by Joyce Armor
Situated on the back deck of the Russos’ Spanish-style patio home, the spa overlooked a verdant backyard that included a natural kidney-shaped swimming pool with a fountain and a picturesque gazebo with gorgeous white latticework. Sometimes pictures were deceiving, but not in this case. These dear friends really did have a wonderful life.
Right now, Ellie, however, was practically foaming at the mouth in this idyllic setting. “He chewed ice, clanked his fork on his teeth, was incredibly ogling and condescending and knew how to say ‘corporate jet’ in four languages.”
“That’s it. I’m never hooking you up again,” Toni said indignantly, leaning back as she sipped a little of her Cabernet.
“I want it in writing,” Ellie insisted, “a blood promise that you will never, in the history of the world, fix me up again. I mean it, Toni.”
“It was Toni’s idea,” Rob said. “I thought the guy was a little stiff.”
“A little,” Ellie said, raising an eyebrow. “Toss me a towel, would you, Rob?”
He did, and she dried her hands before picking up her wine glass.
“You’re too picky,” Toni said.
Ellie took a sip, then sighed. “Call me crazy, but I don’t want to start a relationship with somebody who makes me carsick.”
Toni looked at her friend accusingly. “Have you ever been out with someone whom you thought had possibilities? Be honest. You never give a relationship time to grow. He’s too tall. He’s too short. He loves his mother too much. He’s a vegan. He does this. He doesn’t do that. Very few people experience love at first sight. You need to nurture a relationship.”
Ellie moved over so one of the jets hit her back. “Yeah, yeah, yeah. Easy for you to say. You and Rob have been together forever. Some people are destined to go through life alone, but so what? There are worse things than being alone. I’m not unhappy, Toni. I swear.”
Toni looked at Rob affectionately and then put her arm around him and pulled him close. “I just can’t imagine going through life without this feeling.”
Toni and Rob snuggled warmly, once again exhibiting their great love for each other. Yes, it would be nauseating if Ellie didn’t like these people so much. A flicker of sadness crossed her face, just as quickly replaced by her happy face. Just then, Toni’s dangling earring got caught in Rob’s hair and he yelled.
“Yaaaaaaaaaaa!”
* * *
Across town, in a charming white, two-story, clapboard house in an older neighborhood, Russell Owens, dressed down now in jeans and a Black Sabbath t-shirt, was also yelling. “Yaaaaaaaaaaa!” He fervently added, “Not my hockey plaque!”
He stood in his old bedroom, which still sported baseball, hockey and “Jurassic Park” posters on the walls and keepsakes ranging from a hockey puck autographed by Wayne Gretzky to a collection of soccer pins from different clubs and a battered guitar. In addition, the room was filled with half-packed boxes on the floor and piles of clothing on the twin beds nearly covering the weathered brown quilts. His mother, Dee Olshevski, 65, a little overweight, but still pretty in that comforting-mama kind of way, and a lot determined, set the plaque aside and placed more items in boxes. Russell grabbed up the plaque and hugged it.
“Sweetheart, I told you,” she smiled, placing a stray black strand of hair, streaked with gray, behind her ear. “You can have anything you want. You just have to take it with you.”
He gave her his most pleading look. “Why do you want to move, Ma? I thought you loved this house.”
Okay, maybe he was being a little petulant or childish or both, and he knew how to dish out the guilt, too, but this was where he grew up. It held his roots. It should have occurred to him that she might move one day, but it never had. It was just a shock. A big shock. He knew change was inevitable. Hell, he embraced change most of the time, but he felt suddenly like he was losing his anchor, even though logically he realized the anchor wasn’t the house. It was her, the one person who loved him no matter what.
“I’d like to keep your old room a shrine for you, dear,” she said, brushing dust off her pink sweat suit, “but I don’t need this big house now that your dad…Well, I thought maybe my grandchildren would be spending the night by this time, but…”
She gave him the “guilt” look, and he realized what an amateur his was at dishing it out. She was the Queen of Guilt, a true pro. Still, he didn’t give up.
