“She only says, New York City.”
“So, your friend should write more into the story. It’s not much to go on.” Patrick wanted to look at his watch again, but he had pushed that button already and self-preservation prevented him from doing it a second time.
“Well, she gives clues. She lives in New York City, and on Wednesdays someone visits and plays this classical music she hates. She’d prefer to hear Paul Simon.”
“Visits? What do you mean? If the person visits that means it’s her house, so why should there be music she doesn’t like? Why doesn’t she just play what she wants to hear? It’s not a much of a story.”
Bobby frowned. He didn’t know, and the clue seemed lacking. But he had been so sure of a connection. What was it?
“Your friend needs to re-write his script.” Patrick cracked his knuckles and played a quick finger strum on his desk. “Is that all, Bobby?”
“Patrick, My friend can’t re-write his script. Please, tell me, how does the girl get found?”
Patrick studied Bobby’s face, and for a fraction of a second he felt fear. Fear that he was losing Bobby Anderson. Thankfully, it was just a fleeting fear soon gone, but Bobby was still there in his office, eyes desperate. What sort of hold did the friend have on him? Bad script or not, Patrick decided to help him. “The clue is obvious.”
“It is?” Bobby couldn’t see how.
“She’s in the hospital.”
“Bobby almost reeled backwards. “Hospital?”
“Sure. Visitors…it’s obvious.”
“But they meet on the beach.”
“Sorry Bobby, I forgot that part. Maybe she visits them at the hospital when she’s not at the beach.”
“No,” Bobby shook his head. “They visit her.”
Bobby felt a cold chill cover his bones. Susan was in the hospital. Holy smokes. Susan was in the hospital!
All right, but now what? All he had to do was find out which hospital, and save her…from. From what exactly?
CHAPTER 16
An entire week had passed and he’d had no new encounters with Susan. Bobby was ready to pull his beautiful brown hair out, but instead had gone to Harriet, his favorite hairdresser. If he couldn’t pull it out, he’d do the next best thing and buzz cut it. He had four months before his next movie and Bobby wasn’t worried what the producers would think. “My hair will grow back in four months, right?” he’d asked Harriet. “Sure, love. Young man like yourself, it’ll grow back in in no time.”
Bobby hoped “no time” meant four months.
It took exactly nineteen hours before Bobby saw his buzz cut in full color on the front page of Hair, Style, Star, TeenSpirit, Bounty Hunter, Trend, Girl’s Fashion, Men’s Fashion, Yes, and Your Fashion.
Almost all of the magazines had the same picture, taken the moment he walked out of the hairdressers. It must have been a zoom lens, because he hadn’t noticed anyone lurking nearby.
At least he didn’t look half bad. He’d chosen a simple silk beige and white striped short sleeved buttoned up shirt, partially tucked into his black Levis jeans. His shiny silver Armani buckle had full exposure, and thankfully he’d also chosen to wear his Heritage brown leather Mexican boots that day. Bobby had to admit that he looked good enough for any girl to dream about.
But, for some reason, Girl’s Fashion only produced the one picture of him in his convertible. It had been taken at a set of traffic lights when Bobby pulled a less than enthusiastic face, biting his lip in agitation for the light to change to green.
Most of the write-ups supported his new look, saying he wore his short hair well. You, however, suggested a mid-life crisis, and Men’s Fashion listed ten other famous men who had gone in the same direction only to end their careers soon after.
Bobby sucked his teeth. Shoot, he could list twice as many who had gone on to prosper in their careers after just such a haircut. The fact that he couldn’t think of any names at that moment was beside the point. He wished, for not the first time, that he’d stop reading those useless articles about himself.
He pushed all the magazines off his sun bed and lay back to soak up the rays. No calls from Patrick. Strange. Usually after any magazine episode Patrick was the first to show up. Maybe Trend was right. Maybe he was on his way out.
“Why can’t you help me?”
