by Cindy Rizzo
“I think I do.”
“Now eat your lunch, young lady, it’s getting cold.”
Reese looked down at her salad and chuckled. She picked up her fork and speared a piece of crabmeat with some lettuce.
“It’s my turn to ask the next question, Elizabeth.”
“Oh? You mean, there’s more ground we haven’t covered?”
“Yes. I want to know what’s going on with you and Ruth. Are you getting back together?”
Elizabeth raked her fingers through her hair.
“At the risk of raising a topic that a mother doesn’t necessarily discuss with her daughter, I seem to have hit a bit of an emotional roadblock. I’m kind of stalled on the question of sex.”
Chapter 15
October 2008
“Margaret, when do you need me for Pam Randall?”
“Next week, can you do it?”
“Yes. I’ll be in LA then anyway. There’s a bookseller’s convention that I’ve been ambivalent about attending, but now my staff is worried that there’s going to be a big blowup about Amazon and our agreement with them, so I need to be there.”
“Sounds like fun. Need a publicist?”
“I might, but I think our people can handle it and keep the temperature down. If not I may call for reinforcements. What is the thing with Pam?”
“It’s a big Hollywood-type fundraiser to defeat Proposition 8, the marriage thing. You’ve heard about it, right?”
“Yes, Reese is in quite a state about it. She and her girlfriend are talking about going to Massachusetts to get married.”
“Whatever for? I always thought we were gay so we wouldn’t have to deal with all this. At least that’s what we said back in college, remember? Oh no, wait, you were too busy wanting to marry Ruth. Oh, and by the way, what’s going on with that?”
“I felt no differently about marriage back then than everyone else. What did we call it? Oh, yes, a vestige of patriarchy.”
“It was. Still is, as far as I’m concerned. I certainly hope your little girl isn’t going to get married and become all monogamous. I so enjoyed her at our thirtieth. It would be such a pity.”
“You said you’d stay away from her and I expect you to hold to that.”
“Fine. Many other fish in the sea. So, anyway, these Hollywood bigwigs are hosting this fundraiser. It’s a twenty-five-hundred-dollar ticket and they’ll probably try to squeeze more out of you when you’re there.”
Elizabeth sighed. “I suppose it’s for a good cause. But given the subject matter, I don’t want people to get the impression that Pam and I are that serious.”
“No, no, all taken care of. You’re going in a group with me and some other clients. Now, fill me in on Ruth.”
“Well, I’m seeing her regularly.”
“Like dating? How sweet.”
“Yes. Last week we saw that new film with Richard Gere and Diane Lane, Nights in Rodanthe.”
“Very romantic, Elizabeth. Now cut to the chase. Is the sex as good as you remember it?”
“We haven’t yet.”
“You’re kidding?”
“Can we talk about this when I’m there?”
“No, I hate cliffhangers. Why haven’t you done it? Don’t you want her?”
“Yes, of course I do. It’s just that I don’t feel ready.”
“What do you mean you don’t feel ready? What are you sixteen?”
“I’m afraid, all right. What if she leaves again? What if I’m doing all this just to get back at her so I can be the one who leaves?”
“What if a nuclear bomb goes off before you have the chance? You know what, Elizabeth, you’re right. We should discuss this when you’re here because it’s so absurd that I’ll want you to see the look on my face.”
“I don’t have to. It’s etched in my brain. But I’m happy to bring this conversation to an end. I will see you soon enough.”
Elizabeth unpacked and settled into her room at the Ritz. She’d made a conscious decision not to stay in the conference hotel so as to avoid anyone tempted to engage her in a debate about the Amazon agreement. She’d bond with her competitors when it suited the company’s interests but not for the sake of just bonding, especially if she could find another way to contend with forces like Amazon on her own terms or at least on some of her own terms. Besides, she was only in LA as a standby measure, to be called upon if needed. So far, all indications were that her marketing, sales, and legal people had the situation covered, convincing their colleagues in other companies to grudgingly accept the route that Morrison Publishing had taken. She knew they’d all soon follow suit.
Otherwise, there was little she needed to do before the fundraising event the next night. She regretted having her staff book her at a hotel in the city and wished she was staying near the beach or in Beverly Hills. At least she would be able to have a balcony where she could look out at the water or at some greenery. Instead, she focused on work, catching up on e-mails, checking in with Reese on her progress, and reviewing some information she’d need at her fingertips if she were called in to do battle at the convention. A part of her wished she’d asked Ruth to come along. She missed her. Of course, that would have thrown a monkey wrench into Margaret’s plan for a date with Pam Randall, but it would have been worth it.
She looked at the clock on her laptop screen. It was already evening in New York. She picked up her Blackberry.
“Hi. Did I catch you at a good time?” There was no need to say “It’s Elizabeth” anymore.
“Hello.” Ruth’s voice betrayed her surprise. “Aren’t you in LA?”
“Yes and through the magic of technology I can make a phone call clear across the country.”
Ruth’s tone was serious. “It’s nice to hear from you.”
