The Price of Penny

by T. C. Rybicki

  I was a little too beat to call Wayne. He could get carried away easily, but I sent out a text and asked him if he wanted to have coffee in the morning.

  Who is this?

  U know exactly who this is, dipshit.

  Nope, afraid not. I don’t have this # in my contacts any longer.

  He made a point to highlight I’d been busy with work and hadn’t kept in touch. Just like I predicted, contacting him could sometimes be exhausting. I didn’t argue. I told him what time to be at our regular spot. It had to be close or Wayne wouldn’t drive.

  Oh and bring ur laptop. It’s important.

  So much for not knowing me, Wayne was early. He’d already ordered for both of us. Of course, he knew what I wanted for breakfast, how I took my coffee, and all the various details none of my other so-called buddies paid attention to. He even requested the corner booth, not facing the crowd and never by the window if possible. Wayne Watson was my best childhood friend, actually best friend for life except when he was pissed at me for being caught up in my ‘Chet Universe’ as he called it. He and I went to school together, met in first grade. I left public school in seventh grade. Mom wanted me to stop after fifth grade, but I worried about Wayne starting middle school without me. I was his unofficial defender. He was strange as hell and bullied before bullying was a real topic of discussion.

  Wayne supported my acting and music, but he didn’t fit in with most of my current crowd. I still made time for him and we remained close. I thought more about his text, how he said he didn’t know my number. I really had slacked off the past three years because of the franchise craziness.

  “Thanks, man. You always come through. I’m starved.”

  “No problem, so what do I owe this honor other than you want my services?”

  It wasn’t just about his skills online. I truly wanted to hang out with him and catch up. I asked about him what was going on with his life first, so that started a thirty minute discussion about his workplace politics and watercooler antics in awkwardness. Wayne liked a woman from accounting. She was dating the other IT guy, the cool, attractive one according to everyone else. I tried to give him sound advice. It wasn’t always smart to date people from work. I didn’t want to offend him, but he showed me a company profile picture from his phone and the chick seemed a tad out of his league.

  “You’ve dated co-stars, same difference.” He got me there, but none of those had panned out. Although, I had to admit there was that one that taught me a great deal. I switched my brain back to the task in front of me and that was eating.

  “Just be careful. You don’t want to piss off her guy and end up in a fight.” One, I knew he wouldn’t win.

  “Maybe, that’s the angle I should attempt. I push all Declan’s buttons, he decks me. Decked by Declan. That sounds like the title of your next flick.” Hardly. “And then, she gets outraged by his neanderthal behavior. Aubrey comes to my aid. We experience the Florence Nightingale thingy and poof, you’re best man at our wedding. She insists on bearing my five children, but I tell her four’s plenty or I could just volunteer to assist next time her computer’s acting wacky and maybe talk to her for once.”

  “Um yeah, I’d probably go with door number two to be on the safe side. Seriously, you’ve never even talked to her?”

  He said there might have been a head nod now and then but for all he knew, she thought he had a tic. Wayne asked if I saw a little young Suzanne in Aubrey. I guess I could find a few similarities. Wayne had a very unnatural, odd obsession with Suzanne Somers. He owned every season of Three’s Company she starred in. I’d watched them several times with him by force.

  He finally pulled his laptop out of his backpack. “Okay, enough about me. What’s up? You in some trouble? Someone hacked into your cloud and your nudes are about to go viral? I need to erase a ticket from the DMV’s database? Spill, what is it? By the way, if it’s nudes, I honestly think we could use that to our advantage and make some bucks.”

  “Hell no. Nothing like that. I don’t have nudes available to get hacked.” However, I was currently imagining Penny’s nudes. Holy hotness, she rocked that one green dress and I envisioned those collarbones and all the skin on her chest I got a glimpse of. “Quick question, are you serious? Can you erase traffic violations?”

  Wayne cracked his knuckles over his laptop and assured me he’d done so for his mom, so he could. His mom? I had to laugh. I told him that info was good to know, but that wasn’t what I needed from him.

  “So the other day, there was this woman.”

