Catch a Falling Star

by Jessica Starre

  “I’m going to let the dogs out,” Natalie said. “Good night, Brianna.” She went past him up the steps. She wore an evening gown and looked like a princess. Also acted a bit like one. “Good night, Richard.”

  He heard her unlock the front door and go inside, while Brianna stood on the sidewalk, hands on her hips, and glared at him. She was wearing a plain black dress, looking like a Fury. You should try the princess approach, he knew a lot better than to say to her. I can rescue myself, she would have said, even when she was thirteen.

  He guessed the two of them had just come from some shindig put on by the museum where Brianna worked. Since Brianna wasn’t all dolled up like Natalie, that meant she’d probably been in charge of the production. If he were like any other father, he would know where they had gone and why because it was the kind of thing people talked about in families.

  Suddenly he was very tired. It must be close to midnight. About to turn into a pumpkin, Chrissy used to say with a laugh, slurring her words. He rubbed his hand over his face.

  “That Natalie, she’s a good kid.”

  “Yeah, and?”

  “And she told me you didn’t want her to know but you’re behind on the house payment.”

  He could see her stiffen from where he sat, taking it like he’d slapped her. “I sent a payment to the mortgage company,” he said. “Cleared up the arrears and got next month’s in ahead of time. That’ll give you a little breathing room.”

  “I don’t want your goddamned help,” she said, and stomped up the porch stairs, barely avoiding stomping on his hand.

  “I know you don’t, Bree,” he said. “But I can’t give you those years back. I can’t. Much as I wish I could. And you don’t want nothing to do with me, I see that. I don’t blame you. Not at all. But I’m your daddy, and I gotta do something.”

  He stood up and turned to look at her. She was facing the door, and even though he couldn’t see her expression, he could read her back; he could see she was tense with the desire to say something. Kiss off, or go to hell, or whatever it was. Then her shoulders slumped and she said, “If you got the money from holding up a liquor store, I will kill you myself.”

  That was better. Vintage Brianna, but better than go to hell. Man couldn’t do much with go to hell.

  “I told you I got a job.”

  She turned to look at him. “Doing what? Wal-Mart greeter?”

  “Now, Bree,” he said. “Turns out I’m good with computers. I’ve been in IT since I got sober.”

  That seemed to confound her. He supposed she remembered when he couldn’t keep a job for more than six weeks.

  “All right,” she said. “When are you going back to where the job is? You must’ve used up your vacation time by now.”

  “The job is in LA,” he said. “I own the company, so I can sort of take off when I want.”

  “Don’t bother,” she said, but she wasn’t nearly as wound up as she’d been the first time she saw him. Maybe she was softening toward him. Or not. Hard to tell. But he guessed he’d find out.

  Now was the little bit harder part. “That little Toyota parked at the curb, I want you to have that.” He held up the keys.

  “No,” she said, and shoved open the front door.

  “Honey, that Ford you’re driving is a deathtrap. It gives me heart palpitations just thinking about your driving it.”

  “That’s your problem, not mine.”

  He wasn’t above a little manipulation. “What about Natalie? You want her to get stranded in some bad part of town some night when she’s out with her friends?”

  “Go to hell.”

  Well, maybe it needed a little more manipulation. “You take the car, Brianna, and I’ll go back to LA. But you got to turn over that Ford to me or I’m not going to believe you.”

  That stopped her. “You’ll go back to LA if I take the car.”

  “You’ve got to give me the Ford, too. But, yes, that’s the deal.”

  She took the keys in his hand, tossed him the keys to the Ford. “Knock yourself out, Dick,” she said, and went inside the house.

  Chapter Eleven

  Matthias couldn’t help the stupid grin on his face. He’d spent half the night staring up at the ceiling, replaying the evening in his mind, like some dumb lovestruck kid. Finally he got up early and made some coffee, and then waited restlessly for the clock to tick forward to nine A.M., which seemed like the earliest time it was decent to call someone on a Sunday morning.

