The Merchant of Venice Beach
Page 22
Erinn looked at Jude thoughtfully. What could Suzanna have possibly been thinking? She said she would look for a fellow artist, but she’d sent someone in television. Erinn realized that her mind had wandered, and she tried to tune back in to whatever it was Jude might be saying.
“ . . . but, you know, until I can produce my own work, I pick up assignments wherever I can.”
Erinn watched Jude as he picked up the rental agreement on the table.
“Well, I don’t think you really need to read that just yet . . . .” she said, trying to grab the document that would have damned her to her own personal hell should he sign it.
Jude picked up a pen from the table. Erinn watched in silence as he lost interest in the document and started doing curls with the pen, watching his bicep rise and fall with the motion. He was mesmerized. Erinn coughed, hoping to get his attention. Jude looked up and smiled sheepishly.
“I read that you should work out whenever—and wherever—you can,” he said.
“Oh? You read that?”
Jude laughed.” Well, I downloaded a workout video to my iPod so I could listen to it while I was skateboarding. Same thing.”
Erinn arched an eyebrow. Jude suddenly looked up at her.
“What about Tin Lizzy? That would be an awesome nickname for you!”
“You know, Jude, I’m not sure this is going to work out.”
He looked up.” Oh? Why not?”
“Well,” Erinn faltered.” I just think that, if two people live in such close proximity to each other, there should be some symbiosis . . . if you get my drift.”
Jude looked at Erinn for a minute, then smiled.
“Oh, you mean ’cause I’m in such good shape,” he said.” Don’t worry about that. I can help you get rid of that spare tire in no time.”
“No, no, no,” Erinn said.” I appreciate your offer. Although I wasn’t aware I had a spare tire.”
“Oh, big-time.”
“It was more along the lines of, well, I don’t feel we’re . . . intellectually compatible.”
Jude frowned.
“I’m not smart enough to rent your guesthouse?”
He held up the rental agreement and waved it in her face.
“Is there an I. Q. test attached to this?” he asked.
Erinn stood up so fast she knocked the chair over, and stormed out of the guesthouse. Jude sprinted after her, and Erinn wheeled on him.
“I’m sorry, Jude, but clearly this isn’t going to work.”
“Tell me about it. You think you’re some sort of god because you wrote one important play a hundred years ago? Nobody can even make a joke around you? I’m out of here.”
“I assume you can see yourself out?”
“If I can find my way around your huge ego, yeah,” Jude replied, as he walked toward the main house. He stepped over the cat, which was sunbathing on the walkway.
“See ya around, Truck.”
Apparently, Jude had not succeeded in giving her a nickname, but poor Caro did not escape unscathed.
Erinn went back into the kitchen, stung by Jude’s comments. To distract herself, she put up a pot of soup. She pulled out her large stockpot, added some homemade chicken stock, and started scrubbing tubers in a fury.
Who does he think he is, talking to me that way? she thought. I dodged a bullet with that one.
The phone rang. Erinn wiped off her hands and reached for the cordless, hesitating just long enough to grab her half-moon glasses and checked the caller I. D.
It was Suzanna.
Erinn put the phone down without answering it. She took off her glasses and returned to her soup.
CHAPTER 2
Erinn made sure the front door was securely bolted for the night and walked into her living room. She flipped on the light and admired the heavy, dark furnishings.
Sunshine, for God’s sake. She bristled as she thought back to that half-wit Jude’s reaction to this thoughtful, peaceful room.
She sat down at her computer—a twenty-four-inch behemoth that looked out of place on a highly polished claw-foot desk. She settled in to pay a few bills online. Caro pounced upon her, eager for attention. Erinn opened her eyes and scratched him thoughtfully.
“The bills won’t pay themselves, Caro,” she said, as she held the cat up and looked into his green, unblinking eyes.
With a sigh she went upstairs and changed into her men’s striped pajamas, brushed her teeth dutifully for two minutes, and headed back downstairs to the kitchen. One of Erinn’s little rebellions was that she brushed her teeth before she had her late- night hot chocolate.
