by K. A. Tracy
“Thanks.” He fished a business card out of his wallet along with a small pencil Sam associated with playing miniature golf. He wrote his email address and another number on the back. “That’s my cell phone number. I always have it with me so if anything especially important or urgent comes up, call that number.”
“Thanks.”
Larson left to mingle as Joe came back, setting plates down on a small table next to the lounge. He pulled napkins from one leg pocket of his cargo pants and silverware from another.
They spent the next half-hour eating, people watching, and discussing the day’s story developments in more detail, including Rydell’s map being folded to the area where he died.
“So what does it all mean?” he asked.
“I’m not sure yet how it all ties together. And as much as I’d like it to be her on principle, why would Lena give a rat’s ass if she had a son come out of the woodwork or the son of her dead lover?”
“Look at her,” Joe pointed to where Lena was steering Ellen to another group of constituents, “she seems the more ambitious of the two. Desperately ambitious. Maybe she was afraid if the truth about her past came out, such as running off with an underage girl regardless of who was pregnant, it might reflect badly on Ellen. Or more to the point, Ellen would have to fire her. She would lose her position, her prestige, her power base, and her only claim to fame. People have killed for a lot less.”
Sam considered another possibility. “Or, while in Palm Springs looking up his birth mother he got involved with some unrelated scheme that got him killed, maybe something at the Crazy Girl.” Sam thought back to her conversation with Ellen. “Then again, maybe everything is connected because it was all part of why he came here and stayed here.”
“It just doesn’t make much sense.”
“As Sherlock Holmes said, ‘When you have eliminated the impossible, whatever remains, however improbable, must be the truth.’” Sam stood and stretched off a mild wave of fatigue. “I need to find a bathroom.”
“Me, too,” Joe also stood and neatly piled the dishes. “Time to go explore.”
Chapter Fifteen
They walked toward the set of open French doors behind the food tables. A sign posted on an easel pointed to the restroom, which was in the hallway just to the left. About a half-dozen people were already waiting in line, so they passed the time with Joe rhapsodizing about the artwork on the walls.
Sam wandered down to a door and peered in to see a large library furnished with plush chairs and pillowed divans, the walls covered floor-to-ceiling with bulging bookcases. One section of visibly old books was in a temperature-controlled case. Sam realized Ellen was more than an avid reader. She was a book collector, something none of the articles about her mentioned. She wondered how much else the woman had been able to keep private over the years.
Out of the corner of her eye Sam saw a familiar face walking past.
“Bonjour, René. Ça va?”
René recognized her and smiled. “Je suis bien. Et vous?”
“Bien. La nourriture était merveilleuse.”
René pointed toward what Sam assumed was the kitchen. “Vous aiment autre chose?”
“God, no,” Sam patted her stomach. “Je suis pleine. But, uhm,” she had to think of the words, “Excusez-moi, mon français n’est pas très bon. Je voudrais une ligne plus courte.”
René looked at the people waiting to use the guest bathroom. “Ah. Suivez-moi,” she whispered.
As they followed René past the others in line, Joe tapped Sam on the shoulder. “Impressive.”
“Oh, please. I know you’re fluent. My French sucks.”
René turned around. “Oh, Madame, you don’t suck. It is quite good, for an American.”
It intrigued Sam how the French always seemed to compliment you and insult you in the same breath.
René led them into a large den with a gleaming wooden floor. In the corner to the right of the door were a bookcase, divan, and floor lamp making for a cozy reading spot. The French doors along the right wall, which faced the yard and pool, were closed to prevent access by party guests. René pressed a button on the wall and the glass in the doors turned dark and opaque so people couldn’t see in, either.
“I want those doors,” Sam said.
Joe rolled his eyes. “You are such a gadget geek.”
Ahead of them in the right front corner was a teak wood bar with matching stools. The shelves behind the bar were lit from underneath, casting a pleasant glow on the extensive selection of spirits. René turned on the lamp positioned at the end of bar, adding to the room’s soft lighting. Next to the lamp was one of Ellen’s Academy Awards. In front of it was a Magic 8-Ball.
