“All right, then. What is it?”
Strange, she thought. “You want the truth? It’s the kind of thing that keeps the Becky Blake Show in ratings heaven.”
“Why? It’s such a sad situation.”
“People in love, fighting over each other? Two girlfriends coming to blows over the same boyfriend? I’m salivating here, Josh. It’s stories like this that made Becky Blake a household name.”
“Old people aren’t supposed to act that way,” Josh argued. “You can’t imagine how weird it was to have to bail out Phyllis on an assault charge. I mean, Christ. Solly mumbling in Yiddish, and the cops eyeing him up and down, trying to figure out what sort of magic he’s got that he can satisfy two women at his age.”
“What sort of magic has he got?” Loretta asked.
“A good heart? A sharp mind? How should I know? I’m not a woman.”
“I’d like to meet this guy,” Loretta said, grinning mischievously. “He’s obviously got something.”
“If you were seventy, you’d appreciate what he’s got. I suspect healthy, sane, unattached gentlemen are hard to come by in that age bracket.”
“Like they’re so easy to come by in my age bracket.”
Josh grinned sheepishly. “You’re right. Healthy, sane gentlemen are a rarity across the board.”
Especially unattached ones, Loretta thought, then decided to bring it out into the open. “What about your girlfriend?”
He seemed surprised. “What about her?”
“Why didn’t you talk to her about this, instead of me?”
He considered his answer before speaking. “She would have viewed them as clients, not people. She’s a social worker specializing in geriatrics. She works with folks like Solly and Phyllis and Dora Lee. She sets up programs for them, makes sure they’re taking care of themselves, and then forgets them the minute she leaves work for the day. They’re a job to her. And don’t get me wrong—she’s an excellent social worker. She used to work at the West Side Senior Center, which is how I met Solly and Dora Lee and Phyllis. They loved her there. She created wonderful programs for them. But in a case like this, she’d approach it clinically. She’d do what had to be done, file her reports and put it out of her mind.”
“She sounds a little cold,” Loretta remarked.
Josh shrugged. “Maybe she has to be cold in order to do her job. She can’t get too involved with her clients. She has to maintain objectivity.”
“As a lawyer helping Solly, don’t you have to maintain objectivity, too?”
“I’m not his lawyer. He doesn’t even need a lawyer to handle this. He needs a friend, and I’m that. As for Phyllis, I gave him the names of some professional acquaintances to pass along to her. She needs someone who specializes in criminal law.” His sandwich gone, he settled back in his chair and stirred what was left of his iced tea with his straw. “I appreciate your listening. This has been eating at me all morning, and I needed to talk.”
“I’m a great listener.” Actually, she wasn’t, but if Josh thought she was, she didn’t mind. “You’re a softie, you know? I thought lawyers all had hearts of stone.”
“We do. It’s just that when it comes to my friends, if they’re going through hell…I guess that stone surface has a few fissures running through it.”
She wondered if he considered her enough of a friend that his stone heart would crack a little if she were going through hell.
“So, what do you think? A lot of mishegas?”
“You really want to know what I think?” she said. “I think we should do a show about Solly,”
His smile faded. “A show?”
“A Becky Blake Show.”
“Don’t be silly.”
“I’m serious. It would be fantastic.” Better than a show on skinny women’s fashions. Much better than a show about a fake blind date.
He scowled. “I don’t want these people getting any more hurt than they already are. Phyllis and Dora Lee are nice women. Solly likes them both.” His frown intensified as he mulled over the idea.
“Who says the show would hurt them?”
“You’d be exploiting them.”
“Did I exploit you? Of course not,” she answered herself, denying him the opportunity to say yes. “We could approach the story gently. And kindly. With lots of consideration for everyone’s tender feelings. That’s the way we’re doing the show these days. No more chaotic stuff, no more screaming and shouting.” A little screaming and shouting wouldn’t hurt, she thought, but even without it, Solly’s love triangle could make for a fabulous show. “We could approach this story as an exploration of late-in-life passion.”
