Lauren Takes Leave

by Gerstenblatt, Julie

  “Agreed,” I say, nodding. “And, Jo, you’re making perfect sense to me.” I wink. “Now you know: the grass is fucking brown.”

  “Huh?” Everyone turns to me, the nonspecific question asked in chorus.

  “You know, like the opposite of the ‘grass is always greener’ idea,” I say by way of explanation, mostly for my own benefit. I needed Lenny to show up at my door and say, Here I am if you want me. Jodi needed someone to try and take her picture for profit. None of it feels all that great, once it happens.

  Except maybe for Kat standing up to our principal. That’s got to be a pretty satisfying sensation.

  “What time is it?” Kat asks.

  “Like twelve forty-five.” I yawn.

  “What we need is some blood soup!” Lenny says. “Like they drink in Korea, to refuel. To get rid of all the toxins.”

  “I’ve got a couple of hair elastics, a Tylenol sinus pill, and a few packs of Barbie chewies if anyone wants,” Jodi offers, digging through her oversized metallic clutch.

  “This is it,” the cabdriver announces. “Ride’s on me.”

  We start to protest, but he waves us away and winks at Tim. “See ya later, Black Dawn.”

  “I guess that disguise wasn’t as ironclad as we thought,” I muse. I watch Tim as he looks into the mirror lining one side of the tattoo parlor and scrapes the mole off his face.

  “It’s all good,” he says, nonchalantly. Like he’s reading a line from a script. I start to wonder, what the hell?

  “So…why are you hanging out with us, again?” Kat, Lenny and Jodi are off flipping through books, deciding which tattoos they would get if they were getting tattoos.

  “Because,” he shrugs. “You’re regular people. I can’t even remember the last time I was with normal, non-Hollywood types, except for my family and some guys I grew up with, that is.”

  “Okay.”

  “It’s like this. You know how you think it’s fun to hang out with me?”

  I nod.

  “Well, it’s the same for me. I’ve been gone so long from normal, I’d just like to be around it a bit and hope some of it rubs off on me.”

  He finishes removing the hat and mole and uses some cleanser on the counter to scrub the remaining gunk off his face. “Plus, I like MC Lenny. I have a project I want to pitch to him. Tommy!” he shouts with a smile, upon seeing a compact, completely bald man emerge from the back.

  “Cubix! How you been?” Tommy gives Tim a handshake–arm bump. His muscular arms are covered in tattoos and several earrings pierce both ears. He reaches for something from a packet on the counter and puts it in his mouth.

  Tim laughs. “Still sucking toothpicks, my friend?”

  “Not sucking them. Chewing,” Tommy clarifies. “Like twenty, thirty a day. Only thing that keeps me sober.”

  “Amen.” Tim nods. “Good for you.”

  “So?” Tommy waits.

  “Long story. Bottom line is, I bonded with this fine group here, and now we’re kind of on the lam from some paparazzi at the Clevelander.”

  The rest of the group has joined us. We line up and make our introductions, sounding like some warped von Trapp family siblings.

  “Hi. I’m Lauren, and I’m pretending to be sequestered on jury duty.”

  “I’m Kat, and I just told my employers to go fuck themselves.”

  “I’m MC Lenny, and I got on a plane for her—” he points to me—“only now I’m going to have to heal my broken heart in a rap song and broadcast it for the enjoyment of the masses.”

  “And I’m Jodi,” she purrs. “My grandmother is not really dying.”

  “Super,” Tommy says, clapping his hands together like he’s heard it all before. “Now, who wants some ink?”

  It’s just a pretty little one. It didn’t even hurt that much. Jodi, Kat and I all got them. But I’m not showing you where, so just drop it.

  “I hate to say this, but I think we have to go top shelf or go home,” Tim says as we exit out the back of Tommy’s shop. We’re standing in a deserted alley, waiting for a ride from Tommy’s friend. It’s close to two a.m. and although I should feel tired, I don’t.

  “What do you mean?” Lenny asks.

  “Well, I know a few exclusive clubs that will let us in no problem. They offer all types of security for…people like me. No cameras, no reporters, no worries. Either that, or back to the hotel directly, so we won’t be spotted or followed.”

  “I’m not going back to the hotel!” Jodi protests, speaking for all of us.

  “I’d like to watch the sun rise,” Kat adds.

  Lenny nods. “I’m down with that.”

  “So, okay, then. We’ll have Tommy’s friend take us to a place I know.”

  “What’s it called?” I ask.

  “I just told you. A Place I Know.”

  “Celebrities are so cool!” Jodi says, as a soccer mom–style minivan flashes its lights at us and comes up the alley.

  “This is our ride?’ Lenny wonders aloud.

  The driver’s side window rolls down, revealing a gorgeously sultry woman with pouty red lips and cascading black hair. She looks familiar. She winks a blue eye at Tim.

