Vernon chuckled as I gave him my best pout. He came from around the bed then and wrapped me in his arms and kissed my cheek. “Ah, Evie-girl,” he said. “Don’t you worry. I’ll fly out for next week’s show.”
I looked at him sideways. “You will? You promise?”
“Did you really think I’d miss my best girl’s New York City television debut? Fred and Jack and I have already talked about it.”
“What about Samuel?” I turned slightly to look at him face to face.
“Samuel too.” Then Vernon shook his head. “Not sure about Henry Lambert, though.”
I raised a brow. “Something is not altogether right in the Lambert household, I’m afraid.”
“Something you don’t know about?” Vernon asked me.
Know? “Is there something I should know about?” I mean, other than Lisa Leann’s old affair …
But Vernon looked stupefied. “What?”
I frowned. “Vernon Vesey, do you know something within the Lambert household I don’t know about?”
Vernon laughed. “That’ll be the day. What I was intimating—and apparently not too well—was that if you don’t know, then no one but Lisa Leann and Henry know.” He waved a hand at me. “Never mind; just go back to your packing. Your luggage is blocking my side of the bed.”
Friday, at a little after 4:30 in the morning, Lisa Leann and I met at the Delta ticket counter at Denver’s international airport. Lisa Leann had already printed our boarding passes online but managed to get them exchanged for front row seats she said would give us more room to stretch our legs during the long flight. We rolled our luggage to the friendly folks at the TSA baggage check, then proceeded toward the train. Minutes later we were walking down Concourse C, each with a cup of Starbuck’s coffee, and toward Gate 48, which was, naturally, the very last gate on the right. While my shoulder nearly broke under the weight of my purse (filled with a couple of books to read, a pad of paper for jotting down notes as thoughts and ideas came to mind, and the new digital camera Vernon gave me the night before), Lisa Leann pulled a spiffy pink and white polka dot carry-on case behind her. It was one third of a matching set, the rest having been checked into baggage. I glanced down at it several times before stating the obvious. “Lisa Leann, that suitcase is ‘you’ to a T.”
Lisa Leann grinned at me. “I bought it online,” she said. “Tuesday night, as soon as I got home. Overstock.com. Had them overnight it.”
“I suppose you just couldn’t help yourself,” I said.
“Nope,” she answered. “Sure couldn’t.”
“So what do you have in there? A change of clothes? Books? Spy equipment?”
“Ha-ha. Yes to the clothes and the books. And my laptop and some trail mix I made last night just for us in case we get hungry.”
I was already hungry. “Will they serve us a meal, do you think?”
“Only if we were flying first class. And we are not flying first class.” She winked at me. “Not yet, anyway.”
We boarded the plane a few minutes after six and got settled in our coach seats. Lisa Leann insisted on sitting by the window, which was fine with me. At fifty-eight years of age, I knew I would need to sprint to the lavatory more than once in the four hours it would take to get to JFK airport, so I happily took the aisle seat.
Lisa Leann tucked her carry-on behind her legs, wiggled around a bit, then fastened her seat belt. Knowing she’d flown a lot more than I, I followed her lead and placed my purse behind my legs as well. It was then the flight attendant stepped over and said, “Oh, ladies, we’ll have to put your bags overhead as this is bulkhead seating. Once we’re safely in the air, you can retrieve them if you need to.”
“But, this is my laptop,” Lisa Leann said. “I was going to do a little work during the flight.”
The flight attendant—an attractive woman named Sunny—smiled pleasantly, then repeated herself as though she were speaking to a kindergartener. “Yes, ma’am, I understand. But until we are safely in the air …”
I reached behind my knees and pulled out my oversized purse. “Here you go,” I said. I am nothing if not agreeable.
Lisa Leann sighed deeply but finally handed over the luggage, to which Sunny said, “Oh, how adorable! I love this.” Then she paused, so help me if she didn’t, pointed to Lisa Leann, and said, “Oh! Aren’t you …” Then to me and said, “And aren’t you …”
Lisa Leann cut in. “If you are wondering if we are on The Great Party Showdown, why yes, we are. I’m Lisa Leann Lambert and this is Evangeline Vesey.”
