Beautiful Mess

by Herrick, John

  Del glanced half a block behind him and caught sight of a television news van as it approached the intersection and slowed for a yellow light. Its two occupants chatted with each other in the front seats. Del recognized the woman in the passenger seat from the evening news. She didn’t notice him, either.

  Then again, why should he expect attention? Nobody wouldn’t expect to find him here, would they?

  He turned on his heels and started the trek back toward his car. He gazed out at the street, where the traffic light turned green.

  Del jolted at a sudden outburst from a nearby store.

  “Stop!” shouted an angry, middle-aged voice. “Somebody stop that little bastard!”

  CHAPTER 12

  DEL SPUN his attention toward the shops. As soon as he did, a young man who looked no older than sixteen slammed against Del’s shoulder as he flashed past him. Beyond the scent of cheap cigarette smoke, nothing registered in Del’s mind until the intruder had passed.

  The young man tried to dodge another pedestrian, a female, but his impact with Del’s shoulder had caused him to lose his balance. After a few wobbly steps, he stumbled and fell, face first, onto Del Corwyn’s star. On his way down, the kid stuck out his palms, scraping his hands but protecting his nose, though Del swore he heard a crack when the kid’s knee hit the pavement. Had the little bastard gotten blood on his star?

  Too stunned to move, Del gawked at the kid, who now grabbed one knee and writhed on the ground, his face twisted in a combination of frustration and pain. A group of tourists stood in the middle of the sidewalk, gawking at the sight. Locals detoured around the kid the way they would avoid an orange construction cone.

  Del felt the clap of a hand against his shoulder.

  “Thanks, buddy,” said a bulky man with thinning hair, whose voice matched the outburst of anger, as he rushed past Del and hovered over the kid, hands on his hips and muttering something. Del assumed the older guy was the store manager.

  “My knee!” hollered the kid, still thrashing in pain, his voice filled with resentment. “I broke my fucking knee! You dumb bastard, I’m gonna fucking sue your ass!”

  Yet the manager continued to stand guard over the kid, one hand on his hip and the other hand on a cell phone he’d grabbed from his back pocket. Probably dialing 911.

  At that point, the circumstance dawned on Del: The kid must be a shoplifter, and Del had, albeit inadvertently, become a hero! But of course, nobody else knew this except the store manager, who was too busy guarding the kid until the police arrived. The kid continued to roll on the ground, his elbow scuffed, grunting in pain as he cradled his knee.

  “Excuse me, did you witness what happened?” shouted a female voice.

  Del spun on his heels and discovered the news van had parked at the side of the road. The female reporter came running up, microphone in hand, a cameraman attempting to keep pace as he lugged his equipment.

  As Del prepared to answer the reporter’s question, she rushed past him and stopped beside a woman. She was the next pedestrian the kid had attempted to dodge after he’d rammed into Del, before the kid had hit the pavement. The cameraman lifted his camera to his shoulder and began to shoot footage.

  She’s interviewing someone else!

  The woman faced the reporter as she answered her questions, which prevented Del from getting a good look at his competition. He tried to hear what the female bystander said, but she must have kept her voice under control, because her answers were beyond his earshot. Amid the commotion, Del hadn’t noticed the woman earlier and hadn’t seen her face, but now he examined her from the rear. Her graying brown hair ended in curves halfway down her neckline. She wore a casual top and pants, a conservative mix, yet one that revealed she was in respectable physical shape. A decent ass. By Del’s estimation, this woman was pushing age fifty and was in no particular hurry to get there.

  She accented her answers with an occasional hand gesture, just two females having a conversation. She appeared neither fazed nor honored to be the center of attention. She didn’t seem to care that she was on camera.

  One little nugget of attention was all Del needed to remind people he was still alive, still available. A reluctant hero who’d stopped a crime, albeit without realizing it at the time. A man of destiny.

  She’s stealing my spotlight!