  Brianna had given him her cell number the day they’d met for coffee to talk over his spring event. And he was glad he had it because he knew Brianna would be able to help him.

  He felt his whole body unclench when she answered the phone with a slightly drowsy “Hello?”

  • • •

  Brianna looked at the clock by her bed and flopped back on her pillows. She had barely slept last night, and now Mr. G was on the phone. She had no idea what he could want but … she couldn’t help feeling it was a positive sign that he was calling her on the cell. Maybe he’d say, The Bogart retrospective is over but they’re showing Tokyo horror movies. And she’d say, I’d love to. After all, he’d promised the next movie was on him.

  “Morning, Mr. G,” she said. “What’s up?”

  “Good morning, Brianna,” he said. “I’m sorry to bother you so early on a Sunday morning.”

  She smiled and settled into the pillows. Him and his small talk. “No worries.”

  “Did you have a good time last night?” he asked. “I know you were working but I hope you were able to enjoy yourself anyway.”

  “It was fine. Slightly more disasters than last year, but fewer than the watershed event of five years ago.”

  “I remember that.”

  “I’m pretty sure everyone does. What’s up?” Come on, Mr. G, she thought. Tokyo horror movies. Not that hard. Give me a sign, any kind of sign, and I’ll do the asking for you if you want.

  “I met someone last night.”

  “I — what?”

  “I met someone last night,” he said. “And I didn’t get her number — ”

  Her hearing seemed to cut out about then. She couldn’t seem to get past the I met someone last night when he was supposed to be telling her about Tokyo horror movies.

  “I’m sorry,” she said. “One of the dogs just distracted me. So, you met someone last night?”

  “Yes, and I know it’s an inconvenience, but I didn’t get her number and I would like to see her again.”

  She examined that sentence. There was no Tokyo horror movie mentioned. There was no Brianna anywhere in it. She made a sound to let him know she’d heard him and examined the sentence a second time.

  It’ll be my treat next time, he’d said, and she had said … she had said, Hmm. Instead of Yes or Sounds good or How about Saturday?

  She closed her eyes. Her nerves had been jangling that day but she should have said something. Because apparently he had assumed she was not interested in a next time. And so he had gone and fallen for someone else when he should have been falling for her.

  That hurt so much she gasped a little.

  “What?” he asked.

  “Sorry, Dakota just stepped on my foot.”

  “You sounded like it hurt a lot more than that.”

  She took a steadying breath. “It was unexpected, is all. So, you met someone.”

  “Yes. I thought you might know who she is, and if you’re not able to give me her number then perhaps you would be willing to let her know I would be glad to hear from her.”

  He said all that in a rush, and Brianna said what she had to say, which was, “What is this, high school?”

  That made him laugh and when he spoke again he didn’t sound nearly so nervous. “I knew I could count on you, Brianna.”

  Yeah, I am such a good sport. “Who is it?” Maybe it would be someone awful, and he would realize that on their first date, and then he would call Brianna about the Tokyo horror movie. Or she would call
him. Either way. It was just a slight delay, that was all. She knew they’d been inching closer to … to … something until this … this floozy, whoever she was, had got her hooks into him.

  “Her name’s Natalie Johnson,” he said, and her stomach swooped to her toes.

  Nice guy?

  Really nice.

  Glad.

  Goddammit.

  “Do you know her?” he asked anxiously.

  Brianna cleared her throat. “She’s my sister.”

  A stunned silence followed that. “Oh — I didn’t — your little sister? I didn’t make the connection because of your different last names.”

  “Natalie Johnson. That’s the one.”

  “Well,” he said cheerfully. “Then I guess you know how to get hold of her.”

  “I do indeed,” she said. Good sport good sport good sport. I am a good sport. Goddammit. “Give me just a second to go find her.”

  “Thank you.” Then: “I don’t suppose — ”

  She closed her eyes, knowing exactly what he wanted. Her heart ached, but she said it. “She thinks you’re a really nice guy, Mr. G.”

