has me doing everything.”
“I don’t want you to be bored,” he says, and nudges her with his elbow, but she scoots away from him. She doesn’t see the look of hurt in his eyes, and I feel badly for him.
“There are a ton of fun things to do here,” I reply. “Have you thought of sailing lessons?”
“I don’t like the water,” she says, shaking her head.
“Okay. Well, I think karate s
ounds fun.”
She just shrugs again and looks out the window, ignoring us both now.
“What about you?” Finn asks me. “What do you have planned?”
“Well, thanks to my car, I missed my PT appointment, so I’ll have to reschedule that. I was going to do some baking this evening.”
“What are you making?” Gabby asks.
“Pies. Maybe some cookies. I’ll bring you guys some. I love to bake, but I can’t eat any of it.”
“None of it?” Gabby asks with wide eyes.
“Nope, I have to stay in shape for my job.”
I blink rapidly, realizing that I probably don’t have a job to stay in shape for, but I don’t say that. Staying in good physical condition is a habit, and even if I don’t get to dance onstage again, it’s a healthy habit to have.
“I love pie,” Gabby says with a bright smile.
“I thought you might.”
Chapter Two
~London~
“Hey gorgeous,” my agent, Elizabeth, says into the phone the following day as I’m on my way to PT.
“Hi. Please tell me you have good news.”
She sighs, and I park, shove the car out of gear, and prepare myself for the worst.
“I don’t think this is what you’re going to want to hear,” she says. “Roger, the producer of A Summer’s Evening, has decided to replace you permanently.”
My eyes close, my heartbeat speeds up, and I shake my head slowly. “Liz, I’m working my ass off to get better.”
“I know that, and so does he, but, honey, you’ve been gone for almost four months. He has to replace you. You know this.”
I nod, not caring in the least that she can’t see me. “Okay, so what now?”
“I don’t have anything on the line for you right now, London.”
“I want to work. I know that everyone thinks that I can’t come back from this, and maybe I can’t, but I’m trying.”
“I want you to take the time you need to heal, London. You’re respected in this community. And if you can’t come back as a dancer, there will still be a place for you here.”
I swallow hard, longing to believe her. “Okay.”
“Just keep me posted on your progress,” she says. We end the call, and I walk into therapy, already feeling both defeated and determined at the same time. Halfway into our session, I blow out a frustrated breath.
“You’re doing great,” my physical therapist, Joe, says as he stretches my leg out behind me.
“Don’t blow smoke up my ass,” I reply. “I’m not doing great. It fucking hurts, and my range of motion is for shit. I should be doing better than this, Joe.”
“Whoa,” he says, and guides my leg down, then turns me to face him. “Talk to me.”
“I missed my appointment the other day,” I say, as if he should already know all of this. “Which means that I fell back again. And it’s been hurting like a mother lately.”
“The rain will do it,” he replies reasonably. It started raining yesterday afternoon and hasn’t let up since. “Are you taking your pain meds?”
“Advil,” I reply with a shrug. “I have an addict brother, and the narcotics make me spacey. I don’t like it.”
“Okay,” he says with a nod. “I get it. Have you been using your cane?”
I look down without answering him and he shakes his head.
“London, I need you to use the cane, especially on stairs and on the beach.”
“I hate it,” I mutter, and then rub my hands over my face in irritation. “I hate all of this. I’m sorry that I’m being a bitch this morning, it just all sucks. And I feel like I’m not making any gains at all.”
“You are, I can see them. But you’re holding a lot in, and I can see that too. You’re angry.”
“I can’t see the progress.” I stare up at him. “And why shouldn’t I be angry? I was officially fired today. What if this is as good as it gets, Joe?”
“Well, first of all, it’s not. You’re still going to improve, you just have to give yourself time. You need to work on healing yourself. Your whole self, London, not just the leg. And second of all, there will be other jobs.”
I shake my head. “I don’t expect you to understand, but every single day that I’m away from New York, the more my career slips out of my fingers. Do you think they’ll wait? Because they won’t. Of course they feel badly that this happened, but there are a hundred girls behind me who would do more than any of us are comfortable with to get a role. Younger, with more energy, and without an injured leg.”
“We’re going to get you through this,” he promises.
“I should feel better than I do,” I insist.
“Your body is different from anyone else’s, London. You have a dancer’s body, which means that your muscles have been used to being stretched, moved, and exercised every single day for most of your life. For the past four months, you haven’t been able to do that, so they’ve tightened more than an average person’s would. You’re not just starting from square one, you’re even farther behind than that.”