Elizabeth decided to take a risk. “It’s the darnedest thing. I seem to be missing you. I should have asked if you could tag along.”
Ruth was quiet on the other end for a few seconds. “That’s very nice of you, but I’m starting a trial tomorrow unless it settles. Oh, and it’s nice to be missed. The feeling’s mutual.”
“I’m stuck here at the Ritz confined to my hotel room doing work on my laptop, just waiting to hear if I’m needed down at the convention.”
“Poor baby, stuck at the Ritz.” Ruth laughed.
The word “baby” echoed in Elizabeth’s head. Were they at that point already? She’d always called Ruth “darling” when they were in college and she’d never again used that specific term of endearment for anyone else, including Gretchen.
“Are you going to see Margaret?”
“Yes, she’s roped me into this Proposition 8 fundraiser tomorrow night.” She purposely left out the part about Pam Randall.
“I’m glad. It’s important. You know, Mark’s been working on that campaign.”
“Really? I thought you said he’s straight?”
“Oh, he is, but his mother isn’t and he has two gay uncles as well. He told Paul and Kosei he expects to be their best man one day.”
“That’s sweet.”
“Will there be any famous actors or actresses at this fundraiser?”
Elizabeth’s voice faltered. “I-I don’t know.” She felt sick lying to Ruth. Her phone beeped and vibrated in her hand.
“Ruth, I have another call coming in. Hold on a second.” She glanced at the screen. “It’s Margaret. I should take it.”
“Of course, I’m glad you called.”
“I’ll call again. Soon. I promise. Good-bye.” She hit the button to accept the new call. “Margaret,” she said, her voice filled with relief.
“Hi, I’ve been in meetings all day. What’s wrong? Are you unhappy with the brand of bottled water they’ve given you at the Ritz?”
“It s
eems to be the day for people to make fun of my hotel choices. I was just on the phone with Ruth.”
“Oh? Missing her?”
“I have to admit I am.”
“Well, you can call her back soon because I’ve got to cancel our dinner and swap it out for breakfast tomorrow. I’m in the middle of a movie pre-release nightmare involving an actor and his ex-wife. Don’t ask. I should have it sorted out later. How’s nine a.m.? I’ll send a car at eight thirty for you.”
“Fine. Can you give me Pam Randall’s number?”
“Really? Taking a page out of little Reese’s book, are we? Poor Ruth, sitting all alone on that judge’s bench while you cavort around with an actress.”
“Your little scenario couldn’t be further from the truth.”
“Oh why not? Go have a night of fun with Pam. I’m texting you her number. Just be ready tomorrow morning at eight thirty. I’ll want a full report.”
Elizabeth had a simple meal in her room and then called down for a taxi. Pam said to come over at eight p.m. Elizabeth declined her invitation to cook dinner but agreed to coffee.
“It’ll just be that,” Pam had said. “There’s no longer any alcohol in this house.”
She was relieved to hear that Pam was sticking with her sobriety. Maybe soon she’d be able to enter into a real relationship and not depend on surrogates like Elizabeth to shore up her reputation.
There was an iron gate with a buzzer and an intercom that set the house, nestled high up in the Hollywood Hills, apart from the road. People really live like this, thought Elizabeth. But actually, how different was it from having to get past a doorman in Manhattan? Well, at least in Manhattan there was no long and winding drive, just a ride up twenty flights in an elevator.
The house itself was not the mansion Elizabeth imagined given all the security. The two-story structure had an off-white stucco exterior with Spanish influence—clay tiled roof, dark wood doors, and framing around the windows. A red-stone walk and brick stairs led Elizabeth to the front door. Before she could find the bell, the door opened and there stood Pam.
They hugged hello and Pam moved closer for a kiss. Elizabeth turned so that it was her cheek and not her lips that met Pam’s. Pam pulled back, her face a question.
That was to be expected. They’d come close to sleeping together last time. It had actually been Pam who’d ended the night, telling Elizabeth she was still a little shaky having been sober only a short time. Elizabeth had shrugged it off. She could have slept with Pam or not. It made no difference.
It wasn’t anything about her. She was pretty, even more glamorous than viewers saw on television where she played a suburban mom with three kids. Called The Generations of Pam, the sitcom revolved around the fact that, after the death of her firefighter husband, she and her children moved in with her parents and grandparents. It had become one of the most popular comedies on television.
Taller than she appeared on TV, with short, dirty blonde hair styled in loose ringlets around her head, Pam Randall had the requisite California blue eyes and perfectly tanned complexion. Elizabeth noticed that she was looking far better than she had on their first date. Less drawn, more confident in her bearing. Quite attractive and not at all Elizabeth’s type.
The house was in a bit of disarray, with opened boxes on surfaces and papers out on tables.
Pam pointed over to where a few of the boxes lay. “It’s usually not like this. I’m doing some rearranging on the advice of my sponsor. She thought a fresh start in the house might remind me of the larger fresh start I’m making.”
Elizabeth walked over to the dining room table where Pam’s three Emmy Awards had been placed next to an open box.
“You’re storing these?”