  He let out a little whoosh of breath. “Okay, good.”

  “Give me a second,” she said and set the phone down on the night stand. She opened the bedroom door, and Dakota came racing in, prancing, and Brianna shooed her into the backyard, then went to Natalie’s door and knocked, then peeked inside.

  Natalie yawned and sat up, patting Jasmine, who had stirred enough to open an eye and look at Brianna.

  “Mr. G’s on the phone for you,” Brianna said brightly.

  Natalie gave her a perplexed look. “Uh, Mr. G? Why does he want to talk to me?”

  “I think you were kissing him in the garden last night.”

  A smile blossomed on Natalie’s face. “Matthias,” she said, and scrambled out of bed.

  “On my cell. In my room,” Brianna said and Natalie raced down the hall, giving a good impression of Dakota.

  Jasmine looked at her. Brianna looked at Jasmine. Jasmine got off the bed and padded after Natalie.

  Matthias. Natalie knew him as Matthias. Whereas Brianna who had talked to him practically every damned day for five years had never gotten past Mr. G. Which, that was everything right there, wasn’t it?

  “I hate you,” she said to the empty room, but it wasn’t true. She wished it were. It would hurt less if she did.

  Chapter Twelve

  Brianna stood on the sidewalk, blinking. For a moment she thought the Ford had been stolen. Then she remembered that she’d made a deal with the devil and she walked to the curb where the Toyota was parked. Red with a tan interior. She unlocked it, and cautiously got inside. It wasn’t brand-new, but it was a late model, and spiffy clean on the inside.

  She opened the glove compartment and saw a blue folder with her name on it. Inside were the title and registration, made out in her name, plus the bill of sale. The gas tank was full. Way more organized than Richard had ever been in his life.

  She tucked the folder in her purse since the title shouldn’t be left in the car, and drove to work. The car handled well, and she didn’t have to worry about the brakes failing or whether it would start after work.

  And Richard was back in LA. So yay. What more could one woman want?

  She’d barely seated herself at her desk when Heidi peeked around the wall of her cubicle and said, “Mr. G, line one.”

  “What does he want now?” Brianna asked no one in particular, and forced herself to sound pleasant when she answered the phone.

  “Good morning, Brianna,” he said.

  “Good morning, Mr. G,” she said breezily. “I hate to be rude but I’ve got a meeting in about two minutes. What can I do for you?” She didn’t think she could stand his small talk today. Not today. Not after yesterday. Possibly not ever.

  “What are her favorite flowers?”

  Look at that, he could get right to the point when properly motivated. So, great.

  “Tiger lilies,” she said.

  “Of course,” he said. “I knew it wouldn’t be roses.”

  “I like roses,” she said defensively.

  He didn’t answer that, just said, “Thanks, Brianna!” and hung up.

  • • •

  “Hey.”

  Natalie looked up from her lunch to see Joe crossing over to her. She was in the cafeteria at the student union, eating a sandwich she’d brought from home, and thinking it would be nice if she could start concentrating on her homework sometime soon. But she kept thinking of Saturday, an enchanted evening, and Matthias calling her on Sunday to ask her out for Friday, and every time she thought about it, her heart fluttered and she couldn’t remember what she was supposed to be doing.

  “Hi, Joe,” she said, which he seemed to take as an invitation to sit across from her and take his own lunch out of his backpack. Well, she didn’t care. He’d blown her off when she’d asked him to study with her, and it had bothered her at the time, but it didn’t matter now.

  “I’ve got an extra apple,” he offered, and since he was obviously trying to make amends she said, “Sure, thanks,” and he handed it over. It was a golden delicious, which was her favorite, so that was good. She crunched into it.

  “How’d you do on that quiz? Wish I’d been able to study for it with you.”

  “No problem,” she said, forcing a smile. “I got an A.”

  “Good for you. I got a B. But I can still get an A in the class if I ace the midterm and final.”

