Breakfast at Stephanie's

by Sue Margolis

  “Mum knows she shouldn’t have lost her temper, but she’s really frightened about what might happen to you.”

  “I know she is, but I’ll be fine. I’ll have Bernard looking after me. I may be getting on, but I’m not senile. If Estelle loves me, then she has to let me make my own decisions, and so do you.” It was clear that Lilly was declaring the subject closed.

  Stephanie managed to get home, change into trousers and a shirt, which were smart rather than sexy—so as not to give Ossie the wrong idea—and make it to the restaurant by just after eight.

  As she parked the car, she could feel herself starting to get nervous. She knew she had to tell Ossie the truth, but she was still struggling to think of the words that would let him down gently. She was also aware that telling the truth wasn’t getting her very far lately.

  The Jägerhütte, with its stuffed deer heads on the wall and general bierkeller rusticity, looked like the kind of place Hitler would have chosen to hang out after a hard day’s annexing. Stephanie was greeted by a waiter sporting lederhosen and a three-foot-long pepper grinder. As he took her coat, she could see Ossie sitting at the table. His head was down and he was swirling the ice in his soda. He looked edgy, she thought, just as he had this morning. He clambered down from his chair when he saw her coming toward him. She bent her knees so that he could reach up to kiss her.

  “So,” he said as they sat down, “did I tell you, they do the most wonderful schnitzel here?”

  “Yes, you did mention it.” He really wasn’t himself, she decided. When the waiter appeared she ordered a spritzer. He asked for another soda. While they waited for their drinks he asked her how her day had gone.

  “Great. No problems. And I’m really starting to like Konstanty.”

  “Good. Very good. I’m pleased.” He looked up to see what had happened to their drinks. “Look,” he said, clearing his throat. “I’m going to come straight to the point. I’ve got something really important I’d like to say to you.” In her general panic it occurred to her he was about to announce that he was in love with her. She absolutely had to say her piece first and stop him. “Actually, Ossie, I’m glad you said that, because there’s something I need to say to you too.”

  “Do you mind if I go first? I’ve been up half the night preparing what I was going to say.” Gawd. He really was about to declare his undying love. “The thing is,” he said, “I know we’re going to have a great professional relationship and I think we’re going to be great friends, too, but I don’t think we’re quite going to make it together as, you know, an item.”

  Whoa. Hang on. He couldn’t go out with her? “We’re not?” she said. “Why not?”

  He shook his head. “Look at us. We’re just so different.”

  She let out a long breath. “Oh, God, Ossie. I’m so glad you found the courage to say it. I’ve been dreading bringing it up in case I offended you.”

  “How could you offend me? It’s nobody’s fault.”

  “No, no. Of course it isn’t.”

  “I mean,” he continued. “You’re Jewish and I’m a moron.”

  “Ossie, that’s ridiculous,” Stephanie exclaimed. “You’re a highly intelligent man.”

  Ossie smiled a patient smile. “I didn’t say I was a moron. I said I was a Mormon. I’m a member of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints.”

  “Get out,” she said, throwing back her head and laughing loudly. Then she saw the expression on his face and realized he was deadly serious. “So, how come you’ve never mentioned it?”

  “Stephanie, unless you’re Donny Osmond, being in show business and a Mormon doesn’t exactly go down well.”

  “Now I get it. That explains the crucifix and the no alcohol. But you still smoke, you swear, you sleep with women.”

  He shrugged. “OK, I struggle with my faith. That doesn’t make my intention any less serious.” She supposed she just about took the point. “You’re a beautiful woman, Stephanie, and I know you’ll find the right man someday. It’s just not me. I know you feel hurt and rejected right now, but it will pass.”

  “I hope so,” Stephanie said, praying that she sounded sufficiently wounded.

  Ossie was staring into his glass. “I think I ought to tell you that Sheila and I have sort of got it together.”

  “Sheila? She hates you.”

  He laughed. “No, she doesn’t hate me. She really does adore me. And I think the world of her. The point is neither of us could admit it.”

  “Why?”

