Isabel pressed the doorbell. It played the first few notes of the “Banana Boat Song.” It made her think of that scene in Beetlejuice where the people at the dining table danced and sang the “Banana Boat Song.” That scene never failed to make her laugh. Amy suddenly realized she was smiling. She quickly replaced the smile with a frown. What would Jordan think if she opened the door and saw her with a big smile on her face?
The door opened. It wasn’t Jordan. It was Edison.
“Hi, Edison, it’s me,” Amy said in a little voice.
Edison frowned at Isabel, then looked disapprovingly at Amy. “You have some nerve.”
“Where is Jordan?” Amy asked. “I need to see her.”
“She is at an undisclosed location that is not in this house,” Edison said, as if she were repeating what she’d been told. “And she doesn’t want to see you.”
“It’s not what you think, Edison, I swear,” Amy said.
“It’s really not,” Isabel said.
“Who’s the cute chick?” Edison asked Amy. “You not satisfied with humiliating Jordan with a guy? You have to rub her nose in another woman?”
“Rubbing her nose in another woman” brought up all kinds of images Amy didn’t want in her head at the moment, but she thought it prudent not to remark on the poor choice of words. “This is Isabel. She’s my muscle,” Amy replied.
“You really think I’m cute?” Isabel asked, batting her eyes.
Amy didn’t realize women still batted their eyes. She had thought that move went out the same time as the word ‘coquette.’
Edison looked her up and down. “Another time, another place, maybe. You sure don’t look like anybody’s muscle.”
“I could surprise you,” Isabel said.
“Oh yeah?” Edison cocked an eyebrow at Isabel. “Give me your best shot.”
Amy couldn’t tell if they were flirting with each other or getting ready to beat each other up. She also didn’t know which scenario she preferred. “Can we get back to my dilemma, please?”
Edison tore her eyes away from Isabel and looked at Amy.
“Thank you,” Amy said. She summoned up her inner Bette Davis and said, “I am now going to come in your house. I am going to search the entire house. I am going to find Jordan and tell her my side of the story. This is going to happen with or without your consent. So you might as well step aside and make this easy on yourself.”
Edison squinted one eye at Amy. “You really mean it, don’t you?”
“I do.”
Edison opened the door wider and gestured for them to enter. “Then be my guest.”
Ten minutes later, Amy had searched every room in the house except Jordan’s study. She saved that room for last. She walked in and turned on the light. What she saw froze her to the spot. Isabel bumped into her back.
“Whoa,” Isabel said, looking at the far wall. “Is that what I think it is?”
Amy was stunned. There was a huge, blue portrait of herself painted on the wall. She was no expert on art, true, but even she had to admit that what the portrait lacked in variety of color, it made up for in feeling.
“It’s me,” Amy said.
Edison entered the room and looked at the painting. “She painted that the day you stitched her up. She had it bad for you, right from the start. I tried to tell her that you would end up hurting her. It’s the first time I ever wished I was wrong.”
Amy turned to Edison. “I didn’t mean to hurt her. It wasn’t even my fault.”
“Yeah, right. Next thing you’re going to tell me you were the victim in all this?”
“That’s right,” Isabel said forcefully, stepping toe to toe with Edison. “Why don’t you hear what she has to say before you go making judgments?”
Edison opened her mouth to say something, then thought better of it and closed her mouth. She looked at the wall, studying Amy’s blue likeness. “Okay. I’ll hear what she has to say.” She stepped around Isabel and looked at Amy. “Tell me your side of the story.”
“That man is… his name is Chad. He’s a doctor at the hospital. Chad is… living in Chad-World. We went out once,” Amy said. “Only once.”
Edison put her hands on her hips and said, “Why do I get the feeling there’s more to the story?”
