Wish List

by Fern Michaels

  The newspapers described the day as glorious. The news anchors had a field day as Hollywood turned out to help one of their own. Ariel tried to set them straight and insisted it was simply good-hearted people helping other people in need, but the media ran with their lead: Hollywood helping their own. Eventually she gave up and pitched in. What did it matter as long as the job got done?

  By mid-afternoon there was a routine that was, as one actor put it, “as slick as a greased pig.” Ariel looked around in awe. How was it possible to just pitch in and do what had to be done with no squabbling about top billing, better accommodations, makeup and costume faults? She swigged from a can of cold Pepsi, saw an actor she’d worked with many times, and handed it over. He finished it at a gulp. “Thanks, Ariel, that was real good. Miss you, sweetie.” Then he was gone. She laughed out loud.

  “My God, was that Tom Hanks? Ariel, was it?” Dolly demanded.

  “That was a very nice man who said he missed me. I think he meant it. Do names really matter, Dolly?”

  “Jack Palance helped me drag my basket over to the truck. At least I think it was him. It sounded like him, but with that hat and his sunglasses, it was hard to tell and I got tongue-tied. Somebody said Heather Locklear is over there and she’s got on the cutest bib overalls I’ve ever seen. She broke all her fingernails and didn’t even get mad. That says a lot, Ariel.”

  “Yes, it does. Time to get back to work. I’m relieving Charlie Sheen. That guy needs to take a break. He’s been going non-stop. I promised to bring him a soda. His dad is working like a Trojan. It’s great, isn’t it, Dolly?”

  “Did anyone tell you Dolly Parton and Reba what’s-her-name are going to sing tonight if they don’t fall asleep?”

  “Nope, I didn’t hear that. Who rigged up the lighting?”

  “Those guys from Universal. There’s this grizzly old guy who’s the boss. He said he loves a skinny woman with long hair. I offered myself right then and there. He said he’ll see me at supper. Like we’re really going to have supper. Food wagons are going all day and into the night. No such thing as supper. Maybe I’ll take him a plate. Ariel, I picked 84 bushels of fruit. How many did you pick?”

  “I lost count. My back says it’s a lot. My arms are numb. See you later. Hey, have you seen Lex?”

  “A long time ago, maybe around noon. He was talking to the feds. The real ones. Then I saw him go off in his truck. I think he’s the one who organized the workers for the other ranches. It’s working, Ariel. It’s absolutely amazing how everyone just fell to and started to work The best part is no one is giving interviews to the press. This whole thing renews my faith in mankind.”

  “Yep—me, too.”

  It was one in the morning when Ariel, a hot dog in one hand, a soft drink in the other, gingerly lowered herself to the ground. “I don’t know if I have the strength to lift my arms to eat this,” she muttered to no one in particular.

  “Someone over by the cook wagon has a whole case of liniment. Got a tube in my pocket if you want some,” a voice drawled.

  “Clint! Gee, it’s nice to see you. You came all the way from Carmel?”

  “It’s not that far, Ariel. We miss you. You happy here?”

  “Yeah. Yeah, I am. I fought it at first, but yeah, I’m happy. I appreciate you coming, Clint. Hope I can return the favor someday.”

  “No need. You made my day.” He dropped a tube of ointment in her lap before he walked away.

  “This seat taken?”

  “Nope.” She was still holding the hot dog and soda can in the same upright position, unwilling to feel the pain she knew would follow if she tried to lower her arms.

  “How’s it going, Ariel?”

  “The truth?”

  “ Of course. You gonna eat that dog or just hold it like that?”

  “I can’t move my arms. I’m starving. I’ve never been this tired in my life, Sly.”

  A huge hand guided the hot dog toward her mouth. “Eat it and then I’ll rub your arms. You should work out more.”

  “I should do a lot of things. It was wonderful of you to come. All the ranchers appreciate it. They would have been wiped out without all of you. God, this is good. Want a bite?”

  “All those nitrates?” He took a huge bite and munched contentedly.

  “Do you think, Sly, if we had sixteen Rambos shooting the avocados off the trees, it would go faster?” Ariel asked wearily. “By the way, you’re lookin’ great.”