There was another set of French doors on the far wall leading out onto a balcony. The desert beyond was already turning dusky; being so close to the mountains meant early-falling evening shadows.
René walked over to a door in the back left corner of the room. “Voici la salle de bain,” then walked out with a big smile.
Sam told Joe he could go first and wandered around the room. She opened one of the doors leading to the balcony and walked out. There was nothing behind Ellen’s house except the foot of the mountains. About thirty yards out was a channel approximately fifteen feet wide that spanned her field of vision. Sam assumed it was an ephemeral stream—more commonly called a wash by desert residents. These streambeds only carried water during rainstorms as runoff flowed down from the mountains.
Joe stepped onto the balcony, “Your turn.” He looked out at the desert, painted orange and rose by the setting sun. “There was always something about deserts that kind of scared me. They seem so unforgiving.”
Sam left Joe to his primal fears and used the bathroom, furnished with a Jacuzzi tub, separate shower, private bathroom stall complete with bidet, and make-up vanity. Out of curiosity she turned on the bidet and jumped back when a powerful stream of water shot three feet out of the bowl. “Who’d need a pillow with one of these?” Sam muttered. Before leaving, she tried calling Larissa, but again there was no answer. When she came back into the den, Joe was playing with an elaborate remote control.
“What are you doing?”
He glanced up. “I’m looking for my favorite dance satellite station and making sure I don’t turn it on through the whole house.” With a harrumph of success, Joe found the channel. He moved to the middle of the room and held his arms out. “Come here, Sam. It’s been too long.”
“You’ve got to be kidding,” she groaned but dutifully walked over, unaware Ellen had come through the backyard gate and onto the balcony. Not wanting to interrupt and a little curious, she leaned against the railing and settled back to watch and listen while eating her plate of shrimp.
Joe and Sam danced and reminisced about nights spent bar-hopping and not getting home from Chicago until well after dawn. When the song finally ended, Joe dipped Sam almost to the ground. She squinted up at him. “If you drop me, you’re such dead meat.”
Laughing, he spun her around one last time then gave her bear hug. “We’ve still got it.”
Ellen walked in smiling. “You two should take your act on the road. You dance well together.”
“I made Sam enter a dance contest with me years ago when we were nineteen. I was going through my salsa phase,” Joe explained, “and she is still complaining about how much we rehearsed. But, of course, we won.”
“But, of course, the acid helped,” Sam deadpanned.
“I’m not always sure when you’re kidding or being serious,” Ellen admitted.
“When it comes to hallucinogenics, I rarely kid,” she sighed nostalgically.
Smiling, Ellen went behind the bar and plucked a bottle of Knob Creek from one of the shelves. “What would you like?” she asked Joe.
“To be nineteen again, but for now a vodka tonic would be great, please.”
Joe took a closer look of Ellen’s Academy Award. In front of it was a small folded card that read: Ask U
ncle Oscar. “This is too funny,” he said, picking up the Magic 8-Ball.
Ellen glanced up. “That’s my kids’ doing. I’m sure AMPAS would not be amused, but Luke and Annie find it entertaining.”
Joe shook the ball, “Okay, Uncle Oscar…will Ellen win the election?” He turned it over and read the bottom.
Without a doubt.
Joe raised an eyebrow and shook the ball again. “Are you sure about that?”
Yes—definitely.
“Could there be an upset and she lose by a vote?”
My reply is no.
He eyed the ball suspiciously.
Ellen smiled. “It is my Oscar, after all.”
“Will I stay in Chicago?”
Outlook not so good.
“Will it snow tomorrow?”
Don’t count on it.
“Will Phil Atkins stop wearing a comb-over?”
My sources say no.
“Will Sam ever find true love?”
You may rely on it.