Amy sighed. She might as well come clean. “There is more.” She sat down on the couch and said, “I got really drunk. I had sex with him. He threw the condom on the floor. I got up to go to the bathroom, slipped on it and knocked myself unconscious. He took me to the emergency room and to save face I told them I slipped on a banana peel. It turned into this big joke at the hospital. They all called me Banana Amy. I’ve hated Chad ever since. However, my hatred has turned into a personal challenge for him. He won’t leave me alone.”
Edison broke into loud guffaws. She slapped her leg and chortled, “Banana Amy? For real?”
It wasn’t the reaction Amy had expected at all. Appalled and disgusted, yes. Laughing and mirthful, no.
Edison dropped onto the couch beside her, wheezing from laughter. “A banana peel? That’s the best you could come up with?” She laughed herself out while Amy and Isabel only stared at her. Finally, Edison collected herself and wiped her eyes with the corner of her T-shirt. “Okay, well, so how did you end up being engaged to the guy?”
“Are you sure I can’t talk to Jordan? This is so embarrassing. I don’t want to do it twice,” Amy said.
“Really and truly, she’s not here. Irma whisked her off to some KGB safe house so she could get away from you and get her head screwed back on straight. Tell me the rest of the story.”
Amy told her about the romantic pizza lunch, the lobster, the stalking, everything.
“Really, he had his finger bit off by a lobster?” Edison said.
Amy and Isabel nodded their heads in unison.
“You expect Jordan to believe all that?” Edison said.
Isabel said, “It’s the truth!”
Amy buried her face in her hands, hiccupped three times, then began to sob. Isabel pulled her into her arms, held her tightly and patted her back like she was burping a baby. “There, there,” she cooed. Isabel shot Edison a look that said “Now look what you’ve done.”
Amy blubbered through her tears and Isabel’s bosom, “Chad’s a creep and I hate him. And now the love of my life thinks I’m a liar and a philanderer.”
“Philanderer wasn’t the exact word she used,” Edison said.
That only made Amy sob louder.
“Do something,” Isabel mouthed silently to Edison.
“Okay, okay,” Edison said, rising to her feet and pacing. “We can fix this.”
“We can?” Amy whined, looking over Isabel’s shoulder. “How?”
Edison stopped pacing, ran her thumbnail along her lower lip and looked thoughtful. “We need to do some reconnaissance. Are you up for it?”
“Like in a spy movie?” Isabel asked excitedly.
“Exactly,” Edison said.
“Like in a James Bond spy movie?” Isabel asked with her eyes glowing brighter.
“Exactly like that,” Edison said. “I get to be James Bond, of course.”
“And I’ll be Pussy Galore,” Isabel said, jumping to her feet.
Amy dried her tears and looked from one woman to the other. There was something happening between Edison and Isabel that much was evident. It was like an electrical charge was shooting from their eyes and fingertips to the other’s eyes and fingertips. Well, okay, that sounded too science-fictiony. It was more like an unseen magnetic force was pulling them toward each other.
Amy definitely felt like the third wheel in their James Bond movie. “Who do I get to be?” she said softly.
“Oh, you’re Mrs. Moneypenny,” Isabel said.
Amy frowned. She had hoped she would get to be Octopussy.
“What are we going to recon?” Isabel asked Edison.
“Our suspect. Chad, of course. If we can find proof of Amy’s story, we’ll pres
ent it to Jordan and she’ll have to believe her.” Edison rubbed her palms together. It was obvious she lived for moments such as these. “Come up to my lab. I need to gather up my gear and you all need some black clothes.”
“We’re going on a spy mission, we’re going on a spy mission,” Isabel chanted in a sing-song voice, skipping out the door behind Edison.
“Some muscle you are,” Amy muttered under her breath. She slowly followed behind them, shaking her head. She’d never seen Isabel quite so animated. Is that what love looks like? If so, it was pretty ridiculous.
The Corndog
Edison led Amy and Isabel up to her lab on the third floor. As they entered the space, Amy knew why Jordan hadn’t wanted her to see it. It was a mélange of every science fiction movie she had ever seen - make-shift tables, tubes, wires, computer motherboards, tools, and diagrams taped to the walls. There was even a rolling chalkboard with algorithms scrawled all over it. It was, without a doubt, the lair of a mad scientist.
