by K L Going
I’m only half convinced this will really work, but I can tell Eddie’s getting interested. He sits up straighter and drives faster.
“It does sound like fun,” he says. “And I’ve certainly got enough bathing suits left over. As long as we push the other stuff too, we could do okay.” He nods. “All right,” he says. “Why not? We’ll give it a shot. Only don’t be disappointed if it’s a slow day. This is your first time doing this, so you can’t expect a lot of people to show up.”
“I know,” I tell him, but really I’m thinking people had better show up, because I do not want this to be one more thing I screw up.
I decide to start making phone calls once everything is set up. I know this isn’t exactly an unpopular thing to do, but this is business, so it doesn’t count.
I help Eddie move all the summer racks from the sale section out to the sidewalk. We’ve got to put signs on all the fall stuff so older people who won’t be attending any pool parties will still have something to shop for. I run over to Mae’s for the lemonade, and she remembers me and gives me extra lemons in a big yellow bowl.
Then I’ve got to arrange the window.
The surfboard is my best prop, so I feature it prominently. I decide to keep the window simple, because too much clutter will detract from the illusion rather than add to it. The great thing about Eddie’s window is that it’s shiny and clean. It doesn’t have that scuffed up look a lot of shopwindows have. This means the display can be just me, my board, and the bowl of bright yellow lemons.
The summer fantasy illusion is completed by several last details. I put on some great music and slather myself in coconut tanning oil so the smell will be in the air. I even make Eddie put some on. He doesn’t seem to mind.
“Here,” he says, handing me a deep blue Tommy Hilfiger bathing suit. “I’ve got way too many of these left over. Start with this one.”
The plan is that I will change clothes every hour. I take the bathing suit into the dressing room and try it on. It fits nice and the color is perfect. Then I take out a small makeup kit I got from my mom. It’s not something I let just anybody know I own, but it comes in handy.
When you’re a guy putting on makeup, you have to do it just right. Only enough to enhance your features, unless you’re doing something dramatic, like a fashion spread in a magazine or modeling something avant-garde. Or unless you’re Aunt Pete. Otherwise, no one needs to know you’re wearing it.
I also pull out my secret weapon. A small tube of hemorrhoid cream. I put a dab under my eyes since I didn’t sleep well last night. It shrinks the blood vessels and gets rid of dark circles. Then I make a thin line with the eyeliner pencil. Eyeliner is the best. It totally makes your eyes stand out and half the time people don’t know why. They just know they want to look at you.
When I finally finish my phone calls and climb in the window, I’m thinking about Mom. Tired, nervous, fumbling Mom—but the minute she stepped onstage, or got in front of a camera, she was someone else.
I think about all the things she taught me. The way you should imagine a vertical line straight through your center. That line becomes your focus and no matter what you’re doing, you should know where your center is, and how to balance it. When you move, everything moves along with that line so that no part of your body arrives before you do. You can’t slouch or shuffle. No matter what you’re feeling, you have to move with confidence. Shoulders back. Hands free.
It’s not all about looking hot, either. Sometimes it’s about being shocking, and that’s the one advantage I have going for me today. Without even trying I’ll be shocking. No one’s going to expect me in the window. If I play it right, I’ll make people stop in their tracks.
Eddie goes outside to look at my display, and I can’t hear his reaction, but I see the expression on his face. First he’s busy, thinking of a hundred details he still has to take care of. Then he sees me and his body becomes still. He stares as if we’ve never met.
I stand in the window, hoping someone will show up. I can’t say many people come by at first, but aside from worrying that the day will be a bust, I don’t mind. Standing in the window is like lying on the picnic table. I shut a certain part of my brain off and let myself space out. Obviously I’ve got to change position every now and then, but once I’ve settled in, it’s okay to relax. There’s no photographer to vamp for. All I have to do is hold my position.
It’s a half hour before the first real customers come by. I hear them out front, but I don’t look at them because I’m leaning on my surfboard staring at something far away. I’m not really focused on anything, but I want people to think I’m staring at a wave. Maybe the last wave of the summer.