“Evil Evie?”
I frowned. “Never mind that.” I jutted my thumb toward Lisa Leann. “That was her son’s doing and has nothing to do with the real me.”
From that moment on, the world was our oyster. After everyone had boarded but before the door was shut, Sunny approached us, leaned over, and whispered, “Ladies, we have two available seats in first class if you’d like to move. Compliments of the airline.”
Personally, I felt a little self-conscious about it, but Lisa Leann scrambled out of her seat so fast she nearly knocked herself out on the overhead luggage bin. Once the plane was airborne and heading east, requests for our autographs came from fellow passengers. The entire first hour was spent signing “Mrs. Evangeline Vesey” (me) and “Loads of Love, Lisa Leann Lambert!” (not me). After we’d been served our in-flight meal, we watched about an hour of television, each with our own personal screen and headset. All I could think was, Now, if this isn’t the life! Wait till I tell Vonnie.
As we neared New York, Lisa Leann turned to me. “We need to talk finances. A cab from the airport to our hotel is about fifty dollars without the tip.”
“Fifty dollars! Good land of the living, Lisa Leann. I wasn’t counting on that.”
“Shhh, Evangeline. Keep your voice down. People don’t expect television stars to poor-mouth.”
I shifted in my seat so I could face her better. “Lisa Leann, we aren’t stars, exactly. The studio allowed us a certain amount of spending money for our tickets, but your insistence that we come early cost us twice that amount. We’re not made of money, you know.”
Lisa Leann shushed me again, then looked around at our fellow first class travelers and smiled. “I know that. But some of this is a tax write-off for the company. Not that we have any extra to spend right now. So if you will just listen—”
“And just where is this hotel you’ve booked us in? Is it the same one the show is putting us up in? Because I know that one has to cost an arm and a leg.” I sighed. “Why did I agree to this? Our catering club will be flat broke in no time.”
“Oh, stop with the melodrama and acting like a CPA. To answer your question, no, not the one the show is putting us up in. You’re right; that one is very expensive. So I booked us in a hotel in SoHo.”
“What-ho?”
“SoHo. Don’t you know anything about New York City, Evangeline?”
I frowned at her. “Enlighten me, Lisa Leann.”
“SoHo means South of Houston,” she answered, accentuating the “how” in Houston. “Not hew-ston, like we say it in Texas. It’s a neighbourhood near Little Italy and Chinatown. Very artsy. Good restaurants and some fun shopping.” She leaned in. “Tell me, Evie, what do you know about Canal Street?”
“Is that in New York City too?”
Lisa Leann threw back her head and laughed. “Oh, Evangeline. You are such a stitch. Of course it’s in the City. Specifically it’s in Chinatown … or at least I think it is. Anyway, they have knockoffs for sale right there on the streets and—”
“Knock outs?”
Lisa Leann rolled her eyes. “Don’t you know anything, Evangeline? Knockoffs. Purses, scarves, sunglasses …” I suppose my face registered that I still wasn’t up to the times, because she rolled her eyes and added, “They look like the expensive designer goods, but they aren’t. I can’t wait to go check them out, and with SoHo being so close by, I thought it would be the perfect place for us to stay
. So I booked us a room there.”
“I thought we were going to New York early so we could check out suppliers.”
“We are, we are.” She patted my hand as though I were a child. “But there’s nothing saying we can’t get a little New York City cultural experience under our belts in the meantime, now is there? Oh, yeah … I got us tickets for the Empire State Building. Ordered those online too. I figured you and I could pay for that as it wouldn’t be fair to the others even if we are scouting for them. By the way, you owe me forty-one dollars.”
I crossed my arms and my legs at the same time. “Let me ask you a question. You’ve been online for hours, haven’t you, mapping out this whole adventure.”
Lisa Leann grinned like the proverbial Cheshire cat from Alice’s Adventures in Wonderland. “You are going to be so glad you came with me.”
“Mmm-hmm. Back to the cab. Is there no other way to get to this hotel?”
