“You’ve been working at HEYA for a little over a month,” Garry says. “Helping Everyone Young Achieve. A community center in a lower income section of Los Angeles.”
“Yes,” I confirm. “HEYA lost their corporate funding recently when their dot com backer went bankrupt. My job was to financially stabilize the center.”
“Let me remind everyone,” Garry says, “that Lisa has been here, at the WNC studios, for the past three hours. She’s been sequestered in our green room with no television, radio, cell phone, or internet, while waiting to come on the air.”
Huh?
Garry turns back to me. “So why didn’t you just give the center some of your Burger Barn fortune?”
“My fortune is not nearly so big as most people think,” I explain. “Saving HEYA would take all of it. Then it would be gone in a year or two, and where would they be? Instead, I came up with a sound financial plan to get HEYA to generate and maintain its own working budget.”
“It was your job to save HEYA, but you haven’t been able to pull it off yet. Correct? And it seems very unlikely that you will, now with all this recent speculation into your activities.”
He doesn’t even ask about my plan.
“Yes,” I answer.
“Then, I have some very good news for you.”
I just blink at him.
“Watch this, from earlier today.” He swivels his chair toward another monitor behind him. Edna Hawkins pops onto the screen. She stands at a podium, blue velvet curtains behind her. She held a press conference? While I was locked in the green room?
“Hawkins United,” her videotaped head says, “has just bought the building across the street from HEYA.”
The building whose renovation almost got Pacquito killed? Edna bought them out?
“This will be the new home of HEYA, and it will be signed over to the Community-Based HEYA Trust. My name and Hawkins United’s name will never be a part of it. This is a donation, free and clear. Furthermore, this check—” she holds aloft a check in her right hand, “—will be the seed money for the Community-Based HEYA Trust, which will be an internally run operation that will no longer be dependent on sponsorship. The Trust will keep the center open and running as long as there are devoted individuals like these…” The camera pulls back to reveal Mr. Bennett, Lupe, Edgar and Jimmy flanking the podium. “…who care about the community.”
Edna turns to Mr. Bennet and hands him the check. “Thank you.” She looks around to Lupe, Jimmy and Edgar. “Thank you all, for everything you do.”
The monitor goes dark. That’s it. Not a word about me. Or my plan. Or all my hard work.
“When did this happen?” I ask Garry.
“Ninety minutes ago.”
I look right at him. He kept me in that room, kept me from the news, so he could spring this on me live. He kept it from me just to get me on the show, when he knew all the time that the only reason I wanted to be on was to save HEYA.
To save HEYA. My eyes fill with tears.
“HEYA,” I say. “Gabriel and all the kids. Everyone. They’re all saved.”
“You knew nothing about this?” Garry asks.
I shake my head and sniffle. “No.”
“Do you know why she did it?”
“No.”
“If that’s the case, why did you want to be on the show tonight, if not to be a tandem piece to her announcement?”
“I didn’t know. I was still trying to save HEYA myself,” I explain. “I wanted to come on the show to encourage the people of Los Angeles to reach out and help.” I look at the camera. “And I still do. But I want to encourage everyone, not just people in L.A. So many people, everywhere, need help. Please, find the help centers in your community, and be a part of the helping, even if it's only a very small part. That’s something. Donate time, money, books, clothes, blankets, diapers. Whatever your community needs. Just think of how amazing it would be if we all did just one thing to help.”
“You want to save the world,” Garry observes.
“Don’t make that sound like a bad thing,” I admonish. “And I’m not after the whole world all at once, Garry. I’m after one starfish at a time.”
“Explain that,” he says.
“The starfish story,” I say. “At least, I think it’s a well-known story. I heard it on an NFL commercial once. There are thousands of starfish washed up on the shore of a rocky beach, and a small boy walks along, throwing starfish back into the ocean. A man sees him, goes up to him, and says, ‘What are you doing? There are too many starfish. You can’t possibly make a difference.’ The boy throws another starfish back into the ocean. ‘I made a difference to that one.’”