Susan looked a mixture of angry frustration going sad. The sun sparkled through her red hair and her green eyes rippled. Bobby’s heart stopped. She was so beautiful. The most beautiful creature he’d ever seen. All this time he’d found her many things: cute, sexy, pretty. But now… What? His heart beat hard as he embraced the tropical heat, so unlike the heat of California, which was better described as smuggy, in his opinion. Her T-shirt said “Teen”.
“You’re just not helping,” Susan burst into tears.
Bobby had been sitting on an old fallen coconut trunk, but at the sound of Susan’s sobs he jumped up and put a hand on her shoulder. She was cold. Too cold for a person standing in the tropical sun. “Susan?” Her green eyes pleaded with him through the wet pools. “We don’t need to build a house,” Bobby decided, the thought occurring to him out of nowhere.
“What? But—”
“We can escape, Susan. We can get out of here.”
“So, you know how to build a boat?”
“Um, no.”
She started to turn away, her disappointment pulling heavy on her slender frame.
“B—but I can figure it out! I’ve seen it done. I’m sure we can do it.”
Susan stopped turning and waited.
“I’ve seen it done,” Bobby said again. “All we need is loads of… of coconuts!”
“What?”
“Yeah, coconuts. That’s how Steve McQueen did it in the movie, Papillon. He lashed coconuts together and floated to safety. It’s a true story.”
Susan frowned, and Bobby continued, “It’s beautiful. This way we don’t need knives and hammers or glue or anything!”
Susan looked skeptical, but at least she wasn’t crying. In fact, Bobby detected a slight smile. “What about rope, smart boy?” she grinned. “Do you have a magic solution for that?”
“Sure thing. We’ll just use your hair.”
Susan gasped and placed her hands protectively over her head. “You are not touching this hair!”
Bobby laughed, “Just joking. I’d never touch a hair on your head, literally. I swear.” Bobby was serious, and he hoped she could sense it, could feel how much he wanted to help her, how much he… Loved her?
As he gathered his thoughts in attempt to describe his feelings for her, he saw the letters on Susan’s shirt change before his eyes. They spelt “rain”. He was in the habit of looking at her shirt for clues, but ‘rain’ did not seem like much of a clue. The letters faded again, and this time spelt ‘Bobby’.
“I like your hair,” Susan said.
Bobby felt his spiky top and grinned.
“Is it true?”
“What?”
“That it’s the start to the end of your career?”
“N—no! “ Bobby stuttered. “It’s just a change.”
“Well, I like it.”
“Mr. Bobby? It’s Tony on the phone.”
“Huh?”
Rosa put the house phone on the glass table next to Bobby’s sunbed and walked away, too busy to pause.
“Tony?”
“Hey! Bobby! What’s up?”
“This is bad timing, Tony.” Bobby felt like punching something.
“The guys and I haven’t seen you in a while. Man, you have to let this Lola thing go.”
“What?”
“Yeah, dude. Ever since you two broke up you’ve been like this lost puppy or something. And now your hair… Man! You didn’t even talk to me first. I would have stopped you, that’s for sure.”
The hair! What was it Susan said? If it was true about his career? She had read it! She’d read the magazines; and when she read the magazines, she thought of
him. That was why the dreams happened after a public event.
“Tony, I’m sorry but I have to go.” Bobby hung up before Tony could say another word, and raced inside. He grabbed the first computer in the living room and he punched in weather updates. Sure enough, and with a sigh of satisfaction, Bobby saw rain and thunderstorms for New York City. Susan was in New York City, right now. This was real time. She was reading the magazine and it was raining, right now!
He had to find her. He just had to, and now he had a plan. He ran back to the pool and found the abandoned house phone. Punching callback, he soon had Tony at the other end again. “Sorry, Tony, I had an emergency.”
“What kind of emergency?”
“The urgent kind.” Bobby didn’t feel like explaining. He had other things on his mind. “Tony, I need your help.”
* * *
The music blared and thumped in his chest, making it feel as if it would explode. Adrian gave him the thumbs up as they entered the club, a posse of young superstars. Despite their efforts, the four men managed to look exactly the same: same jeans, same T-shirts, same custom made watches.