“Finally!” Joe said. “A wrong answer.”
“Oh, fuck you.”
“Oooh,” he shook the ball vigorously, “will she?”
It’s highly unlikely.
“Would you put that down,” Sam said, reaching for it.
“Just one more,” Joe promised. “Will Sam know when she finds her true love?”
Better not tell you now.
Joe leaned over and whispered in Oscar’s ear so Ellen and Sam couldn’t hear. “Is the person in the room right now?”
It is certain.
He set the Magic 8-Ball down with careful reverence. “That thing is more than a little freaky. I wouldn’t be surprised if it started spewing pea soup green vomit and scream for Father Merrin.”
“Exorcist V: The Magic 8-Ball,” Sam said, imitating a movie trailer voice-over.
“Ask, at the risk of your soul,” Joe finished.
Ellen laughed. “My kids will love you two.” Because, she thought in amusement, it’s like having two more adolescents around.
Sam eyed Joe. “So, what was that last question?”
“Oh, nothing. But I’m so happy for you,” he pinched her cheek. She grabbed his thumb and bent it back, making him let go.
“Hey, watch the digits.”
Ellen walked around the bar with the other two drinks. She handed one to Sam and slid onto the stool next to her. They touched glasses. Sam also tapped the bar counter with her glass before taking a sip.
“You did that the other day, too,” Ellen observed.
“You always have to bless the bar,” Sam explained.
“I never heard of it until Sam, either,” Joe told Ellen. “Some weird Celtic pagan ritual, I’m sure.”
Ellen shrugged, “Who doesn’t like pagan?” and touched the bar counter before sipping. “So, is Kevin the name of your boyfriend?”
It took Sam a moment to realize Ellen was talking to her. “Mine? Nooo. Kevin is Joe’s freshly minted would-be life partner. And from the sounds of it, I think they’re way overdue for some quality time together.”
“I’m sure it’s no surprise to hear I was always much more interested in spying on the boys’ locker room than the girls’. And as for Sam, thank God she finally dumped her Aryan boyfiend Otto…”
“Jens.”
“…whatever. Now she’s living in emotionally unencumbered but lonely solitude.”
Sam rolled her eyes. “I’m not exactly Howard fucking Hughes.”
“True. You have much better hygiene.”
Ellen raised an eyebrow. “Aryan?”
“Jens was born in Germany, but he grew up here. He enjoyed going out and having a good time, but when it came to self-awareness and the world at large, he could be a bit…humorless.”
“Mmm hmm,” Joe muttered, “and Joseph Goebbels was a bit opinionated.”
“I can’t at all imagine you with somebody humorless.”
“Yeah, well, neither can I. Now.”
“So what was the attraction?”
Joe snickered and held the palms of his hands approximately eight inches apart.
Ellen smiled and clarified, “Emotionally speaking.”
“Thank you. I keep telling Joe size is overrated.”
He dismissed the notion out of hand. “You’d think differently if you were a man.”
“Only because then I’d be thinking with my dick instead of my brain.”
“Mee-ow!” he snapped and they all laughed.
“Anyway, the primary attraction with Jens was that he pursued me,” Sam admitted with a self-conscious laugh. “And he did have an amazing body. Of course, at the time I didn’t realize it was borne out of an equally amazing level of self-absorption. But in the beginning it was a lot of fun and just so carnal. I’d never had a relationship quite like that before, not that I had much to compare it against.”
“She was a virgin until twenty-two,” Joe announced. Sam shot him an annoyed look. He shrugged, unconcerned. “Well, you were.”
“Why don’t you just broadcast it over the house intercom system?”
Joe studied the remote. “Is there a microphone attachment?”
“Play nice,” Ellen intervened mildly, amused at their sibling-like squabbling. “A lot of people prefer to wait until they’re older,” she said to Joe then admitted to Sam, “although it does surprise me you did.”
“Why?”
“You come across as a very sensual person and in my experience sensual people tend to have robust libidos.”
