Chloe Sparrow

by Lesley Crewe

  I’m drifting off when Aunt Ollie begins to snore. It’s like nothing I’ve heard before: a combination of a steam engine and vacuum hose. Fifteen minutes later I take an extra blanket and curl up in Gramps’s rocker in the kitchen. Norton deserves a medal for staying in that room.

  The next morning Aunt Ollie is annoyed with me. “You should’ve slept on the living room couch if you weren’t comfortable.”

  She’s right, but I would’ve had to take six gigantic stacks of newspapers and magazines off it first. I’m back in Aunt Ollie’s bed for breakfast. Norton and the kittens are at the end of the mattress. They are so adorable; they make me forget the pain I’m in.

  “What should we call them?”

  “Bobby Orr, Wayne Gretzky, and Sid Crosby,” Gramps yells from the bathroom.

  “You sure can hear when you want to!” Aunt Ollie yells back. “I thought after spices. Cinnamon, Sage, and Rosemary.”

  Gramps shows up at the door. He’s more invested in this conversation than he lets on.

  “Why don’t we all choose a name?” I say. “That’s fair.”

  The doorbell rings. “That’s odd. It’s nine in the morning, who can that be?”

  “I’ll go.” Aunt Ollie disappears and we hear her talking before she comes back down the hall. “I’ve got a surprise for you.”

  She comes in with a lovely bouquet of summer flowers.

  “I bet they’re from the CBC, trying to avoid a lawsuit,” Gramps says.

  “Gosh, they’re pretty.”

  Austin sticks his head in the door. “They’re from me, actually.”

  I’m in a stained nightie that belongs to Aunt Ollie, my face is smashed in, and I’ve got major bedhead and morning breath. Otherwise I look great.

  “Thank you, Austin, they’re very nice.”

  “I’m sorry for the early hour. I’m supposed to be back by ten.”

  “Isn’t today Canada’s Wonderland?”

  “That’s right. I’m taking Lizette. Since she drives race cars, I figured she’d go on the roller coasters with me.”

  “She’d do just about anything for you.”

  “I feel terrible about your accident.”

  “You didn’t shoot the puck. Who did?”

  “Becca.”

  “That’s not surprising.”

  “She cried when they took you away.”

  “Did she blubber into your chest and hang off your neck?”

  “How did you know?”

  “Just a hunch.” I point to the end of the bed. “What do you think of the kittens?”

  “Growing like weeds.”

  Aunt Ollie says, “Can you tell us what sex they are? I don’t have a clue.”

  “That seems to run in the family.” He picks up each one and takes a peek. “It’s pretty early to tell but if I had to guess, I’d say you have two females and a male.”

  “We’re trying to think of names for them.”

  “I guess Becca’s out.”

  The phone rings and both Gramps and Aunt Ollie race out to get it, leaving Austin and I alone. I wish he’d leave or stop looking at me like I’m the victim of a heinous crime.

  “So when do you think you’ll be back?”

  “Tomorrow.”

  “As soon as that? Shouldn’t you rest?”

  “Resting is for sissies. Not that I don’t trust Amanda and everyone, but my name is on this show, so it has to be perfect.”

  “I can’t imagine you failing at anything, other than skating.”

  “I didn’t break my nose skating. It was broken by a lunatic.”

  “True enough. I’d better go.”

  “Thank you for the flowers.”

  He gives me a cheeky grin and disappears.

  The rest of my day is spent arguing about cat names. Nothing is ever simple in this house. I feel like King Solomon, with both Aunt Ollie and Gramps sitting on either side of my bed waiting for my opinion.

  “Since I’m a man, I should get to name the male kitten.”

  “I want to name the one with the black patch around its eye.”

  “That’s the male. You can’t name the little guy Cinnamon.”

  “Why not? Norton is a female. Isn’t that right, Chloe?”

  “I thought she was a male when I named her. Does it really matter? Let Gramps name the boy cat. Otherwise you’ll never hear the end of it.”

