“Best secretary the City of Los Angeles ever did see, back in the day before they all became assistants.”
“I bet you were.”
“I’ll start work tomorrow. I’m the best, and I won’t charge RPM a penny.” My mouth was too full, so I just smiled and nodded.
When I got home, a sleek, champagne-colored Lexus was preening in my drive. Edna Hawkins stood on my porch.
“Busy, busy, busy,” she said as I loped up to greet her.
“Come on in,” I said, pretending she was not a scary person in just so many ways. “Can I get you anything?”
But as soon as Edna saw all the animals rush up to greet me, she stepped back, staying securely on her side of the threshold. “No, thank you. This will only take a minute.”
“Okay.” I went back out to the porch.
I sat on the glider, but one dubious glance at the dusty seat had Edna posing by the railing instead.
“Were you surprised that I saved HEYA?” Her question was laced with wolfsbane and I wondered what she wanted with me.
“No,” I said. “It was a smart business move, extricating you from all the rumors and innuendo and effectively ending the matter.”
She tipped her chin to acknowledge my accurate assessment of the situation.
“But,” I continued, “your stipulations did surprise me. That your donation was just that. A donation free and clear and you wanted to be attributed no credit whatsoever.”
“That was Jack,” she said. “All of it was. After Mr. Stewart’s unfortunate suppositions, Jack came to see me. He walked right into my office and told me exactly what I would do.” She laughed, and for the first time, actually looked into my face. “Up until that moment, I always thought of him as such a hippie. But he was so commanding and fierce. A real Hawkins, through and through. He gave me the notebook you’d made up and explained your plan. It was a good one. A way to set up HEYA.” She raised her eyebrows and looked down her nose at me, all bored condescension. “I knew I wasn’t throwing my money away.” Just so I knew, in the end, it really had been her doing, and sound business at that.
For a minute I just stood there, taking it all in. After Alan’s TV appearance, Jack went to HEYA and got the notebook. My green binder.
I must have just missed him that morning. Jack then got his mother to save HEYA. What did he have to give her in return? Or did she do it because she knew that everything was her fault?
“Why are you here?” I asked Edna. “What’s the point in telling me all this?”
“Answer one question for me,” she demanded instead.
“Okay.”
“Did Jack tell you about Luz?”
My mouth fell open. I shut it. Edna was just so creepy.
“Yes,” I answered.
“I knew it!” She clenched both fists as though she was about to play rock, paper, scissors with two fists. “You got to him, Lisa.”
“Did I?” I asked, but without much inflection at all.
“Jack actually came to me demanding my corporate money. Something he swore he would never do. Ever. You broke him, Lisa.”
“Well,” I said, lifting my eyebrows and shrugging, “he left me with a few scratches. I’d say we’re even.” But really, my gut seized up at the thought that I might have made Jack betray himself.
“Don’t get me wrong,” she said with a sly smile, “I’m not here to scold you. Quite the opposite. I want to know how you did it.” She gave me a withering look. “I don’t believe Alan Stewart for one second.”
“You want to break Jack? Why?” I stood up from the glider. “Why would you want to do that?”
She pulled herself up to look taller, more imposing. “Not break him completely. We want to be able to work with him, no surprises. To do that, we need to know more about how he ticks, what pushes his buttons.”
“We?”
“Frank and I, primarily.”
I stood there looking at her, breathing hard. Were parents really this diabolical when it came to controlling their kids?
“You have to go now,” I said, ushering her off the porch. “You want to know what pushes his buttons?” I asked as we reached the car. “You do. You’re his mother.”
She gave me a skeptical tilt of one eyebrow. “Hm.” She unlocked her car and opened the door. She turned to me. “That’s the best you can do?”
“If you want to know what makes him tick, go to his house for Sunday brunch.”
“Excuse me?”
“It has to be his house. Go to his house the next time he invites you. Accept an invitation from him.”