“I did, but in high school and college it just seemed more efficient and less complicated to take care of myself…myself.”
“You’re awfully forthcoming,” Ellen commented.
She shrugged. “I spend my professional life asking people questions so it’d be kind of hypocritical not to answer some on occasion.”
“Sam’s life is an open book,” Joe explained. “The chapter on her relationships however, is exceedingly short and sad.”
“So true,” Sam agreed.
“Why?” Ellen asked.
“I never really dated. The whole notion of getting-to-know-you dating gives me hives. If I was horny enough and buzzed enough I’d go home with someone I met at a club or party, but once it was over I got the hell out as fast as I could.”
“You must have broken a few hearts,” Ellen observed.
“Me?” Sam snorted dismissively. “The only heart I broke was my own.”
“Day-after remorse?”
“Always. I never felt anything in here,” she tapped her chest, “so it just left me empty. It was like having an itch you could never quite reach.”
“Maybe you should have found a woman to scratch it,” Joe suggested pointedly. To his surprise, Sam simply shrugged.
“Yeah, well…I didn’t know any who’d want to.”
“You certainly didn’t look very hard, then,” Ellen commented.
Sam had no idea how to respond, so she didn’t.
Ellen found her shyness very appealing. “You must have felt very relieved when Jens came along.”
“That’s exactly what I felt. He was the first person I spent the entire night with. We were friends first, so I was comfortable with him.”
“That was the beginning of her nympho phase,” Joe said.
“Let’s just say I made up for lost time with a vengeance.”
“Maybe sexually,” Ellen observed, “but you still weren’t in love.”
Sam met her gaze, aware she might have met her observational match. “You’re good, too.”
“I also have my moments.”
Joe felt as if he were suddenly eavesdropping and was loving every moment. Sam turned to lean back against the bar, her leg settling against Ellen’s. “For a while I wanted to think I was in love. But even at our closest, I was always aware something fundamental was missing. So as time went on the sex began to feel like glorified mutual masturbation and eventually I avoided it altogether. So ironic considering how the relation
ship began.”
“Why did you stay?”
“I’m not big on change. Rather than make the effort to extricate myself, we started living very separate lives, and I delved into sixteen-hour work days. When he finally moved out it was all rather anti-climactic.”
“And you haven’t been involved since?”
“She won’t even look,” Joe complained.
“I just don’t think you can force it. If it happens, it happens.”
“Trust me,” Ellen predicted with a soft smile, her eyes an inviting warm, blue bath, “when you least expect it someone will walk into your life and change absolutely everything,”
“Maybe so,” Sam said, drawn in by her gaze. “Anyway, thank you for inviting us tonight. Cheers.”
“Thank you for being here.” They all touched glasses, then the bar. “You two are lucky to have each other as friends.”
“Yes, we are,” Joe agreed, “especially since nobody else wants us.”
“Well, consider yourself wanted here.”
“Be careful,” Sam warned, “You might never get rid of us.”
“Maybe that’s the plan,” Ellen smiled, tapping her boot against Sam’s.
Between the company and the bourbon, Sam felt unusually content. She gestured towards the pool area. “Looks like there’s still quite a party going on out there.”
“I hope so. I wanted people to relax after doing business, myself included.”
“So that’s why you’re hiding out in here?”
“Partly. I need time where I don’t have to be in candidate mode. It’s so nice to talk about something other than politics and to have great company.” Ellen absently brushed her hair back, leaving it sexily tousled. “How long have you known each other?”
“Since high school.”
“You two must have been a handful together in class.”
“They pretty much kept us on opposite sides of the room,” Sam recalled, “especially after we discovered a mutual love of Tennessee Williams.”
“Mendacity!” they said in unison.
Joe pulled up the third stool and explained, “Big Daddy was my favorite Burl Ives role of all time.”
“Personally, I was always partial to Sam the Snowman in Rudolph,” Ellen smiled.