Garry nods. “Touché,” he says. He turns to the camera. “And we’ll be right back.”
I think I’m going to have time to catch my breath during the commercial break, maybe process a thing or two, but it feels like I have barely twenty seconds.
“We’re back,” Garry booms, then looks at me. “Okay, Lisa, despite your altruistic intentions, there remain many unanswered questions about your recent behavior.”
The video of pixilated me plays on the monitor again.
“Why strip for the cameras?” Garry asks.
Deep breath. “Because,” I say, “when it comes to the bare-naked truth about me, I’m not ashamed. I have nothing to hide.”
“Nothing to hide?”
“There are things I wouldn’t necessarily choose to discuss with the world,” I concede. “Like how I wet the bed in fifth grade. But that was revealed while I was in a coma, so I had no control over that. This,” I look at my nude video, “I had control over.”
“Do you feel the Media has been unfair to you?”
I smile with what I hope is nonchalant elegance. “The media has been wrong about me.”
“Have they?” Garry asks. He shuffles through papers on his desk as though he’s getting ready to incinerate me with verified facts.
“Not about everything, certainly. But I’m not brain damaged or mentally impaired, for instance. I’m not a fraud. I’m not a con artist.”
“So, you deny what Alan Stewart said?”
“Alan Stewart reported what he saw accurately. But the conclusions he drew are incorrect.”
“So you were naked in Jack Hawkins’ office.”
“A bra and a skirt,” I correct. “And stockings and shoes,” I add.
“But you contend you’re not having sex with Jack Hawkins?”
I give a little laugh. “Not right this minute.”
Garry laughs. “Have you had sex with him?”
“Yes,” I answer seriously. “But not in his office, not for money, and not to seduce him into pulling off any cons with me.”
“Then why?”
I look at Garry and blink. “Because he’s really hot.” Duh.
Garry lets out one wheezy, smokery bark of laughter. “And?”
“And…” I can’t keep the smile from my lips. “It was great.”
Garry’s chuckle sounds like he's sawing through plywood. “But is there anything more to your relationship?”
The lights beat down on me as I sit there in my gilded trap. I asked to be on the show, yet I cannot say anything of my deal with Jack, or Jack’s new line of gear.
But HEYA is saved. That’s all that matters.
I turn to Garry to answer him point blank about what else there is to my relationship with Jack. “Not much,” I say. “We played Trivial Pursuit once.”
“So it’s just a fling that has nothing to do with anything? That’s a little hard to believe, in light of recent events.”
“It makes perfect sense ‘in light of recent events,’” I counter. “Sex with Jack is part of my sucking every drop of pleasure out of life that I can. Garry, I almost died a few months ago. For good, lights out. So you better believe that now, when a guy like Jack comes into my life, I’m going to go after him.”
“What do you mean, a guy like Jack?”
I make my voice low and kind of dreamy-raspy, like just thinking about Jack is enough to make me come. “A guy who’s gorgeous, kick-ass, quiet…and he’s got a good soul. He’s the kind of guy women fantasize about.” I look right at Garry’s craggy face, dream over. “But in the words of Billy Joel, it’s just a fantasy.”
“Jack Hawkins. Just a sex fantasy in your life. So you don’t think it’s odd that he hasn’t come forward and said anything during all of this?”
Yes I do! How could he be such a jerk? Such a heartbreaker?
“No, Garry,” I say, “I don’t. Because Jack had nothing to do with my efforts to save HEYA.”
“But what about just defending you? Both of you, against these allegations?”
“I don’t need him to defend me. He’s not my keeper.” I lean forward. “Garry, others trumped up this story and got it wrong. It’s not incumbent upon anyone smeared to respond.”
“You did.”
“Because I needed to save HEYA.”
“Fair enough. Now that HEYA’s saved, what next?”
