by Lila Younger
“You look like you haven’t been eating well,” my grandfather comments as he resettles into the chair.
“You look like you haven’t eaten at all,” I return. “Have you seen a doctor?”
One clawed hand waves the idea away.
“Don’t need doctors to tell me that I’m growing old.”
We lapse into silence. I look outside, towards the beautiful stone fountain my grandmother installed as the centerpiece of her garden. I used to splash in it when I was a kid on a hot summer’s day.
“You’ve been growing old for a while. There’s something else going on, isn’t there? Why don’t you just tell me?”
He glares at me a moment, then harrumphs.
“You’ll know soon enough I suppose.”
I wait as he readjusts himself, cursing the hardness of the chair.
“I’m dying Eli,” he says. “Plain and simple.”
The news doesn’t surprise me. A part of me knew something was happening as soon as I laid eyes on him, but I feel a tightness in my chest all the same.
“They’re giving me three months, perhaps a month or two more if I’m exceedingly lucky.”
He slowly leans to the side, picks up a manila envelope.
“The contract,” he says. “I’ve signed over everything to you.”
I take the envelope and place it down beside me. I don’t care about the fortune. I need to know about the business.
“I know how eager you are to get started. You have big changes in mind don’t you?” He gives a short laugh when he sees my face. “I’ve always known. I may not move as quickly as I used to, but the old noggin still works. That’s fine, it’s important to always be moving in business. I admit that I’ve lost that edge, that thirst. You’ve proven yourself worthy, so why haven’t I handed over leadership. Well, there’s one last condition.”
My hands tighten on my lap. Another condition, another delay. Even now, when he’s admitted that I would be the better leader. When we are on the cusp of an opportunity to take our company to new limits never seen before, he delays.
“What is it?” I ask, trying hard not to grit my teeth.
“A wife,” he says.
It takes me a few seconds to understand what he’s asking.
“A wife?”
“Yes. I would have you settle down with a wife, a good woman who will help you put all this nonsense about dancing with strippers behind you. A man needs a stable family life at home to ground him, to help him strive to do better.”
The old man has clearly lost his marbles finally.
“She wasn’t a stripper,” I ground out. “And I’m already doing great. I’ve put our hotels in every state. We’re the second largest chain in the country. What more do you want?”
“It’s not enough, Eli, to have success on paper. You need success in your life too. If the business is all you have, there will be nobody to lean on when times get tough. If the business goes, and it can, in an instant. And then you’ll find that pretty young thing you picked up at the bar won’t be there.”
“This is ridiculous!” The words burst out of me like water from a dam. “I’ve done everything you asked for. I’ve succeeded where lesser men have failed. Yes, I enjoy myself with different women, but why shouldn’t I be allowed to let off a little stress? It hasn’t affected my work.”
I jump to my feet, eyes blazing. Grandfather folds his hand over his other one.
“Nonetheless, that is my last request. Inside the envelope are the papers for the transfer as a sign of good faith. Once you’re married to an upstanding woman, ownership of the company will take effect immediately.”
I’m furious, trying hard to contain my anger. I snatch up the envelope, pause, and storm out before I say something I might regret.
Martha’s eyes widen as I stride through. Normally I would stay for lunch, but my hunger has disappeared completely. Jacob jumps when he sees me, opens up the door so I can walk through. I get into the car, and rip open the envelope. It’s exactly as grandfather’s stated. In order to take over the company and the family fortune, I must be married. If I’m not married at the time of my grandfather’s death, the company will be taken public and the profits donated. I’d still retain the Copeland fortune, as well as the estate, but that’s it. I didn’t care about the money. That wasn’t important. What is important is the business. I’m singularly good at this.
“Damnit,” I curse, slamming a fist on the steering wheel. “Where the hell do I find a wife?”
Chapter 3
Grace
The next day, I get even more bad news. I came home last night dead on my feet, and I basically collapsed into my tiny bed with my clothes still on, smelling like burgers and fries. Talk about yuck. I wake up late in the morning, the sun already high in the sky when I crack open an eye. For minute I lay on my bed, wondering if maybe I could sleep a little longer, when my phone begins to ring. I push myself up from my comfy mattress with superhuman strength, lean over to grab my phone from my purse and click on the call.
“Hi mom,” I say, yawning hugely.
I always mean to call her, but something or another would come up, and I’d forget. Then I feel really guilty about it, and put it off even longer, until finally she calls me. Rinse and repeat every few weeks. It was about due time for her to call, but usually she doesn’t so early in the morning. She knows that I work late shifts.
However, it is sort of good that she calls today because I was stewing on things all day yesterday, wondering what I should be doing. I even considered whether I should go home or not, give up this whole acting thing and go to college after all. I have no clue what I would major in, but surely it would be far easier to get a career with a degree than without one.
“Good morning Grace,” my mom says, tiredness lacing her voice. “Did I wake you up?”
I stretch my arm in the air.
