“A quarter of a century gone,” Jack muttered. At least that’s what I thought I heard.
“Now, Jack,” said Lillian, tightening her grip around his waist.
“Pam Ortega’s coming too,” Sid told us. “And Charlie Hirsch.” He winked largely.
That’s right, I thought, remembering Pam and Charlie’s hasty wedding right after high school graduation.
“Are they still married?” I asked.
“No, the baby miscarried and so did the marriage,” Sid answered with a grin. I winced. Sid went on without noticing. “And my cousin Elaine’s gonna be there. She’s not a Semling anymore, she’s a Timmons. Married herself a rich one. She’s one happy momma now. And Mark Myers, he’s…” Sid made a swishing motion with his hand. Gay? I wondered. I was having a hard enough time keeping up with the names and the pictures they called up in my mind.
“And Natalie Nusser,” Sid added. He turned, put two fingers in his mouth, and whistled. “Hey, Natalie!”
Natalie waved awkwardly from where she was standing beyond the dance floor talking to another woman in a severely tailored suit much like her own. Even at this distance I was sure I recognized Natalie. Her hair was short and blow-dried where it had been long before, but her body was as stiff as ever. She was still a good-looking woman, though, even pursing her lips the way she always had. Natalie had been the smartest of our group. And if rumors were to be believed, the most sexually active. Though I had never been able to believe those rumors. Sex got me thinking about Ken again.
“Is Ken coming?” I asked as quietly as I could and still be heard over the music.
“Uh-uh,” Sid said, shaking his head. “I couldn’t find the crazy s.o.b.” This time he winked so largely, the pantomime could have been sighted in outer Mongolia. “But, hey, you’ll come anyway, won’t you?”
I looked a question over my shoulder at Wayne, hoping he hadn’t caught Sid’s innuendo.
“Okay,” Wayne mouthed. I could almost hear his brain add, “If you really have to.”
“We’ll be there,” I said to Sid, thinking how good it would be to talk to Pam. And to Becky. Somewhere where we could hear each other speak. Somewhere without disco lights.
“It’s potluck,” Sid told me. “So bring some munchies. Something for the barbecue too if you want.” He winked a tiny wink this time. “Or just cash. Or expensive video equipment—”
“How about tofu burgers and a pinball machine?” I said, getting into the spirit.
“You really have a pinball machine?” he demanded, his little eyes lighting up.
Fifteen minutes later, I wished I’d kept my mouth shut. Because Sid really, really, wanted me to bring a pinball machine to his party. I told him it was too much trouble, that pinball machines rarely enjoy a ride. That they’re hard enough to keep working without moving them around. But he kept at me, finally talking me into lending him one. He said he’d come with a truck sometime this week—then he turned to Jack and talked him into loaning the truck—and that Wayne and I could help load on our end, and then he’d get someone else to help unload on his end. I gave in, mentally giving him Hot Flash, a machine that had been residing in my closet for the last eight years or so, a machine even my ex-husband hadn’t liked well enough to take with him when we separated. Then I grabbed Wayne’s arm and started circulating.
I still hadn’t met up with Pam or Charlie by the end of the night. Or Elaine or Mark. Though I had talked briefly with Becky, who’d smelled strongly of alcohol, and Natalie, who’d smelled more like dry ice. But Sid caught up with us again on our way out and promised that everyone I’d missed that night, I’d see at his party on Saturday afternoon.
*
A week later, Sid kept his promise. He had us all standing out on the concrete patio of his ground floor condo. The sunlight that filtered through the sheltering stand of oak trees was a vast improvement over pulsating disco lights. And the only music that mild June afternoon was the tinny whisper of the Byrds from a boombox near the unlit barbecue. We could all hear ourselves speak. Or at least hear Sid speak.
“So my good buddy Jack, here, knows this big-shot investment counselor, Harlan something-or-other, who’s traipsing off to tour Europe for the summer,” Sid was saying. He slapped Jack on the back fondly. Jack smiled weakly in the direction of his own feet. “And he talked this goon into subletting the condo to me while he was gone. Right here in Gravendale, man. At a third of what he pays in mortgage. And this guy gives investment advice! All I gotta do is keep an eye on the place. And an ear—”
“And a belly,” Sid’s cousin Elaine put in, her voice dry.
