Weekends

by Lindy S Hudis

  Still, she had never been so moved by a man in her life. He was so artistic, talented and kind. What a rare combination. Angela and Paul were snoring loudly, one on either side of her in stereo. She sighed, got up out of the bed, and jumped in the shower to give herself a quick shampoo. She pulled a yellow, summer sundress out of her suitcase and got dressed. Grabbing the room key, she quickly slipped out before either one of them woke up. She stood on the little patio of the bungalow, looking out at the beach. One lone surfer was doing wild things with his surfboard. She thought about taking a stroll along the beach, but decided to go up to the hotel instead. She made her way up through the flower-lined pathway to the air-conditioned lobby.

  Her tummy started to rumble; she wondered when breakfast was going to be served. Maybe the Velvet Room had some complimentary bagels or something. She heard beautiful music coming from that direction, and at first she thought there was a concert going on. She cautiously peeked in to the Velvet Room and saw it empty. She craned her neck further and discovered it was Justin, sitting at the piano, all alone in the big dining hall.

  She entered the room, quietly sneaking up unnoticed behind him. He was lost in his own little world. She also noticed, for the first time, that he had a tattoo on his right shoulder blade. It was red, green, and gold, and in the shape of the continent of Africa. She watched him, fascinated. He passionately pounded the keyboard, his curls bouncing with every motion. He was so consumed with his music that he was completely unaware she was right behind him.

  She watched his magic fingers flying rapidly up and down the ivories, she could not take her eyes away. He finished the etude with a bang—her applause startled him. He turned around and saw her standing there. They were silent for a moment, unsure what to say.

  "I thought I was alone,” he told her, blushing. She looked precious in her sexy little dress.

  "I'm sorry to disturb you. I'll go if you want.” she apologized, and headed toward the door.

  "No! No, please.” He scooted over on the piano bench and patted the space next to him. She sat down on the bench beside him and smiled nervously.

  "I thought there was a concert going on in here,” she said, smiling at him, and tempted to touch his curly mane of hair. He looked sensual and masculine in that tight sleeveless shirt, his ambrosian caramel skin looking tactile and glowing.

  "Nah, just me.” He pulled a cigarette out of his pocket and took a drag. Was she really looking at him doe-eyed?

  "I didn't know you smoked.” Beverly told him, surprised. Through the picture window she could see the beach, all iridescent and hazy from the early morning dew.

  "There's a lot about me you don't know.” he replied mysteriously, dark eyes shining.

  "Mind if I bum one?” she asked, remembering Angela always gave her a hard time about it.

  "I didn't know you smoked.” Justin offered her his pack of Marlboros.

  "There's a lot about me you don't know.” She took one, smiled, and put it between her lips.

  "I know.” he replied, lighting it for her.

  She lowered her eyes, feet shifting restlessly back and forth. “Nice tattoo."

  "Oh, yeah. My African American heritage is something I'm very proud of."

  "I gathered that."

  "So Beverly. I've been wondering something about you. And instead of wondering, I'm gonna ask.” He took a puff of his cigarette and turned to her, serious. Her eyes were so deep blue, and her skin so soft and delicate. Why was he thinking these thoughts? The last time he saw her was when they were nine or ten. Boy, had she grown up.

  "Sure.” she said.

  "Do you have a boyfriend?"

  She hesitated for a moment, unsure of what to say. “No, I don't have a boyfriend.” She noticed a peace sign dangling from his left ear, she repressed an urge to touch it.

  "Really? Just curious.” he said, grinning.

  Beverly gently laughed. “I can't believe I'm having this conversation with you. Don't you think this is a little strange?"

  "No, why would it be strange?” He stubbed out his cigarette and wondered what time it was.

  "Being attracted to your cousin? That is not strange to you?” She eyed him suspiciously.

  "Well, let's see. We are technically related by marriage. My dad was married to your Aunt's third cousin, so that makes us...?"

  "Third cousins?” Beverly interrupted. “Didn't we cover this last night?” She laughed coquettishly.

  "No!” Justin counted on his fingers. “Fifth cousins. And that doesn't even count."

