by Julia Dumont
“Hold on, Tanya. Calm down. What’s going on?”
“Well, I just dropped off my resume at your house and I bumped into Lolita. I thought she was going to kill me on your front steps.”
“Lolita? What? What are you talking about? Why was she even there?” Now she was pacing, struggling with the clasp of her bra. Pete walked over, fastened it for her, kissed her neck in a gesture of comfort, and returned to the kitchen.
“Well,” said Tanya, “what happened was I didn’t quit, she fired me. But now she wants me back. And she’s totally pissed at you for stealing me away.”
“What? But I didn’t. You called me. And I haven’t even hired you yet, anyway. I was going to talk to Lolita about it first.”
“I know, I know. I’m just saying that’s what she thinks. I told her she was wrong, but she was not in a listening mood. You know how she gets. She’s even more pissed that you’re screwing Jack Stone. I guess she wanted you to set her up with him or something?”
“Set her up with him?” she asked, buttoning on her blouse. “Lolita is delusional.”
Pete stuck his head out of the kitchen door. He didn’t have to actually ask are you screwing Jack Stone? His quizzical look asked it loud and clear.
“Hold on, Tanya. Pete, I am not screwing Jack Stone.”
“Not according to Lolita,” said Tanya.
“Tanya!” she shrieked. “Who would know better, me or Lolita?”
“Well,” said Tanya, “she knows that you were at his house yesterday and that you said he was coming on to you.”
“Yeah, well, that’s true,” she said, looking over at Pete, who was now sitting on the floor, leaning against the wall, with a stunned look on his face. “But,” she continued, “that doesn’t mean I did anything about it!” She shrugged at Pete with an expression of exasperated innocence, trying to win his confidence regarding this fiasco, but he didn’t look particularly convinced.
“Wait,” said Tanya, deeply skeptical as well, “let me get this straight. You turned down Jack Stone? That’s your story? Because I sort of have corroboration on it from a whole other source.”
“You what?” blurted Cynthia. What was she talking about? “Why, did you talk to Jack or something?”
That did not come out right. Pete got up and left the room.
“Pete, hold on, it’s not what you think.”
“No, no, I didn’t,” said Tanya, now sounding a bit insulted that her credibility was being questioned. “I have this friend I went to college with. Her name is Mariana.”
“Mariana? Who’s Mariana?” asked Cynthia, but remembering before she finished asking. Oh. My. God. What are the odds?
“She works for Jack Stone. Well, she worked for him. She got fired yesterday too. The whole world seems to be getting fired. Mariana told me all about how you were over there, drinking and flirting and that you got her axed because you were all jealous or something.”
“Me? Jealous? Of Mariana? Oh, please. Jack told me all about her. She’s infatuated with him. Obsessed. I didn’t get her fired. She’s insane.”
“So,” said Tanya, “she’s insane, Lolita’s insane, everyone’s insane, huh?”
“Well, if by everyone you mean those two insane people, yes!”
“Okay,” said Tanya, “well, I must be insane too. I was Mariana’s roommate at Brown for two years. She was the smartest girl in our class. She’s beautiful, brilliant, and about the sanest person I know. Plus, why would she be going goofy over an old-guy movie star like Stone? She’s had the same boyfriend since I met her and he’s as brilliant and beautiful as she is!”
“Yeah, but she broke up with him. Believe me, girls go a little crazy when there’s a bona fide movie star around.”
“Yeah,” said Tanya, “just like you did.”
“No, like I didn’t!”
“Right. Anyway, I’m going back to Lolita’s shop. She’s a little crazy too, but she calmed down and doubled my salary and is paying my health insurance. I can handle that kind of crazy. Bye.”
“Wait!” said Cynthia, but Tanya had already hung up.
Pete appeared before her, dressed, with a small suitcase over one shoulder and a guitar bag over the other.
“Gotta go. I’m off to LAX.”
“What? Now?”
“Yeah, I told you.”
“But I didn’t know it was today!”