“RPM,” I say. “Rescue Project Money. It’s a foundation I’m starting to help people who are behind the eight ball, but trying to help themselves. I’m going to use my Burger Barn Money to make more money to help people and organizations get started in saving themselves. The email address is [email protected].”
The sawing laugh again. “One starfish at a time, Lisa?”
“Exactly.”
* * * * *
I unlock the front door, triumphant with Chinese take-out in my left hand. I doubt there’ll be the phone calls and accolades like there were in eighth grade when I won The Constitution State's Constitutional Trivia Challenge. But still, the glow of success feels sweet and warm.
But wait. Where are my adoring minions?
As I back through the door, pushing it open with my butt, I look around for the dogs that should be snuffling at me and the cats who should be darting by. I mean, I have Chinese food.
I look around and drop the bag.
Jack.
He walks out of the kitchen, proffering an ice cold Coke.
No. I’m not ready for this yet. I’m not ready.
“I saw your interview.”
I pick up my moo-shoo and put it on the hall table. “Really?” I take the Coke, step out of my heels.
“You were amazing,” he says.
“Yeah, I get that a lot.” I chug down half the can of Coke.
“That’s because—”
“Fuck you.” I slam the can onto the hall table next to the take-out. I keep my voice level. “Fuck you to hell and back. And get out of my house.”
Jack gives me that same Frodo look I got from Keith when he dumped me in the hospital. Desperate, terrified, resolved.
“I know I let you down,” he says. “But you didn’t need me to save you, Lisa. You did it all by yourself.”
“You want me to believe your abandoning me was just another bravery challenge? Is that how you’re spinning it? Well, guess what? I didn’t want you to save me.” A barren chill sweeps across my skin.
“Lisa.”
“I wanted you to be with me.” I stare a thousand daggers right into him. “I just wanted us to be together.”
“But…”
But I don’t interrupt him this time, and he’s not prepared to go on. He slumps onto the couch. “I wish…” He stops talking.
Oh, God. This is going to be bad. Both barrels in the face, I can feel it coming. I shouldn’t be wearing this get-up. I shouldn’t be wearing some classy suit and stockings while having the most devastating conversation of my life.
“I wish…” His voice is so quiet, but crystal clear. “I wish none of this had ever happened.”
“None of what?”
“Everything,” he says. “The party, the dance, the entire weekend. I wish we could just wipe it all out.”
The hard, spiky frost holding me erect begins to splinter. “The weekend?”
He looks up at me, sad but sure. “All of it.”
I’m going to end it, I remind myself. I’ve known for hours that I would be perfectly clear and end it for good if I ever saw him again. But hearing him say that he’d rather it all never happened stabs me like a blade in the back, sucking out all the air.
Sensing my weakness, he pounces like a hyena. He’s on his feet, in my space, hands on me.
He kisses me, and I let my body sink into him. I kiss him back, all wet and hungry and willing. I want every last piece of him I can get.
“What’s wrong,” he says, still nipping at me, “with just liking each other and enjoying each other?” More kissing.
I give him one last kiss. I pull back, but not out of his arms. “I want more.”
He kisses me beneath the ear. “Name it,” he rasps.
I pull back further, out of his arms. “Don’t abandon me next time life goes to hell in a hand basket, for starters.”
“Lisa…”
“It won’t work. You don’t have what I want.”
“That’s a lie.”
“A LIE? Are you seriously accusing ME of lying?” I thrust my hands into my hair as though I’m going to tear it out by the fistfuls. “Okay, fine! We’ll forget what a liar you are about wanting to be my boyfriend. No more lies, just the truth. How’s this for the brutal truth? I love you, Jack, and it kills me that you don’t want to love me back.”
Jack jerks back, as if I pulse out radiation poisoning.
Since I can tell he’s spooked, I lower my voice. “I wanted you to be with me, Jack. Just with me. And you wanted nothing to do with me. You didn’t even call.” I meet his flaring eyes.