“Watch where you walk,” Edison advised, high-stepping over one of several electrical cords snaking across the floor.
“What is this place?” Isabel asked, obviously impressed.
“My lab. I’m an inventor, you know. That’s why they call me Edison.”
“What’s your real name?” Isabel asked.
Edison stopped rummaging through boxes and looked at her. “You’ll laugh.”
“No, I won’t.”
Edison said softly, “Alma.”
“Hmmm…” Isabel intoned. “Edison fits you better.”
“I know, right.” Edison turned and went back to rummaging.
Amy took that opportunity to swat Isabel in the arm. Isabel mouthed silently, “Why’d you do that?” Amy mouthed back, “Are you flirting with her?” Isabel shrugged and mouthed, “What’s it to you?” Amy rolled her eyes.
“Now where did I put those binoculars?” Edison asked herself.
Isabel picked her way around the room, staring at objects, tilting her head this way and that, oohing and ahhing. Suddenly, she stopped, her mouth dropped open and she pointed a finger at a set of cylindrical objects displayed on a shelf. “Is that a Corndog?” she gasped.
Edison turned. “Sure is,” she said proudly.
“Oh my God,” Isabel intoned. She took her time looking at the rest of the objects. “And that’s a Plunger! And a Muffin Mucker!”
“I invented those,” Edison said, puffing out her chest.
“You’re kidding me,” Isabel said. She was obviously in awe. Or maybe in lust. Either way, her face was red and her breath came in excited pants.
Amy interrupted, “Are those what I think they are?”
Isabel nodded. “They’re only the best dildos in the entire history of dildos.”
“Wow,” Amy said because she wasn’t sure how a person was supposed to respond to such news. “The only time I’ve ever seen a dildo up close and personal was when I interned in the emergency room and had to remove it from a man’s anal cavity when his sphincter muscles seized up.”
“How’d you get it out?” Edison asked, ever curious about such things.
“I tickled him,” Amy said. “He laughed and it shot out his butt.”
“Genius,” Edison said.
“Thank you.”
“Okay,” Edison said, clapping her hands in a “let’s get back to work” manner. She looked at Amy, “What kind of building does Chad live in? Is it a house, apartment, condo? Is it on the first floor or second floor and does it have an alley or parking lot or both?”
“He lives in second story apartment building and there’s a small parking lot and an alley. I think.”
“You think?”
“I was drunk and then unconscious, remember?”
“Okay,” Edison said. She pulled stuff out and tossed it on the bed, saying, “I’ll need this and this and this…”
“What can I do?” Isabel asked.
“Go look in those tubs over there and find some black clothes that fit the both of you. I have all sizes and there should be a spray bottle of Febreeze to freshen them up a bit,” Edison said, as she rooted around in one of the plastic bins located on a shelving unit filled with tons of other plastic bins.
Amy and Isabel dug through the tubs. Amy felt like her mother dumpster diving. Maybe this was how she got her start.
The tubs held not only black clothing but theatrical props as well. There were beards and hats and sunglasses and a Sarah Palin mask that scared her so bad when she pulled it out that she almost screamed.
They found a black cape for Amy and a black hoodie and commando pants for Isabel. Amy tried on the cape, spinning and whooshing it through the air. It made her feel like Lord Byron going on a romantic mission to clear her name and reclaim her lover. And when she held it over her head it made her feel invisible like Harry Potter when he was in sneaky pants mode.
Edison popped up from her desk with a remote control helicopter to which she was attaching what appeared to be a set of binoculars with Duct tape.
“What is that?” Amy said.
“It’s my remote recording binoculars with aerial capabilities.”
“That’s what I thought it was,” Isabel said smugly.
Amy rolled her eyes at Isabel. Does flirting have no limits? “I don’t get it,” Amy said. “Are you going to fly the toy helicopter to spy on him like through a window or something?”