  “Oh, c’mon!” Tim scoffs. “Tommy!” he calls. “Where the fuck are you? You did this on purpose, right?”

  “Hi, babe.” The woman smiles, her voice thick and low. “You coming or what?”

  A second-floor window opens and Tommy’s head appears, toothpick stuck between his lips.

  “Funny, no?” he calls down to Tim. “I had to do it. Great gag. When I saw her act about a month ago, I thought, if I ever run into Cubix again, I’ll have to make introductions. Just didn’t know I’d get lucky so soon!”

  “You are an asshole, you know that?” Tim yells back. But I can see his smile as he shakes his head back and forth.

  “See ya round, Rubix Cube!” Tommy calls before slamming the window shut.

  Now I get it! The driver looks just like Ruby Richmond.

  “Climb aboard,” she instructs in that very low voice. “Nice to meet you all. I’m Dixie. Dixie Normous.”

  A Place I Know is hidden between a bodega and a shoe store a few blocks from the beach.

  “It’s like Hernado’s Hideaway!” I decide.

  “Olé!” Kat adds.

  “Wait one minute, there, darlings,” Dixie scoffs, when we thank her and make our good-byes. “I’m not leaving you; I’m just parking the van. I have to spend some more time with my delectable husband!” She throws her head back, revealing humongous tonsils. She leaves us on the curb, her laughter carrying down the street like pebbles tossed into in the gutter, reverberating hard and deep.

  “That was fucking scary.” Tim shudders.

  “Yeah. Freaky-deaky.” Jodi makes a face.

  “It’s not the fact that she’s packing balls,” Tim clarifies. “It’s just…she looks so much like Ruby.”

  The inside is a bit of a shit hole, which I find disappointing. But then Tim leads us out back, to a lush, overgrown garden lit by lanterns. Ambient music fills the air. I can hear muffled chatter from different corners that I can’t quite see.

  “See? Discreet,” Tim explains. “There are these pockets of seating areas that kind of wind their way through here and down to the beach.”

  “Now that’s more like it!” Jodi smiles, taking a seat on a swinging bench tucked to our right. “I think I could fall asleep right here,” she adds.

  “I can’t tell you how many times I’ve done that,” Tim notes. “There are blankets and lounge chairs for serious crashing. Great big hammocks and tiki torches perched on the beach.”

  “Beach looks awesome,” I say, yawning and settling down next to Jodi.

  “I think I’ll head down there,” Lenny says, like it’s some sort of invitation. I start to formulate all those same excuses in my mind, upset that I’ll have to explain it all again to him. Why I can’t go to the beach with him, how I’m trying to make things right again with Doug. But t
hen I see him looking toward Tim and feel really dumb.

  “Len and I still have to work out a few deets on that deal I mentioned to him earlier, back at the Clevelander. It’s still kind of hush-hush. You guys don’t mind if we leave the party?”

  Kat waves them away with a tired hand and curls up on the bench next to Jodi’s and mine.

  The guys head down the path lit with flickering candles, Tim giving a little wave to us in the darkness.

  Then I pass out.

  Chapter 22

  Friday

  “What? Hello? Are you there? Is anybody there?” Jodi emerges from the trees and heads toward me, cell phone in hand. “Can you hear me now, fucker?” she yells into the phone before disconnecting.

  “Could that phone be any more annoying?” I ask, struggling to sit up against a beanbag. “Ugh, my mouth tastes like vomit.”

  “Yeah?” Jodi asks, staring at me, unamused. “Do you know why that is, Lauren? That’s because you threw up for, like, twenty minutes last night.”

  “Oh. Sorry,” I say.

  “Don’t apologize to me. Dixie was the one who coached you through, holding back your hair and singing to you and shit before she had to go to her performance at the Roxy.”

  I stretch and look around the deserted courtyard that we have camped out in, noticing the gray early morning light as it softens the edges of everything. The reasons for having slept outside on this lounge chair are not immediately clear to me, but the stiffness in my shoulder blades announces quite distinctly that I shouldn’t have.

  I realize that I’m shivering and grab a fleece blanket near my feet, wrapping it around my shoulders and tucking my hands safely underneath. I must have used this same blanket last night, because it smells faintly of my vomit.

  At least, I hope it’s my vomit.

  I try to warm up, but the blanket is wet with dew. I’m suddenly filled with this jetlagged, homesick feeling reminiscent of summers spent camping in Maine.

  I’ve always hated camping.

  My gaze finally rests on Jodi, who looks completely pissed off. “Why so bitchy this morning, Jo?”

  “Because of this call!” She shakes the phone in the air over her head. “I’m here to rest, goddammit, to sleep late. At home, my kids wake me up at this exact time every day. I needed to skip sunrise this morning, thank you very much!”

