Solly turned back to her. “You want something to drink? Vodka, sherry, schnapps…”
“No, thanks.” If this worked out, she’d treat Josh to a celebratory drink afterward.
And she truly hoped it worked out. When she’d run the idea past the team that afternoon, the air in the room had practically crackled with electricity. “Old farts beating up on each other!” Bob had hooted. “I love it!”
“We’ve got to keep it kind and gentle,” Gilda had argued. “Nobody can beat up on anyone.”
“I think they’re all done beating up on each other for now,” Loretta had told them. “I see it as a sweet show. Elderly lovebirds, vulnerable to all the same insecurities and jealousies as young lovebirds.”
“And then we can follow it up with middle-aged lovebirds,” Kate had suggested as she nibbled on sunflower seeds—some new diet of hers. “Not that I’m middle-aged. I’m twenty-nine. Right, Gilda?”
“We’re all twenty-nine,” Gilda had replied. “Except possibly Bob.”
“Bob is two,” Loretta had said. “Maybe two and a half on a good day. What I was thinking,” she’d continued, “was that instead of bringing this old man and his rival girlfriends onto the show, we could take a mobile cam and film them where they are. In their senior center, for instance.” She’d have to check with Josh whether such a thing was possible. “Or in the hospital. Or in their homes. Becky could interview them, show them living their lives, you know? I think it could be very classy and tasteful.”
“But what about the studio audience?” Kate had asked. “We always tape in front of an audience.” The growing pile of sunflower shells on the table in front of her had smelled like mulch.
“The studio audience would be goading them,” Bob had noted. “Enough audience input, and we’d have the geezers rumbling live and on the air.”
“Which is exactly why we can’t do it in the studio,” Loretta had pointed out. “Becky won’t allow rumbling geezers on the new, improved show. Or Harold won’t allow it. Or whoever’s calling the shots these days. If we take the show out of the studio, we can avoid the whole goading aspect.”
“If we take it out of the studio, who’ll ask the questions?” Gilda had wanted to know.
“We could show a tape of Becky’s interviews to the studio audience, and then open the floor to discussion,” Loretta had explained. She’d given this a lot of thought in the time since she’d returned from lunch—only ten minutes, but she’d holed up in the bathroom until she could work out the whole thing. She’d locked herself inside one of the stalls, ignoring the two secretaries from Someone’s in the Kitchen with Dinah who were camped out by the sinks, fixing their hair and arguing over whether Adele’s latest album was as good as her first, and figured out how to pitch Solly’s story so it could be produced in a kind, gentle way.
“Just a discussion?” Kate had asked skeptically. “What would they talk about?”
“We could have a social worker who specializes in geriatrics come into the studio to address some of the issues,” Loretta had said. A social worker like Josh’s girlfriend, she thought, although she’d prefer someone else. Anyone else.
“I think we should try to convince the central parties to come on the show,” Gilda had said. “The old man and his ladies.”
“Do you think we should risk having a group of seventy-year-olds sitting on the set while tattooed thugs in the audience ask them sleazy questions about their sex lives?” Loretta had asked.
“The scuzz factor,” Kate had murmured portentously.
“If they got asked enough scuzzy questions, maybe the old ladies would go into the audience and start beating up on the tattooed thugs,” Bob had said, rather too eagerly.
“Look, I don’t know if I can pull this off,” Loretta had reminded everyone. “I’d have to meet with the people first.”
“Let’s run it by Becky,” Gilda had said. The team had phoned down the hall to Becky’s office to summon her. Gilda was the only member of the team allowed to enter Becky’s office with any regularity. If the rest of the team needed to see her, she came to them. When Loretta had been Becky’s personal assistant, she’d been in the office quite often, and there was nothing so special about it that the production staff needed to be barred from it. It was big, it was bright, it was pastel. It was the architectural equivalent of Becky’s ego. But Becky liked her little power plays, and one of them was keeping the production staff out of her office. Her mother was the only team member for whom Becky opened her door.
