Trouble Me

by Beck Anderson

  “Your son’s been drinking this sludge too.”

  She nods. “You’re both crazy.”

  I set my drink down and take her into my arms. She’s big now. We’re in the home stretch, just six weeks to go, and I love the way she leads with her stomach.

  She doesn’t love it, so I try not to say much about her expanding belly. But that’s my child in there. What’s not to love?

  “Where’s Hunter, anyway? We’re supposed to go run,” I ask her. I have just a few days off in these next weeks. I try to pack as much family bonding as possible into each of them. Soon the movie will wrap, and I’ll be done until Flat Rock in May. I keep calling it paternity leave, mostly because Jeremy looks like he’ll throw up each time I do.

  “Hunter!” Kelly yells for him.

  “Mom! I’m right here. Hang on, Andrew. I just need my earbuds. Have you seen them anywhere, Mom?”

  You know how everybody says people expect the mom to know where everything is? It’s true. Here’s the other part: she usually does. A guy can’t help asking, under those circumstances.

  Kelly points to the island. “Hold still for a minute right there, in front of the counter. They’ll jump up and bite you.”

  Hunter turns around and stares at the island for a minute. Then he plucks the earbuds off the placemat right in front of him.

  “I don’t know about the sarcasm, Mom. I don’t think it’s good for your mom-ly image.” He gives her a hug.

  “I can’t help myself sometimes.” She kisses him on the cheek.

  “Hunter, go on out,” I tell him. “I’ll be there in a minute.”

  “I’ll get Ditto. Where’s his leash?” He looks at Kelly.

  “Look in the garage. I’m going to start charging for locator services. You get two more free asks.”

  He shrugs and goes out the door.

  “Come here, Mrs. Almost-Pettigrew.” I fold her in my arms.

  “Yes?” She leans her head against my neck.

  I breathe in her smell, fruity and clean. She’s never worn perfume. I like that. Almost all of the women I’ve worked with smell strongly of some Oriental perfume, or some “essential oil,” which I have no idea about, except that they make my eyes water when we have to do love scenes.

  Kissing people I don’t like is weird. But there’s a point where it’s the ultimate acting—if I can make an audience believe in my “love” for someone like Amanda, for instance, then I’m really pulling one over on them.

  Right now, though, this girl, this woman, I want to kiss. I lean over and kiss her softly. She smiles under my lips. I’m pretty sure that’s code for not so fast. She pushes me away.

  “Get going, mister. You’ve got a teen and a dog waiting. They’re not a tolerant bunch.” She pats me on the butt.

  I leave her in the kitchen and cut through the garage.

  Hunter jogs around the circular drive. Ditto bounces around next to him.

  The air’s cool. In LA, people pull out sweaters and wool coats in weather like this. When we went to visit Boise for New Year’s, it was sixteen degrees for the high, and Joe, Tessa’s husband, still wore shorts. Today in LA it’s probably sixty.

  “I wonder if I need my jacket.” I look at Hunter. He has a short-sleeve shirt on.

  “It’s fine. Let’s go.”

  We jog to the gatehouse of the neighborhood. It’s been quiet since we got out here in October. Kelly and the boys were supposed to go back to Boise for spring semester, but the boys came to us after New Year’s and told us they wanted to stay together, stay in LA.

  Devon, their tutor, might be part of the reason they’re okay with sticking in LA with us. He’s young and smart and knows a lot about music. He’s been really creative with the lessons he designs for the boys, and he knows what makes each of them tick. He took Beau to the La Brea tar pits for a science lesson about heat and thermal energy. Hunter actually read a few books without a huge fit, mostly because one of them was about Pelé, the soccer legend, and the other was about the music scene in Seattle in the nineties.

  I watch Hunter now. He jogs in front of me with the dog, bobbing along, all legs. He’s grown a ton, just since I met him. I can’t believe it. Kelly comments on it all the time, but it’s hard for me to think that the boys were ever tiny babies. I’m psyched to experience that with the new little one coming. Going from tiny and helpless to this big gawky teen kid. Kelly gets a misty look in her eye when she talks about it.

