by Julia Dumont
“I know I like her,” said Donald a bit too enthusiastically
Adriana raised an eyebrow.
“Oh, for Christ’s sake, I like her for my little brother,” he said.
“Well,” said Seamus, “she asked me to come see her in her dress rehearsal tonight. Is that too creepy? Going to see her in a play about porn and then asking her out? This question is directed at Adriana, Donald. We already know you’re too creepy.”
“Very funny,” said Donald.
Adriana laughed. “Maybe you should ask her before you see it.”
“Good point,” said Donald. “Plus, after the play there’ll probably be a line a mile long of horny theater geeks wanting to beat you to it. And by ‘it’ I mean…”
“Okay, Donald…another good point,” murmured Seamus, staring past his brother and his girl at nothing.
But then all of a sudden, something was in his line of vision. Well, three things: an Irish wolfhound, a Great Dane, and a Chihuahua wearing a bowtie.
The three dogs were sitting at attention, as if they’d been there for a while, staring straight at Seamus, growling softly, locked in eye contact. They occupied a spot on the café floor that was positively canine-free moments before. They knew that Lolita had a thing for Seamus and they were not at all happy about it. They liked Max…the man that is. He was really the first man in Lolita’s life who they all agreed on. This was their preemptive way of scaring Seamus out of the running with her. They had no idea that he was clueless as to what point their appearance there was supposed to be making. Nor that he wasn’t even interested in Lolita to begin with.
“Bloody hell,” said Seamus, pointing with a trembling finger. “Where the fuck did they come from?”
Donald and Adriana turned around.
“Who?” they asked together.
Seamus gasped. The dogs were gone.
He got up from his bar stool and moved toward the spot to get a closer look. As if being closer would change anything.
“Jesus, Mary, and Casper the Friendly Ghost,” he murmured.
“Donald,” whispered Adriana out the side of her mouth, “what’s little brother babbling about?”
“Damned if I know,” he replied. “He does have an artistic temperament.”
Seamus turned around. He’d already made the decision not to try to describe the vision he’d just beheld.
“You know what? I’m tired,” he said, returning to the bar. He poured himself a bit more Jameson’s. “I’ve had a long day. It’s four in the mornin’ to me.”
“Yeah, you’re right,” said the older brother. “Why don’t you hit the hay? I mean the couch. We’ll be up in a bit.”
“I believe I’ll take you up on that,” said Seamus, grabbing his suitcase from the corner and waking up Samuel Beckett who had been asleep behind the bar for hours. “The more I think about it, there’s no way on Earth I’ll make it to that play tonight. Too bushed. I’ll have to see it after it opens.”
“But there’s nudity, for Christ’s sake,” said Donald, incredulous. “I’m sorry, Adriana, but come on.”
“Nah,” said Seamus, “I’m zonked. I’ll come back for the dog kennel later.”
“Don’t bother,” said Donald. “I’ll stick it in the back room down here. There’s not a whip of storage upstairs.”
“Good night, all,” said Seamus hugging them both and stepping out onto the busy Franklin Avenue sidewalk. He turned left, heading toward the side door entrance to the upstairs apartment and crashed into a pedestrian.
It was Paloma.
“Jesus, I’m sorry,” said Seamus, amazed to see her again so soon.
“You can call me Paloma,” she smiled.
“Well,” he said, crossing himself and dipping slightly in a partial genuflection, “meeting you was a religious experience.”
“Right,” she replied. “So this is the famous blarney I’ve heard so much about.”
“If only I had a stack of bibles on me,” he said, “I’d prove you wrong.”
“Yeah, well, I’ve gotta get going. I’m on my way to the theater. Are you coming tonight?”
Her beauty hypnotized Seamus. He instantly changed his mind. How could he have even considered not going?
“I wouldn’t miss it for the world. Two things, though. One…when and where the hell is it? And two…what and where are we going afterwards?”
