Love Tango

by J. M. Jeffries

  Roxanne shook her head emphatically. “I was perfectly fine with you bad-mouthing me and making me the villain. I never said anything and went on with my life. And now that I’m stepping back into the public eye you want me to be part of your little gang again. No.”

  Tristan frowned. “You played a corpse on your last TV appearance.”

  “So what? I was paid. I’m a working actor.” She could offer her brother money, but what he really liked was the fame. In a weird way, the money was almost irrelevant except for the fact the IRS wanted their share and her father seemed to think he didn’t have to pay taxes.

  Tristan liked the money because of what it bought for him. He liked the women who chased after him. He enjoyed the preferential treatment. He would love it if he didn’t have to work so hard. He thought he was entitled. His fame meant he mattered, that he was important.

  “I’m being written out of my show,” Tristan went on. “This coming season is my last and my contract isn’t going to be renewed. In fact, I doubt I’ll last beyond Christmas.” He sounded almost sad despite the fact he truly hated the medical drama where he played a doctor, and had said so all too often in too many words.

  “Maybe you shouldn’t have bad-mouthed your show, your director, your producer, the network and your costars. Just saying.”

  He shrugged.

  In the beginning, she missed being fawned over, treated as being special, but she found out later that walking into the grocery store anonymously was a bit of heaven. She didn’t have to worry about being criticized for not wearing makeup. No one would question her purchase of a box of Twinkies and wonder if she would fit into her evening dress for whatever awards show or premier she would be attending. She didn’t miss people picking through her trash. Though being anonymous was enjoyable, she still missed the limelight on occasion.

  Of course that was going to change now that she was on Celebrity Dance, but some things couldn’t be helped.

  “Go home, Tristan.”

  “You help Portia. Why not help me?”

  “Portia knows what she wants. She’s willing to put up with all of you in order to attain her goal.”

  Tristan’s eyes took on a nasty gleam. “How do you know she’s not conning you?”

  “For the simple reason that when I asked her if she would allow me to pay for vet school outright, she said no.” And Portia stuck to her refusal. No argument Roxanne used changed her mind. “You put your argument out there,” Roxanne said, “and I gave you my answer.”

  Tristan sighed. “This isn’t over, Roxanne.”

  “I know. Tell me something. What do you want out of all of this? You’re not a happy man.” She knew what Portia wanted and what her parents wanted, but she had no idea what her brother wanted. “The money, the fame, the whatever, isn’t enough. I can see you’re not satisfied. What do you want? You’re not a bad actor when you focus more on your craft than your fame.”

  He didn’t answer. Instead he trotted down the porch steps and headed toward his car. He paused with one hand on the door. He glanced back at her and repeated. “This isn’t over, sis.”

  “Of course it isn’t,” Roxanne muttered as she inserted her key into the lock.

  The door swung open and Portia peered out. “Is he gone yet?”

  Tristan backed his Porsche out of the driveway. “Almost.”

  Roxanne entered, closed the door and locked it. Portia kept herself out of view. She held her phone in one hand.

  “Has he been here long?” Roxanne asked.

  “Over an hour.” Portia led the way back into the kitchen. “I was prepared to call security if he made himself too obnoxious.”

  “I’m not worried about Tristan.” Portia set her purse on the counter and opened the refrigerator. Her stomach growled, “Deep down inside, he thinks he can change my mind about reconciling with Mom and Dad.”

  “Not happening.”

  “He doesn’t know you very well, does he?” Portia laughed.

  “He knows me,” Roxanne said, pulling out sandwich meat, mayo, lettuce and a tomato. “He’s just not willing to acknowledge that I have good reasons for my actions.”

  “I’m part of this little game, too,” Portia said, handing her the loaf of bread from the bread box.

  “No, you work because it’s a means to an end. Sort of like waiting tables. You have your eye on the golden ring and nothing is going to deter you.”

  Portia shrugged. She sat on a bar stool. Her laptop was open and a genealogy chart lay to one side. She’d obviously been working on Nick’s mother.

  “Tristan just wants to be famous,” Roxanne said as she built her sandwich. She grabbed an ice-cold soda from the fridge and sat down next to Portia.

  “He doesn’t even want to work hard to be famous. He wants fame to pick him up at the house and deliver him to where he needs to be.” Portia pushed her laptop and the chart away and leaned against the snack counter with her arms folded across her chest, elbows on the counter.

  “No, I don’t think that’s really what he wants. There’s more somewhere inside of him. He’s not happy, Portia. He’s a man who seems determined to self-destruct.” His bad-boy behavior was a shout out for something.

  How had her family turned out to be so dysfunctional? When had this all started? Had it been when she’d been cast in Family Tree, or earlier and she just hadn’t seen it.

  She could see on Portia’s face that she knew something. “What?”

  Portia looked away.

  “You have to tell me,” Roxanne pushed.

  “About a year ago when he moved into his new man cave, I helped pack and I found some books hidden under his bed. They were on environmental engineering.”

  “Really?” Roxanne was almost too astonished to think up something else.

  Portia nodded. “Yes.”