  He couldn’t buy a twist of fate like this. A publicist couldn’t have arranged it. This opportunity had dropped into his hands, then slipped between his fingers like water.

  He was the one who’d gotten rammed in the shoulder! The scent of the kid’s cheap cigarettes still lingered on his shirt. The kid reeked of them, and now Del did, too. And all for naught!

  Before he knew it, the reporter concluded the interview.

  “Thank you for your time anyway, ma’am.” The reporter turned to her partner and nodded toward their van. “This is just a petty theft, nothing big here. Let’s go.” And they trodded in Del’s direction.

  When the kid, still clutching his knee, heard this, his mouth fell open, his eyes wide in aghast.

  “What the fuck?!” the kid screamed at the reporter. “What do you mean, ‘nothing big’? My fucking knee’s broken!”

  Either the reporter didn’t hear his bellows or ignored them. She didn’t even bother to look back. Even the store manager scratched his head, as though confused because nobody had asked him to give his side of the story. As the reporter passed Del, he caught her eye. She offered him a confident smirk but didn’t slow her pace.

  Several blocks away, sirens wailed, which Del assumed were police vehicles. The news van departed before they arrived.

  The woman who had given the interview turned around and tucked her hair behind her ear. She studied the thief, as though indecisive about whether to tend to him, then bit her lower lip and peered at the approaching police vehicles and their twirling emergency lights. She must have decided the professionals would take care of the kid’s needs, because she headed in Del’s direction, scratching her brow furrowed as she tried to make sense of what had unfolded in the last five minutes.

  She was quite attractive, he had to admit, even if she did steal his spotlight—and all for nothing. But on a positive note, at least neither he nor she would get dragged into a police investigation. Technically, neither of them had witnessed a crime. Just a kid on the run, even if it didn’t take a genius to determine what had occurred.

  Whether he made a conscious decision to do so or just reacted, Del didn’t know, but he offered the woman a grin when she crossed his path.

  “A lot of excitement, eh?” he said.

  She paused midstride. “Apparently. I didn’t really see what happened—”

  Their eyes locked, and Del felt his pupils dilate, a reaction that appeared mutual in the first split second he looked into her brown eyes.

  From a closer vantage point, Del noticed subtle age spots on her cheeks. Now he estimated she was in her sixties. Quite a bit older than he preferred in a female companion, but she looked damn good for her age. She possessed a classic, understated beauty.

  In the aftermath of the confusion, the woman pursed her lips, peering this way and that. Del was glad the kid, who now shook his cuffed hands and wailed in protest, hadn’t collided with her and hurt her.

  “Are you okay?” Del asked.

  The woman moved a strand of hair from her face with her left hand. No wedding band.

  “I’m fine, thank you.”

  They exchanged glances again. Del hesitated. He couldn’t believe he was doing this.

  “Can I buy you a cup of coffee?”

  At first, she didn’t reply. She chewed her thumbnail a moment, no doubt sizing him up and determining whether he seemed safe. When she caught herself chewing her nail, she grimaced and dropped her hand, the way one would when smothering the remnant of a habit broken but not forgotten.

  Judging from the way her glance lingered, Del could tell she found him attractive. His heartbeat quickened.

&n
bsp; “I’m sorry, I’m a little shaken at the moment,” she replied.

  Del felt blood rush to the surface of his flesh. He hoped he wasn’t blushing. He’d better provide cover for himself.

  “I didn’t mean to make a big deal out of the offer. It’s just a cup of coffee—”

  She grinned as she held up a hand to stop him. “It’s okay, I meant my brain is a bit preoccupied after—” She nodded behind her, then a worried expression overcame her face. “Oh, I forgot about that young guy. Normally, I wouldn’t have walked away and ignored him, but everything erupted so fast.” She turned and noticed two paramedics had arrived to assess the damage. The kid had hobbled to his feet. “I’m sure they have it covered, though. And it looks like he might’ve exaggerated about his knee.”