“Sort of, but I was going to get up anyways. I’ve got an audition to prepare for,” I fibbed.
I mean, I technically did… yesterday. Mom worries a lot though, so the last thing I want her to think is that I’m not doing anything for my acting.
“Well, good luck honey. I know that you’ll do great. What is it about this time?”
I get up off the bed, balancing my phone between my head and my shoulder. I feel pretty gross in these clothes, and I begin to strip off my socks and black leggings as I fill my mom in on the details. I give my shirt a quick sniff before throwing that in the pile too. My room is a shoebox, and there’s just piles of clothes everywhere. I honestly don’t think it’s actually a bedroom, although there is a closet poorly added to one wall. I don’t even have a window! But Trina and I worked it out so I could pay less rent for my room, which I needed. Maybe I should do some laundry today, I think, surveying the mess.
Mom and I talk a little bit more, but I can tell there’s something bothering her. She’s not as upbeat as she normally is, and her answers are short and vague, like she’s not really listening. Weird.
“Is something going on?” I ask Mom finally, when she gives me yet another ‘mmhm’.
She pauses, and I know that there’s something. My mind flips through all the possibilities quickly but I can’t think of anything serious. My parents might not be rich, but they’re doing okay for themselves. Dad’s in a union, so there’s no way he’ll ever be fired, and mom’s always busy with the PTA and stuff.
“It’s Lydia,” Mom says finally. “The doctors say the leukemia is back.”
My breathing stops. I sit down hard on my bed.
“No!”
My baby sister fought off leukemia four years ago. It was a really scary time, although Lydia never cried or got upset about it. She’s one of my inspirations. Even through the darkest times, she kept her resolve strong, sure that she would beat the cancer. And she did. She’s also why I decided that I had to give acting a go. What if something like that happened to me? Not cancer, but an accident, or some other thing that made it imp
ossible for me to pursue my dreams? Anyways, after so many years, we were sure that it was gone for good. I can’t believe I didn’t even think of it.
“Yes, the results came back this morning,” my mom says quietly.
“But, she already beat it. It’s not fair,” I say.
“There was always a chance. The doctors are hopeful though. They have some things they can try.”
I swallow hard. The cancer was very aggressive last time. I can only imagine it would be the same again. College isn’t an option now. Last time the hospital bills were enormous, even though we had insurance. I didn’t want to think about what it would be this time. I couldn’t ask my parents to help me foot the bill for school, and I definitely couldn’t ask them to help me out so I could keep acting, when I had so little to show for it.
“When are they-?”
“As soon as possible,” my mom answers. “It would be good if you could come back for a visit.”
I nod, forgetting that she can’t hear it.
“I’ll try as soon as I can,” I promise.
We end the call and I flop onto my bed again. Now what am I going to do? I think, and instantly feel terrible for it. My sister’s sick, and my first thought is about my own silly problems? No, I can’t be like this. I’ll figure out an answer. I won’t worry my parents. That’s the last thing that they need. Somehow there’s a solution. I just need to find it.
I keep racking my brains over it as I tidy up my room, run the laundry, and clean the kitchen. Trina and I are both sort of messy, but right now I needed to be busy and productive. After I’ve cleaned up everything, I take a shower, make some lunch, and then it’s back to work. At least my uniform at the diner is simple: black shirt, black leggings, black shoes. The owner doesn’t demand his waitresses to wear short skirts, which is nice, and the hours are afternoons and evenings, which means I always have time for auditions in the morning. It’s sort of a cliché, but it works.
The restaurant I work at, Louie’s, is named after the owner. It’s local, so it scores points for that, keeping it busy most nights. Here, if you’re craving a burger, you’re set, but anything else? Forget it. I run through the doors as the old clock above the pass-through window clicks over to five. There are already a few tables with diners, and Louie glowers at me from the kitchen. I give him an apologetic smile and hurry through to the back office where we can put our stuff in the lockers.
“Grace, what did I tell ya?” Louie grumbles.
His hair is shaved close to his head, and he’s built like a tank. All of the waitresses speculate that he was in the army, because of his anal retentiveness about time, down to the second, and the way he runs the kitchen like a drill sergeant.
“Sorry,” I say quickly. “Won’t happen again.”
“Better not. That’s the second time,” he says.
Unlike most reasonable bosses, it doesn’t matter how long you’ve worked at the diner, or what reason you have for being late. If you’re late three times, you’re out. I suppose I could find another job waitressing, but Louie’s pays well, without me having to try and flirt and stuff for money, and it’s close by. I’ve also built up seniority, so I get the busiest nights, which I’ll need if I’m to keep paying rent.
The diner quickly fills up with guests, and I don’t get a moment to catch my breath for the next few hours. I hardly remember anything, it’s all such a blur, until two guys sit down at one of my tables. One of them isn’t anything exciting, a scrawny guy in a pinstripe suit, but the other man is a whole other story. He has this dark hair perfectly styled, with one lock flopping over his piercing blue eyes. His body is built, strong and formidable, muscles rippling under his shirt. A set jaw, shaded by stubble, roughs up his look just enough that it doesn’t look overdone, and he’s got gorgeous cheekbones that make me think actor immediately.
