“Thanks, but I’ve got plans. Interesting. He just moved from stalled to fast forward,” she said. “Aren’t you glad you got the flower? Now you need to pick the perfect outfit.”
“I’m not a fashion slave. I don’t really worry about that stuff,” I said.
“Big mistake,” Blue said. “How much?” she asked the guy who ran the shop.
He calculated in his head. “Two mani-pedi with flowers? Forty dollar.”
I reached back in my purse for my wallet.
“I’ve got this,” Blue said. “Leave the tip.”
She paid the manager on a credit card while I passed out cash to the techs. “Why a big mistake?” I asked her.
“Because you’re meeting the parents, girlfriend.”
* * *
I knocked on Cole’s door and asked him if he wanted to attend a BBQ at Alejandro’s house in Bel Air. He asked me the address. When I told him, he jumped like he was on springs about a foot in the air. I took that as a yes. We both retired to our respective residences to beautify.
What to wear? Oh crap, the last thing I needed was fashion stress. I thought I left that behind after I was diagnosed with MS. Because, who really cares what you’re wearing when holes open up around your spinal cord? But tonight was different, and for a change, I really wanted to look pretty.
I yanked open my closet door and examined each item of clothing hanging on the rod. I sorted through them, pushing the hangers from right to left, occasionally grabbing one and tossing it onto my bed. One hanger, two, ten, forty. I picked an assortment of about twenty cute dresses, tops, skirts and pants.
I grabbed a matchy skirt and top from my bed, yanked them on and checked out my reflection in a skinny wall mirror.
Choice #1: Both the skirt and top were short. Really short. I struck a come-hither pose. “What’s up, Alejandro’s parents? My name’s Sophina. I know you’re expecting your brilliant, gorgeous son to graduate at the top of his class and get a bitchin’ job with benefits. However, I’m making him my beck and call boy as well as my personal shampooist. The job has benefits. Get over it.” Too sexy.
I ripped off that outfit. Tossed it and shrugged on different clothes. Choice #2: A pair of black, loose lawyer-esque pants and a fitted white buttoned up shirt. I looked in the mirror. “Awfully nice to meet you, Alejandro’s parents. My name is Miss Priebe. I am here to do your taxes, walk the dog, stare slack-jawed, aka Forest Gumpish, at your son and then disappear into a hole-in-the-wall somewhere never to be heard from again.” Too bland.
I stripped those off and tossed them on the bed. Looked for something in-between. Choice #3. I pulled on a family friendly but super cute sundress. It was a poly-cotton blend, soft colored floral print without being fussy. A T-shaped back showed a hint of skin on my shoulders and upper back. I accessorized it with low-heeled sandals and simple small hoop earrings. I turned to the mirror. The reflection of a somewhat sane and kind-of pretty girl stared back at me. “Hi, Mr. and Mrs. Levine. I’m Sophie Priebe. You have a wonderful son and I’m so pleased to meet you tonight. Thanks for inviting me. Anything I can do to help with your BBQ?” Perfect.
I applied minimal makeup, peered into the bathroom mirror and pulled my hair back into a goddess-styled modest bun with wisps and tendrils hanging down my back. I grabbed an elegant black, cropped cotton sweater in case things got cool the way they always seemed to during an L.A. summer night.
I fed and cuddled Napoleon. Looked at the clock—yikes, the way things were going I might be late again. I really didn’t want that, tonight of all nights. Meeting family was huge. And big. And scary. Or maybe it wasn’t.
Maybe Alejandro had invited all his friends, the Drivers and even Nicole. Perhaps there would be so many people I would just disappear like a fly on a wall into a vast party, the plain girl in the middle of all the sparkly, exciting people.
I walked the few feet to Cole’s place and knocked on the door. Gidget jumped up and down on the windowsill and barked excitedly from behind the screen. “Three more minutes!” He hollered from somewhere inside his place.
“Hurry up! I don’t want to be late.”
“And I don’t want to show up wearing the wrong shirt. Priorities!”