  He explained that he’d originally met Sheila through his church and that he’d offered her a job when her husband left her. “She was married for twenty years to this bastard who was constantly playing away from home. My problem was that I’ve always had this thing about being seen with beautiful young women. I wanted to prove to the world that although I was short, I could still date. Of course, those relationships never went anywhere, but I was so obsessed. I couldn’t see what was under my nose. Anyway, on her birthday I took Sheila out for dinner and I gave her the earrings. We got pissed and she ended up telling me she’d always had a thing for me, but her husband walking out left her feeling very insecure and she has been too scared to say how she felt about me in case I rejected her. Thinking back, I’ve probably always loved her.”

  Stephanie nodded. “I hope it works out for you, Ossie,” she said, placing her hand on top of his. “I really do.”

  “So, you’re OK? You wouldn’t believe how worried I’ve been.”

  “I will be,” she said, keeping up the wounded act.

  “You’ll still stay and have dinner, though, won’t you? The sauerkraut they do here has to be tasted to be believed.” She said that of course she would stay.

  “Fantastic.” He grinned. Then he tucked his napkin into his collar. “So, Stephanie, have you ever thought about allowing the Holy Spirit into your life?”

  To her enormous relief, Ossie’s question was only a tease. Proselytism, he assured her, wasn’t his style. Puzzled that a man like Ossie had found God, she asked him what the attraction was. He shrugged. “Sometimes being this size isn’t easy. You need something to get you through.” She wasn’t surprised to find out he had been taunted mercilessly as a child. “Walking through the school gates every day was like going into a war zone,” he told her. “There was never anywhere to hide. The bullies always found me. I soon learned my only option was to tough it out. Then, when I got home, I used to send up a little prayer. It got me through. I’m not as hard as I appear, you know.”

  “I’d worked that out,” she said gently. She was finding him so easy to talk to now that she was soon telling him about Albert and Frank.

  “It’s funny,” he said, “so often, we try to do the right thing and we never get it right.”

  “Tell me about it,” she said, managing a smile. “Thanks for listening.” He told her it was his pleasure.

  She’d just finished saying good night to Ossie and was walking back to her car when her mobile went off.

  “Hi, it’s me.” It was Cass. She sounded distraught.

  “Sweetie, what on earth is it?”

  “Alex has just dumped me.”

  “Dumped you? But yesterday you were about to walk down the aisle.”

  “I know. I can’t believe it. Look, I realize it’s late, but can you come over? I could really do with somebody to talk to.”

  Stephanie looked at her watch. It was past eleven. If she didn’t get a decent night’s sleep she would be a wreck in the morning. “All right, hang on,” she said. “I’ll be there in twenty minutes.”

  Chapter 16

  “Can you believe it?” Cass’s slurred voice was heaped with indignation. “Me, of all people. An oat.” She carried on pacing, virtually empty Scotch glass in one hand, cigarette in the other. “Help yourself to a drink.”

  Stephanie said she was fine. “I don’t understand. How do you mean, an oat?”

  “A wild oat.” She tipped back her head and drained he
r glass. “Alex confessed tonight that he and his wife had been childhood sweethearts, that he’d never slept with anybody apart from her and now he’s sowing his wild oats. I can’t believe he just used me for sex. He actually told me I meant nothing to him. I feel so humiliated.” That was the essence of it, Stephanie thought. Cass had never been dumped in her life. And to be dumped in such a callous way was doubly cruel. Her heart would mend, but her pride would take longer to recover.

  Stephanie went over to the window where Cass was standing, gazing out at the city lights. She put an arm round her. “Bastard,” she said.

  “You won’t tell a soul, will you?” Cass said, flicking ash into an empty glass. “I couldn’t live it down if it got out that I was an oat. I’d be a laughingstock. I mean, we can tell Lizzie, but nobody else must know.” Stephanie gave her a squeeze and promised she wouldn’t say a word. Cass wiped her nose on a ball of tissue. “So, how are things going between you and Frank?”

  Stephanie hadn’t planned to say anything, since Cass was so upset. “Not so great, since you ask.” She told the tale.

  “It’s funny,” Stephanie said, letting out a long breath. “Before I told him about Albert, I almost told Frank I loved him.”

