Unlocking the door, Elliot ushered Sean in and turned on the lights. Three round wooden tables, each surrounded by six chairs, commanded the middle of the room. Two computers, one against the wall on the left and the other against the right wall, sat on square laminated tables, each a few feet away from metal framed bookshelves lining a portion of each wall. One shelf contained a full row of books, others held just a few, while some remained empty.
“We know what they do at home,” Elliot said. “They sit on their butts and play video games.” Walking toward the center of the room, he looked around for a moment before turning back toward Sean. “But nothing like that here. What we try to do is introduce them to the wonderful world of their dreams. Video games don’t get them to think about life and their role in it, but books do. They stimulate their dormant imaginations, and without that, whatever potential they have as people is ultimately stifled and unrealized.”
Sean nodded, trying to remember the last book he read in its entirety.
Elliot pointed upward, moving his hand across the width of the ceiling at the row of lights hanging like yo-yos.
“Marty did a beautiful job installing the lights.”
“Martin did this?” Sean asked, scanning the sleek, symmetrical overhead design. As his eyes moved down to a corner of the wall, he pointed to the initials of a sticker on the faceplate switch. “Is he the Boyd on that ‘Boyd’s Electronics’ label?”
“Yes, that’s his last name.”
“I’ve seen trucks with that B-shaped plug design before.”
“His company services all of LA and Orange County, so that’s very possible. I keep telling him with his resemblance to Pierce Brosnan, he should put his handsome face on the truck instead.”
“I could use some work at my house.” Sean said.
“Even film companies use him now,” Elliot told him, holding the door open as they headed outside. “Long days and late nights sometimes, but the money’s good.”
Arriving at the main entrance to the center, they walked down the tan colored tile hallway until arriving at a small, eggnog colored room housing a piano in the center and two acoustic guitars leaning against the wall. To the left of the piano, five chairs with a music stand for each completed the required assemblage.
“This is where you’ll practice with the kids,” he told him, extending his hand toward the room. “As we discussed before, I need you here on Monday, Wednesday, and Friday, from five to seven fifteen, forty-five minutes with each child.”
As they headed toward the section of the building housing the office and conference rooms, Elliot explained how the school and directional center worked in harmony, each benefiting the child and families in an effectual, even synergistic, manner.
“Dysfunctional families come in all varieties,” he said, “and these kids are victims of that dysfunction. The physical and emotional--”
“Excuse me, Elliot? Elliot?”
A dark-haired man wearing a long-sleeved black-and-red-flannel shirt with dark gray cargo pants appeared from one of the rooms without prior notice. He seemed to be a few years younger than Sean but taller by two or three inches and a good twenty pounds heavier. His face, with a nose that widened at the bottom like a bell, had an approximate two-day stubble, and his brown eyes resided in thin, cashew-shaped sockets. Although he kept his hair short, tight curls covered his scalp with wisps of liberated strands sticking up for their independence. He glanced at Sean, nodded in acknowledgment, and turned his attention to Elliot. “Sorry to interrupt,” he said, “but I want to remind you that you’ll only have me until eight o’clock. I’ve got that ritzy party I’m performing at.”
“Which is why I want you here right from the start at six-thirty,” Elliot told him. “You’ll stroll among the guests and do your thing as they’re arriving and eating their appetizers. But remember, ignore the people looking at the silent auction items. I need their complete attention.”
“Six-thirty to eight is perfect,” he said. “I can’t be late. The woman who’s hosting the party is offering me a very nice payday.”
“Sean,” Elliot said, “I’d like you to meet Amazing Stan the Magic Man. He’ll be providing some entertainment for the fundraiser.”
“Please,” Stan said, extending his hand, “just call me Stan.”
In an instant, Sean’s alarm bell focus intensified. “I’ve heard about you, Stan,” Sean told him, losing his hand within the man’s oversized grip. “Sean Hightower. Nice to finally meet you.”
The announcement of Sean’s name appeared to startle the man. He shook his head for a brief moment, as if attempting to comprehend the echo of the name. “You’re Sean Hightower?” he asked.
Sean felt a sudden irritability at the probability of another comment about “Looking Glass.” But the abrupt transformation on Stan’s face from contentment to seriousness proved his expectation untrue.
“Merissa and I often worked together on projects,” Stan told him. He gazed at the ground for a moment before raising his head and flashing a small smile, looking at Sean with a resigned expression. “I just want to tell you she was a very lovely lady. A great person that I was honored to call my friend.”
A few moments of silence followed as Sean attempted to regain his bearings. Stan’s admission shot forth from the realm of the unexpected and his emotions teetered between sadness and gratitude. Elliot placed his arm around Sean’s shoulder. “Let me introduce you to my staff,” he said, attempting to nudge him forward. “Looking forward to Saturday, Stan.”
Sean held his ground. “That was very nice of you to say.” Extending his hand again, he said, “Thank you.”
Stan smiled. “Of course,” he replied.
“You came to one of Merissa’s poker nights a few months back. I got back after you already left, but Amazing Stan the Magic Man was all anyone talked about. They were all pumped up about showing me the card tricks you taught them.”