“Don’t start, Ma. We’ve been through this a thousand times.”
“Now you’re just exaggerating.”
He smiled. Had he ever won a disagreement with his mother? Probably not.
Dee went back to cleaning out the closet as Russell looked through the boxes she had already packed but hadn’t sealed. Good lord, the award he’d won in 8th grade for perfect attendance. Like not getting sick was an accomplishment. His 6th-grade commendation for playing in a guitar trio. And all his baseball, hockey and soccer ribbons and letters. And the gold tassel from his high-school graduation mortarboard. He didn’t remember saving that. She must have. “Oh, please don’t tell me these are my baby teeth.”
“Ooh, here’s another one,” Dee’s muffled voice came from the back of the closet. She hauled out a dusty old carton and sneezed. “What’s this?”
“Here.”
He moved a pile of clothing and she set it on the bed. Russell pulled off the old packing tape, which practically disintegrated in his hands, and looked inside the carton. “Oh, my God. It’s my comic collection. I almost forgot about this. I started collecting these in about third grade. I loved them.”
Dee picked up and looked at several of the issues, not taking them out of their protective sleeves. “These look to be in pretty good condition; they’re still in the sleeves. You always did take good care of your things, Russ. Maybe these are worth something.”
Russell picked up a comic book, an early issue of X-Men, carefully pulled it out of the sleeve and opened it lovingly. He smiled and shook his head. “They sure were worth something then.”
* * *
The following Sunday afternoon, Ellie and Toni struggled up a steep indoor rock-climbing wall.
Toni gasped. “This isn’t what I had in mind when I said you should take more risks, my friend.”
Ellie found a shaky foothold and painstakingly pulled herself up a notch. Now she really did have a wedgie in her black stretchy shorts. She turned her back to the wall to adjust them. “It looked easier in the brochure.”
“You’re still mad at me about Gawayne, aren’t you? You know my heart was in the right place.” Toni grunted and moaned and dragged herself up one more level. “This is just wrong. Mountains aren’t meant to be inside.”
“Who names their kid Gawayne anyway and expects him to turn out normal?”
“Can we go down now?” Toni huffed. “My thighs are burning.”
“No. That’s a good thing, remember?”
Toni looked down. “Help!”
Ellie grabbed her friend’s line and pulled her closer. “Stop that. Whining doesn’t become you.”
“Hmph.”
They continued their climb at a painstaking pace before Ellie stopped to rest. Yet again.
“I was thinking about something you said the other day. Maybe I am too picky.” She wiped her sleeve across her forehead. “I mean there are uglier women than me who are in good relationships, and dumber women, and poorer women…”
“Stop. You think way too much. You could have a great relationship with somebody if you’d just let yourself.”
“I thought about all the guys I’ve ever dated, and there was really only one I thought, well, that he could have been the one. It was four, almost five years ago, when I lived in Las Vegas.”
Toni struggled up to her level. “You’re kidding me. Quick! Call Ripley’s Believe It Or Not! Who? Who was this paragon of manhood?”
Ellie smiled, remembering. “His name was Brian Morgan. Still is, I suppose.” She snickered. “He was thoughtful, cute, classy, and he had the flu
ffiest towels I had ever seen.”
“Everything you’d want in a man. And…?”
“And he wasn’t ready to make a commitment, I guess. We’d start to get close and then he’d pull back.” She lost her foothold momentarily and then regained it.
“So you broke up.”
“Yes and no.” Ellie explained that they were never officially going together, just dating. And sleeping together. This went on for about a year, getting closer and then pulling back, and during one of those pulling back times, she decided to move to California. “I just felt like I needed a change, some movement in my life, and I never saw Las Vegas as the place I would end up, although I loved it there. It didn’t seem like a place, for me, at least, to raise a family.”
“See, you don’t want to be alone. You do want a family.”
