by Ward, Susan
I nod. “Sure. Go ahead.”
Justin smiles. “You’re a very talented filmmaker and you’ve molded this dispirited group into a top-notch team. We’re almost there, your vision for what you want us to be. All it takes now is you. It will all fall into place if you learn to hold on less tightly. It will fall into place much faster by just trusting us enough to let go.”
I stare at him, but it’s Bobby who flashes in my mind. I stand up. “Thanks. I’ll try to work on that.”
I walk toward the door. I pause to look back at him. “That’s the final cut, Justin. Do you think you can take the meeting with Rafe today without me and cover things around here for a while? I’m going to be gone for the rest of the day and probably tomorrow as well.”
Justin smiles. I’ve finally said something that pleases him. “Sure, Kaley. I’ll do the pitch meeting with Rafe.”
I nod. “Thanks.”
I hurry out of the conference room and back to the safety of my office. I lean against the closed door, breathing heavily. I suddenly feel frantic and shaky, desperate, and like the only thing that will make any of this better is to run to Bobby.
I want him to know I love him. I want him to know I trust him. It isn’t him who makes me act the way I act at times. It isn’t him, and he’s known it all along and has loved me anyway.
I feel on the verge of both laughter and tears, and I can’t make sense of that any more than I can explain the rest of this crazy day. Without need for thought, I decide my next move.
I’m out of here. I’m going back to Simi Valley and telling that wonderful guy he was right about everything.
I reach for my purse on the desk. Ding. I look at the computer screen. Shit, I must have forgotten to log out of my Fembot blog last time I was here. The chat box is patiently waiting.
I drop into my chair. I open it, already knowing it’s my cyber fan waiting there.
Love-struck Trainer: You weren’t drinking and blogging last night. Hot date?
I lift my hands above the keys.
Rapid typing: I’m not going to be blogging anymore.
Waiting. Waiting.
Love-struck Trainer: Why? I’ll miss our nightly chats.
Without hesitation, I type: I just found a perfectly perfect guy.
Love-struck Trainer: What makes him perfectly perfect?
Now that is a question.
Response: He knows me completely and loves me anyway.
Before Love-struck Trainer can respond, I log off and shut off the computer. By the time I get to the double glass doors, I’m practically running out of the building.
From the parking lot I text Bobby. I wait in the truck. No answer. Maybe he’s not back to the foundation yet. Maybe he’s tied up with the dogs.
I take a detour to Pacific Palisades. Forty minutes later I’m pulling into my parents’ driveway and I don’t even know why I’m here.
I climb from the truck and hurry up the front walk. When I open the front door, the first thing I notice is that the house is quiet. Mom’s not here. Only Dad. The house is never quiet when Mom is here.
I peek into the rooms as I make my way to the back of the house. I open a French patio door and step out. I spot my dad sitting in a chaise lounge, staring out at the ocean.
“Hi, Pop.”
My father leans forward and looks over his shoulder to face me as I cross the lawn. “There goes my quiet,” he teases and then laughs. “Unannounced visit. Which is it? Problem or money, Kaley?”
I roll my eyes and sink down on a chaise beside him. “Can’t I just stop by without a reason?”
“Sure you can.” He smiles. “That’s the best kind of visit. How’s my girl? You look tired.”
“Tired, huh? Thanks a lot. I’ve been working some long hours finishing a project, but I’m going to take some time off now.”
“Don’t let yourself burn out. It’s a marathon not a sprint.”
I crinkle my nose. “Do you save all these trite axioms for me or do you have other ones for the other kids?”
My dad laughs and relaxes back against his chair. “I have loads for all you kids thanks to your grandfather.”
I laugh, pulling my legs up in front of me to hug my knees. Oh, Grandpa Jack. Mom’s dad. He definitely has an axiom for every occasion.
“So what miracle did you work to get some alone time, Pop?”
“I’m not alone. Khloe is somewhere.”
“Shouldn’t you check on her if you don’t know where she is?”