“No, just relocating them to a less conspicuous part of the house. I’m sure you have your own collection of awards.”
“Well, none that are so well known I assure you.”
“Have a seat. You said you wanted decaf, right?”
“Yes, I have a breakfast meeting tomorrow, so I’ll need a full night’s rest.”
When they were settled on the couch with their coffees, Pam turned to Elizabeth, extending her arm on the sofa back and resting it on Elizabeth’s shoulder.
“I was surprised to hear from you,” she said. “Happy, but surprised.”
“I thought it would make sense to talk before tomorrow night.”
Elizabeth felt Pam squeeze her shoulder.
“Can you stay over or should I read something into the fact that you didn’t want to kiss me hello?”
Elizabeth looked down at the dark liquid in her cup.
“Pam, there’s someone I’m serious about. Someone in New York.”
“Ah, I see. You’ve fallen in love.”
“Well, yes, but not exactly. It’s more like I’ve never been out of love. We were together in college, and it was a very hard breakup. I was devastated and in some ways I’ve never recovered.”
“College? That’s an awfully long time ago, Elizabeth.”
“Don’t remind me. I was just up at Fowler for my thirtieth reunion.”
“And she was there?”
Elizabeth nodded.
“Do you think it can work after all this time?”
“I think so. That’s not really what worries me.”
“What then? Is it mutual?”
“Yes, though we haven’t really addressed it directly. But yes, it’s mutual. It’s just that I can’t trust myself. I worry that I’ll hurt her just to even the score. I purposely didn’t tell her about you and our date and I just feel awful, like I’m betraying her.”
Pam took her hand off Elizabeth’s shoulder and turned to sit crossed-legged on the couch facing her. She sipped her coffee and then wrapped both hands around the mug.
“Elizabeth, we don’t know each other all that well, but what I do know about you, and what I sense about you, is that you’re not the revenge-seeking type. I think if that was your MO, you would have made quick work of it and left this woman in the lurch at your reunion. I think instead you might be afraid to let yourself be happy. And believe me, I can identify with that. Since I stopped drinking, I’ve been learning a lot about self-sabotage, more than I ever cared to know.”
Elizabeth considered what Pam had said. She had been so distraught about seeing Ruth at the reunion, she’d never even considered the idea of engineering some type of vengeance plot. Perhaps then, Pam could be onto something. “It’s just that I don’t want either of us to get hurt. Does that really amount to self-sabotage?”
“You’re the only one who can answer that but my sense is that it can. Fear of disappointment and hurt are big triggers.” She pointed to the awards on the table. “Those things over there. They’re my triggers. To the rest of the world they’re symbols of excellent acting. To me, they’re reminders that I’m an undeserving fraud.”
“Pam…”
“No, it’s all right. I’m dealing with it. One day they’ll be back up on display, here for all the world to see, and they’ll finally mean to me what they mean to everyone else. But until then, I need them out of sight.”
She put her cup down and stood up, reaching for Elizabeth’s hands and getting her up as well.
“So what’s this lucky woman’s name?”
“It’s Ruth.”
“Okay. So go back to your hotel and call Ruth. Tell her that you were asked by Margaret to take me to this fundraiser tomorrow and that we are going as friends because that’s the truth. And when you return home, think about what this relationship could be for you, for both of you. All the wonderful adventures and happiness it could bring. Then take your fears and put them in a less conspicuous part of the house, at least for now.”
Their hug good-bye was genuine, not one of those qui
ck, fake gestures that women in Hollywood and Manhattan offer along with the usual air kisses.
“It’s a leap of faith, Elizabeth. Don’t worry about falling. Instead think about soaring.”
Chapter 16
October 2008
In New York, Elizabeth knew what to wear to a fundraiser, but California was much more informal and eclectic. The usual little black dress would be too stiff, so she’d brought along a few other outfits to give herself some options. After trying everything on, she settled on a royal blue silk sleeveless dress with a plunging neckline that was bordered by a darker blue satin fabric. It was flattering and festive but wouldn’t make her stand out.
Margaret had arranged for a car to pick her up at the hotel and take her to the limo she’d hired for their little party—Elizabeth, Pam, Margaret, and two other women.
“You’re not bringing a date?” she’d asked Margaret at breakfast that morning.
“No, this is prime hunting territory. A date would just tie me down.”
“Do you mean client hunting or something else?”
“Both. Unlike you, I can multitask.”
The limo drove through what seemed to be the obligatory iron gate, left open for the occasion, and up a drive toward the impressive Beverly Hills mansion of their hosts, a gay couple, one of whom was the head of a major studio. Elizabeth entered with Pam at her side, staying true to their original arrangement, but grateful and relieved that they’d agreed to go as friends and nothing more.
When Elizabeth told Ruth the truth about Pam Randall the night before, the reaction had been surprising.
“We’ve made no promises to one another, Elizabeth. I don’t have a right to expect anything in the way of exclusivity.”
“I think I’m getting to the point where I want you to.”
“Oh?”
“There’s so much to talk about, Ruth. It would be much easier if you were here and I could see you…and touch you.”