  “Color me surprised. Did you ask him about it?”

  “He blew me off saying it was a gag gift and to let it go.”

  Roxanne pondered Portia’s revelation. “Interesting.”

  “That’s your I’m-up-to-something face,” Portia said.

  “Maybe I’ll make him an offer he can’t refuse.”

  “Entailing what?” Portia frowned.

  Roxanne thought for a second. “California has a university for everything. I should be able to find out something about environmental engineering.”

  “University of California Riverside has an environmental engineering program.”

  Roxanne’s eyebrows rose. “You’ve been busy.”

  “He’s our brother and I love him even though he’s a jerk most of the time.”

  “He’s a jerk because he’s miserable. And he’s too immature to give up the trappings of fame yet.”

  “How are we going to help him?”

  Thoughts tumbled over and around in Roxanne’s mind. “He needs to hit rock bottom and not have something to cushion him.”

  “He’s getting kicked off his show, isn’t that enough?”

  Roxanne shook her head. “That’s a good start but I’m sure Mom and Dad will have him pimped out for something else soon, especially if the Timbuktu revival doesn’t work out. No doubt they’ll be willing to take whatever comes along whether it’s good for Tristan or not. Hmm. I’m going to think on this.”

  An hour later, Portia complained, “My head hurts.”

  “Mine, too.” Roxanne had come up with nothing. She had too much on her mind. “Being diabolical takes time. We have to think about how to get him to grow up and pursue his real dream.”

  Portia simply sighed and rubbed her temples.

  “I’m going to have to put this aside. Nick is coming over and we’re going over some of the new information I found about his mother’s family.”

  “Then I’m out of
here.” Portia jumped to her feet and grabbed her purse. She kissed Roxanne on the cheek. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

  * * *

  The doorbell rang. Roxanne opened the door and Nick smiled at her.

  “Did you uncover any more family secrets?” He stepped into the hallway and brushed rain from his hair. Summer was usually hot and dry, but an unexpected thunderstorm had swept through and drenched the city.

  Roxanne grinned. “I found your grandfather Lionel Stanton.” She ushered him into the dining room where her charts and laptop covered the table almost completely.

  “You mean he’s still alive.” Nick was stunned.

  “Very much so and he lives in Pasadena.”

  Nick stared at her. She rummaged through the pile of papers on the table. She held out a newspaper article about the Jet Propulsion Laboratory managed by Caltech and the name Lionel Stanton. The headline stated Scientist Develops Cleaner Airplane Engine.

  He took the article eagerly and scanned it. “I wonder if my mother has ever been in touch with him.”

  Roxanne shook her head. “That isn’t something I’d be able to find. You’d have to ask her.”

  Nick set the article down. “I never expected this.”

  “Like I said, family secrets come out. And I still have a long way to go. Lionel was born in New York.” She pointed at two names on the chart. “Lionel’s father, James Stanton, played the saxophone at The Cotton Club.” She handed him another article along with a birth certificate for Lionel with his parents’ names on it—James William Stanton and Elizabeth Hart. The second newspaper article contained information about The Cotton Club and the newest band leader, saxophonist James Stanton and his Merry Vagabonds. A blurry photo of a man in a white jacket and black pants completed the article.

  “This is amazing.” Nick read the article. “Who knew my mother’s love of music came from her own grandfather.” A grandfather and a great-grandfather he didn’t even know existed until this moment. He felt a small thrill of excitement yet at the same he didn’t understand why his mother had kept this a secret.

  “Do you think she knows that?”

  “I don’t know.” She had to know. She had a passport which meant a birth certificate had to be produced to prove citizenship. But the idea of meeting his biological grandfather so he could ask took root in his mind. “I want to meet this man.”

  “I figured you might. You’re not going to yell at an old man are you? He’s eighty-three. I don’t want to give him a heart attack.”

  “I’m not going to yell at an old man. I just want to know why he’s not a part of our lives.”

  “Sometimes not having family be a part of your life isn’t a bad thing,” Roxanne said wryly.

  “I understand what you mean, but this isn’t the same thing.”

  “I realize that. If this guy turns into a real jerk, don’t blame me.”

  “Duly noted,” Nick said. “Let’s go. Right now.”

  Roxanne looked surprised. “Do you want me to be part of this?”

  “You already are.” He glanced at his watch, calculating the time needed to get to Pasadena in the middle of the afternoon. “If we leave now, we should get there in about an hour.”

  “Shouldn’t you talk to your mother before you do anything? He is her father. Besides, there’s no guarantee he’ll be home or even want to see you.” Roxanne frowned.

  “I want to meet this man first and then I’ll talk to my mom.” Roxanne may be right, but this man might be the kind of man his mother needed to be protected from. After all, why would his grandmother keep him a secret after all these years?

  “All right. Let’s go. But do let me give you a preemptive ‘I told you so.’”

  “Okay.”

  Roxanne grabbed her purse and her MacBook along with the articles and a couple blank charts.

  * * *

  Nick drove while Roxanne fed him directions from her iPhone. The freeway was crowded, but the rain had abated.