  “What, before having sex? How quaintly old-fashioned.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “What I mean is, the man might turn out to have a really small penis. Then what would you do?” Stephanie said she was sure they would be able to work through it together. “How big are his ears?” Cass went on. “It’s a scientific fact that men with big ears have big penises.” Stephanie said she’d never really noticed Frank’s ears. Cass picked the whiskey bottle up from the coffee table and poured herself another drink.

  “Do you think I’ve lost him?” Stephanie said. Cass shook her head and said that he might take some convincing, but if he loved her he would come round. They sat talking for another twenty minutes or so, Cass repeatedly topping off her drink. Finally her eyes started to glaze over and her speech was starting to slur more. “Come on, you look exhausted,” Stephanie said. “Let’s get you to bed.” Cass stabbed out her cigarette in the whiskey glass and nodded. Then she let Stephanie make her some chamomile tea.

  “Oh, by the way,” Cass said as she sat in bed, sipping the tea. “I didn’t find an escort for Lizzie for tomorrow night. I couldn’t believe it. Every one of my contacts was busy or out of town. I tried a couple of agencies, but all the decent blokes were booked. What are we going to do? Lizzie’s plan totally collapses if we don’t find somebody.”

  Stephanie hadn’t the faintest idea what to do. Conjuring up hunks at a moment’s notice wasn’t exactly her forte. “Don’t worry,” she said, patting Cass’s hand. “You get some sleep. I’ll phone Albert in the morning. He’s bound to know somebody.”

  It was past one when she left Cass’s flat. She really was going to be knackered tomorrow. She could only hope that her adrenaline would kick in and keep her going. When she got in there was an e-mail from Albert asking how the recording had gone and saying he would call in the morning. The e-mail came as a surprise. She’d assumed that Albert, being Albert, would have forgotten about the recording.

  She fell asleep almost as soon as her head hit the pillow. A couple of hours later she woke with a start, heart thumping in her chest. She’d been dreaming that she was living with Frank and he was trying to persuade Jake to come into the garden and play football. Jake, who looked eight or nine in the dream, was punching him over and over again and screaming, “I won’t. I won’t. You’re not my dad. You’ll never be my dad.” Then Jake turned to Stephanie and burst into tears. “Why did you send my dad away? I hate you.” On her way downstairs to get some water, she kept telling herself the dream meant nothing, that her brain was overtired and it was playing tricks. Nevertheless, it had managed to tap into the guilt and fear she was already feeling about depriving Jake of his father and leave her shaken.

  Albert called her the next morning from the hotel restaurant where he was having breakfast.

  “So, is Michael Douglas’s arse really crepey, then?” she said, toweling her hair, which was still wet from the shower.

  “As a matter of fact, not at all,” he laughed. “I’ve no idea why they needed me. But, hey, how did the recording go?” She told him so far, so good. He sounded genuinely interested and pleased it was going so well. “I’ve been speaking to Jake every day,” he went on. “You wouldn’t believe how much I’m missing him. You know, when I get home we really need to sort out where we go from here. Being apart from you two has made me realize just how much I want us all to be together.”

  “I know, Albert,” she said, her voice quiet and thoughtful as images of last night’s dream filled her head. “I know … Listen, you don’t happen to know any hunky blokes, do you?”

  “Hey, come on, principessa. Hang in there. I’ll be back in a few days.”

  She explained that the hunk was for Lizzie. Albert said he knew plenty, but they were all in L.A. Just then he broke off from their conversation to say hi to somebody. “You’ll never guess who’s here—Sunnie Ellaye. I bumped into her last night. She’s here with her boyfriend, Brad. He’s the guy she went back with after we split up. Anyway, Brad’s a set designer on the film and she came along for the ride … Hold on, she wants to say hello.”

  “Stephanie, hi,” Sunnie squealed. “Can you believe this? It’s such a … I mean, it really is …”

  “A coincidence?”

