by Bergen, KC
Calm down, Novak. Just get your bag and keep moving forward. Unless you literally break a leg. And an escaped prisoner shows up to take advantage of the situation.
“Take it easy,” Novak said under his breath. “You’re a shepherd. Act like one.”
20
Sitting at his desk, Brian glanced at his son slouching on the couch and playing with his phone. Together they had gone over a few scenes in the script for The Wizard of Ass, which Brian thought had been an awesome father-and-son bonding activity. But he couldn’t shake the fact that it had taken Mary three days to respond to his latest message.
Three days!
Brian stared at the screen of his laptop. He had used his suave writing skills and sheer brilliance to craft a full-length page of pure excitement, and then she’d replied with one single dull paragraph. He’d thought they were hitting it off big time. And Brian considered himself a master of the art of seduction. In fact, he’d been so sure that Mary would fall for the plan that he’d started grooming Peter South for the role of a lifetime.
Leaning back in his chair, Brian admiringly scanned TristanDrimov1’s perfect profile.
Is she playing hard to get?
Mary is hard to get. That’s why I and nobody else got her in the first place.
Then why is she suddenly turning cold? Is she onto me, or does she think Tristan is a fraud?
Brian didn’t think so. Maybe the heroic part he’d written about Tristan parachuting into a war zone to save terrorist hostages and then relocating them to an American safe house was a little over the top. But the story was unverifiable and also fairly credible if you were a naïve romantic like Mary. And it was the perfect setup for the next part of his plan: to arrange a meeting between Mary and Peter-as-Tristan on US soil.
Was Brian moving too fast, though?
He didn’t think so. But he could use a pair of fresh eyes to look things over. His son had said that he was in on the plan, and this was the perfect time to introduce him to it.
“Hey, playa! Come over here.”
Michael was checking out Melissa’s Instagram page. She was the prettiest girl in class. One of the smartest too. He looked up as his dad called him over. “What is it?”
“Come on, check this out.”
Michael went over to his dad’s side and looked at the computer screen. “Hey, that’s the guy my mom was chatting with.”
“Not quite,” Brian said, pointing the cursor at the profile name. “See this number up here? TristanDrimov1 is your fantastic father’s invention.”
“You made it? But it looks just like … Oh, so you just added the number one?” As his father scrolled down the page, Michael caught a glimpse of a text box. A conversation. “Wait, are you chatting with Mom?”
“Well, we’ve gone back and forth a few times, sent each other innocent messages.”
“Why didn’t you tell me?”
“I am telling you, playa. I just wanted to get things going first.”
“How is chatting with my mom—”
“Texting,” Brian said. “Messaging.”
“Whatever. How is it okay to do it behind my back?”
“You know, to protect you. If I hadn’t learned to drive first, would it have been safe to pick you up and take you around in my car?”
“No, but that’s not—”
“Exactly! So I’ve been test driving for a while, and now it’s safe to pick you up.” At that moment, Brian realized why Mary wasn’t responding to Tristan’s messages anymore. She had picked up some other guy. Why else would she act so distant? Brian had no problem playing the field, but she was a one-man kind of gal. That was it! She was seeing someone else.
But who?
Only one guy could figure it out. “You know, son, I’m also trying to keep tabs on your mother’s activities. I mean, she’s actively looking for men online, which to me presents an element of”—Brian squinted, searching for the right word—“recklessness. So I’ve put this plan together as a safety mechanism to protect her and you both. What if she picks up a serial killer?”
“Dad, don’t say that!”
“I don’t want to say it, playa, but your mother’s actions make it hard not to consider worst-case scenarios. Tell me, has she had any strange men over at the house?”
“Not that I know of.”
“You would tell me, though, right?”
“Of course.”
“Great! Because there’s a lot of bad men out there, prowling for innocent women they can rob and rape. And also bad women, the kind who don’t provide a safe place for their children to grow up in.”