“You do not waste any time,” she said, smiling and thinking about how Cynthia would be disappointed if Seamus weren’t involved in Operation Radcliffe.
“Life is short,” he said. “Plus, I wager after tonight, every Tom, Dick, and lots of other Dicks will be knocking on your stage door.”
Paloma blushed and looked down at her feet.
Seamus wondered if he’d gotten too vulgar with that last dumb quip. Donald’s influence, he thought.
“Umm …” he said, touching her shoulder, “sorry about that.”
But she looked up, touched one of his cheeks with her hand and kissed the other. She pulled a piece of scrap paper out of her wallet and wrote down the address of the theater. “Eight o’clock curtain. I’ll put you on the list. See you after the show,” she said, heading toward her car.
Seamus smiled. He felt welcomed in this new world. Los Angeles had such a horrible reputation in Ireland. Telling people you were moving there was tantamount to saying you were relocating to Hell, or at least Purgatory. But so far he’d found it to be delightful. He watched her disappear around the corner and then looked down at the card.
The Hollywood Theater
Make Hay Productions
1146 North McAdden Place
Hollywood, California
He would go upstairs, throw some water in his face, grab a quick snack, and head out. As he turned toward the building’s entrance, he looked back down at the scrap of paper, turning it over in his hand.
The word “Jack” was written on it five times and each “Jack” had a heart drawn around it. He closed his eyes and shook his head. “Who the hell is Jack? Jesus, Mary, and fuck my life,” he said out loud as he climbed the stairs.
Chapter 15
WEDNESDAY 8:15 PM
“King! Max! Wilfredo! Come!” yelled and screamed Lolita and Max from the pink Vespa they had shared once before under much happier circumstances. They crisscrossed Beverly Hills_____up Canon, across Carmelita, down Roxbury, over to Rodeo via Brighton Way, then past her dog grooming shop, and on and on around the neighborhood. This time Max was driving, so that Lolita could keep a closer look out for her babies. “King!! Come here!! Max! Wilfredooooo!”
“Oh, Max,” she sighed, pressing her forehead against his back, “if I don’t find them, I swear, I can’t go on.”
“Don’t worry, baby,” he said over his shoulder, in a tender tone that Lolita was truly touched by, “we’ll find them. I promise.” He sounded all the world like a normal, concerned, dedicated boyfriend.
She hugged him harder around his waist.
He was shocked by how much he liked it.
Chapter 16
WEDNESDAY 10:30 PM
Seamus got to the tiny theater a little bit late. As he approached the box office, he reached for his wallet, only to find that the four hundred-odd American dollars that had been in there had vanished.
“What the bloody hell?” he said.
“Excuse me?” asked the seriously pierced-face ticket seller, who had been deeply engrossed in a biography of Antonin Artaud. “What did you just say to me?”
“No,” said Seamus. “I wasn’t talking to you. My money seems to have evaporated. I must have left it back at the place.” He reached around in his pockets, pulling out a few mangled bills. “How much is it?”
“It’s free,” said the gloomy Artaud lover. “This is just a dress rehearsal. But you have to be on the list.”
“Oh,” said Seamus. “Right, I knew that. Okay, well I’m Seamus O’Connor.”
The kid scanned down a list on a yellow legal pad. “Nope, sorr
y.”
Even upside down, Seamus could see his name as plain as day.
“That’s me, right there,” he said, reaching through the window and pointing to his name.
“Oh, okay, whatever,” said the kid. “Halle-fucking-lujah.
Unfortunately, the play had already started and the usher wouldn’t let him enter until intermission. But Seamus persisted. The guy got the house manager and she was also adamant about enforcing the rule, until Seamus poured on the charm. She was a sucker for the brogue anyway, but then she found out he had a dog named for her favorite playwright. And then Seamus started actually quoting Beckett. First, a play on one of his titles: Instead of “I Can’t Go On, I’ll Go On,” he said, “I Can’t Go In, I’ll Go In,” which immediately made her laugh. Then, “There is something…more important in life than punctuality, and that is decorum.” The title and quote were so ridiculously appropriate for the occasion, she immediately dug a flashlight out of the box office drawer and escorted him to the middle of the front row.