Josh scowled. “It sounds exploitative.”
“I’m not talking about sexual passion,” she clarified. “Although we could deal with that, too. I’m talking about the sort of passion that would make a woman shove her rival in front of a moving car. These sorts of things happen all the time, but not among seventy-year-olds.”
“Women shove their rivals in front of moving cars all the time?”
“You know what I mean. Lovers compete. They get jealous. Sometimes violence erupts. Add the element of this happening among of senior citizens, and we’re talking about a ratings knock-out.” They were talking about Loretta keeping her job, too. Maybe getting a promotion.
“I don’t know why I wanted to share this with you,” he grumbled. But he wasn’t tossing down his napkin and storming away.
“Because I’m so easy to talk to,” she reminded him. “Look Josh—” she impulsively reached across the table and took his hand, just to make sure he wouldn’t bolt “—I wouldn’t do anything your friends felt uncomfortable about. But they might want to come on the show. Lots of people want to come on the show. And this show wouldn’t be vulgar or nasty. Nothing about the show was vulgar or nasty when you and I were on, right?”
“Well…” He appeared to be groping for words. But he didn’t pull his hand away. “These people are fragile. One of them is in the hospital and another is facing criminal charges. And Solly is an emotional wreck.”
Okay, so Solly was an emotional wreck. Emotional wrecks were the Becky Blake Show’s middle name. This trio would be perfect for the show. Becky could approach the story earnestly, let the people talk, let them reveal to the viewing public that even older people could suffer the vicissitudes of love. Heartstring-tugging passion. It was perfect.
If only she could convince Josh. “The show would be tasteful,” she promised. “It would make people view their grandparents in a whole new way. We tend to think of old people as—as folks you shut inside a senior center and forget about, right? By putting Solly and his girlfriends on the show, we could open people’s eyes to the complexities of late-in-life romance.”
Josh’s eyes softened slightly, as if they too had fissures running through them. His fingers stirred against her palm, a light, hesitant stroke. He didn’t say anything.
She dug deeper into her arsenal. “You mentioned that Dora Lee chipped a tooth?”
The question appeared to startle him. “Yes. She hit her mouth, and a front tooth—”
“I happen to know some dentists who would do a magnificent job capping that tooth for her.”
He arched an eyebrow. Could he tell she was bribing him? Was her bribe going to work? “You wouldn’t by any chance be related to these dentists, would you?”
“My father and two brothers could give her a smile like a movie star’s.”
“Loretta, I don’t know if she’s got insurance, if there’s going to be a criminal trial—”
“And in the meantime poor Dora Lee is going to walk around looking like a hillbilly every time she smiles.”
“She can’t walk around. She’s got a broken leg.”
“She needs topnotch dental treatment,” Loretta argued. “I can get it for her. Maybe even for free.” She’d twist Nicky’s arm. Or Al’s. She’d promise him and Cindy some free baby-sitting. Or she
’d tell him fixing this poor old woman’s tooth would be an altruistic act. Al loved to think of himself as saintly.
“Would this be a quid-pro-quo thing? Free dental work only if she agrees to appear on your show?”
“Of course not!” she said, forcing indignation into her tone. “I’m just trying to be helpful. The show would be a totally separate issue. But if we did it,” she pressed on, “you have my word that it would be sensitive and respectful of all the people involved. It would address issues. It would be educational.”
“The Becky Blake Show, educational.” He snorted.
“Of course we’re educational. Thanks to us, more people know about transsexuals and fetishists than ever before.”
Josh laughed reluctantly. “Why did I think it would be easy to talk to you?”
“Because it is,” she told him. “Because I’m your friend.”
He was still clearly entertaining doubts, although his smile held on. “A man is heartbroken, a woman is in the hospital, and another woman may wind up in jail.”
“Or else they’ll work it out and make peace on the Becky Blake Show. Trust me, Josh. This my area of expertise.”
“Tawdry human scandal.”