  “I was gonna say weird, but I guess it’s a coincidence too. You know, I never told you how much I enjoyed spending the holidays with you. And I so miss Jake. He’s such an adorable little boy.” Then she lowered her voice. “And I’m so glad you and Albert have got it together. I have to tell you, he doesn’t stop talking about Jake. They need to be together. The three of you need to be together.”

  Dippy as a fondue she might have been, but there was no getting away from it, Sunnie really was a sweetheart. Stephanie barely had a chance to say how much she appreciated the thought, before Sunnie was saying she had to go. “A friend of mine from L.A. is throwing a martini and manicure party at the Hitler Bunker and we still need to pick up cuticle cream and olives.”

  Albert came back on the line. “Don’t even ask,” he laughed. “That woman just cracks me up.” Then he said he’d be home on Saturday.

  The moment she got off the phone, Stephanie’s thoughts returned to Lizzie’s lack of a hunk. She was beginning to panic. She couldn’t let her friend down. She just couldn’t.

  When she arrived at the studio, Graham and another engineer were having a problem with one of the mikes. While the orchestra sat around chatting in the studio, she and Konstanty stayed in the control room going over her songs and drinking coffee. “So, Konstanty, how are you getting on with Katherine Martinez?” He shrugged.

  “She is pussycat so long as I geev her the compliments all the time.” Stephanie said it sounded like exhausting work. “It is. You know, I wouldn’t have taken thees job if it hadn’t been for theater.”

  “Theater? I don’t understand.”

  “In my hometown of Banja Luka, the theater was destroyed during the war. I am trying to raise money to rebuild it. Just a few more thousand dollars and we will have enough. I thought it was worth taking reesk and doing something a leetle deeshonorable for good cause. What do you think?”

  “Oh, I think you did the right thing, Konstanty. Absolutely the right thing.” He asked her why she had agreed to be Katherine’s voice. She explained about being a single parent with a massive overdraft, Jimmy wanting his house back and the fact that she didn’t think she’d be able to afford to rent anything decent on what she could hope to earn.

  “I think you do right thing too,” he said.

  Since Graham was still fooling with the mike, they carried on chatting and for some reason she found herself telling him about Lizzie.

  “Don’t suppose you know any dishy blokes, do you?”

  “As happen,
I do,” he said. “My brother.”

  “Get away,” she laughed. Then, realizing that her great fat mouth had completely disengaged from her brain, relaying her thoughts about the impossibility of a man as aesthetically wanting as Konstanty having a good-looking brother, she turned instantly crimson.

  “Deeferent father,” he declared solemnly.

  “Oh, no, I didn’t mean … I mean, I wasn’t suggesting.”

  Konstanty laughed, showing off a mouthful of splayed gappy teeth. “Eet’s all right. I know I’m no George Loony.” He explained that his brother Igor was one of Bosnia’s top male models, that he was visiting and would probably be more than delighted to help out.

  “Oh, no, Konstanty, don’t worry,” Stephanie shot back, certain that Igor would look like a Polish Mafia boss. She could see it all—the mullet, the white jacket with sleeves pushed up to his elbows and the mirror sunglasses. “I’m sure we’ll find somebody.” But Konstanty refused to take no for an answer. Ten minutes later it was all fixed. “OK, he understands eexactly what he has to do. But I warn you, he speaks very leetle English.” That was the least of her worries, Stephanie thought. She decided that all she could do was sit tight and pray that he would be vaguely presentable.

  Sidney didn’t come into the studio that day. According to Ossie, whom she chatted to briefly on the phone, he was too busy pandering to K-Mart’s ever-increasing demands.

  Stephanie’s second day in the recording studio turned out to be much more demanding than the one before. Konstanty kept finding fault with her. She couldn’t work out if she was making more mistakes because she was tired after last night, or because Konstanty was simply being more critical than the day before. In the end she lost count of how many times he said: “No, no, no. I can hear tiny extra breath in third bar. We try it maybe just one more time, I theenk.” Then the orchestra would start to huff and puff and get generally pissed off, which undermined her confidence even more.

  By seven o’clock, just as Stephanie’s inner trouper was seriously considering going AWOL, Konstanty took off his headphones and declared that he was happy. They had finally managed to lay down five more tracks, each one free of extraneous breathing.