Becky had asked Gilda to come to her office to pitch the idea. They returned to the team room together less than two minutes later. “I want this show,” Becky had announced, steely voiced and clad in a pistachio shift. “Loretta, can you get me this show?”
“I can try.”
“Do better than just trying. I want this show.”
If Loretta could get Solly and his girlfriends for the show, her job would be more secure than a tenured professorship. So she’d called Josh and asked him to introduce her to Solly.
And there she was, just hours later, in Solly’s attractively decorated living room, politely declining his offer of schnapps.
“Josh, you want anything?” he asked.
“I’ll take a beer if you’ve got one.”
“Of course I got one. I’ve got more than one. Loretta, honey, you want a beer?”
Not really, but she didn’t want to offend him by refusing his hospitality. “Okay, thanks.”
Solly bounded out of the living room, apparently delighted that he’d gotten her to accept his hospitality. He wore jeans, sneakers and a polo shirt, and he looked much younger than seventy. His age showed in the creases framing his eyes and mouth and the brown age spots on his hands and arms, but he exuded vigor. That was definitely part of his charisma.
“Is he a good chess player?” she asked, noticing the board displayed on a corner table.
“Damned good,” said Josh. “How about you? Do you play?”
“I know the moves, but not the strategy. My brother Al tried to teach me, but then my brother Nicky would always come in and interrupt us. He liked to be in charge. He didn’t like Al and me doing something he wasn’t in charge of.”
“He sounds obnoxious.”
“He is.” She grinned. “Al’s obnoxious, too—in different ways.”
“It’s a family trait, huh?” Josh asked, then smiled.
She smiled back, then jabbed him in the side with her fist. He made an oof sound and grabbed her hand, as if afraid she’d punch him again. “I’ve got brothers,” she reminded him. “They’re obnoxious, but they taught me how to defend myself.”
Solly entered the living room with three brown bottles of beer, their necks wedged between his fingers. “Here we go,” he said, passing out the bottles. “Sit, Loretta. Right there—that couch is the most comfortable.”
She obeyed, sinking deep into the sofa’s cushions, which were too soft. Josh sat next to her and Solly settled into an easy chair. “I saw you on TV,” Solly informed her, then added to Josh, “She’s prettier in person.”
“I think so,” Josh agreed.
“Pretty on TV, too, but in person…” Solly nodded. “So, you had a nice date, you two?”
“It was fine,” Loretta said, then hurried ahead. “I came here to talk to you about appearing on the Becky Blake Show.”
“I know, Josh told me. And I know that show. When Josh told me he was going to be on it, I started watching. Such tsuris! Does she know what tsuris means?” he asked Josh.
“It means fussing and heartbreaking drama,” Josh informed her.
“Oy,” Solly continued. “This one hating that one, that one swearing at the other one, this one sleeping with that one, that one sleeping with everyone in the county.”
“Our show is moving away from that,” Loretta assured him. “We’re doing less…what was the word? Tsuris? Less of that and more uplifting stories.”
“Right. Did you see today’s show? It was about people who rescue abandoned pets. They have networks and pet adoption services, and they try to place the animals in good homes. It was really inspiring.”
“And these people who rescue the pets, do they sleep with each other?”
Loretta smiled. “If they do, it didn’t come up on the show. Tomorrow’s show is going to be about recovering alcoholics—people who’ve been sober for at least three years. Also very inspiring.” And boring as hell, but Harold had expressed his pleasure with the show’s new direction.
“So where’s the tsuris?”
“As I said, we’re getting away from that. We thought your story—being a mature single man with women fighting over you—could lead into an interesting discussion on dating and romance among older people.”
“Let me tell you something, Loretta.” Solly leaned forward and patted her hand. “My life at the moment—it’s tsuris. Dora Lee ending up in the hospital and Phyllis behind bars… Now there’s your definition of tsuris.”
“Did you talk to Phyllis about doing the show?” Josh asked.