Michael took a deep breath as his dad’s words sunk in. “So what’s the plan?”
“Well, I need you to keep an eye on your mother. To protect yourself and her. All right?”
“Okay.”
It was time to let Michael in on the scripted twist of reality that he was crafting. The tentatively titled Operation Tristan Horse, starring Peter South. Written and directed by Brian Bane and Son. Yes, his son had to get a sense of ownership about the plan. “And there’s also a more direct approach that we must implement to protect your reckless mother. Have you heard of the Trojan Horse?”
Michael nodded.
“Good. You see, life’s not a dance on roses. And if it were, every rose would be riddled with thorns. But if you’re inside a horse, well, not a real one but a figurative vehicle such as our plan, you won’t feel any pain. You will simply hide there to bide your time and observe the ugly truth. And then, at the right moment, you will emerge victorious. Now slap me some skin if you is a true playa!”
Michael happily slapped his dad’s raised hand.
21
Novak bought a duty-free bottle of wine and a box of chocolates as gifts for Mary. Then he walked toward customs fearing a cavity search, but nothing happened. As he surveyed the crowded arrivals terminal, he inhaled slowly and tried to relax his shoulders. He didn’t see Mary anywhere. Maybe she regretted the whole arrangement and had taken off already.
“Novak!”
No, there she was, in the back, waving. Novak had his hands full so he couldn’t do much but nod and smile as he walked over to her. He also said a quick prayer to himself, hoping that he wouldn’t mess things up.
“Mary!” Novak put down the duty-free bag. He didn’t know whether to hug her or shake her hand. He’d rather be safe so he extended his hand, and then also gave her a brief hug when she leaned in.
“How was your flight?” she asked.
Novak didn’t want to tell her about the gassy kid or the prisoner, but he didn’t want to lie either. “I’m just glad I made it here in one piece.”
“Yeah, me too. It’s crazy though, huh? This arrangement.”
“Yes, it’s like a strange dream.” It had started off like a nightmare, but things were looking up right now. “If I’m sleeping, don’t wake me up.”
Mary laughed and offered to help Novak with his luggage, and he handed her the bag containing wine and chocolates. “It’s for you.”
She looked inside the bag. “Thank you! You shouldn’t have.”
“Why not?”
“Well … I don’t know. It’s just something people say.”
“I see. Since you’re picking me up and everything, it’s the least I could do.”
“Appreciate it. I’ll save the wine for after the drive.”
Novak chuckled. “Yes, drinking and driving is not a good combination. Same with drinking and shepherding.”
She walked Novak to her Lexus and helped him place his luggage in the trunk.
“Nice car,” Novak said.
“Thanks,” she said and got in. She pushed the ignition button and backed out of the parking space. “You want to listen to some music?”
“Sure.”
“What do you like?”
“Elvis.”
“Oh, really? The King.” Mary searched for a suitable radio station. “I’ll see what I can do.” She found one pl
aying Bruce Springsteen. “Is this okay?”
“Yes, I like Bruce too. The Boss. And Frank Sinatra. And country music. I’m not difficult when it comes to … anything. As a shepherd you learn to adjust to whatever it is you’re facing.”
“Tell me about it.”
“Sometimes there are snakes and wild animals to deal with, or cold weather and rain, lack of food, and even bad shepherds who are trying to steal your business. And other things.”
Mary exited the parking garage. “Sounds worse than being a realtor!”
Novak took in the sprawling concrete jungle splayed out in front: the multilane roads, the traffic, the massive billboards. “I was looking out the window before we landed. Well, there was a very big man sitting in front of it, so I couldn’t see much.”
Mary laughed. “Yes, we like to eat over here.”
“I like to eat too. The point is, I never knew how big this city was. And I’m very happy to be here!”
“Well, my hometown is a lot different from this place. You’ll see small wooden houses, pedestrian streets, and scenic views of the mountains. Compared to LA, it’s a pretty quiet town.”
“That sounds nice. You are pretty too.”