  “Same goes for you, kiddo. I heard about your operation. You should have given us a chance, Ariel, before you cut and ran. You of all people should know we take care of our own. We deserved a chance.”

  His voice sounds so sad, she thought. Her own sounded just as sad when she said, “My face was my life. I didn’t want pity. And I needed to lay some old demons to rest. I’m okay with it. I really am. I can truthfully say, this is the second most wonderful thing that’s ever happened to me.”

  “Atta girl, Ariel. If you ever need me, you know where to find me. This is a good thing you’re doing. None of us will ever forget it. Can I have the rest of that hot dog?” Ariel shoved it in his mouth. Then she held out the ointment.

  Fifteen minutes later she was back at work.

  By noon of the following day, the “Hollywood Warriors,” as the media referred to them, took a collective break for a hot meal. They were exhausted, weary to the bone, as they wolfed down the barbecued spareribs, T-bone steaks, and pan-fried potatoes. Iced tea and soda pop flowed like waterfalls.

  Ariel found herself leaning up against one of the trailers with a can of soda and a cigarette. She wondered how she was going to continue for another two days. She listened as one of the media announced their progress over a loudspeaker.

  “Ariel, are you okay?” Lex Sanders asked.

  “Tired, but okay. How about you?” He was dirty and unshaven, but the light in his eyes was for her and she knew it. She thought she’d never seen a more endearing face. She smiled. “I just heard that guy say the first five trucks are loaded and ready to go. How’s it going at the other ranches?”

  “Real good. There are some people here I’d like you to meet.” He motioned with his hand and six men, all as dirty and unshaven as Lex, advanced with their hands outstretched. “These are the ranchers I told you about. They want to thank you personally for getting all these people here to help us. The lot of us would have gone under without your help.”

  One by one the men introduced themselves and shook hands. Ariel looked at her own hands with dismay. They were dirty, with blisters and broken nails. She gamely held out her hand and did her best not to wince as they shook it.

  “Any news on Mr. Marino and the workers he pirated away? Are the feds here?” Ariel asked.

  “They were. Actually they were helping pick a short while ago. They have this van with a Fax and all kinds of fancy equipment. One man is inside taking care of business. Don’t know what happened to Navaro and Harry. I gave them a pretty accurate description and they were running a check. They’re long gone, Ariel.”

  “I feel so stupid. How could I have fallen for their story?”

  “The same way the rest of us did. We all thought we were dealing with a Chet Andrews mentality while in reality Marino was the guy pulling all the strings. So far, though, they can’t tie him to the hijackings.”

  “Did your collectibles get here, Lex?”

  “Yep. They’re inside the house. Tim transferred them to a pickup and threw a tarp over it. His brother drove it in sometime last night. He left your rig parked on the side of the road ten miles away. Stan sent someone to fetch it. Smart man, deserves a bonus.”

  “Oh, Lex, I’m so glad you got them. I was so worried.” She threw her arms around him and hugged him. “You smell,” she said, wrinkling her nose.

  “You don’t exactly smell like a wildflower yourself. When this is all over, let’s hit the hot tub together. Hell, I’ll even invite Snookie in.”

  “Really, Lex. That’s the nices
t thing anyone’s said to me in days.”

  “If you give me half a chance, I can say nice things to you till the end of time. Hey, isn’t that Charles Bronson over there?” His voice was full of awe.

  “Sure looks like him. He moves pretty good for a senior, doesn’t he? Bet this takes him back to the time he made that picture with all the watermelons.”

  “I saw that! Good movie. Time to get back to work, Ariel.”

  “Do I really smell, Lex?” she asked fretfully.

  “Uh-huh.”

  The hours crawled by. It was way past sundown when Ariel, Snookie at her side, reached for a glass of iced tea. She carried it over to the side of one of Able Body’s rigs and gingerly lowered herself to the ground. It was an effort to sip the iced tea, but her throat was so parched, she forced her aching arms to lift the drink to her lips. She set the glass down and motioned for Snookie to come closer. “I need to sleep for just a few minutes,” she whispered to the dog. “I know you can’t tell time, but do your best to wake me in thirty minutes.” She was asleep the moment the words were out of her mouth. Snookie circled the sleeping figure once, twice, and then a third time before she lowered her huge body to stand guard. Her ears stood at attention when three men stopped a foot away. She listened to the voices, her ears picking up the different tones. Reassured, her head dropped to her paws. Her eyes were bright and alert.