It was then Sunny happened to walk by. “Excuse me,” Lisa Leann said. “Sunny, can you tell us … do you go to New York City a lot?” “I have an apartment there,” she said.
“Well, then … can you tell us how we can get to the Sohotel in SoHo without taking a cab?”
Sunny looked at us for a moment as though we’d lost our minds, then said, “Well, there’s the subway.”
Lisa Leann reached for her purse nestled under the seat in front of her. Settling it into her lap, she began to dig around until she brought out a folded piece of paper. She made a production of flattening out the creases, then said, “I have the directions if we are arriving by subway here on our reservations.” She pointed to a section of about a dozen lines.
Sunny took the paper from her, read it over, then handed it back. “The studio is putting you up in SoHo? I’m surprised you aren’t in Midtown, closer to the studios.”
“We’re staying at the Hilton after next Wednesday, but Evie and I wanted to come in early … to get a feel for the city.”
Sunny beamed. “Oh, you’ll love New York. There’s no place on earth like it, especially at Christmas. The stores go all out decorating their windows, and there’s a kind of magic in the air.” She sighed. “I just love New York in the wintertime.”
“And what about the summertime?” I asked. “After all, it is summer … and we’re nearly there.” I pointed toward the window.
“Oh, it can get pretty hot when the heat gets trapped between the buildings, but it’s still the best city in the world. You’ll have a wonderful time.” She started to step away, then turned back. “By the way, yes. Those directions will get you to SoHo. While you’re there, be sure to check out Canal Street in Chinatown.”
Lisa Leann poked my arm. “See! I told you.”
I looked at Sunny as I rubbed my new owie. “Is the subway safe?”
“Oh, sure.” She giggled lightly. “Keep a watch out for butterflies.” Then she waved her hand around as though dismissing her words. “Whenever I take the subway I always think of that precious scene in You’ve Got Mail—”
“My favorite movie!” Lisa Leann said.
“Definitely one of mine too. Anyway, Meg Ryan is in the subway … remember? And she sees a butterfly?”
Lisa Leann pointed at Sunny. “It got on at 42nd and off at 59th, where I assume it was going to Bloomingdales to buy a hat …”
“Which will turn out to be a mistake …” Sunny continued until Lisa Leann joined her with “As almost all hats are!”
I thought I might have possibly landed in some wacky You’ve Got Mail fan club. I looked from Sunny to Lisa Leann and back to Sunny and said, “I take it that’s a line from the movie?”
Sunny nodded. “Hey, if you’re looking for party themes, what about using themes around some of the movies set in New York City, you know … for the different catering shows you’ll be doing.”
Lisa Leann popped up. “Like?”
“An Affair to Remember … You’ve Got Mail … Breakfast at Tiffany’s …”
Lisa Leann grabbed my hand. “Evangeline, did you hear that? Sunny just gave us an excellent idea. Let’s plot it out tonight when we get to the hotel. What do you think?”
“I think we have to get to the hotel.” I pointed to the reservation papers still in her hand. “Are you sure you know where you’re going?”
“Oh, it’s easy,” Sunny said. “Just follow those directions. You’ll be acting like New Yorkers in no time!”
Before we could become real “New Yorkers” we had to get our luggage. We dragged our suitcases from the dark and cramped area known as Baggage Claim and into the stifling heat beyond sliding glass doors. Dodging cars and cabs—none of which we’d be taking—we headed across several lanes of traffic to an elevator that took us downstairs to the JFK AirTrain. For several minutes we walked around, reading signs and looking like two middle-aged women from Summit View, Colorado, who were completely lost in Manhattan. Finally an attractive Asian woman took pity on us and asked, “Where are you going?”
“SoHo,” I answered.
“Then you want to go toward Howard Beach,” she said.
A train was approaching. “Is that the train?” Lisa Leann asked.
She nodded. “Yes.”
“Are you sure?” I asked.
She smiled. “Yes. Do you have subway directions to your hotel?”
Lisa Leann waved them in her hand. “Right here.”
“You’ll be fine,” she said.