“People who put their hearts on the line,” she corrected him. “Can I talk to my colleagues about this? Can I see if there’s some way we could turn this into a beautiful, healing show?”
He sighed again, deep and long. “I never quite figured out how you talked me into the blind date, either.”
That was as good as a yes. Suppressing a triumphant smile, she gave his hand a reassuring squeeze. “I can make this work for Solly and his ladies, okay? I can make it come out beautifully.”
“I want to believe you,” Josh said. “I don’t know why, but I do.”
“And I wasn’t kidding about the dental work. Seriously. If she doesn’t have insurance, I’ll get my father or one of my brothers to do it as a professional courtesy.”
“They do good work?” he asked.
“What do you think?” She grinned broadly, revealing her well-tended, sparkling-white teeth.
His smile was both resigned and appreciative. “Okay, they do good work.”
She relaxed. Life was looking better. Delivering a show like this to Becky would definitely help to save her job. Getting Dora Lee’s tooth repaired would be a good deed. Working with Josh…well, that could be positive or negative. She decided to assume it would be positive.
So what if he had a girlfriend? One of those fissures in his heart of stone had Loretta’s name on it.
Chapter Eighteen
“You’re looking piqued,” Anita declared.
Josh scrubbed a hand through his hair and forced a weary smile. Anita had a way of surprising him, sometimes speaking with an earthy vulgarity and other times using effete terms like “piqued,” as if she’d escaped from a Victorian novel and gone undercover as a zaftig Hispanic New Yorker. She liked keeping people off balance. She always wore frilly blouses when she was facing a particularly gruesome courtroom battle, and dressed in severe conservative suits when she was heading off to meet a new client. Josh would have thought the reverse would be more effective—dressing like a tough warrior for court and like a gentle lady for meetings with easily intimidated clients. But doing the opposite seemed to work for her. He didn’t understand why.
Then again, he didn’t understand plenty. For instance, he didn’t understand how Loretta managed to talk him into things. First he’d agreed to go on a phony blind date with her. And now he’d agreed to talk to Solly about appearing on the Becky Blake Show.
Why had Josh said yes to Loretta? Probably for the same reason he’d asked her to have lunch with him. He felt comfortable with her. He could unburden himself to her. They were on the same wavelength.
He liked her.
“I’m not piqued,” he told Anita as she sashayed into his office, a glint of thigh visible through the side slit of her skirt. “I just got a call from the lawyer representing the Branford Arms landlord. He wants to work out a settlement.”
“No shit?” Apparently, Anita was no longer slumming in Victorian language territory.
“He knew he was going to lose at the hearing,” Josh explained. “He decided to get real.”
“Joshua, that’s great! You should be singing. And instead, you look like your dog died.”
“I don’t have a dog. And I’m not sad. Just…bewildered.”
“Why should you be bewildered? You’re good at what you do. I’m not surprised you brought that Branford Arms landlord to his knees.”
He shook his head. “It’s not the Branford Arms thing. It’s…” He sighed, unsure how much to tell Anita. Too little and she’d nag him to tell her more. Too much and she’d lecture him on his foolishness. “A friend of mine is in the hospital,” he said, then realized that wasn’t exactly accurate. Dora Lee wasn’t actually his friend. Of the Solly trio, she was the one he knew the least.
He knew her cooking, though. He’d eaten her chicken and her cookies, including those wonderful pastries stuffed with poppy seeds and honey that she’d brought to the center yesterday. That alone was enough to qualify her as a friend.
“Oh, I’m sorry!” Anita slipped into maternal mode, circling his desk and wrapping her arms around him, nearly gouging his neck with one of her lethal-weapon fingernails. “I’m so sorry. Is it serious?”
“A broken leg and a chipped tooth. I’ve got another friend with dentist connections, though. The tooth is going to be all right. I assume the leg will eventually be all right, too.” He decided not to go into detail. The story was too weird—and for some reason, he’d been more able to discuss it with Loretta than with Anita, whom he’d known a whole lot longer. “It’s left me a little rattled.”
