My heart thundered in my chest. Howard Edwards the Second had looked right at me, as if he’d known me.
The three busybodies in front of me turned at once, their eyes narrowing.
“Girlfriend,” the man said in a high-pitch that challenged even the thirteen-year-old voice, “Looks like HELL himself has your number.”
“Excuse me?”
“Howard Edwards the Second. H. E. Capital I. Capital I. Get it? HELL, as he’s called in Hollywood.”
“He doesn’t have my number.” I laughed nervously. While Howard had held my gaze a fraction longer than was polite, he certainly didn’t have my number. It sure would be nice if he did, though. That would certainly be helpful when I auditioned. But he hadn’t looked at me as though he were interested; he looked at me as though maybe he knew something that I didn’t.
“I disagree. That billionaire just eyeballed you,” the man insisted.
With a huff, I shook my head. “No, he didn’t.”
“Ummm … yeah he did,” the woman with the high-pitched voice retorted.
Irritated with the three gossipers, I pointed behind them. “The line’s moving.”
The three of them shrugged and moved forward, but started mumbling amongst themselves. The entertainment business reminded me a lot of high school. It might be nice if I didn’t get a second callback; then I could just start looking for a job teaching at a high school instead of feeling as though I were still attending one.
It was just after four o’clock when I finally got called up by the monitor. I’d barely stepped out on stage when Howard stood and said, “Same time tomorrow.” He then wrapped his arm around Jana Embers and directed her out a side door adjacent to the stage. “Let’s get out of here,” he said; then, once again, he was gone.
I whipped my gaze to the reader, who at least had the decency to look embarrassed. “I’ll make sure you’re up first tomorrow, Ms. Ackerman.”
It wasn’t the reader’s fault. Directors and producers were known for being eccentric, and Howard was both, the producer and director, which entitled him to do as he pleased. And right now, it looked as though he was pleased to be escorting Ms. Jana Embers out the door.
Back in my car, I glanced at the time on the dash and realized why Howard had probably called it quits so early. Traffic through the tunnels wasn’t fun at any time of the day, but five o’clock rush-hour traffic was the worst. Better to be back in Squirrel Hill before the nine-to-fivers headed home from work, which also meant that maybe I could invite Markus out for a drink again.
Once again, Mom’s car wasn’t parked in front of the store. Good, one less conversation I’d have to have about my wasted day at The Palace. Weird, though. It wasn’t like my mother to not be at the store; she must really trust Markus. I’d assumed that Markus was just watching the place at night, filling in occasionally. Maybe my mother was finally pulling back from working too much.
It wasn’t five yet, so I tugged the heavy glass door open and strolled inside. I glanced up at the old rusted bells that announced my arrival. Probably the same bells Zayde had hung sixty-some years ago.
“I was just closing up, but if you know exactly what you need …” Markus popped his head up from behind the counter. “Oh, Laina. Hi.”
Yesterday, Markus had worn plain khakis and a white polo, which had looked fine. His clothes had looked exactly like I would suspect someone in a hardware store would wear. Today, though, Markus had on a pair of faded-in-all-the-right-places jeans and a black T-shirt that molded to every muscle on his chest and biceps. My heart rate jumped up a notch, leaving me breathless for a couple of seconds. Only because it’d been three months since I’d had sex, I reminded myself.
This was Markus, after all. The guy who, to my mother and grandfather, was, “You know, Little Markey from down the Street,” as though it were a title he should be proud of.
“Do you mind locking the door?” Markus asked as he dipped his head beneath the counter again.
I twisted the metal lock and then rotated the rod for the blinds so that passersby couldn’t see in. Not that there was anything of high value. Zayde had stopped selling major tools years ago, said that it was too much to keep in inventory. Instead, he’d focused on things the locals needed every day like flashlights, batteries, and lightbulbs. And items people needed in small emergencies like plungers and toilet-tank repair kits. He’d also kept seasonal items like ice scrapers for winter and charcoal briquettes and lighter fluid for summer. Not to mention a great selection of small tools and kitchen utensils. It seemed that Mom had followed his example.