My dad sighs. “I was just about to do that when you showed up.” His magnificent black eyes fix intensely on me. “Is everything OK?”
I flush. “Sure. I told you. Great.”
“Then why don’t you seem great?”
I shrug. “Where’s Mom?”
It hardly seems possible but those black eyes, so like my own, sharpen even more. “Chrissie’s out. And if you want Chrissie that means something is bothering you and you don’t need money. I’ll listen if you want to talk.”
I stare out at the ocean and pretend to give that one consideration. Chrissie? Why doesn’t he ever call Mom Mom? It’s almost like code to remind me that he will always come first with my mother.
There are things about my dad I’ll never get. Maybe I’d understand him if he’d been here my whole life. Maybe I’d understand him if my mom explained the history. They’ve loved each other for decades, but have been married only six years. There is so much in my parents’ complicated past that they will never share with me.
I find my dad smiling at me, but his eyes continue to probe me. It’s a very intimidating look. Like he can read me. See inside me.
People say we have the same eyes. The same stare. The same complex personality. The same intensity. But there is love in my dad’s eyes and I see it.
I lower my gaze to stare at my feet. Maybe he calls Mom “Chrissie” because he still thinks of her as the young girl she was when they met. That’s a nice thought. Sweet and romantic. I like it better this way.
I smile. “Who am I more like? You or Mom?”
My dad closes his eyes and shakes his head. “No, not stepping into that one. You know the answer. Why ask?”
I shrug. “No reason.”
I hear the French doors open. I look back at the house to see my seven-year-old sister, Khloe, hurry across the yard. She throws herself into my dad’s arms for a big, shaky bear hug. I watch their comfortable affection and suddenly feel just a touch sad. I’ve never had their kind of closeness with my dad. I try. He tries. For some reason, we’re just not there yet.
It’s Khloe who pulls away first to sit back on her heels and look indignantly toward Dad. “I’ve been waiting forever. Everything is set up. Why didn’t you come to my room, Daddy?”
He drops a kiss on her nose. “Kaley stopped in for a visit. Aren’t you going to say hello to your sister?”
Khloe turns to me. “Hello.” She exhales impatiently. “Now can we go play Barbies?”
I bite my lower lip. That one I’ll never get used to. My dad playing with Barbies on the floor of Khloe’s bedroom. I wonder if we’d be this close if my dad had been around to play Barbies with me.
To my shock, I realize I’m crying. I feel the tears rolling down my cheeks, and suddenly they are coming faster and stronger. God, it’s been an emotional day.
“Run inside, Khloe. Wait for me. I’ll be there soon,” I hear my dad say, a note of concern woven into his British accent.
Khloe gives me a hard stare with her wide blue eyes that so resembles Mom’s, then scampers away without argument. I brush at the tears. That’s one thing I’ll give my dad. He knows how to command without effort.
He swings his legs off the chaise and sits facing me. “Why are you crying, Kaley? What’s wrong?”
“Nothing, Pop. I’ve just got a lot going on. It’s a bit overwhelming.”
“Work or relationship?”
God, I don’t want to have a relationship discussion with my dad. No
t with Alan Manzone: rock icon, billionaire, and reformed man-whore. He plundered my mom’s heart for three decades like a pirate raiding Caribbean treasure. I can’t talk to him about this. Not even if he is my father. Crap, why isn’t Mom here?
“It’s not worth talking about,” I say, unwilling to meet his stare.
“Then why are you crying?”
“I don’t know. Does it matter?”
He moves from his chaise to mine. “I’m stepping into that one. You sound like your mother and I’m not buying it. Tell me what’s wrong. We’ll think it through together.”
For some reason, instead of answering, I turn into my father’s chest, burying my face against him. His arms hold me in a protective cocoon, and it feels so good to be held by my father. The tears come even stronger.
“Shush, Kaley. Whatever it is, it will be OK.”