Sid threw his head back and laughed.
Elaine could talk. She hadn’t put on weight. If anything, she had lost it. Her face still had that Semling look: the high, broad cheekbones, wide nose, and small eyes. But her body was anorexically thin and expensively dressed in a white silk pants suit, shot with gold. And matching gold high-heeled sandals. I watched her watch Sid laugh, finding it hard to believe that Elaine, who’d once worn a beaded headband and frequent flowers in her hair, was now a Republican mother of three as she had already mentioned five or six times. Of course, most of us had exchanged business cards and brief occupational histories before Sid had regained the center of attention.
“I don’t really know Harlan that well,” Jack mumbled belatedly into his beard. “Just fix his car. It’s a Volvo.”
“Harlan likes you a lot,” Lillian put in quickly. “You know that.”
Jack shrugged and began humming softly along with the Byrds, his eyes out of focus. I had forgotten that he’d been musical in high school. I wondered if he still was.
“Jack and Lillian are profound centers of the community here in Gravendale,” Aurora Kanick piped up. “Their auto mechanic business is a living example of right livelihood.”
Aurora was Jack’s mom. I remembered her as a Beaver Cleaver kind of mom, shirtwaist dresses and pearls. But no longer. These days, she owned a metaphysical bookstore. And this particular day, she was wearing a short lavender and teal kimono over blue jeans. Her silver hair was pulled back into a chignon. And her eyes radiated spiritual consciousness through oversized glasses. “My son and my daughter-in-law have both touched people’s hearts in countless ways—”
“And fixed a lot of cars,” Elaine cut back in. “My BMW included—”
“Friends!” Sid enthused, throwing out his arms. “That’s the whole point. Came back home with zip and look what my old friends do for me. My buddy, Jack, finds me a place to stay. And good old Natalie gives me a job.”
He reached out an arm and pulled Natalie into its enclosure.
She stiffened and jammed her hands in the pockets of her loose linen jacket. But at least she didn’t deck him.
“Yeah, I’m Natalie’s super salesman now,” Sid pressed on. “Got Nusser Networks here a big fat government defense contract lined up. One that’ll keep the business in the legal tender for a year at least.”
Natalie nodded, then murmured, “I’d better set up the barbecue,” and pulled away from his grip.
Sid turned to Lillian, his arm reaching out for a new squeeze. But Natalie had broken his spell.
“I’d better check on the kids,” Lillian said, taking a quick side step out of Sid’s range.
“They’re great kids,” I told Aurora. By which I meant quiet and well-behaved kids. Josh, aged five, and Lark, aged eight, had been sitting on the patio drawing on giant pads of paper for more than an hour without a peep. Or maybe it was just that their peeps weren’t audible over the adult voices.
“I shouldn’t brag, but they are wonderful children,” their grandmother agreed. She steepled her fingers together. “So creative. Josh is already an artist like his mother. Lillian is a sculptor as well as an auto mechanic, you know. And Lark draws and sings.” Aurora paused and something sad seemed to change the shape of her serene eyes. But then she dropped her hands and it was gone. “And they both have such a profound ability to n
urture and love.” Her cheeks pinkened. “But enough about my grandchildren. I hear you’re a vegetarian too.”
“Guilty as charged,” I admitted. “I brought the tofu burgers for the grill.”
“Well bless you,” Aurora said. “I brought Tandoori tofu brochettes.”
“And I brought a pot of chili sans carne, thank you very much,” Pam Ortega put in. She kissed her fingertips. “Mucho spicy.”
I turned to Pam with pleasure. Pam had been a large and beautiful teenager, and was now a large and beautiful woman, with the curves of an Ingres odalisque under her peasant blouse and jeans. Her heart-shaped face and lustrous eyes had a wry look to them that hadn’t been there before. It looked good. I smiled at her as Sid turned to Jack and began talking again.
“So I got this deal going on this vintage Chevy for you if you want…”
“I believe I’ll help Natalie with the grill,” Aurora said quietly.