Yeah, not going there. “I remembered visiting Bella Casa on a family trip out West when I was about 10. My dad had an old Army buddy who lived here. We had so much fun. Everyone was so friendly. I loved the atmosphere, even then, when I shouldn’t have been paying attention to such things.” There was just something about the town. And maybe it was all wrapped up in the memory of such a wonderful, carefree vacation, the last one they’d taken before her father died. “It seemed as good a place to move as any.”
“So you didn’t throw a dart at a map?”
“Nope. I’ll do that for my next move.”
“That was really brave of you to pick up and move by yourself to another state.”
“The scariest part wasn’t moving here.” The logistics kept her mind too busy to think of all the ramifications. “It was suddenly being here and not knowing anybody and not having a job. I did think, what have I done, a time or two. But it worked out. I’d much rather do something and think, ‘What have I done?’ than not do something and think, ‘Why didn’t I do that?’”
“I’m so glad you did.”
“Me, too.”
She found another foothold and dragged herself another foot closer to the top. “Anyway, Brian visited me here for a weekend a couple weeks after I moved…it was before I met you. We were in bed one night and he sat up suddenly, looked at me kind of intensely and said, ‘I think I love you.’”
Toni almost lost her footing, to dangle humiliatingly, but she caught herself at the last moment, scrambling back to the wall. “And you, of course, said ‘I think I love you, too,’ so why didn’t you two live happily ever after? Let me guess. He changed towel brands and the new ones weren’t fluffy enough.”
“I said, ‘You didn’t love me when I lived in the same city with you. You only think you love me now because I’m gone.’”
“What did he say to that?”
“Nothing.”
“Nothing?”
“Nothing. We said we’d keep in touch, and I visited him once after that, a few months later, but, you know, time moves on. Eventually we just drifted apart. Not that we were really ever together. Officially.”
Maybe Toni never could truly understand. She and Rob were high-school sweethearts, and must have just clicked from the get-go. Most relationships, in Ellie’s experience, were complicated and difficult and messy. She didn’t doubt that her parents loved each other or at least cared for each other a great deal, but for the most part, looking back, it seemed as if they led parallel lives, not one blended life. And then her dad died and it all went to hell.
“Yeah. Tick, tick, tick. It’s just kind of…sad. Wait! Isn’t your comic convention in Las Vegas this year?”
“Yes.”
“You have to look him up!”
What a ridiculous idea. Ellie was about to roll her eyes and forget about it until she saw that her companion was practically drooling. “Toni, that was nearly five years ago. He’s probably long gone or married with eight kids and not the person I remember anyway. I’m not the person I was five years ago. I’m not sure I’m the person I was yesterday.” Yeah, that date with Gawayne really changed you, didn’t it?
“Brian Morgan. That’s a pretty common name. There might be a lot of them in Las Vegas. What’s the population there, anyway?”
“You’re not listening to me.”
“I’ll get you all the addresses and phone numbers. We can probably track him down before you leave for the convention, but if not, you can call him when you get there.”
Two little girls, about nine years old, scampered up the wall past the women. Ellie and Toni exchanged looks.
“Twerps,” Ellie said.
Chapter 3
Another typical Monday morning at Full Court Press. Roger stood at his desk dismantling his laptop, a task he seemed to tackle with enthusiasm at least once a week, as Ellie sat at her station typing invoices. A small black and white TV propped on a stack of crates in the corner was airing an episode of “The Rifleman.” She watched for a few moments as lanky rancher Lucas McCain took a pounding from three shady characters, which looked suspiciously like the three shady drovers on yesterday’s episode of “Rawhide.” She looked over her shoulder when she heard the bell over the front door ring. Someone was coming in. Sturdy legs in faded black jeans and well-worn blue Nikes walked in, carrying a large carton on his shoulder that blocked the rest of the person. As the door closed behind him, a handsome face framed by thick, dark hair peered around the side of the carton.
“Hi,” he smiled brightly.