  Maybe if he hadn’t blown her off he could have gotten an A, too. She didn’t say that, although Brianna probably would have. “Can’t believe midterms are coming right up,” was what she did say.

  “Me either. Want to get together on Friday to do some studying?”

  Natalie blinked. She thought they weren’t doing that. She thought —

  “I have a date on Friday,” she said. “I mean, I’m seeing someone, so — ”

  “Oh, yeah, cool, that’s cool, I meant just as friends. If you can’t do Friday, what about Thursday?”

  “Yeah,” Natalie said. “Yeah, I can do Thursday.”

  • • •

  He was such a doofus. Of course she was seeing someone, a girl like her. Who the hell did he think he was? When she’d asked Joe to study, he really hadn’t been able to do it. That damned Carl and his bad ankle had needed him to fill in. But he’d thought it was promising, that maybe he’d misunderstood why she had turned him down, and that if he just tried again, they could get together. And maybe … well, he’d been wrong, she was just being friendly. So that’s what they were going to be. Friends.

  He looked at her, eating her sandwich elegantly, beautiful and assured and special. Friends.

  Suddenly he wasn’t very hungry anymore.

  • • •

  “Did she like the flowers?” Mr. G asked, which, she was going to stick her ballpoint pen in his heart if he didn’t stop that.

  “Loved them,” Brianna said, as she came into the echoing entrance hall. Beverly had opened the door for her, but Matthias had been right there with her, anxious to know if his efforts to woo Natalie were working. Which they were. So, great. She was so so happy for everyone.

  “Thanks for coming by,” he said.

  “If you’re going to host the … event here, then I’ll need to scope out the lay of the land.”

  “Very good,” he said. “So obviously this is the entrance hall.”

  Her entire house could fit in the hallway. That was depressing. She’d been here before with Anita, but she’d been in better spirits that day and so she hadn’t thought negative thoughts. She was thinking them now.

  “It sure is,” she said.

  “And here’s what my mother always called the living room.”

  Which was the size of an extravagant hotel lobby, and furnished like one, too. She counted six sofas, three settees, and at least eight different chairs. Not to mention sideboards, end tables, sofa tables, lamps, curio
cabinets, flower arrangements. With so much room between them you could host a skating party.

  “The music room’s through here,” he said. “And of course there’s a ballroom upstairs.”

  “Of course,” she said.

  He brought her through all the public rooms in the house, a tour that took about an hour. If he hadn’t been leading her around she would have gotten lost. His house was bigger than the Cooper-Renfield Museum, which was saying a lot.

  “You live here by yourself?” she asked when they were back in the living room.

  “Yes,” he said. “None of the staff live in.”

  None of the staff. And in the moment she knew he wanted Natalie here, and her heart froze because Natalie could fit in here; she could fit in anywhere. That was from all those years in the hospital, trying to lessen the pain and the fear and the uncertainty by being the nicest child, the least complaining, the one who tried to please.

  And why shouldn’t Natalie be here? Brianna couldn’t imagine herself living within these walls, couldn’t picture it at all. Which meant Matthias probably couldn’t either.

  “So, I guess I still don’t know what your event is for,” she said, walking over to stare up at what was almost certainly an original Rembrandt, trying to get her mind off the thought of Natalie living here. “I mean, what are you celebrating or whatever?”

  He hesitated. “I rattle around in this place. You’ve seen it now, so you know what I mean. So, I thought, what it needs is people in it. If I entertained more, then … I don’t know. Then maybe it would be the kind of place I could live in.”

  He looked at her expectantly, like she might understand, but she sure as hell didn’t. He’d been living here all his life. And he was just now cluing in to the fact that it wasn’t how normal people did it?

  “People don’t live in places like this,” she said. “People put on shows in places like this, they don’t live here.” She turned in a complete circle, taking in the “living room.” “I mean, you make it into a hotel or a museum or some kind of public space. Or you burn it to the ground. No one could live here.”

  He looked like she’d just slapped him, which, okay, learn to think before you speak, Brianna.