“Of course it has. I still remember when my son fell off his tricycle and popped out a front tooth. He was only four, thank God—it was a baby tooth. But it hadn’t been ready to come out, and he had this awful gap right in the front of his bite for two years until his permanent tooth finally came down. Those bike helmets, they ought to be designed with a tooth guard.”
Anita could hardly compare her son’s tumble off a trike with a violent encounter between two elderly women. But like Anita’s son, Dora Lee would recover, especially with the dental therapy Loretta was promising.
Why did he trust Loretta? Why had he said yes?
Why did the thought of bringing her and Solly together hold an odd appeal? Because they were both his friends? Because when he liked two people he wanted them to like each other? Or had Loretta simply cast a spell on him?
No, it wasn’t a spell. If it had been, he would have wanted to kiss her once they’d walked back to the massive granite building that housed the production studios a block from Rockefeller Center. But he hadn’t wanted a kiss, other than in the most general, male-hormonal-reflex way. She was attractive, he was a guy, so sure, kissing her would be terrific. But he wasn’t looking to start a relationship with her. That much seemed pretty clear.
“So this friend of yours,” Anita said, “does he need a lawyer? Are there insurance issues? Those insurance companies inflict more pain and suffering than they pay for.”
“I don’t know.” Josh didn’t bother to note that his friend was a she and not a he. He’d supplied Solly with a list of criminal lawyers’ names for Phyllis; maybe he should supply him with a list of lawyers who specialize in settling insurance claims for Dora Lee. If Solly held both women as equals in his heart, he ought to dole out the lawyers’ names equally.
“Joshua, honey, your friend is going to get better. Save your grief for a funeral, okay?”
“Okay.” He managed a smile to prove he wasn’t grieving.
Anita headed for the door, then paused and turned to him. “Did I ever tell you I hated that tie?”
He glanced down. He was wearing one of his more modest ties, a dark red with a paisley pattern. He knew Anita hated his Jiminy
Cricket tie and his tie with the South Park characters on it. What could she possibly find objectionable about this one?
As if he’d voiced the question, she answered, “It’s boring,” then sauntered out of the office, her hips zigging and zagging with each step.
***
Solomon Hirschbaum was an inch or so shorter than Loretta, but he had charisma. She could feel it the moment she entered his cozy, well-furnished living room. Josh had let her in and greeted her with a quiet smile, but her attention quickly shifted to the slight, silver-haired man hovering near the row of windows that overlooked Amsterdam Avenue. He turned at her entrance, and she saw his misery in his eyes and the tension around his mouth.
Yet even miserable—and short—he seemed like a pretty cool guy for someone in his seventies.
If only her widowed Nona could meet a guy like him… Although then they’d have to have one of those weddings with the priest and the rabbi, because Nona would insist on a wedding. Besides, Josh’s friend might not be such a terrific catch, given that he was already stringing along a bunch of other women, one of whom had sent a rival to the hospital.
“Mr. Hirschbaum,” she said, extending her right hand. Sometimes older men felt funny shaking hands with women, but he gripped her hand without hesitation. “I’m Loretta D’Angelo. I’m so glad you were willing to meet with me. Josh has told me a lot about you.”
“If he’s told you a lot about me, he should’ve told you to call me Solly.” His eyes were a caramel brown behind his glasses, and his chin was strong. The hell with Nona; Loretta wanted him for herself.
Not really. He was cute but not so cute she’d risk assaults by his other sweethearts. And she didn’t think he’d go over too well with her family. Nicky would phone her day and night to harangue her for getting involved with such an inappropriate man. He’d haul his friend Marty into the city and handcuff Loretta to the guy.
“If I’m calling you Solly, you have to call me Loretta,” she said.
Solly assessed her thoughtfully, then glanced at Josh. Loretta wasn’t sure how to interpret his look; he was communicating something to Josh, but she didn’t know what. Nor did Josh reveal anything. His expression remained pleasantly noncommittal.
Just This Once Page 20
