“I already do, not because you're a movie star, but in spite of it, if that makes any sense.”
“That's all I want. We'll figure the rest out, one day at a time,” he said, sounding humble to her again. He had never been as happy in his life.
He shared the toast with her, and half an hour later, he got in the shower with her, and looked like a mother hen as she left for work. She told him she'd be back for lunch, and he had calls to make that morning. He wanted to call his agent and tell him what had happened with the woman in L.A. and where he was now, and he needed to warn his PR man that she might pull some stunts. And he had realtors to call to find a new apartment, furnished, until his own house was free in six months. He had enough to do to keep him busy until she got back. And later on, he wanted to do some exploring around the city and get his bearings. He thought it might be fun if they went out to dinner that night. He had already told her he wanted to go to Bolinas for the weekend. He smiled to himself as he showered and dressed. This was a very, very nice life, particularly with Coco in it.
Coco felt as though she were in a daze as she walked her clients' dogs that morning. She loved everything he had said, and all that they had done. But in her rare moments of clarity and sanity, it was hard to believe that anything this wonderful could last, especially with him. He was Leslie Baxter, after all. Eventually, he would have to go back to Hollywood and make another picture. The tabloids would eat him up, and them. Famous actresses would fawn all over him. And where would Coco be in all that? In Bolinas, waiting for him to come home? And there was no way she would live in L.A. again. Not even for him. She took a deep breath as she returned the last of the morning's dogs to their homes and reminded herself of what he had said. One day at a time. It was the best they could do for now. And as he said, they'd figure it out. But she also didn't want to lose someone she loved again. And a happy ending at the end of this wouldn't be so easy to pull off, given the cast.
When she got home, with sub sandwiches she had picked up for them, he was still on the phone. He was talking to a realtor about a furnished house in Bel-Air that was available for six months, while a famous actress finished a film in Europe. Coco looked worried as she listened, and Leslie laughed when he got off the phone.
“Don't panic yet,” he reassured her. “She wants fifty thousand a month for it.” He had been thinking about her all morning, and how things might work out in the long run. “You know, maybe eventually I could live here. Robin Williams and Sean Penn do. It seems to work for them.” She nodded, still in a state of shock over what was happening to them. The cleaning woman had just left as she walked in. They forgot about the sub sandwiches and went back to bed, and made love until she had to go back to work, to walk the next group of dogs. She could hardly tear herself away from him. And when she came back at four, he was sound asleep on her bed. His agent had promised that morning to send him several scripts, and for now he was going to stay in San Francisco with her. Jane had told him he could stay as long as he wanted, and that afternoon they agreed not to say anything to her yet. They wanted to keep this miracle to themselves.
He got a call from his press agent late that afternoon. The actress who was stalking him had released a statement to the press that she had dumped him, and in thinly veiled terms, implied he was gay. Leslie said he didn't care. There was plenty of evidence to the contrary, and it just sounded like sour grapes. He was relieved in fact that she was telling the press she had dumped him. It could mean that she was ready to move on and stop torturing him. But he didn't trust the message yet. He wanted to wait and see before going back to L.A.
He had asked Coco to make a reservation for them at a quiet restaurant, under her name. She had chosen a simple little Mexican place in the Mission where she was hoping no one would recognize him. For sure, no one would expect to see him there. And after making love again in the shower, they managed to put their clothes on and get out of the house by eight.
He loved the restaurant when he saw it, and no one paid any attention to them, until he paid the check. The woman at the cash register had been staring at him all night. He paid in cash, so there were no credit cards involved, and she sent over a request for an autograph with his change. He tried to play dumb, but within minutes, people at several other tables had turned around, the waiter was chattering excitedly in Spanish, and without signing the autograph, which would have confirmed his identity, they tried to look nonchalant as they left, and then ran for the van.