She got in the car and lowered the window before backing out of the drive.
“I’m very disappointed in you.”
“Too scared to try?” I tossed back.
Without blinking, she put up the window between us and drove off.
* * * * *
Despite Edna’s downer of a visit, the momentum surging through my life didn’t let up. The very next day, in front of TV cameras from news stations all over Los Angeles, a representative from Burger Barn presented me with a $100,000 donation to RPM. The segment got so much airplay you would think I’d exposed at least one boob. But I didn’t embarrass myself at all. The presentation itself comprised good cheer and gratitude.
For the first time since that restaurant fell on me, Media coverage worked in my favor. Everyone was so anxious to get a piece of my limelight that publicly offered donations poured in. I was becoming so famous for taking checks in flashy news segments that studios and producers courted me with ideas for a TV show about RPM and hard luck cases.
This is where Dolly stepped in, acting as my manager. Her arsenal included the wisdom gleaned from working in the industry for forty years, the moxie of an agent, the noblesse oblige of age, and a deep sexy voice that’d give Lauren Bacall a run for her money.
Man, is it ever easy to get a lot accomplished when you have nothing left to lose.
Sure, I’m tired all the time and I haven’t turned on the TV in ages, but I don’t miss sleep or TV one bit. No time.
Two weeks since Garry Minor and dumping Jack, and I feel like I’ve done more living than ever before. Embracing my inner publicity slut has been effortless. I’m willing to throw myself out there now, and I don’t care what I’m wearing or how my hair looks because none of it matters.
My high profile can help rescue people who really need help. The more Media coverage I get, the more people who might watch whatever show we cook up. A large viewing audience will see the stories, and they’ll give. That’s what I’m hoping, anyhow.
I stare at the phone. Dolly informed me I’ve just agreed to do Dancing to the Moon. Did I really just give America the chance to tell me I suck at dancing? I remind myself that Dolly closed the deal when the show offered a $400,000 donation to RPM.
That’s something, anyway.
Plus, now I probably won’t do the reality show that’ll make me live in a hut in the jungle with some other minor celebrities for a week. Which is good, because I think I’d need shots for that.
Duh nuh nuh nuh.
Manny with the truckload of turkeys for the mission downtown. The smell of poultry drives the dogs crazy as they scramble across the wooden floor, barking all the way. I’m slipping into my shoes as I swing open the door.
“Hey, Man—” I pull up short.
“Hey, Lisa.” The dogs rush past me to jump all over him. Jump all over Jack.
“Jack.” I let Jack in, and put Fred, Ginger and Pacquito out back with Aaron and Christian. I turn to look at Jack, then head into the hall.
“What do you want?”
“I want to see you.”
I shrug. “I guess you can come back to the office.” I figure this is the safest place, but I’m not sure why. I walk in and sit behind my desk.
Jack stands in the doorway, one shoulder leaning against the jamb. He looks so good I feel sick inside. Sick and weak and cold. So cold.
“Haven’t seen you
in class in a while,” he says.
I nod and try for a smile. “Yeah, I’ve already talked to USC. Everything’s just happening too fast for me to stop and learn about it. I’m looking into correspondence courses that meet just one weekend a month. Duke has a good one.”
Jack straightens. “Duke?”
“Yeah,” I say. “But that’s farther than I want to go, even if it is just once a month.”
“Oh.” He doesn’t go back to leaning.
“Meanwhile, I guess I’ll hire someone to help me with the money.”
Jack nods, but I don’t think he’s even listening to me. I start shuffling through some papers on my desk.
“My parents are coming to my house for Thanksgiving,” he says.
I look up. “That’s wonderful, Jack. Really.”
Jack nods, looks around the room. Then his eyes settle back on me. “I’d like you to be there, too. Will you come?”
My heart lurches. Ca-thump.
“Me? Why?”
He steps into the office. “Because I want us to try again, Lisa.”
Ca-thumpca-thumpca-thumpca-thumpca-thump.