  “That’s Ariel Hart. I used to see her on the lot from time to time. They say she’s one nice lady. She always smiled at me or waved. I wouldn’t have missed this for anything, even if I have to work with you, Van Damme.”

  “I think we should think about making a movie together, Seagal.”

  “Count me in, gentlemen. How about I write the script? We’ll call it Rambo something or other, but Seagal, that ponytail has to go.”

  “No way! Call my agent.”

  “Mine, too,” Van Damme said.

  “Who gets top billing?”

  “We’ll do it in alphabetical order.”

  “Sounds good.”

  The three superstars offered a jaunty salute in Ariel’s direction. Snookie woofed softly.

  They moved off, three of Hollywood’s top box office draws, to do what they came to do—to help one of their own.

  When Ariel woke, the moon was high in the sky. She looked at her watch. Damn, she’d slept for five hours. So much for a thirty-minute catnap. The moment she stretched to wakefulness, Snookie was on all fours. “So, you aren’t perfect after all. I’ll have to see if I can teach you how to tell time. When this is all over. My toenails hurt, my earlobes hurt. I damn well hurt. Time to get to work. I don’t think I ever went to work at three-thirty in the morning.” She dropped her head as far as she could before she did a slow rotation to relax her neck muscles.

  On her way to the section of the grove where she was working, she met Lex, the back of his pickup full of crates of avocados. She waved. “Where have you been?” he yelled.

  “Getting a manicure!” Ariel yelled back, never breaking her stride.

  “Don’t forget we have a date with my hot tub.”

  She spun on her heels and headed back to the pickup. Lex stretched his head out the window. “Kiss me.” He did. “I liked that. Do it again.” He did. “How’d you like that?”

  “I can truthfully say I’ve never been kissed like that.”

  “Hrumph. You ain’t seen nothing, Lex Sanders. Wait till I’m cooking on all cylinders. I hope you’re up to it! Do I still smell?”

  “Uh-huh. Listen, I normally operate on all twelve cylinders. What nobody knows but me, and now you, is I have a reserve. You, lady, are the one who ain’t seen nothing yet!”

  Ariel laughed all the way back to the avocado grove. “You know, Snookie, I hope the anticipation doesn’t prove to be better than the actual event. I’m tingling. I don’t think I ever tingled before. Maybe I’m numb from all this work.” Snookie barked loudly, her tail swishing back and forth, “And then there’s you. I really gotta figure out what to do with you. How can I go to bed with a man. when you won’t let him get near me?”

  “I say you blindfold the damn dog,” a delightful voice purred.

  “Raquel! Is that the best advice you can come up with?”

  “Short of hanging her on a hook, it is. She looks like one of those dogs who wouldn’t think twice about going through fire or a plate glass window. I don’t have that problem,” she went on. “This is a good thing you’re doing, Ariel. I’m glad to be a part of it. Hey, there was some guy looking for you a couple of hours ago. He looked a little scummier than the rest of us—pot belly, needed a shave real bad. And, he smelled. See you—gotta get this basket over to the truck. When this is all behind us let’s do lunch.”

  “I’d like that.”

  Chet Andrews. Would he dare set foot on Lex’s property? Yes, she answered herself. He definitely would dare. What did it mean? She took a minute to look around. How could she ever find him in this crowd? For all she knew he might have her in his sights this very minute. She shivered.

  Ariel worked for another two hours before she paused for a coffee break. She watched the sun come up as she made small talk with two cameramen she’d worked with for years. She knew them well enough to ask after their families. “This is so wonderful, the way you all came out to help. I wish there was something I could do to show everyone how grateful I am.”

  “Since when does Hollywood need a thank you?” one of the men said.

  “They deserve some kind of recognition for what they’ve been doing. The word wonderful doesn’t quite cover it. You guys been taking pictures?”