“Shit,” he muttered as Coco started the van and then drove away. “I hope no one calls the press.” It was an element of life that Coco had never dealt with firsthand before. Life was complicated for him, and it meant that they couldn't go anywhere, or had to be extremely careful when they did. If he was recognized that easily in the Mission, he would be recognized anywhere, and neither of them wanted sightings reported all over San Francisco. They stayed home for the rest of the week, and Leslie went on long walks on the beach with her. And on Saturday after she walked her last dogs, they left for Bolinas, and spent the weekend there. They had no problem with anyone at the beach, and when Leslie ran into Jeff, the fireman who lived next door, when they were both taking out the trash, he stared at Leslie and then nodded, smiling broadly. He held out a hand and introduced himself and said that he was happy to see that Coco had a friend staying with her. He seemed to think the world of her. They saw him again on Sunday morning on the beach, with his dog, and he talked easily to both of them, and made no obvious sign of recognition or comment about who Leslie was. It was a community where people minded their own business, but still managed to look out for each other. Leslie said he had been a volunteer fireman in England when he went to college, and they talked about fires, equipment, and living in Bolinas. And from there, they somehow segued to fire engines, and then to cars. They discovered that they both loved to work on cars and rebuild engines. Leslie seemed to fit right in, and both men enjoyed talking to each other. Leslie and Coco were happy and relaxed when they drove back to the city on Sunday night. And Leslie mentioned again how much he had enjoyed chatting with her neighbor.
Coco was always a little worried that the fragile bubble of their hidden life would pop, but so far no one was bothering them. Jane knew he was still there, and didn't seem to mind it. She regularly admonished Coco to leave him alone and not to bother him, and Coco assured her that she wasn't.
It was the end of their second week of living together when Leslie's realtor in L.A. insisted that there were several houses and apartments that he had to see. He didn't even know if he wanted to bother, but he thought he should see his agent too, and just show his face in L.A. so no one thought he had gone into hiding over the rumors of his being gay. His ex was still at it, and the tabloids had run a couple of headlines that were no more shocking than their usual fare.
“Do you want to come down with me on Saturday?” he offered. “We could spend the night at the Bel-Air.” The hotel had always been extremely discreet, and no one knew who Coco was anyway.
“What'll we do with the dogs?” She had not only Sallie but her sister's dog, and she knew Jane would be furious if she left.
“What about one of your neighbors in Bolinas? Could we leave them at your place there?”
“Jane would strangle me if she knew,” Coco said, looking guilty, but she wanted to go with him. “Maybe we could. I'll call and ask.” In the end, both her neighbors agreed to look out for them, feed them, walk them on the beach, and one of them even agreed to drop them off on Sunday night when they came to a birthday party in the city. Everything was set, just as he had said. One day at a time. It all worked out. And they were getting along like two peas in a pod.
In the end, just to be cautious, they flew to L.A. on two separate flights, were met at the airport by two cars, and agreed to meet at the hotel. Just in case. It was a little bit like being in a spy movie, and they told no one they were coming down. Leslie took an earlier flight, and saw the apartments the realtor had for
him before Coco arrived. He didn't like any of them, and his interest in renting anything in L.A. had waned since meeting her. He was happy in San Francisco for now. And Coco was relieved when he told her that at the hotel.
They had a beautiful suite at the Bel-Air Hotel. And Coco's presence was never acknowledged. The staff was used to handling situations like that with the utmost discretion. They went to dinner at a dive he knew in West Hollywood that had delicious Cajun food, and were happy and relaxed when they got back to the hotel. It was nearly midnight as they walked slowly back to their room through the gardens, and saw a couple holding hands and kissing near the swans that swam in the little stream that wended through the grounds. Coco smiled when she saw the couple kissing and thought there was something familiar about them, but everyone in L.A. always looked familiar to her. They were either well-known stars, or people who wanted to look like them. It was funny at times. The woman was a good-looking, well-dressed blonde with a good figure in a black cocktail dress and high heels, whom they could only see from the back, and the man with her was handsome and young in a well-cut black suit. They stopped and kissed again for a long time as Leslie and Coco approached, and moved away at the last minute on the secluded path that led to their suite. And as they did, the woman turned. Her face was lit by the subtle lights on the grounds, and she turned her face up to the man she was with. And then Coco gasped.