Caro padded softly down the steps behind her.
Erinn’s kitchen, like every room in the house, was a monument to a more gracious era. The room was square, and the cabinetry was white with glass window inserts, so all the contents were proudly on display. A KitchenAid mixer, a Cuisinart, a Deni electric pressure cooker, a Vibiemme Domobar espresso machine, all had a place in the Wolf kitchen. If times were tough, they weren’t always.
As Erinn stirred her cocoa, she heard a key jangling at the back door. She grabbed another mug and smiled slightly as she started another serving of hot chocolate. The key continued its clanking, grinding medley for several seconds. Finally, the back door swung open.
“Hi, Erinn. I was in the neighborhood . . . ,” offered a voice from the door.” Can I come in?”
“Don’t let the cat—” called Erinn, as Suzanna wrestled with the key still jammed in the lock.
Caro scooted out the door.
“—out,” Erinn finished.
Suzanna flung herself into the room, laden with bags from Mommy and Me, Two Peas in a Pod, and the Wildfiber Yarn Store. Suzanna was seven months’ pregnant and was taking to the experience like Mother Nature to spring.
“I can give you a new key,” Erinn said.
“That’s OK. This way you hear me coming,” Suzanna said.” I don’t want to scare you.”
She set her new purchases on the table and dumped out several maternity outfits and skeins of orange, brown, and lime-green yarn. Erinn picked up the yarn and examined it—could this be for the baby?
“It’s not your lack of skill with a lock that scares me,” Erinn said.
Suzanna was in her mid-thirties. She had recently married Eric, the object of her desire since high school. Suzanna owned the Rollicking Bun Tea Shoppe and Book Nook on the other side of town.
“I thought orange and green were safe for either sex,” Suzanna said.
She and Eric had decided that they didn’t want to know the gender of their baby beforehand.
Erinn watched as Suzanna continued to unload her bags.
“God! I love shopping,” said Suzanna.
“You were shopping? At this hour?”
“Erinn, it’s eight-thirty. People shop at eight-thirty.”
Suzanna tossed a small box to her sister, who caught it clumsily.
“I bought you a lipstick!” she said.” Try it! It will look great with your . . . pajamas.”
Ever since Suzanna had gotten married, she’d been obsessed with Erinn’s single status. She was on a one-woman campaign to get Erinn out in the world.
Suzanna and Erinn had not been close as children. Erinn was nearly ten years older, and had moved to New York City when Suzanna was still young. Since moving to Santa Monica, the siblings had gotten closer, and as she examined the lipstick, Erinn doubted the wisdom of this. She eyed the waxy red tube with suspicion.
Suzanna snatched it back. She grabbed her sister’s mouth and forced it into pucker.” Don’t move. . . .”
Suzanna finished the application, whipped out a mirror from her purse, and handed it to her sister. Erinn inspected her new lips.
“If one is a sheepdog, why try to look like a Pekingese?” she asked, as she returned the mirror.
“Well, Scooby-Doo, you could do with a little lift, that’s all. Don’t you remember when people used to say you looked like Valerie Bertinelli?”
Erinn nodded, trying not to gag on the waxy taste of the lipstick.
“Well, since she’s been on Jenny Craig . . . not so much.”
“And one lipstick will do for me what a year on Jenny Craig did for Valerie? I think not.”
“Baby steps, big sister. Baby steps.”
Erinn was grateful for her sister’s concern, but missed the days when Suzanna was in awe of her and treated her with respect instead of with incessant camaraderie. While her sister reloaded her bags, Erinn covertly wiped off her new lipstick and took a hefty sip of cocoa.
“Well?” Suzanna asked.
“Well what?”
“Did you find a tenant for the guesthouse?”
“No, I did not,” Erinn said.” And I have to say, I don’t think Craig nor his list are the way to go.”
“You aren’t trying.”
“It’s my guesthouse, Suzanna. I don’t have to try. They do.”