I trudged back to my place and clicked on my laptop’s email. Saw a correspondence with the Kelsey Vision Quest address. Opened it. There was a personal email from Dr. Carlton Kelsey to me. Hmm. How did he get my—oh right. Sign in for the free seminar on the ledger. Print your name. Include your email contact info. Check the box that says you will accept emails from us in the future.
Dear Ms. Priebe:
I regret we did not have a chance to further discuss your medical situation and how I, as well as The Quest, could best help you. You mentioned endorsements of The Quest featured on YouTube. I’ve enclosed a link to our channel. Feel free to check them out. We will be updating our site after the next Quest. I’m inviting you to a less public, more private gathering the day after tomorrow at The Century City Plaza Towers Hotel at noon. I do hope you will be able to join us. Please R.S.V.P.
Sincerely,
Dr. Carlton Kelsey
P.S. On a more private note, a little bird informed me that my bodyguards might have been overly zealous and conducted themselves unprofessionally with you. I apologize. Being a bodyguard isn’t the easiest profession in the world and the job description doesn’t always attract the sharpest tools in the shed.
Huh.
A knock on my door broke my thoughts. “Hurry up!” Cole hollered. “We do not want to keep this beautiful Bel-Air family waiting. I bet their BBQ is catered.”
I grabbed my sweater and purse. Kissed Napoleon goodbye on his gorgeous, fuzzy face and exited my front door. “Who the hell has their BBQ catered?” I asked.
“Practically everyone who lives on Copa de Oro in Bel-Air.” Cole rubbed his hands together as we walked toward his immaculate Prius parked at the curb. “The appetizers will be to die for. Unless Alejandro’s family is vegan, the hamburgers will be made with Kobe ground beef. I can’t wait to get the grand tour. I sincerely hope they give a grand tour. What if no one offers the grand tour?” He aimed his keychain at the car and pressed a button. A beep sounded followed by clicking sounds as the doors unlocked.
“Calm down. He probably lives in a tract house like the majority of us grew up in.” I got in his car and belted up. “Okay. Make that a tri-level tract house. With…” I thought about it. “…lemon trees.”
Cole laughed and closed the passenger door. “Have you ever seen photos of Bel-Air?”
“Nope.”
He laughed again. “You’re in for a surprise.”
Chapter Sixteen
Alejandro Maxwell Levine’s last minute family BBQ was not catered. I determined that after we were buzzed in at the security entrance. I ascertained that during our excursion through the automatic Spanish styled security gates, down the driveway that was approximately half the length of a football field and parked on the left side of the house next to Alex’s black Jeep. I figured it out when a short man wearing a sombrero waved at us and said, “As much as Mr. Levine would love to greet you at the front door, he is currently grilling. Follow me, please.”
We did. The man wearing the festive hat led us though a small side gate, past a dozen wooden vegetable planters filled with a cornucopia of green and red vegetables and fruits. We entered a massive back yard that stretched behind an incredibly large Spanish-styled two-story house.
My eyes swept over the house. I suddenly wondered if there’d been a mistake with the sombrero man. Perhaps we’d ended up at a small museum.
Cole hacked and clutched his chest with one hand. “Are you okay?” I hissed.
“I think I might have swallowed my tongue.”
The grassy lawn sloped down toward a pool at the bottom of the estate. A couple of kids goofed around in the water, splashing each other, diving and dunking. There was a pool house adjacent to the tall black wrought iron fence that protected the
property’s edge. Families, couples and single folks of all ages chitchatted around casual picnic tables and lawn chairs. An ancient fat Shih Tzu mix dog with a fancy sequined collar waddled from person to person, sniffing the ground next to their feet, nibbling crumbs.
A middle-aged man who resembled a shorter, weathered version of Alejandro wore a full-length chef’s apron and flipped burgers on a fancy grill. “Alida!” he yelled. “Where are the vegetables?”
“They’re in the ground,” a woman said.
“What are they doing there?”
“They’re still growing. We planted too late.” A stunning, middle-aged, curvy woman with dark black hair that swirled to her waist walked up to the man. She carried a turquoise platter covered in Saran Wrap.