The only one to really stand out was Rob, the bodyguard. He always stood out, wearing his signature black suit, black T-shirt, black shiny shoes, and black hat—any style of hat could be expected—it was where he expressed himself. Tonight Rob did not wear a hat, but he did surprise the others with a silver ear stud.
“You starting a new fashion?” Tony tried to tease. But you couldn’t tease Rob. He had no sense of humor. But the guys still liked him. He made them feel safe, and besides, he was cool. He never picked up a single girl when he worked, but if any of those boys were the opposite sex, each one felt certain they would choose Rob to go home with over any of them, except for Bobby of course―even Bobby knew he was top choice; it was the natural order of things.
“Nice earring,” Adrian said, and succeeded in glimpsing a slight grin. Or was that a menacing smile?
“Thanks Adrian,” Rob said dryly. One point to Adrian, zero to Tony. But Tony would make his own score later that night, with a brunette from Florida. She was enjoying her first night of clubbing in L.A. so much, she attempted to take off her top and dance on one of the small platforms reserved for the paid dancers. Tony rescued her before they threw her out.
When the bouncer saw that she was with Bobby’s group, he only gave them a stiff warning, like a cop who’s pulled you over for excessive speeding only to discover you’re a beautiful woman. Except, in the club, the bouncer had to yell, and Tony had to yell back, and the girl just laughed and danced while Tony promised she would not be taking her top off again that night—at the bar anyway. Tony seriously hoped she would take it off later for him. And she would too, because Tony kept telling her that he would get her places because he was Bobby’s best friend, and of course, she believed him.
But back to Bobby. What could he do to cause a scandal? He needed to get himself into the papers as quickly as possible. That was why he’d gone out. He had to get back to Susan somehow. Maybe he could drink and drive. Yes, perfect. He would have to get rid of Rob, though, before the great thug got it into his head that he would have to drive Bobby home himself.
But Rob actually seemed to be enjoying himself. He was in deep discussion with one of the female paid dancers, a tall black woman with fake eyelashes and glitter all over her body. Maybe Rob was distracted enough not to notice Bobby ordering multiple glasses of Rum and Coke.
Bobby gulped down as much of the alcohol as he could and went to find a spot to sit down. Adrian and Mike were dancing, but soon joined him. Bobby was never alone for long.
Small talk was quickly forgotten due to the noise level of the club, which at that moment was a Ke$ha mix; and the three men tried to sit manly while they watched Tony and their body guard chat to women.
It didn’t take more than a couple of seconds for Bobby to attract attention, though. He always did. Adrian and Mike were like pilot fish following the mighty shark so that they could pick up the leftovers.
Tonight, two fine socialites had targeted them. The boys knew the girls well: Jessie and Pauline. They were always together, and usually at the same parties that Bobby and his posse ended up at. Bobby had nothing against them, but he wasn’t in the mood for small fussy nowhere talk. He just wanted to get drunk and get back to Susan. She was waiting for him in New York, and she needed him.
CHAPTER 17
As Bobby got drunker and the girls got closer, laughing and asking for more drinks, Bobby silently formed the idea that he would drive his car all the way to New York City. Of course he could also take a private jet, but he wanted to drive. Wasn’t that his idea tonight, to get a D.U.I. and appear in the papers? He could kill two birds with one stone: he could drive to New York City and he could get a ticket on the way. If he left right this second, he could be there in…maybe two days.
Bobby downed another drink handed to him by Adrian and studied the dancers. They were so beautiful, like Susan. His head swirled, and he thought again about his plan. It made him chuckle.
“You all right, Bobby?” Mike asked. Normally Bobby didn’t get drunk when they went out. He was too worried about his clean image to mess around.
“I’m fine. I’m going to find Susan.”
“Susan?” Mike frowned and gave Adrian a look. But Adrian just shrugged. Their superstar was talking gibberish, or maybe Susan was a new girlfriend he hadn’t mentioned before. Mike wished his friend would get it together; these girls were super hot and he really wanted to score tonight. Tony was already a gonner with the Florida chick, and Rob looked like he was in love, which he hadn’t thought was a possible emotion for Rob until tonight; and if Tony and Rob could score, it was only fair that he score too. Adrian could have the leftovers.