“I tried to tell you. And it’s a long tour. We won’t swing back through the states until at least October.”
“You’re kidding. Pete, listen. None of that stuff on the phone was true. I mean, some of it was, but not the bad parts. I’m not seeing Jack Stone. He did sort of come on to me, but I turned him down. I turned him down because of you.”
“Because of me? Cynthia, we just ran into each other two hours ago.”
“I know, I know. It sounds stupid, but it’s true. I heard you were in town and I started thinking about you.”
“So, maybe you did. Listen, it was great to see you. I like you. I’ve always liked you. But it’s a really long tour. Let’s just say goodbye and we can touch base again next year. I’m a good old friend, but I can’t compete with somebody like Jack Stone. In fact, I’ve lost a girlfriend and a wife to Jack Stone types. I am not up for that again.”
“But, Pete, I’m not even seeing him. I promise.”
“Okay, okay, I believe you. The only thing I can think of is that you could drive me to the airport. Not glamorous, but at least we can talk.”
“Now? I can’t. I’ve got a dinner thing. But I could maybe break it. I’d need to call. It’s kind of a big deal.”
“Kind of a big deal. Why, what is it?”
“It’s not important.”
“Really. A big deal that’s not important. Let me guess: Jack Stone.”
She closed her eyes and shook her head. “Yes, but . . .”
“I’m outa here,” he said walking toward the door.
“But, Pete. It doesn’t mean anything. It’s business. He’s a client. I run a dating service. He just wants me to help him find him someone.”
Pete looked at her like she had lost her mind. He was beyond the end of his rope. He inhaled slowly, like he was carefully measuring the exact amount of breath he’d need to deliver his next line.
“I see,” he said, “because Jack Stone can’t get a date. Listen, I take it back. I don’t want to see you again. Ever. Just close the door on the way out.” He quickly descended the stairs.
“Wait, no wait!” she pleaded from the landing, still determined to explain that he’d gotten it all wrong, but then, instead of crying, “Pete!” she cried, “Jack!”
Ugh.
To her, this had no significance except that they had just been talking about Jack, but Pete made no such assumption. He walked out the door, down the walk, and got into his car.
She cried out again and then once more as he disappeared down the hill.
That’s when she really cried.
Day 2, Chapter 13
Frustrated that she still hadn’t heard from her daughter about setting up a date with Dominic, and also desperate to get the scoop on her meeting with Jack Stone, she called again.
Cynthia was back home, staring out the window. How had things gone so horribly wrong? She heard her phone buzz and didn’t even feel like looking at it. She figured it was Lolita and really did not want to talk to her. She knew she needed to apologize and straighten everything out. She didn’t want to risk losing her best friend, but she couldn’t bear it. Lolita would just have to wait. She let it buzz until it stopped.
But then it buzzed again. Someone was persistent. She knew who.
She picked up. “Mom?”
“Cindy, where have you been? I was starting to worry.”
“Don’t, worry, Mom, there’s nothing at all to worry about,” she said in a voice so gloomy it was the very definition of something a mother would worry about.
“Cindy,” she said, “what is it? What happened? How did i
t go with Jack Stone? You know I’ve been dying to find out.”
“Oh, that? Who cares,” she said, still sounding dangerously down in the dumps.
“Who cares? Sweetie, what is going on? Was he mean to you or something? He was so nice to me at the Ivy?”
“Mom, no, he wasn’t mean. I think he actually likes me.”
“Wait, you mean like likes?”
“Yes, Mom, like likes.”
“And this is what you’re sounding suicidal about?”
“No, Mom! I’m feeling bad about Pete Blatt!”
“You mean that incident way back when you were kids when he threw up and had that erection while he was talking to me? Why would you all of a sudden be feeling bad about that?”
“No! Not that, Mom! I saw him! Today! I really like him, but he’s leaving town!”
“Wait, I thought he just got here.”
“He did, but he’s leaving again. He’s a musician, he’s on tour!”
“Hold on. He’s a musician? Musicians are very unreliable, Cindy.”