  Aunt Ollie crosses her arms. “I don’t want a cat named Gretzky.”

  “And I don’t want one named Oregano!”

  My head is throbbing. I wish this ridiculous argument were over.

  I point to the third kitten, the tiny runt Austin saved. “I’m naming her Peanut.”

  “Then I’m naming the other one Rosemary.”

  “And this little critter is Bobby Orr.”

  “Can I get some sleep now?”

  They leave, but I don’t sleep. I only wanted them out of the room. After an hour, I start to wish I could sleep, because I’m not used to lying in bed thinking. It brings up stuff I’d rather not deal with. If I’m being truthful, it shocked me when Amanda said she doesn’t think I am happy. What is her idea of happy? What’s my idea of happy, for that matter? I should be happy. I have an education, a great job for someone my age, and a house that is prime real estate. My parents invested well and left me a lot of money that’s sitting in a bank collecting dust as well as interest. I have four cats and Amanda is my friend. I only have one friend?

  I wish I were asleep.

  When I show up for work the next day, Amanda is horrified.

  “You can’t come back yet!”

  “Why not?”

  “Look at your face! You need to heal.”

  “A broken nose is not the end of the world. I may look terrible, but the old brain still works.”

  Amanda turns around and whistles for someone. Turns out it’s one of the makeup artists. When she runs up to us, I have to ask.

  “Do you always respond to a whistle?”

  “Not usually, but Amanda can’t remember our names.”

  “That’s because there are too many women running around. Do something with her poor face, will you?”

  So I submit to some makeup to cover the worst of my bruising. Whatever her name is, she’s very gentle, and when I look in the mirror I’m shocked.

  “Wow, I look better than I usually do.”

  “You should use a little makeup on a daily basis. I can show you how to do it yourself.”

  “That will never happen, but thank you.”

  Everyone welcomes me back, saying how great I look. Maybe makeup is the way to go.

  Today we are off to a dude ranch. Austin picks Sydney, Mysti, Molly, Holly, Becky, and Sarah C. to accompany him. They will ride horses along a very picturesque trail led by real cowboys. Since we’re paying for the entire day, the ranchers will come back in the afternoon and accompany us out. That should give us the time we need for Brian to shoot lots of film of Austin riding by himself. These shots we’ll use for his off-camera monologue later, about how he loves the outdoors and wide-open spaces. I suggested he wear a plaid shirt and cowboy hat to look like a rugged cattle driver. We want millions of Canadian women thinking he’s a man’s man, ready to brand and lasso steers.

  Poor little cows. What did they ever do to anyone?

  No one wants me to go riding. Austin tells me it’s a terrible idea, but I’m not prepared to spend my day in a barn. Amanda says the only way she’ll let me come is if I ride a donkey, because if I fall it won’t inflict too much damage.

  So here I am astride a donkey that is being led by a rope attached to the saddle of a horse ridden by the Lone Ranger. Donkeys are very sweet, and I’m in love with this little fellow by the time we get to the picnic area. Here, Austin and the girls will hav
e a campfire lunch, once they supposedly gather the wood themselves. One of our assistants threw a bunch of kindling around the campfire, so it looks like they’re finding random sticks themselves. Someone else will cook the hotdogs and beans and hand it to the group before the cameras start rolling, otherwise we’ll be here all day, but the girls insist they want to make their own s’mores.

  While Austin is being filmed trotting around on his horse, the girls keep themselves amused. Sydney, our sexpot, spends the entire time bent over, making sure the crew has a clear view of her cleavage. I’m mesmerized.

  “Do men think those are real?” I ask Amanda.

  “Men don’t care what they’re made of, as long as you’ve got a pair.”

  “Why are men so fascinated with breasts?”

  “Why are women willing to mutilate their bodies to impress them, is more to the point.”