  Lionel Stanton lived on a street shaded by giant live oaks and flowering magnolias. Nick parked in front of a small Craftsman bungalow that looked like it had been built in the 1930s. A broad veranda stretched across the front of the house and down one side. White wicker chairs sat on either side of an arched door, with hanging plants spaced along the front of the veranda.

  Nick parked in front of the house trying to still his nerves. A rain-drenched magnolia shaded the veranda on one side. Colorful summer flowers lined the edges of the property and the brick sidewalk leading to the veranda. A white Toyota Camry sat in the driveway.

  “You can still back out.” Roxanne turned off her phone and put it back in her purse. “Nobody knows you’re here and won’t judge you if you don’t see him.”

  “I should be courageous enough to do this.”

  “The unknown is difficult,” Roxanne said.

  “I want to do this,” Nick said stubbornly as he got out of his car. He stood staring up at the house. The unknown waited and he wondered if he was opening a can of worms or finding the golden ring.

  Roxanne joined him on the sidewalk.

  Nick decided he would gain nothing if he didn’t move forward. He strode up the brick walkway and onto the veranda. Before he could press the doorbell, the door opened and an elderly man stood in the shadow.

  The man stood around five eight or nine. Snow-white hair contrasted against his deeply lined face. He stood erect with shoulders straight and head held high.

  “I wondered,” the man said as he stepped and ushered them into the house, “how long it would take one of you to start looking for me.”

  “Excuse me,” Nick said.

  “You look a lot like me when I was your age. Come on in.”

  Roxanne followed Nick into the house and into the large living room.

  “That’s a two-way street,” Nick said. “You knew where we were.” He felt a small touch of anger. This man was his biological grandfather and he knew where his grandchildren were.

  Lionel Stanton sat down heavily in a recliner. “I did. Divorce was a big taboo in the 1950s and your grandmother didn’t want people knowing about our failed marriage. So I agreed to stay away. But that didn’t mean that I didn’t love your mother, or even you.”

  Nick stared at him stunned. Divorce was so common now, he had a hard time understanding that at one time it hadn’t been.

  Roxanne held out her hand. “Hello, Mr. Stanton. I’m Roxanne.”

  “I recognized you from Celebrity Dance.”

  Roxanne smiled at him. “Nick hired me to do a genealogy of his mother and I’m afraid your position on the family tree was revealed quite unexpectedly.”

  “Every family has secrets.”

  “And you’re one of them,” Nick said.

  “Are you going to tell your mother that you found me?”

  “Eventually.” Nick didn’t quite know how to feel. He worried he would be hurting his mother’s feelings by finding her father, but at the same time, he wanted to know. “What happened?”

  Lionel sighed. “We were too young and your grandmother hated military life, the constant moving, always having to find new friends. Officers’ wives were expected to act a certain way. And they were always under scrutiny by higher-ranked wives. One wrong move could destroy an officer’s career. The stress was just too much for your grandmother.”

  Nick couldn’t calm down. He found himself wandering the living room. The walls were decorated with photos of Lionel and other officers. The early photos showed mostly other black officers, but as the years passed, the photos contained more white officers.

  A woman entered the living room. She was a tiny woman with a round body and cloud of white hair that framed an elegant face. “Lionel. I see you have company.”

  “This is my g
randson Nick.” Lionel’s smile was tight and stressed. “And his friend Roxanne. This is my wife, Molly.”

  If Molly was surprised, she never showed it. Molly gave Nick and Roxanne a cheerful smile and graciously said, “I was just about to make tea. Would you like some?”

  Nick nodded.

  Roxanne jumped to her feet. “I’ll help.”

  With Roxanne and Molly gone, the tension in the air increased.

  “I realize I’m a bit presumptuous dropping in like this, but until this morning, I didn’t even know you were still alive.”

  Lionel smiled. “My old heart can still take a surprise or two.”

  “Does my mother know that you live here?” Grace Torres had never once hinted that Grandpa Al was her stepfather or that she had a biological father who wasn’t a part of her life.

  “I don’t think so.” Lionel looked sad. “We’ve never been in contact. Her stepfather was a good man and your mom was happy with him. My being in her life would have been awkward. Like I said, it was a different time, then, and divorces were handled a bit differently. Sometimes, it’s just easier to let things alone. I had to respect your grandmother’s wishes. I do want you know I didn’t neglect her. I paid for her support and set up a trust fund to help her through college. I followed her career and sometimes I would dream of telling her how proud I was of everything she’d accomplished.”

  Nick’s emotions were in turmoil and he couldn’t make heads or tails of them. He gazed at Lionel and saw little things in the man’s face that reminded him of his mother. Her eyes were the same shape and her mouth had the same tiny upward tilt at the corners.

  “So you married Molly.”

  “We’ve been married almost thirty years. No children, though.” Lionel’s voice was filled with regret.

  Nick wondered how to proceed from here. He wasn’t certain how to tell his mother. And contacting Lionel Stanton somehow seemed like a betrayal of his mother’s trust. He’d stepped into an awkward situation and had made it even more awkward. And what was Nick going to tell his siblings? Hey, guys, guess what I found out about our mother.