He starts to rock me gently. We sit like this quietly in the silence of the yard. The rocking slows. The tears slow. I see the ocean beyond me and start to quiet inside. I look up at him.
“Do you want to talk about it?” he asks.
“No, Pop. Sometimes a girl just needs to hug her father.”
He drops a kiss on my black curls. As he pulls back, a wisp of his long hair mingles with mine and clings, the color so exact I can’t really tell which hair is mine and which hair is his.
We are so alike. I look at our hands. Our nails are the exact same shape and shade. He is my father. I love him. The past is the past. Bobby is right. I need to forgive unconditionally and let it go for all our sakes.
I don’t understand why he wasn’t here for me in my childhood, but I do know that I love him and my father loves me.
I feel different as I drive back to Simi Valley. Something is more urgent and paradoxically more peaceful in me. I can’t put my finger on what I’m feeling or where I am emotionally.
I sat with my dad in the quiet for an hour. I let him hold me. We didn’t talk, but when I left I felt differently inside me.
I switch on my turn signal, exit the 101, and merge onto the surface street that will eventually fade from city blocks into rural ones and Bobby.
It’s nearly evening. I planned to be back earlier. First the stop at my dad’s, then the stop at the grocery store because Bobby is living like a bear with furniture in a cave.
There still hasn’t been a text from Bobby. I wonder what’s up with that. I hope he’s home when I get there. There is a lot I need to say to him today.
It’s in me, with sweet urgency, wanting to be given over to him. I want to tell him everything I feel. I want to tell him about my day, work, and the time with my father. I am burning to share every piece of me with Bobby.
He is the one person I know who will understand everything without my explaining a single thing.
I turn into his drive and park the truck. The chain is back up across the road. I can’t remember if I latched it back into place when I left this morning or if seeing it in place means that Bobby is back.
I quickly unlatch the barrier and hop back into the truck. I’m driving with greater speed and purpose to the house. I park in the driveway and my heart stills. Bobby is back, but why are the sheriffs here?
I quickly take in the details of him. He’s chatting with the sheriff while hovering over some kind of wounded dog.
The pieces fly together in my mind. He went on a rescue last night, probably to an illegal dog fight, but something must have gone wrong if the sheriffs are here. He looks tired and a touch angry, but he doesn’t look hurt.
“What happened?” I exclaim, stopping myself from flinging into his arms and holding him close to me.
He rises to his full height and in a half-second he is pressing me full length against him and surrounding me with his arms.
“Everything is fine. I’m OK,” he whispers into my hair, but I feel some kind of restless adrenaline move through his flesh.
“If nothing is wrong why are the sheriffs here?”
He eases back and fixes his green eyes on me. “Just getting my statement, Kaley.” He touches my cheek with a gentle fingertip. “We called the sheriffs before the rescue. They raided the dog fight. Sometimes these things are tricky in Chatsworth. Gangs and other organized crime often run the fight market.”
“Tricky? Or do you mean dangerous? What have you gotten yourself into, Bobby?”
He cradles my face with his hands, kisses me on the forehead, and then stares directly into my eyes. “It’s perfectly safe so long as law enforcement takes the lead. Nothing is going to happen to me. Not now. Not after I’ve finally gotten you back.”
Suddenly I’m crying. “It better not, Bobby!”
Laughing, he folds me against his chest again. “I’m going to have to toughen you up, Kaley. I wasn’t sure how much you knew about rescuing dogs from illegal fights. That’s why I didn’t tell you where I was going. There wasn’t enough time to explain everything and I didn’t want you to worry.”
“I worried anyway. You should have told me.”
He places a light kiss on my lips and eases back to smile at me. “I missed you last night.”
I rub my nose against his shirt, breathing in his scent. “I missed you this morning.”
“I missed you five minutes ago.”
“I miss you always.”
Dang, I’m crying all over again just because of this silly banter we started back when we were in high school. Crying because I love him, crying because it feels so good to be in his arms, and crying because I don’t know if I’ll ever be worthy of a guy as great as Bobby.