  “Say no more. I get it now. She’s stalking you, says she’s carrying your baby and you need help getting rid of her- permanently. I draw the line at actual murder, but if you’ve already done the crime, I’ll help you dispose of a body, no questions asked. That’s what friends are for.”

  “Seriously. Do you still sniff glue? Where the hell do you get these scenarios from? No, there’s no stalker.” I wasn’t counting myself. I lowered my voice in case someone was eavesdropping, “And no way did I knock some chick up. Give me some credit, I’m never careless.” I wasn’t even dignifying the murder comment with a response.

  “What then? You mixed the name up and called her Barbie when her actual name is Bambi, so you want me to change the name on the card before the florist sends out the ‘thanks for the action, but I’m not trying to get serious right now’ bouquet. You still use that place in the valley, correct?”

  I sat there thinking about his last comment. That was more like me than I cared to admit. It wasn’t exclusively for hook-ups, most flowers were sent to chicks I got a little too friendly with and might have led on. I felt bad, but more than that, I wanted my name respected. Wayne was right, I almost always sent the three-day-after arrangement if they told me their full names, where they were from or worked. I’m an ass. What did Penny call me the day before? ‘A self-absorbed, egomaniac,’ that’s what it was. Damn, I had to find this girl.

  I stopped him from his miserable guessing game that made me feel like the number one douche in the room. I told him all about Mom’s book club and bakery order. Wayne appreciated a good fan gone crazy tale, so I explained what happened that landed me in a bridal shop facing the most intriguing woman I’d ever laid eyes on.

  “So all you got is a girl that’s half British, goes by three aliases and has a sister, Margaret that’s getting married sometime this year, but you have no idea, who, when or where.”

  “Yes, actually I do know the when. Maggie said July 15th and they’re nicknames, not aliases. Why do you make everything so dramatic?”

  “How in the hell am I supposed to do anything with that?”

  “Because you’re the man, able to fix any malfunctioning operating system or break into LAPD’s mainframe. Come on, I’m desperate.”

  “You? Desperate?” He clinked his knife on his water glass. “You hear that everyone? Chet Parker is a desperate man. He needs my help getting laid for once.”

  I quickly shushed him. Thankfully, we hade an older crowd surrounding us and no one paid much attention to Wayne’s frequent loud shouts.

  He said our only hope was the bridal shop. I was way ahead of him. I’d already called, but neither Judy nor Lisa answered, someone named Jean was working and she seemed a bit moody. I fished and she caught on quick. She informed me they don’t give out any personal client information.

  Wayne said I had to pay them a visit again, but I worried how that might look. The shop owner was nice, but how weird would it be for me to come back and ask Maggie’s next appointment?

  He volunteered to accompany me. “Fine, I’ll go for a ride. You think they’re behind the times or current?”

  “What?”

  He explained, if Judy seemed old school, then she probably hand wrote everything, but there was a chance they used a computer. If he got closer, he could get into their system. All he’d have to do from there was look at yesterday’s date and boom, no doubt Margaret’s full name would be listed, as well a
s any future fittings.

  I wanted to go immediately, but that meant a drive back into LA and I promised to get Teddy out and in motion today. We made a tentative plan to meet back up late afternoon. I promised him anything he desired if I found Penny again.

  “A night out with Suzanne?”

  “For the last time, Wayne. I don’t know her. I’ve never seen her in person. I don’t know her people. I can’t make that promise.” I always reminded him she was probably his grandmother’s age by now, but that was still Wayne’s dream. He insisted my starring role in the most popular franchise in years gave me clout. He believed if I requested a meeting with Suzanne Somers, someone would make it happen. “Fine, I’ll try, but first let me see if Penny will talk to me.”

  I paid the bill, but Wayne insisted on leaving the tip. We walked out to the parking lot. “That’s what bothers you, why you can’t stop thinking about her. It’s because she wasn’t impressed and you’re determined to make her love you like the rest of them. Why, man? It seems kinda cruel, you’ll just break her heart when it’s all said and done.”

