by Abbi Waxman
There was a crowd of maybe twenty people in front of the store, plus two cops, all of whom were watching an argument between a middle-aged woman who Nina recognized from the store (historical fiction) and a younger woman who was wearing a long, fringed skirt, a top made of birds’ wings and macaroni, and a large felt hat with a brim the size of Poughkeepsie. Birds could have perched comfortably on it, if they were able to forgive the bird wing corset.
“I question your assumption that makeup is less culturally valid than literature,” the young woman was saying, as Nina and Lydia got close. Ah, thought Nina, it’s a Larchmont Liberal Street Fight.
The older woman frowned. “I am not in any way questioning the validity of your products, culturally or otherwise, and far be it from me to cast aspersions on the career goals of a fellow woman, but this bookstore has been here for nearly eight decades and is a cornerstone of our community.”
“Progress is inevitable,” replied the woman.
“That is both true and irrelevant to our discussion,” said the older woman, whom Nina was mentally referring to as the Reader. “We don’t need another beauty products store on Larchmont, and we certainly don’t need a pot shop.”
“We’re not a dispensary,” replied the other woman, whom Nina had internally named Bird Wing Betty. “We create makeup infused with potent botanicals that make you feel as good as you look. We are one hundred percent organic, local, and legal.”
There was murmuring in the crowd. Clearly, Bird Wing Betty had some supporters. As if to prove it, a group of about a dozen similarly dressed young people suddenly appeared.
“We saw your post on Instagram,” said one, coming up to Betty and touching her upper arm. “I’m so sorry the boomers are harshing your vibe.”
“Total drag,” said another. “I brought you some royal jelly and an apple cider vinegar shot to alkalinize you.” She handed over a tiny bottle that reminded Nina of Alice in Wonderland.
The cops sensed an opening. “Ladies,” said one of them, an officer who looked like this was a pleasant change from moving homeless people off the streets, “I’m afraid you don’t have a permit to protest, so you need to break this up and go home.”
“No,” said the Reader. “We’re staying here to show our support for reading.”
“Dude, we’re all about reading,” said one of the new young people, “but bookstores are so nineties. Stories live in the cloud now, free like birds. Don’t tie them down in the physical realm.”
The Reader snorted at her. “You’re stoned.”
The girl snorted back at her. “You’re old, but at least I’ll sober up.”
Another guy in the crowd said, “Go back to Santa Monica, you wannabe hippie counterculturalists.” Which, let’s face it, are fighting words, albeit unnecessarily long fighting words.
And then it happened. Someone—no one was ever sure who it was—threw a ball of cardamom, fig, and Brie ice cream, which hit Bird Wing Betty right in the … bird wings. Finally, thought Nina, they got that ice cream trebuchet working.
One of Betty’s friends turned and tossed a shot of cayenne and lemon juice in the face of a bookstore supporter, who cried, “My eyes,” and staggered backward. Another ball of ice cream arced overhead and nailed one of the cops, who didn’t take it very well. Nina turned to see who was throwing the frosty artillery just as another scoop glanced off her head and hit Betty, this time in the face. Betty stomped her foot.
“I. Am. Lactose. Intolerant!” she cried.
“No, you’re just completely intolerable,” replied the Reader, and pushed her.
Nina reached up and felt her head, which was sticky. She heard giggling. Lydia was amused.
“You’ve got a little … something something …” Lydia wiped a little drip from Nina’s forehead and tasted it.
“Huh,” she said. “Mint chip. Surprising.” She opened her mouth to continue and took a gluten-free cupcake right in the cake hole, which was also surprising. She sputtered.
Nina grinned. “Don’t talk with your mouth full, Lydia.” A mini cupcake—or it might have been a brownie; it was moving too fast to tell—whizzed by and knocked off the Reader’s glasses.
The cops, who had been well trained (though, admittedly, not for a food fight), started pushing through the crowd, looking for the troublemakers. This made the people on the outside of the crowd, who couldn’t see very well, assume something more serious was going on. They started to run or, at least, move swiftly away. This was Larchmont, after all; no need for unseemly panic.