I can not get carried away. I have to be careful. “Try what again?”
“I want us to be together. I want you to give me another chance.”
“Another chance to what?” My voice cracks on ‘what’ and I can feel the tears. I push back out of my chair and speed past him out of the room.
He catches me in the living room. He pulls me into him and kisses me.
Oh, God. Oh, God.
I push away from him. “Jack, stop it. Please, just stop it.”
“This is crazy, Lisa. Tell me you don’t miss this.”
I say nothing.
“I think about you all the time.” He moves closer but doesn’t touch me. “I want to be with you.”
“You’re too damn late!” I cry. “Don’t you get it?”
“I want to start over.”
“No! Jack, I can’t just forget that when the world came crashing in, you wanted NOTHING to do with me. Now you want me to just move on like you never did that to me?”
“Lisa, I love you.”
“I… I…I…I….”
He takes me by the shoulders. “Lisa.”
“I don’t believe you.”
“What? You think I would lie? About loving you?”
I shake my head. “I…I think you’re saying what you think you need to say.” I try to work it through my brain. “And when you get what you’re after, or when it gets hard, you’ll be gone.”
“How can you think that?”
“How can I not?”
“Why can’t we get past this?” Jack asks.
“Because, Jack. You’ve never said you’re sorry.”
He opens his mouth but shuts it without saying anything. I raise my eyebrows, daring him to deny it.
Nothing.
“I think you regret the way things turned out,” I tell him, opening the front door for him. “But I don’t believe for a second that you’re aware of how awful you were to me. And I’m not going to take that from you or anybody.”
CHAPTER 27
“So…how was your Thanksgiving?”
Mia already asked me that when she got here about twenty minutes ago. Maybe she’s still in a turkey stupor from yesterday. Very possible. After all, she’s supposed to be sorting and answering RPM email, but she just sits at her computer, staring at the screen and pushing the space bar over and over. I don’t think I’m getting my fifteen-bucks-an hour’s-worth.
“It was wonderful,” I say, wondering what’s wrong with her. “I was at the mission from the crack of dawn until two, then I came back here and got a lot done. And did you know Velma from Scooby-Doo donated her yellow sweater?”
Mia looks up when I stop talking. “I’m glad. And Mags? Have you heard from her?”
“She called about a half hour ago. She made a billion dollars this morning during the first hour the boutique was open and RPM gets it all.”
“Awesome,” Mia says. “See? I told you letting her use us to promote her shop would be good for RPM in the long run. She was smart to have her grand opening on Black Friday. Especially since we’re getting a piece of the action.”
It’s true. Mia was right and I was wrong. I didn’t want to have anything to do with Mags when she wanted to jump on the RPM bandwagon.
But if exploiting each other for financial gain is the way to sisterly affection, so be it. I know, at least a part of me knows, that I should just forget about Mags. Forever. But I just can’t.
I look back to Mia, thankful she’s not my sister. Because then I’d probably hate her.
Mia stares right through the laptop in front of her. Her smaller desk is butted up against the smaller section of the L of my L-shaped desk. And since the smaller part of the L is where I’ve set up my computer, we sit facing each other over our computers as though we’re playing Battleship. Still, I can peek around to get a better look. But she actually notices me spying.
“What?” she asks.
“Mia, what’s wrong?”
Mia looks back down at the desk and spots a scribbled message about Dancing to the Moon. “Did you get on?” she asks, suddenly all excitement and encouragement.
“Yep. They called to confirm Wednesday.” God, that seems like a long time ago.
“Cool.”
Maybe Mia’s having boyfriend trouble. Maybe Rob Yeager—
“Manny told me he saw Jack leaving here the other day.”
My head snaps up. “So?” I demand.
Mia shrinks into herself. “It’s just that…” She trails off, bites her lip. But not visibly. She just kind of presses her lips together, but I can tell she’s biting them inside her mouth.