“Well, keep looking.”
“Let’s change the subject, shall we?”
Erinn had pulled out her big sister voice, which wasn’t really fair. She knew Suzanna would cave in.
“OK,” Suzanna said.” How’s the new play?”
Erinn got up and went into the living room. Suzanna had started casting yarn onto a set of large circular needles and had to scoot after her sister to catch up.
“How long have you been practicing that casual delivery?” Erinn asked.
“Uh . . . all week, if you must know,” Suzanna said, following closely at her sister’s heels.
Erinn thumped down on the sofa and put a pillow over her head.
“Erinn, come on! I’m worried about you. You stay holed up in here day after day, not talking to anybody. . . .”
“That is not true,” Erinn said, from under the pillow.” I had a very interesting conversation with a nice couple I met in the park just this afternoon.”
Suzanna sat next to Erinn. She pulled the pillow off her sister’s head and tossed it aside. Erinn noticed the corners of the pillow were a little frayed, but, hey, get in line.
“Listen, I’m not just talking to you as a sister,” Suzanna said.” Mimi was in the shop yesterday, and she said you’ve been avoiding her.”
Mimi was Erinn’s agent.
“She shouldn’t be discussing my business with you!”
“She’s worried about you. She says she needs something to sell.”
“And what if I don’t have anything right now? She’ll drop me?”
“How should I know? Hey, we forgot our cocoa,” Suzanna said.
“I’ll get it,” Erinn said.
Erinn headed back to the kitchen. She tested the temperature by dipping her little finger into the cocoa. She put the cups in the microwave to reheat. While she watched the cups go around and around, she suddenly noticed how quiet it was. Leaving the cocoa to its carousel ride, she dashed frantically back into the living room, but she was too late. Suzanna was staring intently at the computer screen.
Erinn tried to block the screen and said, “It’s not ready!”
“Just a peek!”
“No! It’s still rough.”
“I’ll make allowances.”
Erinn couldn’t budge her sister. Suzanna countered every move like a prizefighter —years of sisterly combat had her trained—and the two women stared at the screen.
MRS. FURST
John, you may be the president, and this might be the
White House, but it’s still our home . . . where the buffalo
roam and the deer and the antelope play.”
Erinn turned off the monitor and started to pace.
“It’s hopeless,” she said.” I’m hopeless.”
“It’s not that bad,” Suzanna said.” It’s very patriotic.”
“Do you think Mimi will like it?”
“Oh, who cares if she likes it? She’s an agent . . . she only cares ten percent,” Suzanna said, as Erinn chewed on a thumbnail.” I, on the other hand, am your sister. So I care one hundred and ten percent.”
Erinn turned, mid-pace, and stared at her sister.
“That’s a good line,” she said, going back to the computer.” That’s a very good line. I bet I can use that.”
Suzanna smiled wanly. She started to twist her hair nervously as Erinn’s fingers blazed over the keyboard.
“Sorry, Suzanna, you need to go. I need to write!” Erinn said without looking up.” Could you let yourself out? And let the cat in?”
“Sure,” Suzanna said, kissing Erinn’s hair.” Good night.”
Erinn glanced up as her sister waddled away in the muted light of the living room. She saw the little girl who used to look up to her. How did it come to this? Erinn wondered, as she stared back at the computer screen.
How did it ever come to this?