“No, not him. He’s not. He’s still the same sexy, sweet, talented guy he was when he was a kid.”
“Sexier and sweeter and more talented than Jack Stone? I’m just saying.”
“Mom! I don’t want to talk about it. Please, I’ll call you later. I’ve gotta go.”
“Wait, while I have you on the phone, please, look up who I chose on your site. I want you to set something up. He looks and sounds just darling. Please, make the arrangements.”
“Okay, Mom, no problem,” said Cynthia, at that moment really not caring who her mother wanted to go on a date with. She opened the site and without even looking, she accepted her mother’s request, which had apparently already been accepted by the lucky gentleman, so now they’d both hear back that everything was set. Cynthia had designed the site to accommodate last-minute emergencies like this. It was the first time she’d used this feature and she was glad she did, because in some ways she sort of dreaded going through the process of matching up her mother. A much as she wanted to find someone for her, the process itself was a potential minefield. This was perfect. Whoever the guy was, he’d already said yes. That was more than half the battle. Both of them would be informed of the time and place and she, Cynthia, wouldn’t need to go through the almost certainly problematic procedure. And everyone on the site had been screened thoroughly.
“Okay, Mom, done,” she said, clicking off the site and settling back into her own despondent doldrums. “You’ll get an email letting you know where to go. Hey, since when are you so good at navigating the internet?”
“Thanks, honey, you’re a doll,” Margie said, hoping her avoidance would pass unnoticed. She loved asking Cindy for help and she’d use that ploy again soon enough. “So, what are you doing tonight? Staying home, I guess, nursing your little old Pete Blatt broken heart?”
“Oh, stop it, Mom, I’m serious. He’s a sweet guy. We really had a lot of fun today, before everything went to hell. But no, I’m going somewhere tonight. I have a thing.”
“You have a thing. What on Earth is that? Cindy, what are you talking about? Is this why your father and I spent all that money sending you to college? So that you can speak so articulately? What the heck is a thing?”
“Oh, I’m going over to Steven Sternberg’s house tonight. With Jack. Jack Stone. I guess Beyoncé performed last time. Don’t know who will tonight. It’s a benefit for something, so I guess a lot of other celebs’ll be there too. Whatever. I don’t really want to go.”
Margie didn’t say a word. In fact, the pause on the line was so long, Cynthia was afraid her she’d had a heart attack or a stroke or had nodded off or something.
“MOM! ARE YOU THERE?!”
“Yes, dear, I’m here. You don’t really want to go? YOU DON’T REALLY WANT TO GO? Tell you what. You stay home and watch Celebrity Apprentice, Celebrity Rehab, and Dancing with the Washed-up Stars, and I’ll go on a date to Steven Sternberg’s house with Jack Fucking Stone!”
Cynthia had never heard her mother used the F word. It’s funny when you think about your parents being above certain behavior or language. Parents try to shelter their kids from things like swearing, but they’re just people, of course they swear.
“Did you just say what I thought you said?” she asked her mother, smiling a bit for the first time in a couple of hours.
“You’re damn right,” said Mom. “People sometimes get frustrated with people, for fuck’s sake.”
“JESUS CHRIST!” screamed Cynthia, who had just noticed the time.
“What? What’s so bad about me swearing once in a while? I mean, you needed to hear something that would snap you out of your ridiculous Gloomy Gusses. Did I ever tell you about the time . . .”
“Mom! I’m so sorry, but I’m late! It’s 3:53! He’s going to be here any minute!”
“Who, Pete Blatt?”
“No! Jack Stone! He’s coming to pick me up!!!”
“Jack Stone is coming to your house to pick you up.”
“Yes, Mom, yes!”
“And I’m supposed to feel sorry for you? Why exactly?”
“Never mind, Mom. Gotta go. I’m not even dressed yet!”
“Okay, but say hi to him for me.”
“Mom, he doesn’t remember you. He meets thousands of people!”
“But only one me. Did you ask him?”
“No, but . . .”
“No buts. I bet you a million dollars he remembers me. Ask him.”