“Be glad to help you help her,” Wayne added just as quietly.
Sid was still talking as the odd couple walked away together.
“You could fix up the old clunker, then we could split the cash…”
Pam tugged on my hand, pulling me out of blasting range.
“So, Kate,” she whispered after we’d moved a yard or so away. “What’s the story with you and Wayne?”
Did she want the real story or the easy-listening version? I looked into her eyes and saw real interest there, then took a deep breath. Not just for the air to tell the story, but to ease the tightness in my chest.
“Well, I was married for a long time to this guy named Craig Jasper,” I began. “Fourteen years. We got divorced a few years ago and now—”
“Is this thing safe to play?” Mark Myers yelled out, his hands on the sides of the Hot Flash pinball machine where it sat on the opposite side of the patio.
Pam and I both turned to him.
“Mark looks good, doesn’t he?” Pam said.
And he did. Mark had filled out since high school. His wiry body had some muscle now. His face was still round though, with alert, intense eyes. Even beneath his receding hairline, those eyes set in that face made him look a lot younger than he was. Younger than any of the rest of us.
“Ask Sid!” I yelled back.
“Ready Freddy,” Sid obliged, flashing Mark the go-ahead enthusiastically. “She’s hot to trot like an old whore—”
“Sid!” Elaine objected, cuffing him on the shoulder.
Sid laughed as Mark hit the reset button on Hot Flash. The machine came to electrical life with an audible hum. It was a vintage Friedman machine with a backglass featuring a lone man being struck by lightning as he stared at three scantily clad women. The look on his face was rapturous. Hot Flash had a wooden top bar on the front, and broad metal bands riveted to the sides. And a playfield that had little more to offer than thumper-bumpers and jellyfish roll-overs. Not a lot of action.
I turned back to Pam.
“Sure is hot in here,” came a voice from Mark’s direction. Only it didn’t sound like Mark. I swiveled my head around to look. Actually, it sounded like the words had come from the pinball machine itself.
“Mark’s a vegie too,” Pam told me, and I brought my head back around. “Anyway, go on about you and Wayne.”
I snuck a glance at the man in question. Wayne and Aurora were standing by Natalie, and Aurora was pouring him some of her home-pressed apple juice. Wayne loved apple juice. And Aurora had brought a couple of gallons.
“Well, Wayne and I met a few years ago,” I said, smiling a little at the sight of another glass of juice disappearing down Wayne’s gullet. “And we’ve lived together awhile too. And we’re…well, we’re going to get married.”
“But…” said Pam.
I reached out and squeezed her hand. She was just as perceptive as she’d always been. Maybe she should have become a therapist instead of a librarian.
“But,” I took another deep breath, “I don’t want it to be like my marriage to Craig. I want a simple little wedding and then we’re out of there. Just married, no big deal. But Wayne wants a ‘real’ wedding with family and friends and flowers and a best man and—”
“And all the stuff you had at your first wedding.”
I nodded violently. Pam got it. If only Wayne would.
“And the worst thing is we’re arguing about an event that’s supposed to be about love and commitment.” I lowered my voice. “Wayne used to be too insecure to argue with me. I’m not sure which way I like him better—”
The sound of bells going off interrupted me. Mark had won a game.
“Hey, Natalie!” he shouted. “Want a shot at Hot Flash?”
Natalie just shook her head. As stiff and dry as ever. That’s why I’d never believed her sexual reputation.
Mark yelled at Becky next.
“My turn, my turn!” Becky squealed like a kid and went running over, her pale legs flashing beneath short-shorts. Now with Becky, I’d believed all the rumors.
“It’s hard to picture Becky as an attorney,” Pam said as if she’d heard my thought.
“And a mother,” I whispered back.
We both looked at Becky’s fifteen-year-old son, D.V. He had his mother’s delicate facial structure, but the inherited blue eyes were pinched and glaring. He wore his blond hair slicked down under a backwards baseball cap, and his jeans were so baggy they looked like they’d slide off at any moment as he stalked after his mother.
“Why do you think Becky brought him—” Pam began.
“So what are you two girls whispering about?” came Sid’s voice, closer than it had been a moment before.