  Del grinned. “It appears he turned a minor scuff into a mortal wound.”

  She returned her attention to Del, her face now solid with satisfaction. “Yes, a cup of coffee sounds nice, thank you. I don’t think my nerves will handle anything beyond decaf, though.”

  Relief rushed through him. To face rejection within reach of his own star on the Hollywood Walk of Fame? How pathetic that would have been!

  “I’m Del,” he said, reaching out his hand.

  As the woman smiled, fresh life filled her eyes. She tilted her head to one side. Del felt magnetic attraction drawing them together.

  “Felicia,” she replied with a handshake, feminine yet confident. “Nice to meet you, Del.”

  CHAPTER 13

  WITHIN A FEW MINUTES of settling into two well-stuffed chairs in a coffee shop around the corner—to Del’s surprise and, he suspected, to hers as well—Del and Felicia had each other laughing.

  “So what does Felicia do for a living?” Del asked.

  “Felicia is a minister,” she replied.

  Del felt his mouth drop open. “A lady minister?”

  “We do exist.”

  “What would bring a minister to Hollywood Boulevard?”

  “I have a meeting in the area this afternoon, so I decided to come early. I was on my way to lunch.”

  “You must be starving by now. Let me buy you something to eat.”

  “Given the course of events earlier, I managed to lose my appetite.” She shrugged. “I could stand to lose a few pounds, anyway.”

  “You? No, you look perfect.” When she shot him a curious look, Del cleared his throat and sought to backtrack his remarks. “I apologize for my reaction to your career. When I picture a minister, a man always comes to mind. Apparently, I’m not immune to stereotypes.”

  Felicia waved off his comment. “You’re not alone, believe me.”

  “You’ve seen worse?”

  “I’ve been looked down upon by people in other churches. Then there are others who, when they learn I’m a minister, show a degree of respect for the office but don’t take me seriously. Some don’t believe women should be allowed to preach or teach.”

  “Yet you soldier on?”

  “Life is too short to worry about the naysayers. Too many people need help.” Dressed in black pants, she crossed her legs and lifted the coffee to her lips. She drank it black. “Not that people’s opinions have ever bothered me. I’ve always been something of a free spirit.”

  “How so?”

  “Let’s just say you and I grew up in similar eras.”

  “I refuse to ask your age,” he said.

  “I’m sixty-eight.”

  “You look terrific for sixty-eight.”

  “Thank you.” She set her coffee cup on the end table they shared.

  Del inhaled the aroma of coffee beans and noticed he no longer detected the scent of the petty thief’s cigarettes on his shirt. Smooth jazz music played overhead, which complemented the coffeehouse’s organic shades of autumn.

  “You have to admit, a free spirit does defy the stereotype of a minister,” Del said.

  “What can I say? I’m a child of the sixties.”

  “The sixties? You were barely out of the cradle,” Del winked.

  “And you’re good,” Felicia replied with a staccato laugh Del found endearing. “I was fifteen years old in 1969. One of the last of the hippies.”

  “How’d you wind up in that situation?”

  “I have two older siblings who were involved in the whole counterculture thing, so I followed suit. Obviously, I didn’t find it satisfying. I no longer wear love beads.”

  “Good riddance to bad rubbish, as they say.”

  “I wore Janis Joplin sunglasses. Long, frizzy hair. It was pretty bad.” Felicia shook her head as she reminisced and took another drink of her coffee. “But here we are in the twenty-first century, and people haven’t changed. I understand how it feels to search for meaning in life. It’s the classic pursuit, as old as human history. Eras change, people exchange love beads for tattoos, but the search remains the same. The need is intrinsic. Everybody seeks to explain the inexplicable, to reach for something higher than themselves, to know they fit into a bigger picture. Everyone yearns for significance.”

  “And you help them find their way?”

  “The best I can,” she replied. “I’m not a perfect individual. Not by any means. I don’t have all the answers, but I can offer one overarching answer.”