There were young men made up to look middle-aged on stage holding movie cameras, just finishing a musical number that ended with the line…
”And that’s why we love sex!”
…at the top of their lungs, with every bit as much Broadway bravura as one would expect from, “No, no, no, no way I’m livin’ without you!” or “Hooray for Hollywood!”
The stage went black and the thirty-odd people in the audience clapped enthusiastically. A pin spotlight popped on, illuminating the tiniest patch of flesh dead center stage, about five feet away from Seamus. A naked body was moving in slow motion, the spot traveling with it, showing off new body parts, slowly, seductively, like a striptease in which darkness is removed instead of clothing. At first he wasn’t even sure if this were female flesh, but then_____oh, yes, bingo_____it was. The next little mystery was whether or not this was Paloma. He, of course, hoped it was.
And it was.
The spot widened to reveal her and she launched into a ballad relating the young porn star’s backstory:
I knew when I was very young,
That acting was my game,
I learned my lines and hit my mark,
From Tulsa to Tulane.
As she continued, Paloma walked down a small staircase and stopped right in front of Seamus.
I traveled west to L.A. town,
Real life is so complex,
I finally got my Shakespeare down,
But all they want is sex.
Sure, the lyrics were silly. In fact, Seamus completely missed the next verse. He was enchanted. And not because a beautiful coffee-brown naked woman was dancing so close he could count the goose bumps on her nipples. Or because she had a lovely voice and tremendous poise and presence. Or because the song seemed to be based on an Irish or Scottish folk melody that he could not quite put his finger on. Or even because he thought he might be falling in love with her. No, this was it: he wanted to write something for her. He could see her becoming a star.
She moved to the other side and climbed another set of stairs, heading for center stage again.
So ring around the casting couch,
And ready on the set,
I swear that there will come a day,
I haven’t seen as yet.
That when my agent calls me,
To inform me of my luck,
The role that I have landed won’t,
Require a flying fuck!
As she sang that last line, she took two quick steps, and leaped, doing a cartwheel, a handspring, and a flip. Just then, a spotlight illuminated an actor, lying on his back on a high platform bed, and Paloma landed, straddling him in the classic woman-on-top position, her hands high in V-for victory position, both of them screaming, “YES!” in unison, to thunderous applause. Well, as thunderous as thirty people can get.
The only person in the audience not clapping was Seamus. He was dumbstruck. Aside from the fact that he was immediately jealous of the actor beneath her at the moment, he could not believe his good fortune. Paloma was beautiful, smart, talented, and a goddamn gymnast, for god’s sake. “God bless the United States of America,” he said out loud, causing the applause to swell again
Chapter 17
THURSDAY 3:34 AM
Cynthia had worked long into the night planning Operation Radcliffe. She had already contacted Will Grover, her set decorator friend. He had agreed to add a few touches to the yacht to convey a bit of mood and ambience, even though Cynthia had the feeling it had plenty of that in its natural state. She had connected Will with the ship’s captain and they were meeting on the dock in Long Beach first thing in the morning. She had composed an email to all the possible participants and then personalized it for each of them. For instance:
Hi Antonio-
I hope this finds you well. I have been carefully developing a list of possible dates for you and will get it to you next week.
But I am writing about something else.
I am putting together an event for a wealthy client. This will be a two-day party (short notice, this Saturday and Sunday) and will take place mostly upon a luxury yacht. Participants will drink, dine, and socialize with the hostess and at least eleven other attractive, intelligent, fascinating men and women. Good conversation and much, much more.
She has authorized me to invite anyone who I believe would be a good fit and I believe you would. There are twice as many invitees as spaces, so, if you are interested,
RSVP ASAP. OK?