  She’s been doing better. And nothing else weird has happened—nothing like the shove or the baggage tampering. She swims in the pool every day, and her knee seems better. Her smile is back. I can breathe a little now. When she had the panic attack, it just about killed me. Almost three months of peace has been complete heaven.

  Ditto sits down on the sidewalk to the left of me. Damn dog. He’s old, and he’s fat and lazy. More than that, he knows our path is about to go up into the hills above our development. He doesn’t want to go.

  Hunter stops with him. “I could just go back to the house with him.”

  “No, that’s not fair. Listen, I’ll run back to the guard house with him. If Larry’s there still, Ditto can hang out with him till we get back.”

  “I’ll come with you. If I stay here, he won’t go with you.”

  We brought Ditto back with us from our New Year’s visit, when we decided we were staying in LA until I was done shooting Leave No Trace. He’s punishing us for kenneling him and putting him on a plane. And he sheds everywhere. I’ve never been home long enough to have a pet, and I don’t know…The dog’s cute enough and always seems chipper, but he’s a pain. I’m still deciding if pet ownership is worth it or not.

  We jog with him back to the guardhouse. Larry’s still there. He’s one of the guards, but what Hunter doesn’t know is that he’s the one Tucker hired. I’m paying for the additional guard on duty at the development. It’s one of the things we set up when we picked out the new place.

  We leave the dog with him and get up into the hills. It’s good to run with Hunter. His youth beats my lukewarm determination every time. I keep up with him, but just barely. I’m motivated by fear of humiliation.

  The first two miles are uphill. Hunter sets a mild pace out of pity for my advanced age. I’m proud to keep it under fifteen minutes. We turn around at the top and head back down, LA spread out in front of us in the valley below. It’d be pretty, but there’s a brownish smog. It hangs over the city even in the January weather.

  With about a mile left on the way down, a woman jogs up the trail toward us. I know who it is before I can even see her face.

  “Hunter, don’t stop running, even though I do.”

  “Why?” He’s next to me.

  “This is Amanda Walters. You do not need to meet this piece of work.”

  He makes a weird face. “Okay. I’ll take your word for it.”

  We run downhill and closer to her. Her red hair is tied up in a red bandanna, all piled on top of her head. She kind of runs.

  I grit my teeth. “I’ll bet you money she came out here to try to run into us.”

  “Why would she do that?” Hunter asks.

  “To be a pain in the ass. Because we haven’t seen each other since we wrapped in New York.”

  “Doesn’t she know you’re with Mom?”

  God, I love this kid. I could kiss him. “Yeah, doesn’t she?”

  He looks at me one more time, looks at the woman in the doo-rag and shiny running tights. “Good luck.”

  He picks up his pace and flies down the path, not even looking at Amanda.

  Which leaves her to me. The last time we were alone, she chucked a plate at my head after breaking, entering, and redecorating my trailer. I wonder for a minute if I shouldn’t bring Tucker on these runs. What if she really is certifiable?

  “Amanda. What’re you doing here?”

  “Same as you.”

  “Except I live right down there.” I point toward our house.

  “So I�
�ve heard. How’s Kelly? Was that her boy who just ran by?”

  “She’s fine. And yes, that’s Hunter.”

  “How cute. A little daddy bonding.”

  This chafes me. She’s an insensitive bitch. “Nobody’ll take the place of his dad. We’re just friends. He doesn’t need another dad.”

  “That’s sweet.” She doesn’t give a crap. “I heard your fiancée’s having a shower?”

  “You’ve heard a lot of stuff lately.”

  “Am I invited?”

  “What do you think?”

  “Aw, c’mon, Andy. Let’s kiss and make up. Friends?” She puts out a hand.

  “Amanda, listen. You’re a terrific actress. We have a history together. Let’s leave it at that. Can we just quit while we’re ahead? Please?”

  She smiles slyly. “You know I love it when you beg.”

  This woman. I can’t even believe her. “Clearly that’s a no, so I’m going to finish my run. I’ll see you around.”

  I take off down the hill. When I get back to the guardhouse, Hunter informs me that’s my fastest mile split yet.

  Maybe I should have ex-girlfriends chase my ass around the Hollywood Hills more often.