The ice cream bandit sent a last volley over the heads of the thinning crowd, and both Nina and Lydia were in the line of fire. Professional hit, double scoop.
Lydia, who had decided to see the funny side of it, clutched her arm, which was covered in sprinkles. “I’m hit,” she cried, and staggered backward.
“Cold … so cold …” said Nina, channeling the heroic death of so many matinee idols. She made it to the bookstore front door and did a creditable death slide down it. Then she remembered why she was there.
“Come on,” she said, scrambling to her feet. “We’ll go around the back.”
“Really?” whined Lydia. “But this is so fun.”
“Quit it,” said Nina. “Let’s go.”
They darted across the melee and ran down the narrow lane behind the stores of Larchmont Boulevard. Nina pulled out her keys and once inside the store discovered Liz and Mr. Meffo hiding out in the back room. Even though the ice cream had been outside, the atmosphere in the room was decidedly frosty.
“Are they gone?” asked Liz.
“The crowd is dispersing, yes.”
Liz turned to Mr. Meffo. “Well then, sir, you are free to leave.”
Mr. Meffo got stiffly to his feet. “Thank you for the brief sanctuary, Elizabeth.”
Liz shrugged. Wow, thought Nina, I bet it was fun in here for the last hour or so. Mr. Meffo looked at Liz and seemed as though he was about to say something, but simply turned and left the store.
Liz sighed. “I wanted to ask him to give me more time, but I couldn’t find the right words. It’s always so easy in books, and so hard in real life.”
“Ain’t that the truth,” said Lydia. Then she turned to Nina. “However, that is no excuse for not at least trying to go talk to your boyfriend.” She held up her finger. “You may have hoped I had forgotten what we were talking about, but I haven’t. You need to gird your loins, screw your courage to the sticking place, and remember a turtle only travels when it sticks its neck out.”
Liz and Nina looked at her. “It’s a Korean saying,” explained Lydia, shrugging.
“You’re right,” said Nina, suddenly feeling bolder than she’d ever felt before. Lydia was a woman of action, and she was related to Nina, so Nina must have woman-of-action genes somewhere. Besides, now Nina had a family. She had friends. She had money. She had a bitching car. She’d survived a terrifying drive in that bitching car, and there was nothing she couldn’t do, or at least try to do. “Let’s go.”
She and Lydia turned and left. Liz watched them go, then went to get paper towels and window cleaner. Fortunately, all-natural, artisanal ice cream is much easier to clean off than the factory stuff.
Twenty-nine
In which Nina takes things public.
You would have thought there was something monumental going on, judging by the crowd outside the bar. Mermaids wrestling in creamed corn. Kitten juggling. Instant Pot flash mob. Something. But it was really only the Southern California Quiz Bowl Final, and after ten minutes of wriggling, Lydia and Nina managed to push their way to the front.
Howard the QuizDick had really gone above and beyond for this one, and there was even a camera crew from a local affiliate station. Howard had decked himself out in a silver sequin dinner jacket, and successfully bid on eBay for one of those microphones that looks like a half-finished lollipop on a long silver stick. Whatever it was, he was bringing it.
Nina could see both teams sitting
on either side of the podium, which was bigger and more impressive (and hopefully drier) than the last one.
“Ladies, Gentlemen, and the great Undecided, welcome to the Final of the Southern California Quiz Bowl. For the first time we have a challenger from San Diego, the California Quizzly Bears, facing off against local heroes, You’re a Quizzard, Harry.”
Nina looked along the Quizzard team bench … no Tom.
Lisa was there, though, and she noticed Nina. She frowned and got to her feet.
“Competitors must remain in their positions,” said Howard.
“Don’t be silly, Howard,” replied Lisa. “I’ll be back in a minute. I have to see why we’re a team captain short.”
“There are no substitutions once the clock has begun,” warned Howard officiously.
“Don’t get your panties in a bunch,” said Lisa, over her shoulder.
She and Nina met by the bar.
“Where’s Tom?” yelled Nina, over the hubbub. “This is my cousin, Lydia. She’s an expert in traffic patterns.”