Mary glanced over at Novak, forcing a smile. “Where’s your hotel?”
“It’s in Solvang.” The hotels in LA had been too expensive, and he wanted to be closer to Mary.
“Oh, okay.”
Novak didn’t notice Mary’s slight discomfort as she drove onto the highway. He was too busy watching the action through the window. A young guy in a convertible sports car cut Mary off, brandishing his middle finger.
Novak lowered the window and returned the gesture.
“Fuck you,” the guy yelled.
“Fuck you too!” Novak replied, grinning. “People here are funny,” he said to Mary.
“There’s nothing funny about that kind of behavior,” Mary said, tight-lipped.
Novak retracted his arm and closed the window. “I’m sorry, I thought this was just American culture. You know, like in comedy movies.”
Mary suppressed a chuckle but a snort escaped. “Please promise me that you will not flip people off in my hometown.”
“Flip them off?”
“Yes, don’t show them your middle finger. It’s very rude.”
“How about this, then?” Novak held up his thumb.
“A thumbs-up is just fine.”
“It’s discrimination, though, isn’t it?” Novak straightened his thumbs and middle fingers. “Thumbs are good. Middle fingers are bad. Why?”
“Well, a raised middle finger is an ancient insult. The Greek playwright and comedian Aristophanes used the gesture in one of his plays more than two thousand years ago. The middle finger supposedly symbolizes an erect penis.”
“So flipping someone off means showing them your boner?”
“Literally, yes. I guess it’s a way of saying ‘suck it’ or ‘shove it.’”
“Or what that rude guy in the sports car said?”
Mary snickered. “That too.”
“Interesting. Well, I like comedies. A lot of American movies, actually.”
“Yes, you wrote in your profile that Indiana Jones is one of your favorites. What did you like about it, or them?”
“The action and adventure. Harrison Ford is also a good guy who always seeks justice. I like it when justice prevails.”
Mary nodded, thinking it was a reassuring answer. “Yeah, that’s true. How did you learn to speak English so well?”
“Movies. When I was a kid, I used to watch movies as often as I could. And my grandfather would sometimes take me to the movie theater in Kamnik. What’s your favorite?”
“The other one you mentioned, Gladiator, is great. I always cry at the end, during that beautiful but sad song. You know, when the gladiator drifts off toward his family on the other side.”
“Yes, that jerks me off every time.”
“Excuse me?”
“My tears. It jerks them off.”
“Oh.” Mary chortled. “You mean it’s a tearjerker.”
“Exactly. How about your son? What movies does he like?”
“He likes anything that’s violent and cool. War movies, science fiction, zombies and horror, superhero movies. You name it.”
“Does he like Elvis or Frank Sinatra? I mean, they did both movies and music.”
“I don’t know if he’s even heard of them. My son is always listening to rap and hip-hop.”
“Is he a gangster?”
“No, no. He just likes that kind of music.”
“Oh. I know about Snoopy Dog, Ice Cubes, and that doctor who also raps and makes lots of music.”
“You mean Dr. Dre?” Mary giggled. “I don’t think he’s a real doctor. It’s just a stage name.”
“Well, he’s very good at what he does. Unlike the people building these roads. We are barely moving.”
“I know. I just don’t think anyone knew there’d be millions of people living here.”
“I guess the movies and music attracted a lot of people.”
“Yep. I still love it here, but rush hour traffic can get a little bit crazy.”
They listened to pleasant music on the radio, but the traffic was terrible.
“This is going to take a while,” Mary said, keeping her eyes on the congested road. “Are you hungry?”
“Yes. Thirsty too.”
“What would you like to eat?”
“I don’t know. What is my option?”
“Options. There are many: American, Mexican, Chinese, Italian—”
“I like Italians. Have you heard the way they talk? It sounds like they are singing. I like the pasta and the pizza, ciao bella, o sole mioooo!”
Mary chuckled. “You have a nice voice.”