“And how would you pay up on that?”
“Just ask him!”
“Okay, but I really have to go now.”
“All right, honey, but . . .”
“Really . . . have . . . to . . . go.”
“BUT I WANT DETAILS!”
Click.
Day 2, Chapter 14
Cynthia quickly wrote a note——“Hi, come on up. I’ll be ready in a minute.”——and taped it to the front door and left the latch unlocked. She headed for the bathroom, ripped off her clothes like they were on fire, and hopped into the shower. She went into rapid-shower mode. It was like a military drill. She washed every nook and cranny like an over-caffeinated efficiency expert.
She heard a noise. Jack had arrived and he was moving around in the living room.
“Hi, Jack!” she called, “I’ll be right out! Help yourself to anything, which pretty much means nothing, in the fridge!”
He didn’t call back to her, so she assumed he simply couldn’t hear her over the sound of the shower.
She got out of the shower and quickly dried off. She needed to get dressed, but she felt slightly weird to not at least say hello. So she put on her robe, hesitating for a moment, wishing it wasn’t such an old one. It wasn’t exactly in tatters, but this was Jack Major Heartthrob Fucking Stone, as her elegant mother was fond of calling him. She checked the mirror, testing her sexy smile——yes, still working——and walked out into the hallway.
He was standing near the window, facing the expanse of canyon and the flats of Hollywood beyond. He was holding a glass of wine. Although she did wonder how horrible that particular bottle of wine might be. It wasn’t 2-Buck Chuck, but it was close.
“Hi, Jack, how are you?” she said.
“I’m fine, Sin,” he replied, turning around, “but you can call me Max, Sin.”
Good god! Max! Cynthia was so surprised by this, she recoiled in a cartoonish, totally exaggerated way, like she was overacting.
“What on Earth are you doing here?” she said. “I thought you were at some south-sea resort somewhere.”
“Keyword: were. Or was, I guess. I got to thinking about you and how much I missed you, Sin.”
Oh my god, how incredibly strange have the last two days been? When it comes to highly idiosyncratic, over-sexed men and me, when it rains it apparently pours.
“Ah, Max, it’s great to see you and we should really grab some coffee or something, but this is not a good time. More like a very bad time.
You can’t just barge in on people.”
“Hey, I didn’t put the sign saying ‘Come on up’ on your door.”
“No, I know, but the sign was obviously meant for someone else. If it had been for you, it would have said, ‘Hey, Max, cut your vacation short in freaking Fiji, hop on a plane to Los Angeles, get your ass over to Beachwood Canyon, and come on up! ‘It didn’t say that did it?”
“I’ve never been a big rule follower.”
“You can say that again. Listen, like I said, I am expecting someone.”
“Jack Stone?”
“As it happens, yes. And I would appreciate it if you would get out of here. Now. This is really just a business meeting. It’s not a big deal. But you would really help me out if you left.”
“Okay, so do you always have business meetings in your bathrobe? I’m just asking. Just curious.”
“Max, no. I was running late. Tell you what. Let’s set a time to get together. How’s early next week for you?”
“Early next week? I just traveled five thousand miles to see you.”
“Yeah, well I didn’t ask you to. Please.”
Suddenly, there was a knock on the door.
“Hello? Cynthia?” This time it actually was Jack Stone. “Hello?”
“Hi, Jack!” she chirped.
She turned to Max. “Listen. Get out now. Go down the back way.”
“You want me to sneak out the back way, like some kind of philandering backdoor man?”
Jack’s footsteps getting closer.
“Yes, exactly. Exactly like that.”
“Why is it such a big deal if you’re just having a business meeting?”
“I don’t know. It just is.” She really wasn’t sure why. It was partly because Max was a master of unnecessary complication and controversy. He just had a knack for messing things up. But was there something else at work here? It was called Jack and Max in the same room. And Pete, still in her head.
Footsteps on the landing.
“Forget it, Max,” she said. “Just please be nice.”
“Nice? When am I not nice?”