“Hi,” said Lisa, looking surprisingly interested. “You picked a good city for it, although the biggest traffic jam ever took place in Beijing in 2010.”
“I know,” said Lydia with relish. “Sixty-two miles long, and lasted for twelve days.” She looked at Lisa carefully, never having met anyone else who cared about traffic. “I went on vacation last year to São Paulo. They have enormous traffic jams all the time; it was great.”
Lisa smiled at her as if that hadn’t been a ridiculous thing to say, then turned back to Nina. “Tom isn’t here, but he’s supposed to be. He’s been totally off his trivia game. Why did you break up with him?”
“Because I was scared,” said Nina. “I want to apologize, but he’s not answering his phone.”
“I know, I’ve been trying to reach him.” Lisa looked mildly concerned. “Hey, do you want to play for our team? Without him we’ve got no chance, even if he is playing at half strength.”
“I can’t. I don’t think it’s allowed.”
“Well, let’s ask.”
Nina hung back. “No, I’m sure Tom will be here.”
“I am here,” said Tom, coming up behind them. “Sorry, Lisa, I was working and lost track of time.” He looked at Nina. “Hi, Nina.” Then he took Lisa by the arm. “Let’s go. They’re going to start.”
“Tom, Nina wants to talk to you,” said Lisa.
Tom looked at Nina. “That’s nice,” he replied. “You have ice cream in your hair.” Then he walked away and Lisa followed, shrugging apologetically. Nina smelled that sawdust smell that always went with him, feeling herself take a few steps without even realizing it.
She had made such a mistake.
“He’s cute,” said Lydia from behind her. “Go get him, tiger.”
Nina watched Lisa scramble back to her seat on the team bench, next to Tom, who was studiously avoiding her gaze.
“I’ll try,” she said, “but I think I’m more of a pussycat.”
“House cats share 95.6 percent of their DNA with tigers,” said Lydia. She paused. “According to one study, anyway.”
QuizDick stepped forward and raised his hand for silence. “Let’s review the format. In the first round, I’ll be asking the teams sets of questions in various categories. Anyone on the team can answer, but only one answer will be accepted. A correct answer receives two points. An incorrect answer means that question will be offered to the opposing team. If they get it right, they’ll get one point. If nobody knows, it will be offered to the audience, and if they get it right, they can give one point to whichever team they’re supporting.”
As the audience was largely supporting the local team, this seemed popular, but the California Quizzly Bears had also brought a sizable contingent of fans, who were wearing bear claw gloves and Smokey Bear hats. It was a look.
“Are both teams complete?” QuizDick looked over the competitors carefully, presumably to check none of them was secretly Ken Jennings. “In order to reduce the chance of cheating, we’re pulling categories at random. Our first category is Sports in the USA.”
Both teams did pretty well with Sports, but Quizzard took the lead in the next round, which was Real Life Couples who Played Couples on TV. Then the Quizzly Bears dominated Minor Countries You’ve Never Heard Of (a statement that clearly didn’t apply to them), but Quizzard swept the board in Sitcoms of the Eighties, bringing the scores level as they entered the final round.
Nina was watching Tom’s face, and it was impossible not to notice how effectively he was ignoring her. It became almost comical, the lengths he was prepared to go to not meet her eye. Lydia started muttering commentary and answering the questions under her breath, and Nina made a mental note to see if Santa Monica had competitive trivia, because Lydia would crush it.
“In this final round, it’s team members one by one, head-to-head and toe-to-toe with their opposition. Each pair will get six questions, two from each category, and twelve points are up for grabs, no fancy business.”
Lisa was first, and totally creamed her Quizzly Bear opponent, having apparently memorized the lives of Early American Presidents, the Periodic Table of Elements, and Cartoon Cats and Dogs. Quizzard wasn’t so lucky in the next round, and their team member was only able to garner two points for correctly identifying Fresno as the Raisin Capital of the World. In the last round of team member play Quizzard got all the questions about Egg-Based Recipes correct, but were unable to beat the Quizzly Bears on Cocktails or Dog Breeds.