  "Are you trying to confuse me?"

  "Of course not."

  They dissolved into a fit of flirtatious giggles. The breakfast crew entered the room and began to set up for the family's morning meal. The smell of fresh bagels and coffee permeated the air. Justin got up and helped himself to some coffee.

  "You want anything?” he offered.

  "No thanks.” She shook her head, her gaze fixed upon the muscles in his back and his rich, mocha-colored skin. She didn't really lie to him; she certainly did not have a boyfriend. Beverly was not ready to tell Justin the truth. She was not even sure of the truth herself.

  * * * *

  John awoke in the luxurious king-sized bed in his lavish penthouse suite. Joyce slept peacefully beside him, unmoving. The morning sunshine peeped in through the crack of the maroon velvet curtains. He looked down at his beautiful, faithful wife, the mother of his beloved son who had loved and supported him even when he was penniless and struggling through U.C.L.A. law school.

  He reached down and gently stroked her hair, then kissed her cheek. He lay back and stared up at the ceiling, thinking about the past few months. Unbeknownst to his wife and son, John had been going through a very stressful time. This weekend, he was going to come clean, tell all. There was a very important reason for John to have this family reunion. It was of vital importance for him to see his brother and sister again.

  He hoisted himself out of the bed and made his way to the bathroom. He felt particularly energetic, considering all the medicines he had to take everyday. Opening his travel bag, he gingerly removed all the bottles of pills. One by one, he opened them and popped one of its contents into his dry mouth and washed it down with cold water. He gazed at his reflection in the mirror. He looked strong, tall, and healthy, the way a powerful Beverly Hills attorney should appear. He certainly did not look sick.

  Three months ago, his doctor had found a large mass in his colon, and it worried him. He admitted himself to Cedars-Sinai Hospital where a biopsy was performed. Sadly, it had turned out to be malignant. John was told of all his options, and he decided that he wanted to tell his family when the time was right. Neither Joe nor Joyce knew about this; John was waiting for the right time to tell them. His secret was eating away at him, and now was the time. He was frightened of their reactions. Joyce would surely become hysterical, and Joe would have a million questions. Both would be hurt that they were not told sooner.

  He wanted to tell the whole family actually. He had an enormous fortune at stake, and he wanted to divide it up fairly. He wanted his whole family to be taken care of. He knew that Joyce and John would be fine. He felt sorry for his brother Stephen, who had fallen on hard times.

  John swallowed the last of his medicines, a large pink pill that he choked down forcefully. He was disgusted at himself for lying to his family, for sneaking around behind their backs. Most of all, he was disgusted at himself for getting sick. He did not drink or smoke. He did not do drugs or eat unhealthy foods. He ate right and worked out. He was young and fit. This sort of thing did not happen to men like John Peterson. He planned on calling the immediate family in this afternoon. He wanted to make the announcement that the doctors had given him roughly eight months to live.

  CHAPTER 7

  The bus ride to Los Angeles took about three and a half hours, considering they made a stop in Ventura. She arrived at the Hollywood Boulevard bus depot at two-forty-five in the morning. Lilly had only
her father's wallet and the clothes on her back. She tentatively exited the bus terminal and stepped out into the infamously sordid thoroughfare. The neon lights illuminated the filthy, stinking sidewalk, which was crowded with pimps, prostitutes, runaways, and homeless people. Lilly timidly kept her head down and tried not to look at anybody.

  "Hey, baby, wanna be a model?” a tall Hispanic man with a missing front tooth tried to grab her by the arm.

  She yanked herself away and continued down the street. She was dirty and hungry. Police squad cars cruised the boulevard, shining bright lights at the passersby. She hung her head low and managed to sneak past them, for fear they would send her back to be with her horrible father. A gnarled hand reached out from a dark alleyway and grabbed her by the shirt. A dirt encrusted, foul-smelling, homeless woman with matted grey hair was pulling her, trying to grab her father's wallet out of her hand. She screamed and tried to pull away. Nobody even took notice. Finally she jerked loose and ran down the block, hiding the wallet in her pants. Luckily she was still wearing the bathing suit Beverly had given her under her clothes, and the elastic held the wallet firmly in place. She was frightened half out of her wits, and had nowhere to go.