Markus continued to shuffle around on the floor behind the counter, so I strolled up to it and leaned over. “Whatcha doin’?”
Markus peered up at me, his green eyes nearly glowing beneath the fluorescent lights.
“Awwww …” I stared down at the ball of cream-colored fluff inside a cardboard box. “Is she yours?”
“He, but no. I found him outside the back door last night. I’d heard a small whimper, but when I looked out the kitchen window, I hadn’t seen anything. Finally, I went down the back stairs, and there he was, curled up next to some cardboard boxes by the dumpster.”
Without bothering to lift the hinged counter, I crawled beneath it and waddled toward where Markus was crouched over the pup. “He can’t be even a couple months old, if that.”
Markus shook his head. “I hope he’s just lost. I can’t imagine that someone would have just dumped him on the street. Then again, I know that happens. Not that I have time, but I made up some fliers that I was going to take around town tonight. If he belongs to someone in Squirrel Hill, I would think they’d recognize him and call me. ’Cause I sure can’t keep him.”
I stared down at the bundle of fur nestled comfortably in blue shop towels I recognized as part of the store’s stock. “What will you do if no one claims him?”
Markus stared up at me from beneath long blond lashes. “I’ll have to take him to the Humane Society. I mean, where would I keep him? I don’t have a yard.”
My eyes widened. “But what if they put him to sleep?”
“Alaina, they don’t put puppies to sleep. They barely even euthanize dogs unless they’re sick.”
“But if no one adopts him, he’ll spend his life in a cage, probably smaller than that ten-by-ten cell you mentioned …”
Markus made a tsking sound. “That’s not fair — Hey, you have a huge house with plenty of backyard space. Why don’t you take him? At least until I find his owner.”
“Me?” I bounced up on my feet and the pup bounded up from his slumber at the same time. “I’ve never taken care of anything in my life. I can’t even keep plants alive.”
“Maybe it’s time you started,” Markus murmured.
I scrunched up my nose at Markus, but then leaned down toward the puppy. As if the pup knew what I was doing, he squirmed up into my arms. “He smells good. Like …” I tried to place the scent. “Clean, like Ivory soap, so he must belong to someone.”
“I washed him last night,” Markus said offhandedly. “He was muddy and matted. I couldn’t bring him inside your mother’s apartment like that. She would have killed me if he messed up the wood floors. As it was, I had to watch him like a hawk, hoping he wouldn’t leave any puddles. When I went to bed, I locked him in the bathroom, and he whimpered all night. Literally. I don’t think I slept but a few hours.”
“And you think I’m ready for that?” I asked, smiling as the pup tried to lick my chin. I’d never had a dog. Zayde had been allergic. Far as I knew, my mother and Raylene weren’t, though.
“No, you’re probably not ready for the responsibility. I’ll put up the fliers, and if no one claims him, I’ll take him to the pound.”
“No!” I cried. “I mean …” The pup continued to nuzzle himself into my neck, trying his best to get as high as he could. “I’ll help you hang fliers, and if nobody claims him … well, I guess I’ll see what Mom says.”
Markus lean
ed in and kissed my other cheek, opposite the one the puppy insisted needed kissing. “That’s the sweet girl I know.”
Humph! “When have I ever been sweet? Drama queen, remember?”
“Oh, I remember a time when you were very sweet. A delicious nectar —”
“Markus!” I smacked him on the shoulder. “I can’t believe you’d bring up that night.” But a rush of heat moved downward through my body. Forty-year-old men weren’t supposed to talk like that. Joe never had, anyway. I’d known when Joe wanted sex simply because the six pillows on our bed, which usually resided between us, would all be stacked at the head of the bed.
Markus looked around the store, and then shook his head. “No one’s here, Laina. No one can see you with me.”