Great. I’m intimidating a high school girl. Wonderful.
I make my voice soft and kind. “Sorry, Mia. I can tell something’s bugging you. Just tell me.” I smile at her. “It’s okay.”
Great. Now I sound like a kindergarten teacher assuring a student that pants-wetting is no big deal.
“Come on,” I try again. “Out with it.”
Mia scoots her chair over, so we can see each other clearly with no computer screens between us. “You told Garry Minor that Jack was just a fling,” she begins.
Oh, God. Am I going to have to do birds and bees stuff? Jesus.
“But you really liked him,” she continues.
I assume she means Jack, not Garry Minor. I must remember to warn her about ambiguous pronouns.
“Jack wasn’t just a fling,” Mia says. She looks around. “He helped paint this room.”
Thank you, Mia. Thank you for reminding me that Jack is everywhere. I follow her gaze, checking out the pale cobalt walls with natural wood trim.
“So.” She stops, all frustrated. “I mean, I know why you didn’t tell Garry Minor the truth, but, well, what about Jack? What happened? Why was he here? What did he want?”
I lean back in my chair and look at her. “I don’t know,” I say. “I really don’t. I wasn’t thinking about what he wanted. I was thinking about what I want.”
“And you want Jack, right?”
“Yeah, but Jack…” I trail off, confused all of a sudden.
Mia pounces. “What did he say he wanted?”
“That he wanted us to get back together.”
“Lisa!” Mia is alight with excitement. “What did you say?”
“There is no back, Mia.”
Her face falls so suddenly it’s like someone turned out the light.
“Mia,” I say, scooting closer, “he wants to go back to fun and games, but I can’t because I love him and he doesn’t love me back.”
“You told him you loved him?”
“Yes.”
“And he never said he loved you?”
I open my mouth to answer. I close my mouth. I try to think. “Well, he did, but…”
“But what!?” Mia’s eyes are popping out of her head.
I look at her.
But what?
What had Jack wanted? Sex and affection without being my guy? But he did invite me to Thanksgiving with his family. With his family. And what he actually said was that he wanted to try again.
Start over.
“Oh, God!” I bolt up from my chair with such force that it ricochets into the wall. “Oh, God!” I shout again. “Oh, God, oh, God, oh, God! What have I done?”
I run out into the living room.
“Lisa?” Mia gives chase.
I flop onto the couch as she catches up to me. “Just let me think,” I say, clenching my hands to my skull.
What does Jack want?
Did I reject the opportunity of eons by not going to Thanksgiving at his house yesterday?
Did I destroy my life?
His life?
Oh, God!
WHAT HAVE I DONE?
“Lisa?” Mia leans over to try to peer at my face as I rock myself into crash landing position. “What’s going on? What did he say when he left?”
My head juts up like a turtle’s.
“Lisa? What did he say when he left?”
“Nothing,” I answer. “He didn’t say anything.” My spine straightens, as though I’m a turtle moving right on up the evolutionary scale.
“He didn’t say anything.” I stand. “He still doesn’t get it.”
“Get what?”
Duh-nuh-nuh-nuun.
The dogs race to the front door.
Ca-thump.
Mia looks at me. I look at her. She scurries to the door. Pausing for a second, she takes a deep breath, then yanks it open.
“Hello,” a voice says. A crisp, no-nonsense, female voice.
It’s not Jack. My racing heart drops momentum so suddenly it feels like I hit a pocket of turbulence in my chest.
“I’m Tina Chung,” the voice continues. “Is Lisa Flyte here?”
Mia looks back at me where I stand dressed in tartan plaid pajama pants. But I took a shower this morning, and I’m wearing a decent long sleeved T-shirt, bra, and clean socks.
“One sec,” I say, shuffling across the floor so I can put the dogs out back. When I return to the living room, Tina Chung, well dressed in a taupe business suit, stands there with Mia.
Miss Adventure Page 28