  Tired, scared and hungry, she found a doorway to an abandoned adult bookstore, curled herself into a tight ball, and managed to fall asleep.

  She awoke to the sounds of a police siren and a gruff voice coming over a loud speaker. “No homeless people on the sidewalk. No sleeping in doorways. No overnight parking here.” An unforgiving cop shouted from his squad car. She squinted, the morning sun in her eyes, and felt a rough kick in her leg.

  "Hey, miss. You heard the cops. Move it.” A fat man with a cigar was staring down at her apathetically. A dowdy, grime covered homeless man strolled by them, talking to himself.

  She slowly got up, wobbly from having not eaten. She checked her pants, and was relieved to find the wallet still there. She diffidently made her way down the mean street and saw a group of kids around her age sitting in a circle on the sidewalk. She had never seen anyone who resembled them before. One girl had pink hair and a dog collar around her neck. One guy had a yellow Mohawk and was injecting himself with a needle. They spied her looking at them.

  "Hay, ya’ got any crack?” A blue haired, leather clad guy called to her.

  "Hey, bitch!” Called one bald guy with a tattoo of a swastika across his face.

  She turned and ran the other direction. They continued to laugh and call after her. Lilly started to cry. She did not know where to go. She sat on a little bench outside of a Hollywood souvenir shop and sobbed, her face buried in her hands. She suddenly felt an arm around her shoulder.

  "Hey, Little Mama. You all right?” a male voice asked endearingly.

  Lilly looked up into the face of a large kind-looking, black man smiling at her. He had a gold tooth, which matched the many gold chains around his neck and the gold rings that adorned every finger. He wore a long purple leopard print coat, even though it was warm outside, and a matching cowboy hat.

  "It can't be all that bad. Wanna talk about it.” He kept on smiling. Lilly remained silent, unsure if she should trust him. A man wearing a long yellow wig, pink teddy, and red high heels strode by walking his dog on a leash. The little brown dog was wearing sunglasses.

  "My name is Diamond, and I hate to see such a pretty lady cry.” He extended his hand to her, she weakly shook it. A potbellied woman passed by, screaming belligerently to her imaginary friend.

  "Are you hungry, Little Mama? Want me to buy you something to eat?” He was nicer to her than anyone had been in years, with the exception of Shelly and her cousins that she met at that fancy hotel. She nodded her head. She was starving. Diamond twisted the gold ring on his pinkie.

  "Wanna tell me your name, Little Mama?"

  "Lilly.” she said softly, the heavy odor of his cologne reaching her nostrils.

  "Lilly. That sure is a pretty name. So Lilly, you wanna tell me who's been beating on you?” He pointed to the red welts and bruises on her face and forearms. She looked down at the ground, mute. She kicked a crack pipe that lay on the ground and watched it roll away.

  "That's okay, miss. Lilly, you don't have to tell Diamond if you don't want to. But I still want to take you to breakfast. There's a taco stand right around the corner. It would be my honor.” Diamond stood up and held out his hand. Lilly sat still afraid to move. What else was she to do?

  "I sure will look silly eating by myself with nobody to talk to. People see me talking to nobody, they will take my ass down to the loony bin.” He grinned at her, his gold tooth shining.

  Lilly giggled, thinking this man just may be her knight in shining armor.

  "There ya’ go. I got you to laugh. Now, how about that breakfast.” Diamond smiled. She stood up and took his hand.

  "Don't worry, Little Mama, Diamond's gonna take real good care of you.” They walked together down Hollywood Boulevard, Lilly feeling lucky that she had met such a nice person.

  * * * *

  Shelly thought Lilly wanted to spend the night in the bathroom. The door had remained closed all night. Shelly decided not to disturb her. Donnie was still sleeping off his drunken stupor from the night before when Shelly crept silently from the bed and knocked softly on the door.

  "Lilly? Lilly, honey, are you in there?” She slowly opened the door and was surprised to find the bathroom empty. She cautiously slipped inside. There was no sign of her.