He dabs at my tears, gives me another kiss and then drapes an arm around my shoulder.
“Are we done here?” Bobby calls out.
A sheriff looks up from his notepad. “I just need your signature on your statement.”
The young officer walks over to us, tosses me a smile, and then hands Bobby a pen.
“If we need additional information we can handle that by phone. Someone in the district attorney’s office will be contacting you to testify.”
“I’ll be there,” Bobby assures him, handing back the pen.
We watch the officers pile into their cars and leave the driveway.
Bobby steps away from me and crouches down in front of the dog. “Just let me finish taking care of this poor girl and then we can go inside and talk.”
I move closer to him and watch as he checks her bandages. “What happened to her?”
“Nothing serious. Grazed by a bullet.”
“Bullet!”
Bobby looks up. “When the cops raided, the dog handlers started shooting the dogs. I guess they thought they were evidence.” He shakes his head and starts to examine a leg. “I don’t know what’s wrong with the world.”
My heart swells with pride and tears pool in my eyes. Most people aren’t as gentle, as good and kindhearted as Bobby. That’s what’s wrong with the world.
I stare down at the dog, smiling. “What will you do with her?”
“Keep her. Train her. Bring her into the pack inside the house with Tiki.”
“Another dog?”
“I have a soft spot in my heart for girls with troubled pasts.”
My cheeks warm and my smile grows larger. “Yep, that is why you pursued me in high school, isn’t it? The charm of the chip on my shoulder.”
His eyes lock with mine, potent with the memories we share. “As I recall, you pursued me.”
I crinkle my nose. “You would remember it that way.”
He laughs and stands up. “I’ll be right back and then we can go inside and finish where we left off last night.”
The look he gives me makes every muscle below my waist clench in slow, delicious anticipation.
I watch him disappear into an indoor kennel and a few moments later he returns with a girl. They are laughing and talking in a way that tells me they’re good friends. My eyes widen.
Feeling territorial, I size her up in a single, fast glance. Where did she come from
and who is she? Petite. Blond. Pretty. Your basic worst nightmare. I rally a smile, realizing he is bringing her close to introduce me.
Bobby takes my hand. “Caroline, this is Kaley. My girlfriend.”
OK, girlfriend. A definite improvement over how Bobby introduced me to the dog last night. I take her outstretched hand.
“It’s a pleasure to meet you,” I say.
Caroline’s smile is beaming. “It’s a pleasure to finally meet you. Bobby has told me so much about you.”
“Caroline lives in the guest cottage,” Bobby explains. “She’s a second-year veterinary student. She helps with the medical rehabilitation and care of the dogs. I could never run this place without her.”
Caroline laughs. “Bobby is the true hero here. He saves the dogs, brings them back to their potential, and finds them homes.”
Bobby steps back to the dog and eases down to lift one end of the stretcher. Caroline follows at the other end.
They disappear into the kennel with the dog. I wander over to a cage and crouch down to be at eye level with the dog. I wouldn’t call myself a dog lover, but there is definitely something in the eyes of these powerful animals that gets to me.
I ease over to another cage and watch the dog stare at me. It’s fear and longing I see in its eyes, almost the same look I saw in Fiona’s eyes while filming on Stockton Boulevard.
I go back to my car and grab my digital camera. I start snapping pictures of the dogs. Bobby is right. There is a documentary here. And working on a film about his dog rescuing activities will definitely give us more time together.
I smile. That is a wonderful way to pull all the pieces of my life together. And right now, I can’t think of anything that would be better than spending as much time as I can with Bobby.
A few minutes later Bobby returns, thankfully alone.
I stare up at him, round eyed. “Caroline, huh?”
Bobby places an arm around my shoulder. “Since when are you jealous?”
“Since I just found out you have a pretty blonde living in your guest cottage.”
He laughs and kisses my nose. “Would it make you feel better about the whole thing if I told you that Caroline has agreed to take care of the dogs the next few days so we can have some exclusive us time together?”