“What’s Eddie up to this time?” a voice says.
Two ladies are walking up from the hairdresser. They approach the window and lean in to get a better look. Then they disappear and I think they’ve left for good, only they come back with several women in curlers. The small crowd attracts three men from the animal feed store, and soon I notice cars making sharp turns into the strip mall.
“You having some sort of sale, Eddie?”
“What kind of crazy stunt you pulling?”
Before long the door chimes are ringing every two minutes, and I can hear lots of muffled voices through the glass. Mostly I really do think about waves. I try to remember what it felt like to be in Hawaii. Every now and then I listen to Eddie hand selling the most expensive of the suits.
“I understand the swimming season is over, but by the start of next season I’ll have to sell these at full price. Why not buy one now and put it away? That one is beautiful. Honestly, it premiered just this season, so it will look fabulous on you next year . . .”
Then Jen and Nikki show up.
“Oh my god! Liam, I can’t believe you’re in the window.” Jen bounces up and down doing cheerleader kicks outside the shop. “You’re crazy!” she yells, flipping open her cell phone. “That’s it,” she says. “I’m calling the squad.”
Twenty minutes later the strip mall is crawling with whistling, giggling cheerleaders. A car pulls up and Joe and three other guys pile out. Joe gives me a fist salute and starts a chant.
“Li-am, Li-am, Li-am.”
I’ve been standing completely still for about twenty minutes, so I allow myself a break. I hop out of the window and yell to Eddie. “Want me to sell stuff to these guys?”
“Yes,” he says. He whooshes past me, then stops. “Wait. Could you call Darleen? Tell her I need help at the register.”
I’m about to step outside, but I stop and whirl around. “What? No!”
Eddie looks up. “She’ll say yes,” he says. “She’s helped me out before.” He puts down the suits. “No wait. You’re right. You go outside and talk those boys into buying Hilfiger. Push the blue ones. Then I need you back in that window. I’ll call Darleen.”
I cringe. “She’s probably busy,” I say, “and I don’t think she’ll want to get involved with—”
Eddie scowls. “Go!” he says.
I hesitate, but I can tell he’s made up his mind, so I grab the CD player and step outside. I hand the CDs to Jen. “Here, pick out something good.”
Joe punches me on the shoulder.
“You’re a maniac!” he says. I make a mock bodybuilder pose as music blasts out of the stereo. My biceps still look decent, even though I’ve only been able to do free weights in the corner of Aunt Pete’s trailer. I know I shouldn’t be vamping, but this is important for business, right? Nikki dances over holding a tiny red string bikini.
“This one for the party?” she says, holding it up seductively. “Or this one?” She pulls an even tinier black one from behind her back. The guys whistle and Joe pretends to faint, but I don’t see a bikini; I see my chance. Girls will buy anything just because it’s fun and they want something new to wear, but no guy is going to buy a bathing suit in September unless . . .
“Good try,” I say casually, “but the guys have the best suits thi
s year.” Nikki looks confused.
“It’s true. Check it out.” I pull out the blue Tommy Hilfiger and hold it up, then turn slightly to the left.
“That is so hot,” Jen breathes.
That’s the reaction I was hoping for.
In the next fifteen minutes I sell five suits—two of them to guys. My goal is to sell everyone suits immediately so they’ll leave before Darleen arrives, but it doesn’t happen. Remember that thing I said about making this a preparty event? Well, everyone stays forever, talking and laughing and texting more people. I start to get uptight and my next shift in the window isn’t as good. I keep glancing at the clock on Eddie’s wall.
It’s during my break that Darleen shows up. Jen, Joe, and Nikki have left and come back twice because Jen can’t make up her mind. People from school are cycling in and out, but a lot of them are actually buying stuff, so Eddie doesn’t mind. I’ve just climbed out of the window to help Jen when Darleen strides past. She looks determined. Determined to ignore as many of us as possible. Starting with me.