  Eventually Austin has had it with riding around aimlessly and Brian has enough footage, so they head over to the campfire. The girls practically push each other into the embers in an attempt to sit next to him. Austin doesn’t seem to notice, or he’s doing a good job ignoring these silly games. Once the shots are taken around the fire, the s’mores get passed around. Sarah C. makes one for me.

  “I’ve never had one before.”

  Austin makes a face. “You’ve never had a cookout, or been to a bonfire?”

  “No, I keep telling you. I don’t get out much.”

  Now everyone watches as I take my first bite.

  “Okay, I’m living on these things from now on.”

  Since the official part is over, the team gathers around the fire to eat up the leftovers and have a little downtime. Thirty minutes later, Sydney, Becky, and Sarah C. jump up and start retching in the grass, quickly joined by Brian, Amanda, and the cook himself.

  I’m responsible for killing the cast and crew.

  There is complete chaos for ten minutes, people trying to help other people, but it doesn’t seem to be working.

  Amanda brandishes a wiener wrapper in the cook’s face while he’s doubled over. “These are past their best-before dates, you moron!”

  Which leads to more panic. Austin tries to assure everyone that while they may feel sick, they aren’t dying and that the vomiting is a good thing, but no one believes him. The cowboys are not due for another hour. I have to make an executive decision, so I turn to Austin.

  “There are some horses still here. Everyone who’s sick can start riding back to the ranch now. I can send a couple of the healthy crew with them just in case. That way they’ll be back in civilization with bathrooms. The rest of us can walk back. The cowboys will be coming soon anyway.”

  Between the two of us we get the afflicted on horses and send them on their way, despite Amanda’s objections.

  “This isn’t right. You can’t walk, Chloe. Your nose will fall off.”

  “We’ve still got the donkey,” Austin says. “She can ride that.”

  “Make sure she does.”

  As all the sick people ride off into the sunset, Austin and I return to the campfire to face Mysti, Holly, and Molly. It occurs to them at the same moment that they are being left behind. By their faces you’d think I’ve left them on the moon while everyone else took off with the rocket. I’ve never heard such griping in my life.

  “How far is it?” Mysti pouts.

  “Three kilometres.”

  “What? That’s insane!”

  “This wasn’t very well organized,” Molly says.

  “Ditto.”

  “Look, you can sit here and whine if you want to, but we have to start walking back before dark.”

  “The cowboys will get here before too long, so let’s go,” Austin says. “It’ll be an adventure. Gather up your things.”

  While they grumble and gather their sweaters, Austin leads the donkey over to me.

  “Let me help you on.”

  “Now, this is going to go over well. I get to ride and they have to walk.”

  “Do they have broken noses? You’re looking pale, so no arguing.”

  Off we go, Austin leading the donkey like I’m the Virgin Mary and the other three bitching behind us.

  “This sucks,” says Molly.

  “Ditto,” says Holly.

  “I have asthma,” Mysti points out. “If I can’t breathe, it’s your fault.”

  “Why aren’t we flying on helicopters like the American show?” Molly asks.

  “That might happen yet. I have to look at the budget.”

  That seems to cheer them up for two minutes. After that they start again.

  “I’m getting a blister.”

  “Ditto.”

  Mysti waves her arms around. “These bugs are ridiculous. It’s the donkey that’s attracting them. You should leave it behind.”

  I turn in my saddle. “Leave this delightful little creature by itself? Never.”

  “From where you’re sitting I’m sure he is delightful, but we just walked in his poop.”

  I wish Austin would tell them to knock it off.

  Austin shouts over his shoulder. “Why don’t you guys stop talking and save your energy for walking?”

  Now we have threatening storm clouds gathering overhead. The temperature drops dramatically. Apparently this is my fault as well.

  “If there’s thunder and lightning, I’m going to freak out,” Molly says.

  “Ditto!”

  “Can’t I get a turn on that donkey? I’m out of air.”

  “Austin, stop!”