  “Field trip today. Wahoo!” Beau announces this to the whole house from the kitchen table the next morning.

  Devon stands behind the boys with his messenger bag slung over his shoulder. “Wahoo. But Hunter needs to hustle it up, or we’ll spend the day looking at the back of a Geo Metro on the 405.”

  Beau laughs. “Funny.” Then he turns his body, just barely, and yells again. “Hunter! Let’s go!”

  Kelly’s out back, swimming laps. All of us in the house were supposed to be leaving by now. She’s already said her goodbyes, and it’s probably good, because this yelling thing is one of her mom pet peeves. I try to curb the behavior all by myself. Andrew, the cool but sensible adult, to the rescue. “Beau. The yelling. Devon and I want to retain what hearing we still have.”

  Beau nods. “Fine.” He gets up and pulls on a baseball hat with zombies on it, grabs his lunch bag and backpack. “I’ll be in the car, Devon. I just want to make it clear that I am on time, ready to go.”

  Devon points to the car. “Duly noted. Go get in the car.”

  I look around for my phone. Tucker’s due any minute to take me to set. “Are they behaving for you?”

  Devon grabs three water bottles out of the fridge and tucks them in his bag, folds the flap over and buckles it. “These two boys? I wish I could clone them. So very different from the usual LA clientele.”

  I’m proud of them. “Good.”

  “Probably all the more reason not to settle down in LA for too long then, huh?” He smiles.

  If he only knew the arguments Kelly and I had about that in NYC. “Absolutely.”

  He points to the copy of For Whom the Bell Tolls on the counter. “Kelly’s reading that?”

  People assume movie stars are idiots. Usually we are. “No, that’s me.”

  He shrugs. “Huh.” He shifts uncomfortably. Maybe he’s embarrassed he assumed. “What do you think of it?”

  “I like it. The whole book feels sun-baked.” I regret saying that. I could say that to Kelly, and she’d get it, but maybe not everyone. I try to continue in English. “It’s full of good stuff. Robert Jordan, the hero, in the part I just read was talking about living a full life in the now, in a moment. How one person’s few hours can be as packed as someone else’s whole life.” I stop. Kelly could explain it better. She gets it. She lives that way.

  Devon gives a small nod. “That’s cool.” He sounds very noncommittal. Maybe he hasn’t read it.

  Hunter finally strolls in. “I’m ready.”

  Devon turns to the door. “I don’t see a backpack.”

  “Damn!” Hunter sprints back out of the room.

  “Mouth!” I call after him.

  But he’s gone, back to his room to retrieve the backpack.

  I grab my Hemingway and my phone, which is buzzing, and answer it as I walk. “I’m on my way out the door, Tuck.”

  Today’s sure to be a long one. I hope to text Kelly, read my book, and maybe nap in my trailer in between blocking the next action sequence.

  “Have a good day on set, Andy.” Devon waits for Hunter to return.

  “Take care of my boys, Devon. And have fun sitting in traffic.”

  30: Snap Out of It

  WE ARE A MONTH OUT. It’s mid-January in LA, about sixty degrees, and I’m sweating. Partly because it’s warm, but mostly because today is the baby shower. Baby showers are all well and good when they’re someone else’s. But when it’s a shower for me and Hiccup, well, let’s just say I’m less than thrilled.

  “Where’s the Play-Doh?” Tessa rushes into the gigantic kitchen. Yes, she made good on her promise, and she swept into LA last night with bags and bags of stuff.

  It’s kind of silly. We don’t have a lot of family here. My mom, yes. She’ll be here today. But I don’t have any sisters. And Andrew’s sisters live back in Pennsylvania. And Mari, from New York—we’ve texted and talked on the phone, but she’s a grad student. There’s no way I’d expect her to come out here just for a baby shower.

  Now that we’re in LA, I hang out with my mom and dad, the boys, and Andrew when he’s not working. It’s nice to have family in town, because I haven’t really met anyone here. Our house, super Fortress of Solitude that it is, is in a development of similar fortresses. I think the next door neighbor is a rap producer. I’ve seen him backing out of his driveway twice. I take walks and mostly run into the guards at the gatehouse. I guess the whole point of our subdivision is seclusion.