“Hello.” Ellie studied him for a moment, trying not to let him see she was noticing how his jeans hugged his oh-so-muscular thighs. Well, at least it’s better than ogling Clint Eastwood on “Rawhide. And Muskman.” Yes, she supposed real ogling was better than fantasy ogling. He wasn’t a big man, couldn’t have been more than 5-9 or 5-10, but he looked pretty buff, his biceps nicely bulging out of his blue t-shirt sleeves. His face, the side of it she could see, was attractive, not drop-dead gorgeous, but appealing, friendly. He looked somehow familiar, too. And then it hit her. She would have noticed sooner if he hadn’t been so out of context. If he had still been wearing the tux
“The singer, right? Em’s Hideaway?”
“Yeah. Russell Owens.” He looked surprised, confused, and then the lightbulb went off. “Oh, and you’re the…”
“Yeah, that was me,” Ellie said ruefully.
She couldn’t get over how different Russell looked dressed down. He wasn’t the smooth, glib, tuxedoed entertainer now. Dressed so casually, he exuded sweetness and approachability. God, she wanted to pat him on the head.
Russell was thinking much the same thing about Ellie, how she looked so different, so down-to-earth and sweet in her white shorts and green jersey with a v-neck top with a big pink tulip on it. And how it was somehow sexier than the classy outfit she’d worn Friday night. Oh, what he’d like to do to that tulip.
Roger looked up, and Russell widened his attention to both of them. Time to stuff those lascivious thoughts. “I hope it’s all right that I just dropped by. I came across these old comics from my misspent youth and wondered if they’re worth anything. Besides sentimental value, that is.”
“Roger’s the expert; he would know,” Ellie said.
Roger raised an eyebrow. “Er, underground or mainstream?”
“A little of both,” Russell replied, surprising Ellie.
He didn’t look like the underground comix type to her. But she couldn’t help noticing again that he did look pretty good in those worn jeans and t-shirt that made his eyes look even bluer than they had the other night. She wondered what he would look like in shorts. Was he very hairy? What the hell do you think you’re doing? Yes, thank you for that reality check. The man might not be devastatingly handsome, but he had charisma. Big charisma. And he was obviously a player. You could see that in the sparkle in his eyes. Stay away. Stay far, far away.
“Well, er, most comics aren’t nearly as valuable as their owners hope they are, though I suppose there’s always the exception,” Roger explained.
Russell took a step forward and spotted the cardboard cut-out of Muskman.
“That’s right, you guys did Muskman.” He set the box down and rushed over to it, grinning. I love Muskman! That is so cool. This must be a great place to work.”
It kind of was, Ellie realized, not because of the pay or the possibility of advancement, which seemed pretty dim, but because of the people and the atmosphere. It was somehow artistic, intellectual, irreverent and hopeful. Or maybe the word was “idealistic.” And maybe you should be a creative writer. It begged the question: Did she want to work to live or live to work? My, aren’t we philosophical today?
“C’mon,” Roger said, setting the various laptop parts aside. “Let’s take these upstairs to the conference table and see what you’ve got.”
Russell picked up the carton and trudged after him. As they headed up the stairs, the entertainer went into his announcer voice. “Faster than a speeding backhoe…more powerful than a riding mower…able to burrow deep burrows of love with a single motion…and so darn musky, too.”
Ellie watched them disappear up the stairs, shaking her head. No two days were the same around here, that was for darn sure. This wasn’t a career move, obviously, especially since Bonnie and Roger were planning to move to France, presumably either taking operations with them or shutting them down. But for the here and now, this job was somehow ideal, no matter what her parents or anyone else might think.
Wow, she really had changed. When she left college, her goal was to find an entry-level job in corporate America and climb the corporate ladder. Now that plan didn’t sound desirable at all, not even a teensy bit. Did she want to work in tailored suits and heels or in a more casual atmosphere? Did she want to labor in a competitive, cutthroat environment or love the people she worked with? Not to say corporate American was all backstabbing, just more competitive with more opportunities to be ruthless. And she was sure she could love people in corporate America, but she sincerely doubted she would feel a family connection as she did with her Full Court Press comrades. Although surely not all small businesses achieved the same atmosphere, she was more likely to find it again in a smaller environment. And here she felt it was more about the work and less about the pay. Wherever she went, she needed that feeling in the future.