  He stops. I get down from the donkey. “By all means Mysti, please take the donkey.” Now I have no choice but to face Holly. “You say ditto a hundred times a day. Who does that? Can’t you say I agree or you’re right or I feel the same way or me too? There are thousands of words out there. Use them.”

  “You should keep your mouth shut,” Molly says.

  “Ditto!” Holly yells in my face.

  My mind goes blank after that. I walk as if the devil’s after me. When the rain starts I don’t even notice it. All I can think is that this is my life and Amanda’s right. I am unhappy. I hate my job, I hate these insipid girls, I hate the CBC, and I even hate Austin, because he wants to be on this ridiculous show. I only love Gramps, Aunt Ollie, my cats, and that dear little donkey. I’ve broken my face and teeth for this job and for what? I’m going to resign the minute I get back to the barn. I’m not spending one more minute in this foolish situation.

  That’s when I trip over a root and fall face first into the mud. I’m worried about my nose, but my ankle throbs and I can’t process two injuries at the same time. Once again, Austin is the first one I see. He’s obviously bad luck, and I’m sick of sprawling on the ground in front of him.

  “Leave me alone. I’m fine.”

  I try to get up, but that’s not going to happen. Despite my objections, he picks me up in his arms and turns to put me back on the donkey—but Mysti is still comfortably seated, so he whips around and keeps walking. The insulted twins talk smack about me behind our backs.

  “You should put me down. I’m fine.”

  He jostles me in his arms to get a better grip. “I’m fine doesn’t apply in this situation. We’re in the rain dragging three brats behind us and I’d like to get out of here.”

  “Me too, and I’m quitting the minute we get back.”

  “No, you’re not.”

  “Yes, I am.”

  “You’re going to quit over ditto girl?”

  “If I feel like it. God, I wish this day would end!”

  I instantly realize my blunder and feel sick. “I don’t want it to end, end. Not an apocalypse-type ending, where the ground opens up and swallows you whole.”

  “By any chance, did you hit your head when you fell?”

  When the cowboys appear
over the horizon at that very instant, I’m extremely grateful.

  “Thank you, that’s exactly what I meant.”

  The doctor on call bandages my sprained ankle and tells me to keep off my feet for a few days. I’m more concerned with all the pukers, but they are on the mend and feeling much better, which is a huge weight off my shoulders.

  The best part of the day is when Austin kicks the twins to the curb. Brian tells me they had a meltdown in the limo and started pulling each other’s hair. That I can’t wait to see.

  CHAPTER SIX

  Because I have to stay off my feet, I set up shop by the pool, as I need to be available to everyone at all times. This should have been my strategy all along, to let people come to me, instead of the other way around. I’m very popular, because people know I can’t jump up and run away. July’s heat makes this a pleasant experience. If this keeps up I’ll be nearly as tanned as Amanda.

  Trey pops by in his shorts and designer shades to rag on Jerry. “He’s back to his old tricks.”

  “The lighting thing again?”

  “No, he’s doing everything he can to make me crack up on camera.”

  “Don’t look at him.”

  “That’s your sage advice?”

  “What do you want me to do? Fire him?”

  “It might come to that.”

  I’m starting to realize that Trey is high maintenance, like most television personalities.

  “Trey, I want you to be happy on this shoot. Would letting Jerry go accomplish that? I doubt it. We’ll be on the road for quite a while. It can get lonely.”

  I think he’s considering what I’ve said, because it seems like he’s looking at the sky, but I can’t see his eyes behind his mirrored frames.

  “He’ll knock it off if you ignore him long enough.”

  His head turns in my direction. “You’re probably right, as much as I hate to admit it.”

  “Good.”

  He gets up to leave. “How’s your ankle?”

  “I’ll live.”

  “Good.”

  He might be warming up to me.

  Sydney seeks me out one morning and lies on the chaise beside me. “Austin says he likes me, but I think he’s stringing me along.”

  “He’s stringing all of you along. That’s what he signed up for. How does he find out who he wants to spend his life with if he doesn’t have relationships with everybody?”