  I thought about Penny’s heart and there was nothing further from the truth. I would never intentionally hurt her. I only wanted to get closer, find out more about her, understand why her sister said ‘it’s a long story’ or why she was usually moody. She was different. I already knew that. I told my best friend to wait and see. He didn’t know me as well as he thought he did. I wanted to make a few life changes. In fact, I’d already started.

  Maggie and I arrived on time for our cake tasting appointment. I told her we should reschedule since Mum had a cold and didn’t want to attempt it. Keats had to go back to the office after dropping us off because of an emergency with a case. She insisted that it was rude to cancel last minute especially since Mrs. Monroe worked us in and come to find out, according to the wedding planner, Maggie was behind schedule deciding on the cake. Postponements were out of the question for her.

  “Chill, Poppy. Mrs. Monroe told me it’s actually better for us to narrow it down and then only sample our favorites with the bigger tasting crowd. We’re starting out with her bestsellers and then she will show us the complete list if I want custom fillings or special frosting.”

  I’d eaten light all day for this momentous occasion. I only had a green smoothie on my morning break and a portion of an egg white omelet at lunch. Maggie was the only one I’d pull my hair up and really experience unrestrained eating in front of. I smiled a little about Mummy not being here, not that she was sick. She would no doubt scold us if we went overboard, telling me a moment of the lips, a lifetime on the hips. Was I the only one that noticed she was nitpicking me more and more because Maggie snagged a man and I was still hopelessly single with no prospects in sight? Never mind, that was by choice. Mum pointed out I was the older sister, and because I’d been the serious one, the first to be in love, she only assumed I’d be the first to get married. Of course, fate had other plans and I wasn’t in any hurry to forget it’s cruelty.

  The bakery owner acted gracious and delighted to meet us. I adored her moxie. Her age shocked us, but she definitely appeared to be running the show, so to speak. She chatted as she gave a brief rundown of the bakery’s history. We entered a private room with little furnishings, only a large pitcher and a couple of glasses sat in the middle of one long table. Her assistant brought in the first tray. We would start with the vanilla versions. Calling them plain ‘ole vanilla couldn’t be further from the truth. I bit into the vanilla bean one layered with raspberry sauce, topped with vanilla buttercream. Pure bliss.

  Maggie handed me the lemon sponge infused with Lemoncello and layered with lemon curd and lemon buttercream. I, honestly thought it would be lemon overkill but it wasn’t. The mix of a blackberry and lemon version was even better. Siena handed us the orange dreamsicle one next. Who freaking knew? I didn’t know these types of cakes could be wedding cakes. We were about to move onto some of the chocolaty ones. My sis announced her man was very partial to peanut butter, so we were going to consider the chocolate one with peanut butter mousse as the groom’s cake.

  Siena brought the chocolate ones and some coffee-laced selections that I couldn’t wait to sample. Maggie made the comment she didn’t looked too thrilled to be working on a Friday and who could blame her, but the poor girl got extremely defensive.

  “I’m so sorry. I hope you don’t think I’m being rude. I’m skating on thin ice with Mrs. Monroe. Please, don’t say anything.” She broke out in an almost scary, toothy grin to prove to us she was cheery to serve us.

  Maggie patted her hand, “Hun, relax. I’m joking. Poppy and I took off early today or else I’d be in the worst mood. You don’t even want to see my resting bitch face on a normal Friday afternoon. Seriously, everything’s fine.”

  She breathed out a huge sigh of relief and asked us if we wanted to know the details of the cakes she brought in last. As she recited her memorized script about different types of chocolate, Maggie butted in with her nosy attitude.

  “What got you into trouble?”

  “Oh, well, nothing huge. It’s just, I’m new and I succumbed to a little celebrity worship. Did you know lots of famous people frequent this place?”

  We didn’t, but after tasting a few cakes, I understood why. I continued trying to up my blood sugar near the danger zone as I paid minimal attention while Siena explained her workplace woes. Maggie caught on really quick. “Hey, I think I might know what celeb you’re referring to. There was a stampede last week.”