“It was really no big deal,” he told him. “Merissa left her scarf here and I offered to bring it to her house on my way to a party I did that night.”
Curling his right hand downward so that his fingers closed in toward his palm, Stan flicked his wrist upward and produced a card from seemingly out of nowhere, held between his thumb and forefinger.
“My card,” he said, handing it over. “Here at the center, I’m just another guy helping out, but for those cynical disbelievers out there, I’m Amazing Stan the Magic Man.”
Sean studied Stan’s business card, impressed by the listing of LA’s most renowned venue for magic, The Magic Castle, as his work place. In smaller letters, the card showed his other services for conventions, parties, and private lessons.
“I never know if he’s coming or going,” Elliot said. “Stan must keep an entire show’s worth of stuff in his desk drawers. I wouldn’t be surprised if he has a spare set of clothes stashed away somewhere.”
Stan laughed. “Give me time, Elliot.” Returning his attention to Sean, he continued. “I often go to shows from here. Elliot’s kind enough to let me keep work materials in my desk for those times when I get a last-minute call, which happens often.” He chuckled. “Believe me, what I did at Merissa’s house that night was from a beginner’s class, but they still got excited over it.”
***
Sean tucked the card in his pocket as they walked away. “The Magic Castle, huh? Those guys are incredible.”
“That’s where I first met him,” Elliot said. “When he found out about the Center, he asked to come visit, and not long after that he volunteered to help. Now he’s a part-time employee. We have a running joke about using his magic to make more donors appear.”
Walking through the main entrance, Sean noticed a large cardboard poster on the right-side wall with a rectangular plaque above it that read, “Places We Go.” Peering through the glass casing, he saw various ticket stubs taped at differing angles. Most of them showed movie theater designations, but he also spotted a couple for Magic Mountain,
one for Universal Studios, three for a concert featuring a Latino singer he didn’t know, and a few Dodger and Galaxy stubs. In an instant, a sudden dagger-like attention getter, isolated near the upper right corner, caught his eye. He gazed at the full, unused ticket next to another similar one with only the stub remaining. Staring in silence, his thoughts transported him onto a battleground between past and present.
“At the beginning of each year we remove everything and start fresh,” Elliot explained. “For most of these kids, a day trip anywhere is new and exciting, so we like to highlight their memories. Even teachers participate, as long as it’s something the kids can relate to and not some vacation out of town.”
“Are those your Laker tickets you told me about?” Sean asked, his voice rendered closer to a whisper. “April eleventh?”
Elliot stared at Sean before staring through the casing for several long moments. When he finally answered, his voice sounded equally hushed. “Jesus,” he said, “I’m sorry, Sean. What was I thinking?” He moved forward, his face now a few inches from the glass. “A lot of these kids know Martin because he helps out here in his free time. When they found out he went to a Lakers game, that was something really special to them. They insisted I put his ticket up there. I included mine to show them what a full ticket looks like. Kind of a before-and-after thing.” Grasping the corner of the glass, he adjusted the angle a slight amount, correcting the slightly skewed position from before. Turning back, his eyes narrowed in a pained look of apparent embarrassment. “I guess I was thinking more about them than anything else.”
Sean nodded several times, continuing to look at the Laker tickets. “Makes sense,” he said. Patting Elliot’s shoulder, he walked away.
After introducing Sean to his office staff, Elliot said goodbye to Sean, reiterating the practice days and times for the singers as he departed. Nearing his car, Sean recognized a woman in a ponytail and baseball cap standing in front of her open trunk with a large trash bag tucked under her right arm.
“Jenny, right?” he said, approaching her. “You’re Kayleigh’s aunt. I met you at my house, remember? I’m Sean Hightower, her neighbor.”
Jenny’s eyes widened. “Yes, of course.” Adjusting the bag to her left arm, Jenny extended her right hand. “Wow, what a coincidence.” She stared and smiled for several moments. “I’m moving into a new apartment and getting rid of things I don’t use anymore. Are you here for the Donation Depot, too?”
“No, not for that,” he answered. “They’ve got a fundraising event on Saturday and the director asked me to help some kids who are going to sing.”
“That’s very nice of you, Sean. Elliot must be so happy that you volunteered.”
“How do you know Elliot?”
“I’ve dropped off items here before,” she said. “That’s where I met him. He introduced himself and thanked me for the donations. He’s very passionate about the Center, and I admire him a lot for that.” She gestured with her chin toward Sean. “I knew about the fundraiser, but I didn’t know you’d be part of the entertainment.”
Rolling his eyes, he smiled and shook his head. “After it’s over, I don’t know how many people will think they’ve been entertained. I’m not expecting much.” He spotted a sealed box in her trunk. “Need help with that one?”
“Oh, that’s heavy, so yes, please! There’s an old CD player and receiver in there.”
Jenny closed the trunk and they headed toward the shop.
“I guess you heard about the event from Stephanie?” Sean asked. “Or Kayleigh?”
An unusual amount of silence followed his question before Jenny answered. “No,” she said. “They didn’t say anything to me. Did you tell them recently?”