“Grazie.” Still pretending to be Italian, Novak said, “Yes, I like to sing while I eat eh the pizza in the shower. A slice of eh the pizza can also be used like eh the soap to clean eh your cannoli.”
“Hey, my father was Italian,” Mary said, glaring at Novak.
“Oh, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to insult your family.”
Mary burst out laughing. “I’m just kidding.”
“Oh.” Novak cracked up. “You had me going. Good one!”
“Thank you. No, my father was actually of Irish descent. And my mother’s family came from Denmark in the nineteenth century.”
“Do they also live in … What was the name of your city again?”
“Solvang. No, they passed away a few years ago. How about you?”
“My parents are also gone.”
“Sorry to hear that.”
“Me too.”
“Well, looks like we’ll have to get whatever is accessible.”
“I’d like to go to an American restaurant,” Novak said.
“Great, because that’s where we’re headed.” Mary turned into a bumper-to-bumper line of cars outside a burger joint. As they came to a halt, Novak opened the door.
“Don’t get out,” Mary said.
“Why not?”
“It’s a drive-through.”
“We’re going to drive straight through the restaurant?”
“No, we’re going to order food while we’re sitting in the car.”
“I see.” Novak felt like an ignorant fool. Watching movies had not prepared him well enough. He should have done more research before coming. This country was totally different from Slovenia. “Are we going to eat in the car too?” he asked.
“Would you rather go inside the restaurant?”
“No, I’m fine here with you,” Novak said, smiling.
“Well, I’m fine here with you too,” Mary said.
She didn’t order any food, but Novak got a cheeseburger with fries and a Coke. The slow-moving traffic made it easier for him to eat, and he didn’t have to talk so much since he had food in his mouth, which was good. But the behavior outside was not good. Drivers on the heavily congested Interstate 405
were honking, cutting each other off, and yelling and screaming. Novak watched a livid lady in a truck proudly displaying her middle finger to a man attempting to squeeze his Toyota Prius in front of her.
“Why are people so angry?” Novak asked.
“Imagine spending an hour to get to work or school, or just to get to the grocery store, and then you have to fight traffic for another hour to get home.”
“Sounds bad.”
“Yeah, we call it road rage. When I got divorced I moved away from LA. Now I can work from home. It’s been a pleasant change. Relaxing.”
“I used to walk to work. I also walked a lot during work.”
“I suppose that’s what shepherds do.”
“Yes. Do you have shepherds in Solvang?”
“Not that I’m aware of. The closest thing we have is probably tour guides. People who take tourists on short journeys into the so-called wilderness, or to see various urban attractions.”
“Have you been on one of these tours?”
“I went white water rafting once. Suppose that counts.”
“What is that?”
“Well, four of us were seated in a rubber raft, and a guide took us down the rapids. It was very exciting. You don’t have that in Slovenia?”
“The closest thing I can think of was when Matilda was little and fell into a river. I dove in after her. The currents were very strong and the water deep. Fortunately, she was not recently shaven so I managed to grab ahold of her and drag her to safety.”
“She was not recently shaven?”
“Correct. I shaved her the next day. Sold the shavings for good money. Matilda … She even won first prize at the fair.”
“Oh, she’s one of your sheep?”
“Yes,” Novak said. Was, he thought.
Mary cracked up. “I thought she was a person!”
“Why would I shave another person?”
“Exactly!”
Matilda was a great sheep, shaven or not. Novak didn’t want to bring himself down, so he perked up in his seat. “Do you want some fries?”
“No thanks.”
Mary took the US-101 North. This road was less congested, the middle fingers weren’t flying left and right, and they were soon able to go close to the speed limit. Novak was nauseatingly full after the massive meal, but also glad to be on the road with Mary. Unlike Alenka, who’d twice crashed her car into the garage door and once backed into a police cruiser, Mary was a good driver. Novak didn’t even fear for his life as they scooted through the scenic landscape.