“Oh my God!” she said out loud, clutching Leslie's arm.
“What's wrong? Are you okay?” She shook her head and stood rooted to the ground. There was no question who the woman was, and once Coco realized who she was, she ran to their room, while Leslie followed with a worried look. Coco looked absolutely panicked and she was crying as she stood in the living room of their suite. Leslie came to put his arms around her, and didn't understand what had happened. It was just a couple kissing as they watched the swans. They were obviously staying there too, and looked very much in love. But Coco looked as though she'd seen a ghost.
Coco sat down with a thunderstruck look. She was in shock.
“What's going on?” Leslie asked as he sat down next to her with an arm around her. “Tell me, Coco. Do you know that man?” He wondered if it was an old love. The only one he knew about was Ian.
She shook her head in answer to his question, as tears rolled down her face. “It's not him… that woman is my mother,” she said, staring at Leslie, and he was so startled for a moment, he didn't know what to say.
“That's your mother? I've never seen her in person. She's very beautiful.” Coco looked nothing like her, although she was beautiful in her own right.
“He's half her age.” She was stunned.
“Not quite,” Leslie tried to reassure her, but there was no question, he was a lot younger than she was, and they had appeared to be very much involved. She had looked at her companion adoringly when she turned her face, and he looked very taken with her. He was a nice-looking guy, stylishly dressed in the manner of L.A., with relatively long hair, and a handsome face. He could have been an actor or a model, or almost anything for that matter. For a minute, Leslie didn't know what to say. “I take it, you didn't know about him.”
“Of course not. She always says she could never be with anyone after my father. You see what I mean!” she said, suddenly in a rage. “Everyone is full of shit here. Everyone lies, everyone's fake, even my mother, with all her holier-than-thou righteous crap about everything on the planet. She calls me a hippie and a flake, and what is she?” The implication in Coco's voice was not pleasant, and Leslie winced.
“Maybe a lonely woman,” Leslie said gently, trying to calm her. “It's not easy being alone at her age.” He assumed she was at least sixty, given Jane's age, but she didn't look it. She had looked closer to fifty in the light, and the man with her was clearly younger, but it hadn't shocked him. They looked nice together, and happy. If it gave them some joy and comfort, what harm was there in that? But he didn't say that to Coco, who looked as though she were about to have some kind of attack. He had to admit, he wouldn't have enjoyed seeing his own mother in that context either, and she was older and not as well preserved, and she was still married to his father, although they complained good-naturedly about each other and always had. But Coco's mother was younger, sexier, expensively dressed, widowed, and famous. She was fair game.
“She's sixty-two years old, and she's had more plastic surgery than a goddamn burn victim. It's just not right. How can she tell me how to run my life when this is what she does when nobody's looking? My father would never have done that to her.” But even as she said it, she knew that wasn't true. Her father had been a handsome man, with an eye for the ladies, and he and her mother had had their share of battles over his young, attractive clients. Her mother had kept an eagle eye on him, and a short leash. And if he had been the one to survive them, Coco suspected even now that he might have had someone too. She had just never expected it of her mother, and certainly not with a man that age.
“Maybe your father would too. Why do they have to be alone, just because it makes us uncomfortable to think of them as sexual? I hate to say it to you, but she has a right to a life too.”
“And what do you think a guy that age is after? Sex, at her age? He's after her money, power, connections, all the fallout from her fame.”
“Maybe,” Leslie said reasonably. She had calmed down a little, and she was no longer crying. But she still looked stunned. It had been a hell of a shock to see her mother kissing in the moonlight, and not even with a man her own age. Seeing that had rocked Coco's world, and not in a good way. “You left out one thing,” Leslie reminded her gently. “Love. Maybe she's in love with the guy. It may be more wholesome than it looks, despite their age. Men do it all the time, fall in love with women a lot younger than they are. I'm thirteen years older than you, and no one would be shocked by us. Why do we have to be so stereotypical about relationships? You don't seem to have a problem with your sister living with another woman and you respect their relationship, we all do. Why not your mother and a younger man?”