“Welcome to Louie’s,” I somehow manage to say. “Would you like anything to drink?”
“Water’s fine,” the gorgeous man says.
Holy smokes, even his voice is incredible. Deep and rich, it sounds almost sinful. My heart is hammering out of my chest just trying to maintain eye contact like a normal human being.
“Coming up!” I chirp with way too much pep.
I practically run away from the table. I’ve forgotten almost everything else in my head, and I can’t help but look back at the table. The man’s looking at me, smile twitching in the corner of his lips, and I quickly turn around again. I can’t believe I got caught checking him out. And he knows it too! I think. I almost want to switch my table, but I want to see him again too. Something about him draws me in forcefully, makes it hard to think of anything else. I’ve never felt this way before so I have no clue how I’m supposed to act. I have to concentrate on pouring out their waters, taking deep breaths to steel myself for the trip back.
“…L.A. You can’t throw a rock without hitting an actress here. I’m telling you, just hire one for the job. It’ll be perfect.”
I usually try not to eavesdrop on conversations at my tables, but I can’t help hearing some stuff. And this was especially interesting. I guess the guy is an actor? Although, I don’t recall seeing him, and I feel like I know all the big names in the business.
“Your waters,” I say, careful not to spill anything as I set them down. I’m shakier than usual today. “Did you need more time to look at the menu?”
“Yes,” the skinny guy says impatiently.
I move away again, hoping I’d hear more, but he doesn’t say anything until I’m out of earshot. I spend the next few minutes grabbing ketchup, ringing up a table, and grabbing appetizers before I can finally make it back.
“…I’ll set up an audition. You just worry about the money okay? I’m sure I can find one who’ll play the part convincingly enough for what you need.”
My heart jumps when I hear those words. They are in the movie business. At least, I’m pretty sure of it. Although it wouldn’t be any kind of big production. Maybe it’s an indie film? They do have some of those here. And lots of film schools. Maybe they have something to do with that? I wouldn’t be surprised if the little guy was a film student trying to secure funding.
“Are you guys ready to order now?” I ask.
“Cheeseburger,” he says brusquely. “No tomatoes, no mustard, no ketchup, none of that crap. Extra pickles if you have them, and I want the onions grilled, you hear me? None of that raw stuff.”
I scribble down the requests as fast as I can. I already know this is going to piss Louie off.
“And you?” I ask, turning to the other guy. I try to keep my eyes glued to my pad.
“What do you recommend?” he asks, and my eyes flick up at him.
His eyes are blue, but then the next second they’re green too. I’m mesmerized. His gaze roves over me, down and up, and for some reason my lower half just heats up when I see he likes what he’s seeing.
“The burgers are the best on the menu,” I say, my tongue unsticking from the roof of my mouth. “They come with waffle fries.”
“I’ll take one of those then,” he says, handing me the menu.
It’s unsettling the way he looks at me, like I’m already laid bare for him. It has my heart hammering in my chest, my cheeks heating up. I grab the menu and whirl around.
“You want someone like her, good and wholesome…” I hear as I walk away.
Wholesome! I wish I could hear more, but I can’t without looking like a huge weirdo, so I try and take care of my other tables. They actually want someone like me? Could it be possible? My heart leaps at the thought. If I get this job, it could open a whole floodgate of jobs. I just need the right people to notice, and an indie film could garner a lot of attention if it’s the right kind.
But then again, would it be really weird to ask the guy for an audition when he’s trying to have his dinner? It’d be kind of rude, wouldn’t it? On the other hand, I don’t get chances like this ever. I’m not a very lucky person, and in all this time working her
e, this is the first I’d had of someone connected to the film industry.
I pause.
Did he say he was in the film industry? He mentioned something about an actress being perfect for the job. So maybe it’s not a film? I bite my lip as I ring up the order. I continue to waver back and forth over the course of the hour, and each time I come up to the table, I wimp out of actually saying anything. And then there’s that man, confident and proud, clearly aware of what he could do to a woman with just once glance. I don’t know how to deal with a man like that.
Between my anxiety over asking and the sexy guy in the booth, it’s a wonder I didn’t get a heart attack from it all.
Finally, they finish up. I know I have to do it now, or forget about it. I make change and head back to the table, only to find that it’s empty. I stop in my tracks. I guess they were giving me a big tip, which never happens at the diner. I turn around, and through the window I see them talking in the parking lot. My chance is slipping through my fingers, and I suddenly spring into action. I run back to the till, drop off the tip, yell at Louie that I’m taking a break, and head out the front door. I look around. The good looking guy’s already gone, but I see a car with its lights on further away. I sprint towards it, waving my hands, and the car stops backing out. The guy rolls down his window slowly, confusion on his face.
“Did I forget something?” he asks.