The Quizzly Bears were getting cocky and had started celebrating imminent victory. The bar floor was awash with broken glass and beer, because it turned out bear claw gloves are cute, but not good for holding slippery pint glasses. Presumably, this is why bears prefer kegs.
“Here we go,” said Howard, who had grown into his role as host and was handling things pretty smoothly. “With the scores tied we come at last to the team captains, who have to buzz in to answer ten rapid-fire questions drawn from any of tonight’s categories.” He pulled out his little bag of categories and withdrew a slip of paper. “The same rules apply: two points if they get it, one point if their teammates get it, and the option of throwing it open to the audience if all else fails.”
Tom stood up and came to the podium, as did the Quizzly Bear captain, who was a woman not much bigger than Nina. She was wearing an entire grizzly bear head as a hat. It was bigger than she was, and occasionally, she had to grab the podium for support. Either the head was really heavy, or she’d removed her bear claws in order to drink better. Either way, she was ready to throw down, if she didn’t fall down first.
Howard cleared his throat and assumed a serious expression, making sure the camera was getting his better side. “Who has the most wins as head coach in the NFL?”
Tom answered, “Don Shula.”
Nina had never even heard of Don Shula, but it was nice to know he was doing so well. Tom looked around at his teammates and grinned, but still somehow managed to avoid looking at Nina. Lisa was clearly getting annoyed with him, as she pointed two fingers to her eyes and then pointed them at Nina, but Tom wasn’t having it.
“Next question: Who played Chandler’s father on Friends?”
Tom answered again. “Kathleen Turner.” Nina was pleased to see he was well versed in the classics.
Then the Quizzly Bears got five in a row. Then Tom got the next three.
QuizDick, delighted things had gotten so gripping, and glad to see the cameras were still rolling, cleared his throat. “Unbelievably we have a tie! For the championship, the honor of declaring yourselves Trivia Champions of Southern California, five hundred dollars for the charity of your choice, and free pizza from Domino’s for a year …”
“Only for team members …” shouted a guy who was presumably from Domino’s. “Not for everyone you know.”
“Yes, free pizza for yourselves; we have to go to a challenging tie-breaker.” He looked around the room and held up his hand for
silence. Eventually he got it, and into the hush he said: “Who can tell me the famous last words of Arthur Conan Doyle?”
“Who’s that?” asked the Quizzly Bear captain.
“The man who wrote Sherlock Holmes,” replied QuizDick, surprised.
Quizzly Bear shrugged her shoulders. Everyone looked at Tom, who also shrugged. The teams both shrugged, it was a complete shrug-fest, and finally, QuizDick turned to the audience and asked if anyone knew the answer.
Nina raised her hand. Howard pointed at her, and she looked at Tom, who was finally looking at her.
“Nina can’t answer,” he said to Howard. “She was on an opposing team.”
Howard looked at Nina. “Yes, but her team was disqualified weeks ago.” He looked at Tom. “You were there; you saw it.” He shuddered. “I sustained a paper cut that took days to heal.”
Nina spoke. “The rules are clear, Howard. If no one else can answer, then it goes to the audience.”
“Yes, but apparently the team captain doesn’t want you to answer.” He looked perplexed. “Although you could give the point to any team you wanted to, so maybe if the Grizzly Bear …” His voice tailed off. “I’m not sure the rules cover this eventuality.”
“We can put it to a vote.” Nina looked around the bar. “Show of hands?”
“No,” said Howard. “This isn’t a democracy; this is a Trivia Bowl Final.” He turned to the team captains. “I’m afraid that means it’s a tie. We have no winner.”
“Wait!” Lisa jumped up. “Let Nina answer the question, Tom. You’re not the only member of the team.” She was clearly trying to come up with a good reason. “I really … love pizza.”
“You’re a vegan,” said Tom.
“We make vegan pizza!” yelled the guy from Domino’s. He must have been drunk, because then he added, “It tastes like cardboard, but it’s vegan!”
Tom hesitated. He looked at Nina.
“Please let me answer,” she said.
Tom sighed. “OK.”
Howard looked annoyed but nodded. “Go ahead, audience member. I’ll repeat the question: What were the famous last words of Arthur Conan Doyle?”