“Why’d we do that, Alida?” He smiled, leaned down and smooched her on the lips.
“Because, Jacob. You couldn’t make up your mind what kind of tomatoes you wanted. Or if you wanted to grow zucchini, or corn, or both.”
“I’m a piece of work and you still put up with me.”
“Yes you are and yes I do. For you, Señor Levine. Fresh vegetables from the farmer’s market.”
Cole clutched my arm. “Oh my God!” he whispered as he swiveled and gazed at the large Spanish styled house. “I’ve seen pictures of this house before.”
“Oh my God!” I said. “I love that Alex’s parents seem so cool.”
“Whatev. I could swear this used to be Gary Cooper’s house.”
“The movie star Gary Cooper?” I whispered.
“No, the guy who invented Mini-Coopers,” Cole said. “Of course the movie star Gary Cooper.”
“Bonita!” Alejandro popped out of the pool house and strode toward us. He took my hands in his and squeezed them. He eyed me up and down and smiled. “You look so pretty.” He leaned in and kissed me on the cheek, his lips lingering just a little too long. “Am I forgiven?” he whispered into my ear. “I have a great explanation I plan on sharing with you very soon.”
“That depends on the awesomeness of your explanation,” I said, “as well as how great this BBQ is.”
“Ahem,” Cole said.
“Oh, hey Cole.” Alex shook Cole’s hand. “Thanks for hanging out with us and chaperoning my girl here.” He wrapped his arm around my waist and pulled me tight into his side. I spotted Alida watching us. Like a hawk.
“I can’t believe you live in Gary Cooper’s house. I need the tour,” Cole hissed.
“Rumors,” Alex said. “For the tour you need to ask the lady of the house.”
Alida took a few steps toward us. “Where are your manners, Alejandro? Introductions, por favor.”
“This is my mom, Alida Hernandez Levine.”
Alida nodded at Cole and me. “I’m pleased to meet any of Alejandro’s friends.”
“Mom, I’d like you to meet Cole…”
Cole stuck his hand out, “Cole Frederick. Thank you so much for sharing a meal as well as your beautiful home with us, Mrs. Levine.”
She shook his hand. “You’re welcome, Cole.” Alida smiled at him then turned to me.
“Mom, this is Sophie Marie Priebe. I told you about her.”
“So nice to meet you, Mrs. Levine.” I stuck out my hand.
She took my hand but then pulled me to her and gave me a quick, warm hug. Then pushed me away for a second, looked me square in my eyes and smiled. “Call me Alida. You’re exactly how Alex described you. Come with me for a few of minutes, yes, Sophie? I’ll give you the tour.”
“But…” Cole entreated.
“Later.” Alex slapped him on the back. “Let me get you something to drink and introduce you to some folks. Dad’s making burgers, brats and veggies.”
“Organic?”
“Hell if I know.”
“I really wanted the tour. Gary Cooper… Oh. My God.” He pointed. “Is that who I think it is? Is that Johnny De—”
Alejandro put his hand on Cole’s shoulder and spun him around. “It’s like being at the zoo, Cole. Don’t disturb the celebs. And definitely don’t feed them. I hear they have special diets.” He steered him toward the kitchen away from Johnny, who munched on his burger.
* * *
I followed Alida from the dining room through an archway that led into a cavernous but casually decorated living room. It smelled of rich leather that covered the large comfy couches, as well as jasmine and sage. The wood floors were dark, distressed planks. A large old fireplace was built into the front wall. Hand-painted Spanish tiles in brilliant, jewel colors comprised its hearth. The back of the living room was filled with windows and wide doors that opened onto the deep informal back yard.
“Alejandro doesn’t bring a lot of girls home,” Alida said. “The last one was several years ago when he was just out of high school. She was older than him. It lasted for a couple of months until she left him and hooked up with a producer who got her onto a show on the CW.”
I nodded. No wonder he was worried about the CW.
She nodded. “Alejandro’s been sharing bits and pieces of your adventures with me. You went to Chinatown together?”
“Yes.”
“He wasn’t all that thrilled about the acupuncturist.”