My stomach does a flip-flop.
“Who invited her?” Nikki asks, wrinkling her nose.
“I did,” I say. Then I realize they’re all going to see Darleen at the cash register, so I amended my statement. “I invited her to work here because we’re so busy. She’s Eddie’s cousin.” I don’t mean it to sound like an excuse, but everyone nods.
“Too bad,” Nikki says.
I’m about to explain that this isn’t what I meant, when a girl from the cheerleading squad joins our group.
“Who invited her?” she asks, glancing in Darleen’s direction.
“She’s Eddie’s cousin,” Joe says in a sympathetic way.
“That’s not what I—”
“I just had a brilliant idea,” Nikki says, interrupting me. “We have got to do this for homecoming. It would be so much fun. We could do an auction and raise money for the senior class. Liam and I could model the clothes and—”
“And me,” Jen says. “How come just you two get to model?”
“I’d be a great model,” Joe says, flexing. “Don’t you think I’d be great?”
I’m thinking only one thing.
Crap. Crapcrapcrapcrap.
There is no way I can do this for homecoming.
“I’d have to ask Eddie,” I say, buying some time. Unfortunately, Eddie is walking past with an armful of suits.
“Ask Eddie what?”
“We were thinking of doing a fashion show for homecoming,” Nikki gushes. “If you’d give us some of your stuff, people could bid on it and we’d make a ton of money for the senior class.” I’m making “no way” signals behind Jen’s back, but Eddie ignores me.
“Give?” he asks.
“Fifty-fifty?”
Eddie cocks his head. “It wouldn’t be a bad deal,” he says at last. “People always way overbid at fashion shows, especially if it’s a fund-raiser. I could donate a couple items, and we could split the rest. Maybe Sarah would donate something.”
I cringe. “I don’t think . . . well . . .”
Nikki’s bouncing up and down again.
“You have to!” she says. “I’ve always wanted to model. This could be my big break. It’ll be so cool.”
That’s what I’m afraid of.
Eddie grins. “I’d say yes if I were you,” he says over his shoulder as he makes his way back to the shop.
“I’m in charge of homecoming events,” Jen says. “I’ll give you a time slot toward the end of the day, and I’ll even sign up the models if you and Eddie get the clothes.”
My stomach is twisting tight.
“I don’t know, guys. I don’t think people would want to see me in a fashion show, really, because, uh, I’m not that popular and . . .”
Jen gives me a crazy look.
“Don’t even!” she says. “You are so going to be homecoming king. Everyone’s going to vote for you. And of course they’ll want to see you in a fashion show. The son of Sarah Geller modeling at Pineville High? Don’t think we haven’t heard . . .” Jen puts her hand on my arm. “It’s so cool that you’re modest,” she adds.
All the color drains from my face, and for a moment I think I might pass out. My head gets all woozy. I open my mouth to say something, but nothing comes out, and at that same moment the guy across the street puts up a huge sign advertising pizzas for five bucks. There’s a cheer, and in the excitement somehow Jen thinks I’ve said yes.
“Great,” she says, turning to Nikki. “Let’s pay for this stuff.”
The minute they walk away I slump against the bathing suit rack. I glance inside, thinking I’d better get back in the window, but Eddie is in the stockroom, and that means . . . I dash into the store, but Joe is already sitting on the counter pretending to flirt with Darleen.
“Maybe that one would look good on you,” he says. “Oh, wait! That’s a girdle.”
“Do you even wear a bra?” one of the cheerleaders asks. I hurry around the counter.
“Are you buying the suits, or what?” I demand, and this time Jen pushes the others out of the way. She hands me the blue bikini I recommended earlier.
“We’re buying,” she says, giving me her dad’s credit card. “Definitely buying.”
Buying is a good thing, right? It ought to be, only the minute they leave Darleen fixes me with a look that could set a small planet on fire.
“Was this whole thing your idea?”
I look down at my feet. “Not the whole thing.”