“Yeah, Susan…” Bobby went on, but Mike was back to listening to what Jessie had to say about visiting the Bahamas at this time of year―not a good idea, apparently, because of the hurricanes.
“You do not want to be there now. There are, like, more hurricanes than Florida, and much worse. My friend was there, like, last year at this time and they had to stay indoors for, like, two whole days, and it was, sooo boring!”
“Oh my gosh, right?” said Pauline, who Mike found hard to focus on because of her glossy lips. His eyes kept gravitating to her mouth. “I was stuck in this elevator for, like, two hours once.”
“Because of a hurricane?” Mike asked her lips.
“What? No!” the girl looked confused and laughed nervously. “Ladies room?” she said to Jessie.
“Okay. Back in a sec, honey.” Jessie tried to whisper in Mike’s ear, but ended up having to shout it.
Mike smiled at them as they excused themselves. He felt quite confident that he would score with Jessie tonight, otherwise why would she have bothered trying to whisper? She’s just trying to get closer to my face, he thought.
“I think I lover her. I have to get to her toonight.”
Mike sighed and put his attention back to the drunk superstar. Who put him in charge? Where was Adrian? He had been there a second ago. Mike looked around but he couldn’t spot any of his friends. Only Rob, still talking to the dancer.
“You don’t look so good,” Mike said. Maybe Rob should take you home.”
“Idonwannagohome. Iwannagoseesuusan. I lover her soooo much.”
Mike motioned to Rob, and the bodyguard reluctantly came over. “We have a situation,” he said, and he was glad the girls weren’t there. “He’s pretty drunk.”
“Shit.”
“Yeah. You taking him?”
“You’re helping.”
“Damn. Wait for Adrian, he should be back soon. He’ll help you.” Mike looked around for Adrian and spotted him at the far corner of the room. He was carrying a Corona with a lime sticking out the top to some girl in a cheetah dress. Mike saw him hand her the beer and he kept watching as they leaned into each other to share a secret. The girl laughed and nodded and said something back. She ke
pt her eyes on Adrian as she sipped her beer.
Mike knew that Adrian was going to score. His only condolence was that the girl was a nobody―not like Jessie who was on her way back from the restrooms at any moment and who was definitely a somebody. She was coming back to him…him, and Mr. drunken movie star over there.
Bobby groaned, and Rob took action, hauling him up from the sofa chair and swinging a supportive arm around his back. “Come on. Help me.”
Mike couldn’t argue with Rob. Rob’s job was to take care of Bobby, and he knew Rob would not accept any excuses from him.
With a final glance towards the direction the girls had taken, Mike cursed and went to find the valet. They would have to make as quick an escape for Bobby as possible. Adrian would just have to wonder where they’d disappeared to, if he even wondered.
Bobby lay safely in the back seat of his convertible. Rob took the wheel and nodded for Mike to get in. But Mike turned his attention back to the club. Let Rob do his job, that’s what he got paid for. Even without Bobby, he still had a chance with those girls, and he wasn’t going to let Bobby’s drinking ruin it for him.
* * *
Bobby awoke precisely twelve hours later with a splitting headache and a bottle of Tylenol and water next to his bed. He thanked heaven for small mercies and immediately popped two tablets, groaned, and fell back onto his sheets.
He was fully dressed except for his shoes. He tried to remember how he had ended up this way. Obviously he had not found Susan.
Bobby vaguely remembered an elaborate plan to drive to New York City, but today the idea didn’t feel well thought through. What would he say to Susan, anyway? What if she already had a boyfriend? What if she wasn’t even a woman? Could dreams be like Internet chat where the other person hid their true identity?
There was a sharp knock and Rosa entered with a tray. “I heard some movement,” she said, shuffling over to his bed and resting an over sized breakfast tray gently by his side. Like handling a terminally ill patient, Bobby mused.
In Your Dreams Bobby Anderson Page 7