“I know. But he was the one who found the two for one advertisement in the Chinese newspaper.”
She laughed. “I taught him well! Follow me.” She walked toward a hallway at the opposite end of the room.
I gazed out the windows into the back yard and spotted Alejandro staring at me as helped his dad at their gigantic BBQ. He raised his eyebrows and shot me a questioning look.
I shrugged my shoulders. I thought things between his mom and I were going okay. I really couldn’t be sure because I hadn’t met that many moms since I was diagnosed. Honestly? I hadn’t met any.
The wind picked up, swerved and carried the BBQ’s smoke right into Alex and his dad’s faces. They turned away and coughed. His dad dropped the lid down on the grill. “Another ungodly hot, dry summer. Don’t want to be starting a fire.”
“Highly unlikely that would happen in lower Bel Air, Mr. Levine.” Cole was upwind and untouched by the smoke. He held a colorful plate filled with food and munched like his life depended on it. “It’s much worse in canyon country and the mountains.”
“Do you want to see the rest of the house, Sophie?” Alida asked.
“Yes!” I ripped my eyes off Alejandro and turned toward her. She was already in the hallway while I was still in the living room staring at her son like some groupie with a crush on a young pop star. “Absolutely.” I strode toward her.
* * *
We climbed a tall staircase with large, square, rose terra cotta Spanish paver tiles on the steps and a black wrought iron railing lining the sides. “Alejandro says you are from Wisconsin. Must be pretty different than our strange city. Are you enjoying your time in L.A.?”
“Yes.”
“He said you’re in summer session. But that he’s helping to drive you to different healers in the city. Some project you’re working on with your grandmother?”
“Oh yes. He’s been great. I’m not sure I could have done this without him. This city’s so overwhelming. It’s huge, and unless you’ve got a photographic memory for numbers, who can remember and navigate all the freeways let alone the side streets?”
She smiled. “I remember when I first came to L.A. I felt like I landed in Oz.”
“Exactly!” I said. “I keep wondering where the man behind the curtain is. But knowing me, I’d get lost on my way to the Emerald City and never find the curtain, let alone the man.”
“I have a feeling you’ve found the man,” she said.
My face turned hot and I sincerely hoped it was only pink and not bright red.
We walked down a long hallway with thick wooden doors that were all closed. “Bedrooms, bathrooms, you’re not missing anything. I grew up in Mexico. Didn’t come here until I was around your age.”
“What brought you to L.A.?” I asked.
She eyed me.
“I mean, if that’s okay for me to ask? You don’t have to tell me.”
“Está bien, Sophie.” Alida opened a door to a large modern office filled with a three-part desk unit and state of the art computers, printers and phones. The desk was filled with paperwork, a few headshots and stacks of scripts, as well as books. Movie and TV posters hung on the walls. There was a sweet view of the USCLA campus in the near distance. “This is Mr. Levine’s office.”
“It’s nice.” I realized I didn’t know what Alex’s parents did for a living. I’d been out of the dating scene for so long, that I didn’t know if that was normal or not. Technically, Alex and I weren’t dating. We’d only shared one kiss. He was just my Driver.
“Alejandro’s dad is an Entertainment Manager. He guides the careers for screenwriters, a few novelists, showrunners and directors.”
“Oh.” Sounded kind of like an agent of sorts to me.
“Jacob works very hard. He’s down to earth and honest. His clients love him. Producers and studios trust him.” She beckoned. “Come with me.”
We left the room and continued down the hallway. I noticed the framed photographs that hung on the walls. They all had a similar tone, a feel. Like they were taken by the same photographer. Someone who wasn’t scared to dive into a subject’s head. Root around, find the emotion and capture the real picture.
“You have a beautiful home, Mrs. Levine.”
“Thank you. Call me Alida.” She opened the door at the end of the hallway. “Nothing exciting. Just my studio.”
I followed her inside a jewel of a room. French doors opened onto a small balcony that overlooked the back yard. Dozens of framed photos hung on the walls. A large, dark, wooden Mission desk was located in the center of one wall under the photos.
The Story of You and Me Page 14