“Bingo!” Edison said. “And if that doesn’t work we can always break in.”
“What!” Amy said, recoiling.
“Only as a last resort,” Edison assured her.
“I don’t really understand what we’re looking for,” Amy said.
“We want to know how Chad ticks. He’s got psycho-stalker written all over him. Let’s check out his digs and see what we can find. We get some proof that he’s a wacko and Jordan will believe your story. Because without any proof she’s still going to think you played her no matter what you say,” Edison said.
Amy groaned. She knew Edison was right.
“Okay, put your big girl panties on and let’s get a move on,” Edison said.
They loaded the helicopter with its attached binocular load and a scope thing and a box of scifi what-nots, as Amy thought of them, and an enormous tool box into Edison’s VW bug. Amy rode in the back seat because Isabel had called shotgun. “Why don’t we put some of this in the trunk?” Amy asked as she sat on something hard, rubbery and poky. It turned out that sitting on it wasn’t near as much fun as it sounded.
“Trunk’s full.”
Amy figured as much.
“Okay what’s his address?” Edison said.
Amy wasn’t exactly sure. “I know it was on the corner of Pine Street and another tree name street.”
Edison and Isabel stared at her like she was hopeless excuse for a spy. Which, of course, she was. Amy shrugged apologetically. “All trees look alike to me.”
Edison harrumphed and then pulled out a super small computer looking thing. “What’s his full name?”
Amy did know that at least. “Chad Earl Dorring.”
Edison and Isabel made yucky faces. Edison plugged the name in and immediately was rewarded with a phone number. Amy didn’t know if it was his or not. “You really don’t hang out with this guy do you?” Edison said.
“I already told you that.”
“Has he ever called you?”
“About a zillon times.”
Edison held out her hand and did the ‘gimme’ motion. Amy handed over her cell phone.
Edison found his number easily and punched it into her little computer. It beeped back an address on Pine Street.
“I could’ve just called the hospital and asked one of the twins,” Amy said.
“No, we don’t want to leave any sort of evidence trail,” Edison said. She started the car and burned rubber out of the driveway and onto the street. Isabel looked delighted at Edison’s driving technique. They really are soul mates, Amy thought.
Mission Chad
They pulled up to a two story apartment house that according to the mailboxes contained eight units. Edison pulled into the parking lot where three other cars were parked. “Are any of these cars his?” she asked.
Amy did remember his car but only because he talked about it all the time. He had even named the car like it was his firstborn. He would say, “I took The Beemer up to Mt. Hood,” or “I took The Beemer to the coast,” or “I took The Beemer downtown but I didn’t want to park it anywhere in case it got scratched.” Ugh, Amy hated The Beemer. She told Edison, “All I know is that it’s black and it has the shiny gold hubcabs. He named it The Beemer.”
“Ah, well it’s not here. And Beemer is slang for a BMW which is a German car and very uber-yuppy and they’re called rims not hubcaps,” Edison explained. She glanced over at Amy. “When we get this all cleared up I’m going to insist Jordan take you out more. Where have you been living? In a cave?”
“Med school mostly,” Amy said.
“It sounds like you were in prison,” Edison said. She studied the building. “Do you remember the apartment number?”
Amy looked out the window. “Nope.”
“I’ll be right back,” Edison said, getting out of the car.
“Where are you going?” Isabel asked.
“To read the names on the mail boxes.”
“Be careful,” Isabel said like she was saying her last goodbye to a soldier headed off to war.
“This will just take a minute and don’t play with any of my stuff.” She chucked Isabel under the chin and strode away.
Once they were alone, Amy asked the question that had been burning at her brain for the past half hour. “How did you know all about the Corndog and the Plunger?”
“Hey,” Isabel said, shrugging, “Girl’s just want to have fun.”
“You’re really into her, aren’t you?”
Isabel stared dreamily in Edison’s direction. “I can’t help it. Just look at her.”
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