The train arrived, and we slipped into its coolness. I dragged my luggage and myself as close to the back of the train as I could, what with about a million people being in there, then grabbed hold of a metal pole and turned just in time to see Lisa Leann and all three pieces of her pink and white polka-dotted luggage stumble through the doors. With all her luggage and the heeled designer (no doubt) sandals, she barely made it in time before the doors closed behind her with a whoosh. She looked back at me, somewhat frantic. I pressed my lips together to keep from laughing. Served her right. It was just like Lisa Leann to pack everything including the kitchen sink.
The train’s doors closed, and the train sped toward Manhattan.
At Howard Beach we got out and followed the crowd down an open aisle and toward a flight of steps. I turned to Lisa Leann, who was behind me. “Where is the elevator?”
She looked left to right. “I don’t see one.”
“Well, Lisa Leann, how am I going to get this luggage up these steps?” As we stood gawking at each other, the crowd behind us parted upon reaching us, wrapped around us, and then ascended the stairs.
“You? I’ve got a lot more luggage than you do.”
I looked down. Lisa Leann had placed her carry-on on top of one of the two larger pieces. Her shoulder strap purse had been looped over her head, I suppose to prevent theft. Taking her cue, I did the same with mine. “Okay, we can do this,” I said with a sigh. “Let’s go.”
At the top of the stairs we entered an open, glassed-in room with turnstiles and vending machines. There we were met by a Hispanic woman, short and round, who said, “Where do you need to go?” One look at us, I suppose, and she knew we were clueless.
“SoHo,” I said, trying to sound as though I’d been saying it my whole entire life.
“Come with me,” she said, and we followed. She took us to the vending machines, which turned out to be for purchasing MetroCards rather than sodas and snacks. “You’ll need to first buy a ticket to get into the system,” she said, pointing to the appropriate buttons. “That’s five dollars. Then you will need to buy a ticket for the rest of your stay. How long will you be here?”
“A few days,” Lisa Leann chimed in. Then she looked at me and said, “After next Wednesday it’ll be cabs and limos.”
Sounded good in theory. But today was Friday and we were about to enter the subway system in Manhattan with trembling knees and, wouldn’t you know, butterflies.
Lisa Leann
10
Subway Sandwich
When the silver A-train pu
lled into the Howard Beach subway station, I was ready to roll. To keep my hands free, I’d looped my purse around my neck and stacked my smaller suitcase on top of its larger matching bag. I didn’t have a way to latch them together, so I’d pulled up the expanding handle on the lower case and somehow managed to loop my hand through the handles of both suitcases. Slowly, to keep things from falling down around me, I pushed my tower of baggage forward as I pulled my smaller carry-on behind me. I called over my shoulder, “Hurry, Evie, before the doors close. I’d hate to lose you; you don’t even know where we’re going.”
“If you weren’t such a wide load, I’d already be on the train,” Evie shot back.
“I am having a bit of a struggle,” I admitted.
Evie barely managed her baggage through the doors before they closed. “And I’m not?”
We snagged one of the hard orange benches and settled our bags before us as the train lurched forward. I took a moment to size up the people around us. Honestly, they looked like ordinary, everyday people with books and newspapers. The only thing unusual about them was they all seemed on the younger side of forty, making us the “elders” in the car.
A few riders stood holding on to the occasional silver pole that speared the center aisle. These commuters stared absently at the advertisement posters above our heads or out the windows at the high wooden walls that flanked either side of the track. As we clackety-clacked toward Brooklyn, Evie leaned into me. “So far so good,” she said under her breath as if to congratulate us for a job well done. “But you need to stop staring at everyone, Lisa Leann. It makes you look like a tourist.”
“I am a tourist.”
“Trust me, you don’t want anyone to notice.”
“Don’t you think our luggage gives us away?”
“Not necessarily,” Evie said, slightly indignant. “Just don’t make eye contact, and whatever you do, don’t blurt out any of your Texas witticisms.”
I nudged Evie with my elbow. “Now I might not be the brightest crayon in the box, but I do know how to act in public.”
A Taste of Fame Page 8