“Well, do me a favor,” she says, making every word count. “The next time you have a brilliant idea—leave me out of it. I wouldn’t have come today except Eddie got Dad on the phone, so I had to come down here and wait on those juvenile imbeciles buying string bikinis and Speedos.”
“I didn’t sell anyone a Speedo,” I say, but Darleen shakes her head.
“We had a deal. Why is it not possible for you to leave me alone? You follow me around school. You totally lied to me about dinner. I really don’t see why it’s so—”
That’s when Eddie emerges from the back. He surveys the empty shop and lets out a deep breath.
“Good timing,” he says. “We need a break. The back room is a mess.” He turns to me. “You,” he says, “are brilliant. That homecoming fashion show was a great idea.”
Darleen’s eyes bug out, but Eddie is oblivious. He glances across the street to the pizza place. “You want to take a lunch break?” he asks. “Join your friends?”
I look out the window. “They’re not really my . . .”
Darleen glares. “Yeah, Liam,” she says. “Why don’t you join your hordes of friends?”
35
AT FIVE O’CLOCK Eddie and I close up shop. Darleen went home without saying good-bye, and I suppose that’s just as well. It’s not like I can salvage things now. Not if I’m the future homecoming king.
Eddie and I limp out to the car and he claps me on the shoulder. “I ordered pizza,” he says. “Two of them. And I invited the guys to hang out at my place. Figured we could celebrate before Dino and your uncle have to go to work.”
I nod. “Fine.”
Eddie looks at me funny.
“You okay?” he asks. I nod again.
We stop to pick up the pizzas, then drive to Eddie’s little split-level. When we arrive the guys are already there, waiting on the front steps. Aunt Pete’s Nissan is parked on the curb.
“Nice place,” I say as we pull in. I haven’t said anything the whole ride here, so I figure I’d better make some conversation. Eddie grins.
“Thanks,” he says. “I worked hard for this house—back when I was a lingerie buyer for Lord and Taylor and I used to make money on a regular basis, that is. Of course, that’s all about to change, thanks to my brilliant new employee.” He opens the car door dramatically.
“And parading up the catwalk sporting the new two-for-one pizza design, the fabulous and dramatic Liam Geller.”
I blush. “It was
n’t that big of a—”
Eddie places one hand over my mouth. “Hush,” he says. “Don’t be modest. Peter, your nephew is a genius.”
Aunt Pete stands in the doorway and grins. Dino claps him on the back, and I can tell they’re proud. They’re proud that I didn’t screw up. Only I did. They just don’t know it.
Eddie opens the door, and I follow the guys up the stairs. I’m about to bring the pizzas into the kitchen, but I stop when I reach the top. There’s a picture on the living room wall—a reproduction of an Andy Warhol painting. Mom has that exact same print framed in her boutique. I try not to stare, but I can’t help it.
I’ve been trying not to think about Mom all day, but now my chest aches. I keep wondering how she could leave modeling when it’s so amazing? I try not to think the last thought that’s pushing its way to the surface, but I can’t help it. Dad wouldn’t take something that important away from her, would he? How could he not be proud of Mom? She was a superstar.
“Don’t be shy,” Eddie says, slipping into the kitchen and jolting me out of my thoughts. “I’ll get the drinks.”
Dino grabs the pizza boxes out of my hands. “I’ll take those.”
“What? Oh, sorry.”
I can’t stop staring at the painting.
The thing that gets me is that we bought Mom’s from a street vendor in New York City. It’s a picture of Warhol with a quote on it that says, “I think everybody should like everybody.” Mom and I were so excited to bring it home, but Dad took one look at it and said we’d spent way too much for it. It was like he didn’t even read the words.
I haven’t thought about that painting in a long time, but now all I can think is, Has Dad ever liked me?
I don’t know how long I stand there. I hear the crash of dishes and the opening and shutting of the refrigerator, and I try to make myself breathe normally. In and out. Deep breaths. I’m concentrating so hard I don’t notice that Pete is standing next to me.