  So, guess who’s coming to the shower? Sandy, Andrew’s publicist; Mallory, Andrew’s makeup artist; my mom; and Tessa. That’s about it.

  Tucker enters the kitchen. “Did you look in the living room with your other bags? I don’t think it’d be out here.” He’s been recruited into helping get ready for the shower.

  “Should I ask what the Play-Doh is for?” I sit at the kitchen island, following orders. I don’t disobey Tessa, not when she’s in this kind of mood. I’m not foolish.

  Tucker shakes his head. “No, you shouldn’t ask.”

  Baby showers seem to revolve around humiliating the mama-to-be. Predict how big she is with this piece of string! Find the goofiest or weirdest baby or new mama equipment! Take pictures of her ginormous belly for all posterity!

  I think it’s clear why I’m less than thrilled. I’m about a month out from my due date, and, yes, I’m huge. The Miss Softee soft serve ice cream cone look is just about complete. The added touch is that Hiccup likes to press out a foot or hand and distend my tummy in weird, alien-like ways. So, I’m an alien-infected soft serve ice cream cone. Even better.

  Tessa disappears into the other room, then shouts “Found it!” to no one in particular. Andrew rolls in with a glass of iced tea in hand. “Why don’t you go out by the pool? It’s nice out there.” He comes to me, gives my belly a rub, kisses me behind the ear, one of those spots that I love to have kissed.

  “Tessa’s having the shower out there in an hour. I’m not allowed.”

  “It’s a surprise baby shower? I think you already know you’re having a baby.” He sits next to me.

  “The decorations. She wants to surprise me. It’s an awful lot of effort for, like, six people.”

  He sits with me for a minute, sips his tea. “That’s Tessa. Indulge her.”

  “I am, which is why I’m in here.”

  He goes to the fridge, opens both doors at the same time. “What’s in here that’s good?”

  “Hey, Mr. Movie Star, you’re shooting a shirtless scene tomorrow, remember? Stay out of the corn dogs. They’re for the boys.”

  He rolls his eyes. “You’re no fun.”

  I smile sweetly at him. “Just trying to be helpful. You can have a slice of cake from the shower if you want.”

  “Oh, there’s not a cake. That’s so passé.” Tessa’
s back. “You ready to go to your shower?”

  I stand up. “I thought it was in an hour?”

  “Surprise! We’re ready for you now, Kelly Jo.”

  “Okay.”

  Andrew takes my hand, and we follow Tessa out into the backyard.

  It’s more than six people. It’s closer to thirty. Holy cow.

  “Surprise!” Everyone yells at once. People clap.

  I scan the crowd. Both of Andrew’s sisters are here. Several of Tessa’s friends, who by default are mostly my friends too, are here. And Mari from New York is here.

  “You got people to come! How’d you do that?” I give Tessa a big hug.

  “I’m pretty persuasive. And your husband-to-be helped fly some people out. Mari, for example.”

  I make a silent note to thank him. He was wary of her when we were in New York, but bless him for respecting the fact that I so desperately needed her as my friend when I was down and lonely.

  I see Mari walking toward us. “Hey! I’m so glad you could be here!” I tell her.

  She gives me a hug. “You’re so pregnant. How close?”

  “A month or so. Both my boys were overdue, so I’m not holding my breath yet.”

  “I have news too.” Mari smiles and holds up her phone. There’s a picture on it.

  “What’s this?” I take the phone from her. It’s a picture of a nondescript apartment building.

  “I’m moving out here! I signed a lease on this apartment today.”

  I’m surprised. I’d never have the guts to move across the country—use a plane ticket for a baby shower as the impetus to make a huge change like that. I give her a hug. “That’s huge news. Why? Are you done with design school already?”

  She shakes her head no. “I might defer for a semester, maybe a year.” She points to her shoulder. “Remember the tattoo?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Well, the guy—the guy that was the future person, not the past? I think it’s going to work out. I moved out here to be closer to him.”

  “Wow. He’s here now? That’s huge news, Mari. What about money?”

  “I might sell my car back in New York. And I’ve got student loan money still.” She waves her hand, dismissing the question.