“Yay me,” I reply, but look him square in the face. “I want to get through this, better than before, and work again.”
“Good girl. Now, enough slacking. Let’s get this done.”
For the next thirty minutes, he puts me through the paces. Exercises with weights, without weights, more stretching. Finally, he has me lie on a table so he can massage the abused muscles.
Believe it or not, that’s the part that hurts the most.
I want to cry when he finally lets me get up to leave. I’m sick of hurting.
“You did great today,” he says, and laughs when I flip him the bird. “You did. I wouldn’t just say that. I’ll see you in two days.”
I smile and limp out to my car, then just sit in the driver’s seat, feeling the steady thump in my leg and listening to the sound of the rain on the roof.
I hope it doesn’t turn into a raging storm. I hate those. They terrify me.
I shake my head, start the car, and head toward home. With the weather as bad as it is, traffic isn’t too bad. I wouldn’t have gone out if I didn’t have to either.
The drive home is roughly ten minutes. I pull into the garage and walk inside, not at all excited about walking up the stairs, but I have to.
I still have work to do.
I finished the library this morning and decided that I’d take a stab at Dad’s office today. I cave and use my cane to help me get up the stairs. It’s a slow, painful process, but once I’m in the office, I forget about the pain and just look around the room.
Where Mom’s library was soft and feminine, with pretty upholstered chairs and dainty-looking tables, Dad’s office is the exact opposite. The walls are lined with gleaming honey-colored wood. There are shelves covered with heavy, leather-bound books and a large, wide desk that faces the water.
I didn’t spend much time in here as a child. The only time I was called in here was if I was in trouble, not unlike being called to the principal’s office. This room was designed to be masculine and intimidating, like the man who lived in it, and the designer did a good job of it.
I sit in his big leather chair and let it rock back and forth, running my fingers over the smooth wood of his desk. It still smells like him in here, like peppermint with a hint of tobacco. It brings an unexpected tear to my eye.
I’ve never considered myself a sentimental person. I don’t hold on to much. I’m not a hoarder. So I didn’t think it would be so hard to go through my parents’ things and try to part with them.
It’s kind of like losing them all over again, and I wasn’t prepared for that.
Thankfully, this wasn’t Dad’s full-time office, so I don’t have to tackle too much paperwork. And what is here, I can box up and have sent to the house in Greenwich so I can go through all of it at one time later.
I’ll have to have someone come help me. I won’t know what to save and what to shred.
But no n
eed to think about that right now.
Going through Dad’s desk, I find photos and journals, newspaper clippings from the reviews of my work on Broadway, which surprises me. Check that; it shocks the fuck out of me.
I didn’t think Dad was particularly sentimental either. Not to mention, a Broadway career was absolutely not what he had in mind for his daughter, and he made no secret of his opinion. Seeing the clippings from my shows touches me deeply.
He was proud of me after all.
There’s a Valentine’s Day card that Mom gave to him. It’s dated 1998, and it’s super mushy, which makes me grin.
I spend two hours sifting and sorting, and am surprised to realize that not one thing ended up in the trash can. That can’t be right. What am I going to do with all of this?
I shake my head and rub my leg, reminded that I worked hard today and I need to take something for it. So I reach for the cane and hobble down to the kitchen. I make myself a cup of coffee, reach for a cookie, and walk out to the porch. I have the outdoor heater on so I can still enjoy the view out here, even with the stormy weather.
“I don’t want to!” I hear Gabby yell next door. I don’t know why she’s outside, but I remind myself that it’s none of my business and take a sip of my coffee.
I can barely make out the low murmur of Finn’s voice, and then Gabby yells back at him.
“I hate karate! It’s dumb! I don’t know why you’re making me do this. Why can’t I take jujitsu? It’s better than stupid karate!”
I can’t make out Finn’s words, but he replies calmly, and then Gabby continues her tirade.
“You’re so mean to me! I don’t know why you have to be like this. I hate you!”
I cringe. Oh man, stab to the heart.
“Gabby,” he says, loudly now, which surprises me. “I’m trying my best here!”
There’s no more yelling, and a few minutes later I hear his car start and pull away.
I can’t help but remember the brief moment of hurt that passed across Finn’s face yesterday afternoon. He loves Gabby very much, it’s painfully obvious. He wasn’t lying when he said he’s trying. I honestly feel badly for both of them.
All the Way: A Romancing Manhattan Novel Page 2