“She’s thinking about it.” Solly seesawed his hand through the air, implying that Phyllis was undecided about the idea. “I told her to come over and meet Loretta, but she said not yet, she doesn’t want to meet anyone. She spent several hours in a holding cell yesterday. A holding cell, like on TV, like on ‘Barney Miller.’ You remember ‘Barney Miller’ or was that before your time?”
“I remember the show.”
“That Hal Linden, very talented,” Solly observed. “He also had pipes on him. You ever hear him sing? Like a cantor, that one. Okay, but we’re talking about Phyllis,” he said, steering himself back on track. “She was traumatized. And today—” he clicked his tongue “—she learned that she can’t go back to the Senior Center until the situation is resolved. Those were her exact words: until the situation is resolved. Francine is being very strict about this.” He drank some beer. “Francine is the social worker who runs our Senior Center,” he explained. “She’s not as nice as Melanie, who was—” he exchanged a quick glance with Josh” –the social worker before Francine.”
“Josh’s girlfriend?” Loretta said helpfully, to convince Solly she was on top of things.
“She knows?” Solly asked Josh.
“There’s nothing to know,” Josh said.
“Josh and I are friends, Solly,” Loretta added.
“Uh-huh.” Solly appeared unpersuaded. “You’re friends. Very modern.”
“We really are,” Josh insisted.
“Uh-huh. A beautiful lady like this—” he gestured with his beer bottle toward Loretta “—and you’re just friends. If Loretta were my friend, we wouldn’t be just friends.”
She laughed. So did Solly. God, she really liked the guy. Why couldn’t she have an uncle like him? Or even a great-uncle. Or a step-grandfather, if Nona were interested.
She sipped some beer, then explained to him how she and her colleagues had envisioned the show they would produce about him and Phyllis and Dora Lee. “We could interview each of you separately. Dora Lee and Phyllis would never have to be in the same room.”
“Now that sounds like a good idea.” Solly nodded.
“We’d explore their feelings. If Phyllis was willing, we could discuss how she was treated in police custody. It’s not every day they arrest a woman like her. If she’s got some gripes about the way that happened, we’d be happy to air her complaints.”
“It sounds as if you’ve got more than enough material for one show,” Josh commented.
“We could spread it over a couple of shows,” Loretta said. “Becky Blake’s enthusiasm was huge.”
“I never thought of myself as a TV star,” Solly murmured. “Sid Caesar, now that’s a TV star. Or Hal Linden.”
“I’ve got to tell you, Solly—if you go on TV, you’re going to be more than a TV star. Women all over the country are going to start fan clubs in your honor. You’re going to wow them.”
“Me?” His shock seemed genuine.
“You bet.” Now that she’d met him, she was absolutely certain. He would be fabulous on the air. Maybe she would found the Manhattan chapter of his fan club.
He shrugged. “I think I can talk Phyllis into doing it. She’s got an ego like the Empire State Building. Dora Lee, I’m not so sure. She’s very shy. And she’s in such pain. I spent a couple hours with her at the hospital today, they’re giving her morphine. Morphine! A narcotic, like she was some kind of drug addict.”
“It’s what they use,” Josh reassured him. “She won’t get addicted.”
“They say in a day or two she can go home. But what’s she going to do at home? She lives by herself and she’s got a cast on her leg. She can’t be alone. I’m thinking I’ll bring her here so I can take care of her.”
“She could probably get a home health aide to stay with her,” Josh suggested.
Solly hissed through his teeth. “A home health aide, a total stranger? I’ll take care of her.” He gazed at Loretta. “Josh tells me you know people who can do something about her tooth? It’s in front.” He pointed to his own upper incisors. “It’s bothering her. She needs something, I don’t know what.”
Loretta nodded. “I’ve got three dentists in my family, Solly. If she’d like, I could ask one of them do the work.”
“They’d do that for you?”