Best,
Cynthia
P.S. If you at all are prone to seasickness, you should probably respectfully decline or BYOD (bring your own Dramamine).
She sent twenty-five emails in all, including to Seamus, and then looked at the time. It was late. Time for bed. She would get up early to check for responses.
But then her phone rang.
“Hello, Mom. How’s it going over there?”
“You won’t believe what happened, Cindy.”
“Oh, I think I would.”
“Dominic and I were eating dinner with his mother and a couple of his siblings and some cousins…a very large group. There were some other women there who came in together…they ranged from early twenties to older than me. Five in all.”
“Let me guess, ex-girlfriends?”
“Well, yes. But that wasn’t the surprising thing. The conversation went from topic to topic…at first just a lot of bragging about Sicily…the history, like the Greek period, the Byzantine period…up until the unification with Italy. It really is fascinating. Dominic was translating for everyone.”
“Mom, it’s like four in the morning here. I really need to get some sleep.”
“I know, Cindy, I know, but then his mother started talking about what he was like when he was a kid. And then one of the women, a big fat huge one, said that she was in the same grade as he was. And that she was his girlfriend when he was a teenager. And then somehow it came out that she had gotten pregnant.”
“Oh, God.”
“And then another one said the same thing.”
“Oh, God again.”
“He had gotten four of those five women pregnant. The fifth one was one of his children. And she has a child. His grandchild!”
“Oh, Mom. Look. Calm down. Get on a plane and come back here by yourself!”
“I can’t, Cindy! We’re leaving in two days for Venice!”
“What?!” Cynthia was now lying on her back on the couch, holding the phone with one hand and covering her face with the other.
“I’ve never seen Venice!” shrieked her mother.
“Mom!”
“Cindy, I’ve already decided!”
“Well then why did you even call me?!” Cynthia couldn’t take much more of this.
“We’re going to Venice and then we’ll see about the rest.”
“Mom, what’s there to see about? You are married to a serial liar and philanderer! We now know more than we did before, but I’ve always known
he was a bad bet for marriage!”
“Well, if you knew that, why didn’t you tell me?!”
Cynthia was afraid her head might explode. She sat straight up again.
“Mom, all I can recommend is that you get on a plane by yourself and come home. You can stay with me if you want. Get the hell away from Dominic Orlando!”
“But Dominic didn’t even know about all these pregnancies. He was as shocked as I was. He’s not even sure the seven kids are all his!”
“Seven?”
“Yes, but a couple of them don’t even look like him. There’s definitely some hanky-panky going on around here.”
“Oh, you think? Mom, come home. Please. Come. Home.”
“Why do you want to keep me from seeing Venice?”
“Mom.”
“Okay, okay. But one more thing. I’ve been thinking about it. I actually want a grandchild. And I don’t see me getting one out of you. So…”
“What?”
“Don’t you want a little sister?” “Mom, she wouldn’t be my sister! Do I even have to explain that to you?”
“Okay, now you’re making fun of me.”
“Mom, no. I just need to go to bed. I’ll call you back.”
Cynthia hung up and fell onto her back on the couch again. She was incredibly tired. It almost felt like she had dreamt the entire conversation.
She imagined entire boatloads of Orlando kids and grandkids crossing the Atlantic in a giant fleet. They all looked exactly like their father or grandfather, little carbon copies of Dominic, and they were all calling her “Big Sister Cynthia,” in strong Sicilian accents. Somewhere in there she had, of course, fallen asleep.
Chapter 18
FRIDAY 10 AM
The light streamed in through a whole different hotel window, casting a shadow of palm fronds and Venetian blind slats on the opposite wall.
Seamus opened one eye to the miniature mountain-landscape-like view of tousled off-white sheets, comforter, and the loveliest ass he had ever seen. The post-show dinner and drinks with Paloma had gone well. Very well. He could not bring himself to invite himself to her place and was not about to offer half of his brother’s couch to her, so they ended up in a nearby hotel, the Sunset Marquis.