  “Yeah, that was my fault sorta and that’s why I’m banished back here.” She covered her mouth. “Oops, sorry. Not that I don’t enjoy helping you two out. You’ve been the nicest bride-to-be and maid of honor to date, no lie.”

  I told her thanks with a mouthful of Kahlua and chocolate. Maggie picked up the cappuccino torte when Siena said the rest, “and he’s here again. I can’t believe it. I’ll get fired if I even take a peek.”

  Maggie licked her fingers clean after swiping more mousse to finish off her bite. “Who’s here?”

  “Chet Parker.”

  I pushed my caloric intake to an all-time level within a few minutes, so perhaps my arteries completely clogged, but I swear my heart fluttered to the point I secretly wondered if they had a defibrillator on the wall. I might need it.

  I wanted to slap myself, stop that. I’d heard that name before last week, plenty of times and it didn’t do a thing to me. I’d seen some of his movies, the comic book genre he rode the waves of weren’t my thing at all. I was more impressed with him when he first started on that teeny bopper show. I remembered him in a band then and I kinda liked his voice, or at least my fifteen-year-old self was briefly taken with him. His voice might have been dubbed over strictly for the show and he didn’t sing after all.

  Maggie jumped from her seat. “Oh my God, sis! Did you hear her? Chet’s here! What a small world.”

  Of course, I heard her. I thought I was having a cardiac event seconds ago.

  Siena seemed surprised, “You know him?”

  “Oh yeah, we’re new acquaintances, aren’t we, Poppy?”

  I made my snarling expression at her. “I wouldn’t call us acquaintances.”

  Maggie further bragged. “My sister’s too low-key, but to tell you the truth, he bought our dinner last week, spared no expense. He’s such a sweetheart. I’ve gotta run out there and catch him to thank him again. Don’t worry, girl. I won’t tell you told us. I’ll make it look accidental.” She tried to pull my arm, but I jerked back. I had cake to gorge on. “Come on, let’s go say thanks.”

  I quickly moved onto red velvet and said with a mouth full of red masticated cake and buttery frosting, “Tell him for me.” I stuck my coated tongue out, “Thanks, Mr. Hollywood.”

  “Ugh, you’re disgusting.” She walked out of the room in a huff. Maggie, like Mum and everyone else in my life constantly tried setting me up, but I was putting my foot down this instance. No way was a guy like Chet intere
sted in me and he was the exact opposite of what I’d ever go for if I allowed a new man in my life.

  I was a tiny bit curious, what my sister might be saying if she even managed to catch him. Why was he back in the bakery so fast, anyway? I thought he liked to stay ripped for his roles. Maybe he was going to be in a new movie where he played a fatty. Gosh, I felt drunk. How much actual rum is in tiramisu? Could a person get tossed on sweets? I took a big gulp of my water. I swished it around like mouthwash. I think I had a toothbrush in my gym bag, but that was in my car and Maggie insisted on allowing Keats to cart us over. I needed to brush my teeth so bad. I had consumed so much frosting, my tongue felt coated in goo. The water wasn’t cutting it, so I dabbed a napkin in my glass and proceeded to wipe my tongue clean.

  Maggie had the worst timing in history. My mouth was wide open. I was frantically scrubbing my tongue when she came through the door with her arm looped through his. “Surprise, look who I found!” My sister saw me and looked horrified. Chet had to be just as horrified, but he snickered instead.

  I quickly dropped the napkin, reigned in my tongue and closed my mouth.

  “Hi Penny. Funny running into you again, so soon.”

  I found nothing funny about this moment, I was humiliated and even worse, I was furious. Why did I care so much if he saw me looking terrible? Maggie pulled him all the way in, Siena followed, looking sheepish. She tried to downplay the situation from last week. He smiled politely and asked how she was doing. She apologized for her friends and he said it was no big deal, putting her totally at ease for the first time all afternoon.

  “So, I told Chet how great dinner was . . .” Maggie’s voice dropped off and she gave me the head nod, eye roll look and snarled through gritted teeth, “Poppy . . .”

  “Oh, yeah about that. That was really nice of you. I’m glad you’re here.”

  “You are?” his voice cracked like a pubescent teenage boy.