My cheeks burned. “That’s not what I meant.”
“What did you mean, Alaina?” He crossed his arms and stared at me. “Why didn’t you ever call me back? Would you really have been that embarrassed to be seen with me?”
“Of course not! I had my life planned out, Markus. A relationship wasn’t on my to-do list.”
He let out a disbelieving huff, and then gnawed on his bottom lip. “So you haven’t had any relationships in twenty years. Haven’t dated anyone?”
“Of course, I’ve dated —”
“Then why not me?” he demanded. It sounded more like a statement than a question, but his voice was low and soft, his green eyes intently holding my gaze as though he were trying to figure out a puzzle.
“Because it would have been different with you.”
“Why?” His voice went up in volume. “Because I hadn’t played the lead in the play or been captain of the football team?”
“Of course not!” I said again, my voice rising as high as his had. How dare he accuse me of that?
“Then why, Alaina? Why were you gone when I showed up at your house the next day?”
“Because, with you, I would have wanted more!” I pushed the pup into his arms and ran out the back door. It was the fastest escape. I didn’t want Markus to see the tears forming in my eyes.
What had I just admitted to Markus ?
“Alaina, wait!”
I cut through the side alley and made my way back to the street. When I hit the sidewalk in front of the store, Markus was unlocking the front door.
I hopped in my car and peeled away.
What had I just admitted to myself ?
6
Midlife Crisis
At the first red light I came to, I smacked my forehead against the steering wheel. Repeatedly.
“What on earth is wrong with you, Alaina? Five days ago you walked away from a three-year relationship without even a tear, and now you’re admitting how deep your feelings are for a man you haven’t seen in twenty years? Midlife crisis. I’m having a midlife crisis.”
That had to be it. Did women have those? Maybe I should go get some plastic surgery done like a normal actress who was about to turn forty. A little Botox around the edges couldn’t hurt. Then again, maybe I needed to get psychological help.
Or maybe I just needed a little wine therapy.
Instead of heading to the house, I headed to the liquor store. A shot of the blackberry brandy that Mom always hid above the fridge wouldn’t be enough for this session. I needed a box of wine tonight.
Ten minutes later, black box in my hands, I pulled into my driveway. As if wine could help … Instead of solving my problems, I’d end up with a hangover. As soon as I shifted the vehicle into park, I considered throwing the gear into reverse and backing right out again. Maybe I would just drive all the way to New York tonight. The guy from Orlando was probably okay. Maybe he’d let me stay there until I found another place. Maybe I’d get lucky and he’d be gay. A gay roommate would be perfect, then I’d never have to worry about moving out.
A tap on the glass next to my ear made me jump. “Argh! Markus!” I shouted through the glass. “You could have given me a heart attack.”
Markus walked around to the passenger door and tapped on that window, too, a silent request to unlock the door. I again considered leaving. Then I’d never have to make eye contact with him again.
He bent down and looked in the window, then waved a handful of sheets of paper and a plastic box of tacks, which he shook. “You said you’d help me put up fliers,” he said, his voice muffled.
I had said that. So, besides being a blathering idiot, I’d also be a liar if I didn’t follow through on my offer to help. I unlocked the door, then picked the wine box off the seat and moved it to the floorboard.
Markus raised an eyebrow. “Planning a party?”
“Nope! I intend to sit on the back porch all by my lonesome and get plastered. Less embarrassing things happen that way.”
Markus sighed, but then fluttered the fliers in his hand. “Let’s just head up a few residential streets behind the store, and then the main streets. The pup’s too young to have traveled far, so if he ran away, his owners have to live nearby.”
Markus shifted the fliers on his lap so he could buckle his seatbelt. My eyes wandered to his lap … to read the fliers. He’d printed out color prints that showed off the pup’s golden coat, then in bold black letters at the top was the word FOUND along with his phone number listed below the one word.