  “The God thing?” Del said. “I grew up with religion. Back home in Nebraska.”

  “Imagine that.”

  “It was a long time ago.”

  “But not today?”

  Del shrugged. “I’m not opposed to it. I suppose I’ve found fulfillment in other ways.” He tapped the handle of his cup. It was green, the color of a sour apple. “The minister at our little country church was always kind to me.”

  Felicia regarded him for a beat. “You never mentioned what you do for a living. Unless you’re enjoying retirement.”

  “I’ll never retire. I’m not made for that,” he said with a chuckle. “I’m an actor.”

  “That’s impressive. Anything I’d know?”

  “Sure, a whole list of them. But I’ll always consider The Changing Tides my best work.”

  “That’s one I haven’t seen in a few years. A classic, though. You must have had a plum role in that one if you consider it your best work.”

  Del couldn’t hide his amusement. “I’m beginning to think you’re serious.”

  Felicia wrinkled her eyebrows, as though accepting a punch line existed but unsure what it was. “Did I say something wrong?”

  “No, it’s just—you don’t know who I am, do you?” Del marveled.

  “I’m sorry, should I?”

  “I received an Oscar nomination for The Changing Tides.”

  Felicia rested her hand on her palm. “Really? Let me try to picture you…”

  “I was fairly young back then.”

  “Let me see…The Changing Tides…a guy named Del…” Felicia squinted her eyes as she concentrated on him. No words passed between them for a while. Then she tossed him a look of skepticism. “You’re kidding me. Del Corwyn? You’re that Del?”

  “The one and only.”

  “My, my. This is an honor,” she teased. “You’ll have to excuse me. I tend not to run into many actors in my line of work, and I don’t seek them out.”

  “After all, what would a minister find attractive in a guy like me, right?”

  “Don’t sell yourself short. I’m a minister, but I’m still female.”

  With each passing moment, Del found this woman more beautiful, yet he found himself drawn to Felicia for a reason unrelated to her beauty. Was it the confidence that oozed through her pores? Or perhaps it was her contentment. Whatever it was, he felt at ease with her. He’d always used his career to draw attention from the opposite sex, but today, he was astonished at the refreshment he discovered in capturing a woman’s interest because of who he was on the inside. This was new.

  Del wanted the afternoon to linger.

  Felicia checked her watch, then gasped as she slammed her cup on the table. Coffee sp
lashed on the napkin beneath the cup.

  “My meeting! I need to be there in ten minutes!” She shot up from her chair, grabbed her purse, and sighed. “I lost track of time. I hate to abandon you, Del, but I do need to go.”

  Del’s reflexes kicked in. He jumped from his seat. He couldn’t let her disappear from his life just like that.

  Say something! Anything!

  “I’d love to see you again, Felicia.”

  She stopped. Gazed into his eyes. Time slowed.

  She responded with a delightful smile. Del remembered to breathe again.

  “That sounds nice.”

  Del fished in his pocket for a pen, then handed it to her, along with an unused napkin. “Write down your number and I’ll give you a call later.”

  She nodded. In a flurry, she jotted her name and number on the napkin, then spun around and darted for the door. From halfway across the room, she peered over her shoulder and waved good-bye.

  Del felt like a teenager as he looked at her handwriting. She curved the corners and embellished her fours when she wrote. The free spirit in her had manifested once again.

  He lifted her coffee cup and, with a grin, admired the lipstick imprints she’d left behind.

  For the first time, Del indulged in the notion that perhaps, years from now, those markings could become an everyday occurrence in his life.

  CHAPTER 14

  THAT EVENING, he dialed her number. She answered on the third ring.

  “Felicia?”

  “Del, you called! I wasn’t sure whether I’d hear from you.”

  “I don’t suppose a minister enjoys a glass of wine now and again?”

  “Some do. This one does. Why do you ask?”

  “Would you like to stop by for a glass of chardonnay on my patio? I have a hunch you would love the view.”