“You’ve loved before, Jack. You know what it feels like. Just wanting your parents to come home, to be home. Not even wanting them to do anything. Just wanting them with you. Or, just wanting Luz to be with you, no matter who she was married to. You know what I’m talking about.”
He shakes his head. “Come on, Lisa. You love me? After one weekend?”
“No, not after one weekend,” I say, knowing it’s hopeless. He doesn’t love me, and he doesn’t even want me to love him. “It’s been happening all along. I've loved you since…” I sigh. “When it counted, then you weren’t there. Now, you don’t even want to be here.”
He says nothing, makes no move.
“I won’t do this any more,” I say.
“How can you just walk away?” he demands, coming up to me, taking me by the arms. “You know what we have, how good we can be together. Why are you doing this?”
He rips himself away from me, stalks back and forth across the room.
“How can you not want more?” I challenge. “Knowing what we have? How can you not want it all? As much as there is to get?”
He turns to me. “Because I don’t want us to keep messing up until we have nothing left.”
We stare at each other. “But I want someone who loves me through all of the mess ups, Jack. Life is full of them and they never stop.”
Jack digs the heels of his palms into his eyes and kicks the couch. “This is so stupid, Lisa.” He looks at me. “Don’t you get it? We both want to be together. Isn’t that all that matters?”
“Then where were you, Jack? Where the hell were you? If all that matters is us being together? A few days ago, that was all I wanted.”
He looks at me, no answer in his eyes. An unreadable gaze because there’s nothing to read. His hands lift a fraction away from his thighs as his shoulders give the ghost of a shrug.
Ends not with a bang, but a whimper.
CHAPTER 26
I lie awake and cry into my pillow. Later, I get up to change the pillowcase. Even later, I switch pillows entirely.
What have I done? What what what?
If the world were going to end, wouldn’t I run into Jack’s arms? He wants to be with me. I want to be with him. But—
But but but but but!
Okay, so he wants it to be on his terms.
Am
I strong enough to do that and not lose myself? Am I crazy? Will I ever be happy? Oh God!
When Jack walked out of my house five hours ago, I wish I’d heard a swell of music to tell me I’d done the right, true, brave, strong thing. I wish I could now move with confidence, satisfied in my pain and loneliness, knowing I’ll be the better person for it.
But I heard no music. I know nothing.
Was it all a mistake because I miss him? Or is it better in the long run? Better for whom? What if feelings are really all that matter? But where the HELL are his?
I cry some more. All twelve animals are in the room with me, even Aaron and Christian. Like Cher at the end of Moonstruck, I need my family around me. But no lovesick, bread-baking Romeo is going to throw caution to the wind and propose to me right in front of everybody.
Nobody ever did that. Just took my side, clearly aligned themselves with me, with everybody watching. Jack wouldn’t even do it in private. He's not for me.
But what if I’m wrong! No wonder Ilsa lets Rick make all the decisions at the end. Love is hard when it matters.
No wonder I never dared want anything too badly. Somewhere deep inside, I knew what I was doing when I never went after a career that I craved or a love that I burned for.
I always settled and I never suffered.
God damn it. I was so much smarter before I met Jack Hawkins.
But I am not going to let him engineer my downfall. I am not.
I rip off the covers and jump out of bed. “Gotta get to work,” I say to the dogs and cats. “Rescue Project Money isn’t going to start itself!”
* * * * *
In fact, several people helped get it started. The day after Garry Minor, Mia came over after school to help me set up the RPM office in the second biggest bedroom. Dom, as it turns out, is a tax attorney, and he and Jeffrey invited me to breakfast the next morning so Dom could offer his financial services pro-bono.
A day later, Ethel invited me over for lunch. Ethel opened her front door, ushered me into her kitchen, and sat me down. As I ate my creamed chipped beef on toast, she showed me a gold watch.
“Retirement present,” she stated.
“Oh,” I said, trying to look interested. But I really just wanted to get back to the creamed chipped beef. Eating meat doesn’t count, by the way, when you’re someone’s guest.
Miss Adventure Page 27