I shifted my arm over the back of his seat while I backed out of the long driveway. Reflexively, his head turned at the same time, and his warm breath, which smelled like the cinnamon mints he always used to carry, washed over my face.
Once I made it to the street, I shifted my eyes and body forward and headed off to the street behind the store.
“Pull over here,” Markus suggested when I turned onto the next road. He hopped out, tacked one of the fliers to the telephone pole, then darted across the street, adding another flier so that anyone coming to the stop sign would see it. He darted around the hood of the car and hopped back in. “Head to the end of the block.”
I stopped at the end of the block and waited while he posted fliers on both sides of the street again. We did the same on all the streets that surrounded the business section, then continued with a few more fliers on the two main business streets that flanked the store. If anyone in the area cared, they’d see the fliers.
What didn’t surprise me was that Markus cared. He could have — probably should have — just taken the pup to the Humane Society. But he hadn’t. He’d wanted to help. As I’d always known, Markus was kind. Nothing like me. Sure, I was friendly enough. Rarely had I called people names or talked behind their backs — unless they deserved it — but I’d never gone out of my way to help someone. I’d never even gone out of my way to help Markus. We’d been friends since grade school, but not once had I invited him to a party or asked him to hang out with my other friends when we were in high school.
As I thought about that, wondering why I’d never invited my real best friend to hang out with my other friends, I realized it hadn’t been because I was mean that I hadn’t invited Markus to do things with my friends and me; it’d been because I was selfish, but I’d also like to think, protective. I knew Markus was smart and sweet, and I hadn’t wanted to share or subject him to others who didn’t see what I saw.
“Would you mind dropping me off at the shop?” Markus asked after he’d nailed the last flier to a post.
“Don’t you need your car?”
He slowly moved his head from side to side. “I didn’t drive.”
“How did you get to the house so quickly?”
“I ran,” he said somberly, his gaze meeting mine.
I glanced at the box of wine. “Hey, that’s a pretty big box of wine. Way more than enough for all of us. Do you have plans tonight?”
Markus turned his entire body toward me, the slightest hint of a smile lifting his lips, and shook his head again. “I don’t have any plans. But …”
“But …”
“Can I bring the pup? I don’t think it’s right to leave him there alone.”
“Of
course. After all, I might be adopting him soon. Might as well get him used to me.” I shifted the car back into drive and headed back to the shop, stopping right out front. Markus hopped out, and within minutes, he was back with a whimpering covered box.
He set the box on the floorboard in the back, then climbed into the front. “Wanna pick up some pizza?”
I smiled. He knew me so well. Not that practically every woman didn’t love pizza, but still …
He pulled out his phone and tapped it once, so he must have programed the number into his phone. “Hey, Mike! Extra-large with extra-cheese for carryout, please!”
Markus turned back to me. “Just head over to Murray Ave. Mike still makes the best around. Then we’ll get this party started.”
“I have to get up in the morning,” I told him. “So, we can’t party too hard.” Not like last time, I wanted to add, but I didn’t want my face to turn beet-red again. Had it just been the bottle each of wine we’d consumed that had had us ripping off each other’s clothes in the front seat of his truck twenty years ago, or something else that I’d suppressed all these years? What would have happened if he’d had a condom? Would I have returned home after college instead of staying in New York? I shook my head to clear it.
He lifted his hands. “Hey, the getting plastered was your idea.”
I shrugged, allowing that. “It sounded like a good idea at the time.” But somehow, Markus had made the air between us comfortable again. We’d been good friends at one time, and then I’d screwed up by coming on to him twenty years ago. And then I almost screwed up again by making a stupid comment, by admitting that with him I would have wanted more. Thankfully, it was clear that Markus wasn’t going to allow my embarrassment to get in the way of us being friends again.
Friends? Could we really remain just friends when the very air around us seemed to want to ignite from the electricity?
The ride back to my house was quiet, other than the occasional whimper from the back seat.
[What's Luck Got To Do With It 02.0] Down on Her Luck Page 5