“I don't like to think of my mother that way,” Coco said, always honest with him and herself. She looked seriously upset.
“I probably wouldn't either,” he said, equally honest. “Why don't you ask her about it and see what she says?”
“My mother? Are you kidding? She never tells the truth. At least not about herself. She lied about having plastic surgery for years. First she got her tits done, when my father was still alive. Then her eyes. Then she had a face-lift. Then she had another one three weeks after the funeral, 'to cheer herself up,' she said later. Christ, maybe she was already seeing him!”
“Maybe not. Maybe he's just the end result. I just think you should reserve judgment until you talk to her. That seems more fair. The guy may be an asshole, and he may be after her fame and money, but maybe he isn't. At least hear what she says. They certainly looked in love.”
“She's just oversexed,” Coco said, glaring at him, and he laughed.
“I think that could be genetic, and I'm not complaining. If you look as good as she does, at her age, I'll be happy as a pig in shit. And you don't ever have to get a face-lift for me. I'll love you just the way you are, even if you melt.” Coco was a far more natural beauty than her mother, and more likely to age better, but there was no denying that her mother looked remarkable for her age. And if the old adage was true about seeing a woman's mother before you fell in love with her, he had done well.
Coco was still stewing about it when they went to bed that night, and at breakfast the next morning. It irked her even more to realize that she couldn't question her mother, as Leslie suggested, or tell her sister, since she was in Los Angeles in secret with him. If she told Jane, she would know they had left her dog, and her mother would want to know immediately why Coco was in L.A. and hadn't called. There were far too many secrets in the family these days, especially her mother's. She and Leslie had nothing to hide, except to protect him from his psych
otic ex-girlfriend, and to stay out of the tabloids for as long as possible themselves, which would be no mean feat when the time came. But for now Coco's lips were sealed and her hands were tied. She had to keep this gigantic tidbit about their mother to herself, and it was eating her alive.
They flew back to San Francisco again on different planes, and went to Jane's house in separate cars. But it was the first thing they talked about as soon as Leslie walked in. He could tell this was a very, very big deal to her. She had taken a lot of heat from her mother for her life choices, and now Coco wanted a serious explanation for what she'd seen. She didn't approve of anything she had observed or could imagine. Neither the kisses, the romance, and most especially the age of the man her mother was with.
Jane happened to call her that night, and could hear all of it in Coco's voice. “What are you all wound up about?” she asked her immediately. Coco sounded as though she had been fighting with someone, or wanted to, and Jane was instantly suspicious.
“You're not picking fights with Leslie, are you? Don't forget he's my guest.”
“And what am I, other than just the house-sitter and dog-walker? Chopped liver?” Coco snapped at her, and Jane looked stunned at the other end.
“Well, pardon me. Just don't take that attitude out on my house-guest, Coco. And don't get smart with me. He may want to stay there for a while to get away from that lunatic and the press. So I'll thank you not to make his life miserable by acting like a brat!” She always treated Coco like a kid, and Coco almost laughed at her sister's remark.
“I'll try not to make his life miserable,” she said haughtily, faking it this time. She had their secret to cover too. Her mother wasn't the only one in the family with a secret now, and theirs was a lot more wholesome than her mother's. But neither she nor Leslie wanted to tell Jane yet. They wanted to protect the privacy of what they had, without dealing with other people's reactions to it, or opinions. As she thought that, she wondered if her mother was doing the same thing, and when she was planning to share it with them, if ever. If it was only sexual, she wouldn't, but if it was serious, she would in time. Maybe it was what she and Leslie were thinking too. “I hardly see him anyway,” Coco said pointedly, referring to Leslie, to throw her sister off the scent.
One Day at a Time Page 9