“To make a long story short, Elliot met Kayleigh when she was selling lemonade a little while ago and invited the whole family.” He uttered a sarcastic laugh. “I think Kayleigh has it in her head that she’s going to a rock concert. She’s in for a big disappointment.”
Jenny opened the door with her free hand, and Sean walked in first, easing the box on the counter. They stood and waited while a sweet-looking, gray-haired woman attended to someone else, writing the donated items on a sheet of paper. As Sean glanced at the thank you notes on the wall, Jenny reached over and placed her hand on his elbow.
“When you came up to me in the parking lot, do you recall that I mentioned what a coincidence it was?”
“Yeah, I remember.”
Jenny's lips tightened as she stared into his eyes, seeming to hesitate before speaking. “When he found out you were living next door to Stephanie, and that we had met, he asked me not to tell you how long I’ve known him.” Looking away for a moment, she stroked her ponytail and adjusted her cap. “But we had lunch together only yesterday, so this is too crazy.”
Sean’s eyes narrowed, his mind a combination of confusion and curiosity. “You’ve got the advantage here, Jenny. I don’t know who you’re talking about.”
She snickered before responding. “I know I have to answer you, but promise not to say anything, okay? What’s silly is that it’s no big deal at all.”
Sean spread his hands, palm side up. “And this mystery man is?”
“Adam,” she exclaimed. “Adam McBride!”
Sean reared back, tilting his head and staring at Jenny. “You know Adam?” he asked. “Saint Adam McBride?”
Jenny’s eyes and mouth opened wide. “Saint Adam McBride?” She laughed aloud. “Is that what you call him? That’s hysterical!”
The gray-haired woman approached them. After Jenny described the various items, the woman told them she needed to categorize everything with her assistant in the back before writing a receipt. Sean carried the box and Jenny the trash bag into a small room behind a curtain before returning to the front of the store to wait and continue their conversation.
“Adam and I went to high school together,” she explained. “Birmingham High in Van Nuys. I first saw him at our ten-year reunion, but it wasn’t until our twentieth that we exchanged email addresses. Yesterday’s lunch was the first time we did anything socially.” Her eyes narrowed as she looked out the window in silence for several moments. “I can’t believe how much he’s changed. He’s turned into a real serious religious guy.” She looked back at Sean. “That’s just not who I am.”
“Now I know we’re talking about the same guy,” he remarked.
“I know this comment is coming out of nowhere, but I’ve grown up a lot over the last few years, and my faith is in myself. I had a marriage that lasted too long, and I put up with too much you-know-what. Now I run an online clothing and accessory business that’s doing pretty well, and I feel good about myself again.”
Sean nodded once. “Well, whatever you went through, you seem to be the stronger for it.”
Smiling, she flexed her bicep and winked. “But getting back to Adam, I still don’t understand his reasoning for wanting me to keep quiet about our past. He also told me that if his wife found out about our lunch date, she’d kill him. All he kept saying was how he values his privacy, whatever that means.” Turning around, she crossed her arms and leaned back against the counter. “Everyone who’s donated money is on the mailing list for these fundraisers, and that includes Adam and me. He’s going with his wife Saturday night because she insists on it. He knows you went to one of these things before, so he’s afraid the three of us might all be here.” She shook her head, nibbling her upper lip in apparent bemusement. “You should have seen how relieved he looked when I told him I was going to a party that night.”
Sean raised his arms and clasped his hands together in mock prayer before dropping them on top of his head. “Because the big, bad secret might get out?”
“Excuse me,” she said, “do I know you?”
Sean laughed, rolling his eyes. “Uh, no,” he replied, flashing a sudden mock seriousness. “Never seen you before in my life.”
After a brief conversation about Jenny’s online business, the woman returne
d with an invoice for the items. When they left the store and approached her car, she stopped and turned to face him. “Thank you for your help, Sean, and good luck with the show. I would like to have seen it.”
Sean closed his eyes, smiled, and shook his head. “At least I’ll be spared the indignity of having you witness the depths to which I’ve sunk,” he said.
Jenny reached out to brush his arm. “I understand,” she said. “But it’s nice of you to help out for a good cause. Besides, I’m a classical music fan, remember? It’s my sister, the Sean Hightower fan, you might need to explain things to.”
“Long ago and far away, Jenny.”
“I suppose,” she replied, “but I would have enjoyed seeing you play for those kids anyway.” Jenny looked away for a moment, laughing to herself.
“Was that a laugh at my expense?”
“No, that’s not it,” she replied. “I’m sorry. I’m just thinking of another coincidence that involves you, too.”
Sean waited in silence.
“The man who invited me to the party is the magician that’ll be here at the fundraiser.”
“Really?” Sean replied, his eyebrows rising. “Amazing Stan the Magic Man?”
“Can you believe it?” she asked. “He asked me not to tell anybody, but seeing you here today, I just had to.”
“Why the secrecy this time?”
Jenny took a deep breath, a sudden sheepish expression on her face. “I know it sounds like a soap opera cliché, but he’s still married. He told me he’s been separated since April but his wife won’t grant him a divorce yet.”
You Say Goodbye Page 13