• Acknowledgments
The Merchant of Venice Beach •
• Celia Bonaduce
The Merchant of Venice Beach •
• Celia Bonaduce
The Merchant of Venice Beach •
• Celia Bonaduce
The Merchant of Venice Beach •
• Celia Bonaduce
The Merchant of Venice Beach •
• Celia Bonaduce
The Merchant of Venice Beach •
• Celia Bonaduce
The Merchant of Venice Beach •
• Celia Bonaduce
The Merchant of Venice Beach •
• Celia Bonaduce
The Merchant of Venice Beach •
• Celia Bonaduce
The Merchant of Venice Beach •
• Celia Bonaduce
The Merchant of Venice Beach •
• Celia Bonaduce
The Merchant of Venice Beach •
• Celia Bonaduce
The Merchant of Venice Beach •
• Celia Bonaduce
The Merchant of Venice Beach •
• Celia Bonaduce
The Merchant of Venice Beach •
• Celia Bonaduce
The Merchant of Venice Beach •
• Celia Bonaduce
The Merchant of Venice Beach •
• Celia Bonaduce
The Merchant of Venice Beach •
• Celia Bonaduce
The Merchant of Venice Beach •
• Celia Bonaduce
The Merchant of Venice Beach •
• Celia Bonaduce
The Merchant of Venice Beach •
• Celia Bonaduce
The Merchant of Venice Beach •
• Celia Bonaduce
The Merchant of Venice Beach •
• Celia Bonaduce
The Merchant of Venice Beach •
• Celia Bonaduce
The Merchant of Venice Beach •
• Celia Bonaduce
The Merchant of Venice Beach •
• Celia Bonaduce
The Merchant of Venice Beach •
• Celia Bonaduce
The Merchant of Venice Beach •
• Celia Bonaduce
The Merchant of Venice Beach •
• Celia Bonaduce
The Merchant of Venice Beach •
• Celia Bonaduce
The Merchant of Venice Beach •
• Celia Bonaduce
The Merchant of Venice Beach •
• Celia Bonaduce
The Merchant of Venice Beach •
• Celia Bonaduce
The Merchant of Venice Beach •
• Celia Bonaduce
The Merchant of Venice Beach •
• Celia Bonaduce
The Merchant of Venice Beach •
• Celia Bonaduce
The Merchant of Venice Beach •
• Celia Bonaduce
The Merchant of Venice Beach •
• Celia Bonaduce
The Merchant of Venice Beach •
• Celia Bonaduce
The Me
rchant of Venice Beach •
• Celia Bonaduce
The Merchant of Venice Beach •
• Celia Bonaduce
The Merchant of Venice Beach •
• Celia Bonaduce
The Merchant of Venice Beach •
• Celia Bonaduce
The Merchant of Venice Beach •
• Celia Bonaduce
The Merchant of Venice Beach •
• Celia Bonaduce
The Merchant of Venice Beach •
• Celia Bonaduce
The Merchant of Venice Beach •
• Celia Bonaduce
The Merchant of Venice Beach •
• Celia Bonaduce
The Merchant of Venice Beach •
• Celia Bonaduce
The Merchant of Venice Beach •
• Celia Bonaduce
The Merchant of Venice Beach •
• Celia Bonaduce
The Merchant of Venice Beach •
• Celia Bonaduce
The Merchant of Venice Beach •
• Celia Bonaduce
The Merchant of Venice Beach •
• Celia Bonaduce
The Merchant of Venice Beach •
• Celia Bonaduce
The Merchant of Venice Beach •
• Celia Bonaduce
The Merchant of Venice Beach •
• Celia Bonaduce
The Merchant of Venice Beach •
• Celia Bonaduce
The Merchant of Venice Beach •
• Celia Bonaduce
The Merchant of Venice Beach •
• Celia Bonaduce
The Merchant of Venice Beach •
• Celia Bonaduce
The Merchant of Venice Beach •
• Celia Bonaduce
The Merchant of Venice Beach •
• Celia Bonaduce
The Merchant of Venice Beach •
• Celia Bonaduce
The Merchant of Venice Beach •
• Celia Bonaduce
The Merchant of Venice Beach •
• Celia Bonaduce
The Merchant of Venice Beach •
• Celia Bonaduce
The Merchant of Venice Beach •
• Celia Bonaduce
The Merchant of Venice Beach •
• Celia Bonaduce
The Merchant of Venice Beach •
• Celia Bonaduce
The Merchant of Venice Beach •
• Celia Bonaduce
The Merchant of Venice Beach •
• Celia Bonaduce
The Merchant of Venice Beach •
• Celia Bonaduce