  "Lilly?” She started to worry now. Lilly was certainly not in the room. Where could she be? Shelly decided against waking Donnie, he would just blame her and smack her upside the head. Maybe Lilly was down at the pool, or she spent the night with Beverly in her bungalow. She grabbed the room key and hurried out, quietly shutting the door behind her.

  Down in the lobby, she looked frantically around, to no avail. Shelly noticed the front desk staff busy quarreling with the valets, and the maids starting to vacuum the floor. She dashed outside past the vacant pool area, down to the beach and spied a lone sunbather soaking up some rays. Realizing the seriousness of the situation, she ran over to Beverly's bungalow and tentatively knocked on the door. No answer, so she knocked again. After a few moments, a sleepy-looking Angela opened the door.

  "Yes?” Angela appeared perturbed.

  "I'm sorry to bother you, but I wanted to know if I could talk to Beverly.” Shelly's voice was trembling.

  "Beverly's not here, is anything the matter?” Angela asked concerned.

  "I just wanted to know if she knew where Lilly was.” Shelly was close to tears.

  "Lilly isn't here, but I guess Beverly is up at the hotel. I'm sure Lilly is up there with her, is everything...."

  Before Angela could even finish, Shelly said, “Thank you.” then turned and ran back up the path leading to the hotel.

  Once back inside, she searched for Beverly. She looked in the coffee shop, the gym, and the restaurant. No Beverly. Shelly peeked inside the video arcade and game room. Nothing. She raced back to the lobby and frantically looked around, grief stricken.

  The gnawing reality of the situation was starting to dawn on her. She had to find Beverly, only she could help her. She remembered the dining room from the night before. She ran down a hallway and found the Velvet Room. She warily peeked in and saw Beverly and Justin sitting at a table, laughing and sipping coffee. Shelly promptly went over to them, near hysterics.

  Beverly looked up at her and smiled. “Shelley, good morning. Want some coffee?” Beverly chirped.

  "Is Lilly with you?” Shelly was in full panic.

  "No, why?” Beverly shook her head and took a sip of her coffee.

  "She's missing.” Shelly was crying now.

  "What do you mean missing?” Beverly demanded, her smile gone.

  "She's not in our room, and Angela told me she might be with you.” Shelly dissolved into a fit of tears.

  Beverly got up and pulled over a chair for her to sit. “Shelly, tell me what happened.” Beverly's voice
took a serious tone.

  Shelly told her the whole sordid story, of how Donnie beat the two of them, about how they locked themselves in the bathroom, and about how Lilly wanted to run away. Beverly held the shaking Shelly.

  "I didn't want to say anything about it last night, because I didn't really think she'd.... “Shelly's voice trailed off, and Beverly gently rubbed the girls back.

  "This is not good.” Beverly shook her head to Justin, who angrily got up, knocking over his chair.

  "Let me go up there and put my black belt in karate to good use.” He did a karate kick.

  Shelly looked up at him, fearfully.

  Beverly violently shook her head. “No, then that redneck will shoot you. There had to be something we can do. Are you sure she said the words ‘run away'?” Beverly turned to Shelly, who tearfully nodded her head. She wiped her nose with the back of her hand and continued to cry.

  "Let me get my dad and my brother. Don't worry, we'll just have a little talk with him.” Justin gulped the last of his coffee and started to walk out.

  "Please don't make him mad. He can be mighty cruel.” Shelly cried after him desperately, terrified of that revolting man. A maid entered the room with a cleaning cart, gave them quizzical looks, and began to dust the tables and chairs.

  "I'm not scared of that rat bastard.” he told them, and furiously bounded towards the doorway.

  "Hey!” Beverly called out.

  "Yes?” Justin turned around, his deep chocolate eyes meeting hers.

  "Be careful."

  "Always.” he simpered, and with that he bounded out of the room.

  * * * *

  Angela wished she had a cigarette, and she didn't even smoke. What a weekend this was turning out to be. First, she got drunk and fought with Beverly over a guy. Then a hot make-out session in the ocean with a man she just met-Beverly's cousin no less. Now a hapless little girl was lost.