“Vegetarian food,” answered Pam, managing to plaster a serious look on her face.
I stifled a giggle. Especially when Sid’s broad face fell.
“Chard,” she added soberly.
But Sid was irrepressible.
“The only thing I like charred is my steak,” he told us and slapped his leg.
He was still laughing when Lillian walked up. Sid snaked his arm around her.
“You remind me of a chick I knew in ‘Nam—” he began, but Lillian circled out from beneath his arm before he’d even finished speaking. I took a quick glance at Jack, who was now gazing out above us, humming a song I didn’t recognize.
“It sure is hot in here,” came a voice from the direction of Hot Flash. I swung around in time to see Becky jump back from the machine. “I must be having a hot flash,” the voice went on. Becky squealed.
I’d been right the first time. The machine was talking. And it certainly hadn’t been talking when it had left home on the truck. I turned back to Sid. He was grinning, one hand in his pocket. Sid Semling, master prankster. He must have done something to the machine.
He turned away from my stare to Charlie Hirsch, standing behind him.
“Hey, Charlie,” he prompted. “You were in ‘Nam too, right?”
I had almost forgotten Charlie was there. Charlie was a big, shambling man with a long face and wide, dreamy eyes that didn’t seem to focus very well on the person talking to him. Especially now.
Charlie nodded without answering Sid, his eyes somewhere else. On Pam, I realized. Of course. How could I have forgotten that Pam and Charlie had been married (for however short a time). And me and my big mouth going on about marrying Wayne. My eyes followed Charlie’s to Pam’s. She was watching him intently, her lush Ingres body leaning toward him.
“That all you got to say about it, buddy?” Sid demanded.
Charlie nodded again. God, even Wayne was more talkative. Even Jack.
Sid turned back to Jack.
“So how the hell’d you beat the draft?” he demanded.
Jack opened his mouth, but before he could answer Lillian interjected, “Bad eyesight.”
“Lucky stiff,” Sid grumped and then circled in on Pam, his arm around her shoulders in an instant.
“Hey!” Pam said as she pushed his arm away. “What’s with the arm bi
t? Do you get a hundred points every time you put it around someone female?”
Sid just grinned and put his hand back in his pocket.
“It sure is hot in here,” the machine across the patio said. “This must be menopause.”
Becky shrieked. I didn’t blame her. She was my age. Not quite old enough for menopause. Just old enough to start worrying about it. And now I was sure it was Sid’s prank. Who else would be tacky enough to make menopause jokes in the first place?
Becky abandoned Hot Flash and came running over to our little group. “Did you hear that?” she wanted to know. “Did you hear that? The machine talked to me!”
Sid didn’t surprise us. He put his arm around Becky.
“Did you make it do that, Sid?” she demanded, the lilt in her voice making the demand a flirtation.
“Would it make you happy if I did?” he flirted back.
“Get your arm off my mother,” D.V. growled.
I jumped in place. I hadn’t seen him follow his mother back. Damn. The kid was scary. And I wasn’t the only one who thought so. Sid dropped his arm before D.V. even finished his sentence.
Becky just giggled. “Now, D.V.,” she cajoled. “No harm done.”
D.V. turned on his heel and stalked back to the pinball machine.
“D.V. is growing up,” Becky told us, her blue eyes wide with what looked like affection. “Used to be ‘Davie’ but now it’s ‘D.V.’ He’s a good kid.”
We all nodded, even Sid. No one was about to argue the point. Aloud, anyway.
D.V. set up a game on Hot Flash and began whacking the flipper buttons.
“It’s hot as a coven’s oven in here,” the machine said after a few seconds had passed. “Hot as a wizard’s pizard. Hot as…”
But D.V. went on playing as if Hot Flash were just humming and chiming like any old pinball machine.
This time when I looked at Sid, he pulled something out of his pocket and flashed it at me, something resembling a garage door opener. A remote control?
Then he shoved it back in his pocket and came toward me with his arms extended.
“Oh no you don’t,” I told him, raising my own arms defensively. “Don’t even think about it.”
Most Likely to Die (A Kate Jasper Mystery) Page 2