  “We got some real good shots. We’ll make you up a video and send it on. Unless, of course, you’re planning on coming back, in which case we’ll show it to you on the big screen. It’ll go in some basement. You gotta record everything in this business. You never know when you’ll need it.”

  “Gee, suddenly it’s quiet. Where is everyone?” Ariel asked.

  “Getting ready to head out to the last grove. Most everyone is over by the cook tent getting fortified for the last fourteen hours. That’s how long Mr. Sanders said it would take to finish up. Somebody said there’s over 700 people here. That doesn’t count the media, who, by the way, have been working just as hard as the rest of us. We gotta get going. See you around, Ariel. Give me a couple of weeks to get the video ready.”

  “She ain’t got a couple of weeks,” a surly voice said. “She ain’t hardly got any time at all. Now ain’t that true, Miss Ugly Movie Star?” a voice hissed from the semi-darkness, a voice only Ariel heard.

  She didn’t think it was possible to have her blood run cold, but it did. “Mr. Andrews. No, that isn’t true at all. What are you doing here? What do you want?” She risked a glance to her left. The two cameramen were almost out of sight. There was no one around but her and Snookie. She licked at her dry lips.

  “This is all your fault, you bitch. Everything was going just fine till you showed up. I was set for life until you fucked things up. You ain’t gonna get away with it. My men have you and that dog in their sights. We’ll plug him in a heartbeat.”

  “Easy, Snookie. Stay,” Ariel said in what she hoped was a calming voice. “There are hundreds of people here. It’s over. The real FBI is here. They know all about Drew Marino. Whatever you’re planning now will only make it worse.”

  “It can’t get any worse, bitch! You and that Mex, you did this. It don’t matter no more. You’re gonna get yours, right now, right here. And then that Mex gets his.”

  Keep him talking. Think, Ariel. This isn’t a movie. He wants to kill you and Lex. He will kill you. She looked around to see if he was telling the truth about his backup. In the early morning light she thought she saw shadowy figures everywhere. Her hand went to Snookie’s collar. Did she dare risk the dog’s life? She moved to stand in front of the panting shepherd. Under her breath she whispered, “Find Lex and Dolly.”

  In the blink of an eye, Snookie was through the shrub
bery, an elusive streak of speed that confused the man in front of her. Her shoulders slumped. Where would he shoot her? In the chest, in the head, in the gut?

  “I’m just gonna pound you to a fucking pulp. I’m gonna smash up that movie star face of yours till there’s nothing left. I’m not gonna kill you—you’re gonna die on your own.”

  “Murder’s murder. It doesn’t matter how I die. They’ll lock you away for the rest of your life, maybe send you to the gas chamber.” For the life of her she couldn’t remember if the state of California had the death penalty.

  Andrews scoffed at her words.

  Ariel did her best to focus inwardly as she sought to bring Master Mitsu’s teachings to the forefront of her mind. Defense against multiple assailants. Pretend this is a movie, Ariel. You just stepped onto the set. Picture the page of the script, remember the lines you learned last night. Relax. Focus. Turn inward. Take the unorthodox “southpaw” stance. Depend on your right foot and hand. Remember, you have to be able to use both your left and right proficiently. Be cognizant of all your assailants’ positions. Focus. Shit!

  You can take this guy, Ariel. You’re in shape. He’s a tub of lard. Yeah, two hundred and fifty pounds of lard. I’m tired. My arms ache. My back hurts. He’s going to try and bearhug you. You counter with a left front kick to his groin, step back, grab his arm, and flip him to the ground with a twist of his body. Finish him off with a straight punch to the face. If he gets up, go for the groin and throat-chop him with your left and punch with your right. If he’s still moving, give him a side kick to his chest. Fini. Yeah, yeah, on the mats that’s the way it goes, not here.

  Ariel’s breathing was ragged. She needed to be calm, focused. From somewhere, the outer parameters, she sensed movement. Andrews’ men? Lex? Her friends? She saw stiff arms and huge hands, big as ham hocks. He was wiggling them, trying to terrorize her. She dropped down to a semi-crouch, her own arms loose, her stance secure. Focus, Ariel. Don’t take your eyes off him for a second. Snookie’s bark almost made her lose her stance. Focus, Snookie is okay. She’s bringing help.