“They’d make me pay,” Loretta said with a grin. “Not in money but in…I don’t know, what’s that word again? Tsuris? It doesn’t matter. They owe me some favors.”
“You don’t even know Dora Lee. Why do you want to use up your favors on her? To get her on the show?”
“If it helps to get her to agree to appear on the show, why not? But even if she decides not to do the show, I could twist some arms.”
“You’re a very sweet girl for someone who works on a cockamamie show,” Solly said, patting her hand again. “Josh, she’s beautiful and she’s very sweet.”
“I noticed.”
“I’m also obnoxious,” Loretta pointed out.
“No. You’re very sweet,” Solly insisted. “You’d never push Melanie in the street, would you?”
“Phyllis insists she didn’t push Dora Lee,” Josh reminded him.
“And maybe she didn’t. I don’t know. I wasn’t there. It’s such a situation.” Solly sighed and shrugged again. “Who would have thought? I like them all, you know? Phyllis and Dora Lee and Olga. Is that a crime?”
“Not as long as you don’t assault anyone,” Loretta said. “Who’s Olga?”
“She’s another whole situation,” Josh informed her. “She’s not a part of this situation.”
“I’ll talk to Phyllis and Dora Lee,” Solly promised. “I’ll see what they have to say about this television show.”
“Thank you.” Her bottle still three-quarters full, she set it down on the coffee table. “I won’t take up any more of your time—”
“Please. It was a pleasure. But I know, I know, you and Josh want to go off somewhere and be friends. No problem.”
Josh lowered his bottle, too. “I’ll be in touch, Solly.”
“We’ll talk.” They shook hands. When Loretta presented her hand to Solly, he took it, drew her closer and kissed her cheek. “A beautiful lady, forgive me but shaking hands is insufficient. Now go, you two. Go be friends.”
Chapter Nineteen
“Are we being friends?” Loretta asked.
They’d wound up at the Lincoln Center plaza, eating pizza. Josh’s slice was too limp; the tip kept drooping like a clock in a Dali painting. Loretta had her slice curved in such a way it remained stable. Manipulating a pizza slice successfully must be some inborn Italian talent.
Her question puzzled him. “What do you mean?”
“Solly said we should go and be friends. Is that what we’re doing?”
“It feels that way to me.”
She nibbled on her pizza and swallowed. “Do you think Phyllis and Dora Lee are going to say yes to the show?”
He licked a strand of liquid cheese from his thumb and leaned back on the bench they were sharing. “You’re the expert. What do you think?”
A car honked on Broadway, inspiring several other cars to honk in response, as if the vehicles were talking to each other. On the sidewalk, two men quarreled loudly in a Slavic language. Pigeons swarmed around a child tossing puffs of popcorn onto the ground for them. A model-handsome man and woman were calling each other vile names just a few yards away from the bench where Loretta and Josh were sitting. The air was surprisingly crisp for June, cooled by the rhythmic spray of water in the fountain at the heart of the plaza.
“Some people love coming on the show because they’re exhibitionists, or because they’ve got an ax to grind,” Loretta answered. “I don’t know these women, though.”
“That’s not what I meant.” He rearranged his slice, propping it up with a napkin. “You’re a woman. I figure you know better than I do why women would come to blows over a man.”
“Many women would not come to blows over a man. A lot of women would say no man is worth it.” She looked serious when she said this, as if she were one of those women. “But you know these two ladies, Josh. Do you think either of them is unbalanced? Or passionately in love with Solly?”
“Unbalanced, I can’t say. Phyllis does strike me as kind of aggressive.” He recalled her muscular legs and her feisty personality. “And Dora Lee is kind of…vague.”
“Vague?”
“She floats in and out, bearing platters of food, like someone in a T.S. Eliot poem. I can’t get a read on her.” He shrugged again. “Apparently she feeds Solly very well.”
Loretta sighed and stretched, extending her legs and resting her head against the bench’s back. “God, it would make for a fabulous show. They might even let me keep my job if I can deliver this.”
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