  Just as she completes her tirade, her phone rings again. “Jesus!” she exclaims into the microphone.

  “I don’t think it’s him,” I joke. My head feels like it’s floating above me somewhere, slightly disconnected from the rest of me, and I wonder if perhaps I am still a little bit drunk. It’s certainly possible. I could use some Visine, a cup or four of coffee, and a toothbrush.

  My body stings and I remember the tattoo. My head stings and I remember the Botox. My eyeballs sting and I remember the Jägermeister.

  When this trip is done, I’m going to have to plan a real vacation.

  I begin making elaborate plans for the day. First order of business: go back to the hotel and take a long, steamy shower; then call down for an extravagant feast from room service and, lastly, indulge in a nice afternoon siesta on the beach. I don’t think we’ll go out tonight; maybe just head to Nobu or something for a sophisticated meal and then rent a movie and hang out in bed. Like an old-fashioned, girls-only sleepover. No drinking for me tonight, thank you very much, and no MC anybodies or famous movie stars to derail the status quo.

  I’m thinking about trying to stand up.

  I’m thinking about trying to stand up and go over to Jodi, who is now crying into the phone.

  “But, that can’t be! It’s…impossible! This wasn’t supposed to happen!” she’s yelling amidst her sobs. “I am calm! I’m fucking calm, Mom!”

  Jodi is anything but calm. “Yes. No. Of course! Anything you need, Ma. Anything at all. I’ll take care of all the arrangements. You don’t have to come down from New York. That’s why I’m here,” she concludes, giving a quick, furtive glance my way.

  Then Jodi is listening again to her mother’s words, tears rolling quietly down her cheeks, the remnants of her mascara bleeding in blue-black lines. “Mom, I know,” she sobs. “I know I was her favorite grandchild.”

  I head down to the beach to wake Kat, Lenny, and Tim with the news.

  “She really died?” Kat asks, scratching her head and sending her curls flying. “No fucking joke?”

  “Who died?” Lenny mumbles, eyes still closed.

  “Jodi’s grandmother,” Kat answers.

  “Ironic!” he coughs out. “Like rain on your wedding day.”

  Kat laughs from her hammock and I’m glad. She doesn’t seem to hate Lenny that much this morning.

  “Poor Jodi,” Tim yawns, swinging in a hammock nearby and finishing a text to someone.

  “You’re still here?” I ask, turning to face him. The comment comes out with more bite than I intended, and it hangs unanswered in the air between us. I try to backtrack, but now that the thought is there, I can’t stop wondering about it. “Not to be rude, I mean, we’ve loved your company…but…why, again?”

  Tim seems momentarily at a loss for words, adjusting his hat and looking left, right and over his shoulder like he did when we first met yesterday on this same beach. “Does every encounter have to have a purpose?” He smiles. “Can’t it just…be?”

  “Is that Scientology?” I ask.

  “I don’t know about you, Lauren, but I truly believe he’s here because I’m such awesome company.” Kat tries for her usual sarcasm, only this time it falls flat.

  I look at Kat, who looks back at me. Then we both study Lenny, who crosses his arms in front of his chest like he, too, is waiting for an answer.

  Because here’s the truth of the matter. Under scrutiny, in the critical, morning-after light, it’s apparent: We’re cool. But we’re not Rubix Cube cool.

  “It’s like I told you yesterday. I needed a break from my so-called reality,” Tim offers.

  “And we’re your choice of vacation destinations? Seriously?” Kat pushes.

  For the first time since I’ve met him, Tim looks uncomfortable. “It’s complicated, okay?”

  “Complicated how?” Lenny probes.

  Tim motions for Lenny to follow him. “Guy to guy?”

  Lenny stretches and locates his and Kat’s shoes under a nearby daybed. “Um, okay,” he agrees, giving a backward glance our way as he heads toward the surf behind Tim Cubix, slipping on his classic white Adidas sneakers as he goes.

  “Those Superstars?” Tim asks conversationally.

  “Yeah,” Lenny says. “I’m a collector.”

  “Me, too!” I hear Tim say before their voices disappear with them around a corner.

  Kat and I make our way back up the winding path. “What do you think that was about?” Kat asks.

  “I dunno…maybe Tim and Ruby are having some problems after all?”

  “That might explain the ‘guy to guy’ thing,” Kat agrees. “But, still, I don’t think he’d confide about something personal like that to a relative stranger, even if he does like Lenny’s performance art. Tim had this female stalker once, I remember. Needed to go to court, get a restraining order, everything. He’s really not like us. Something isn’t adding up.”

  “Yeah, only, yesterday we were too drunk to notice or care.” Yesterday, anything was possible. We left our jobs, families, and responsibilities in the dust and flew down to Florida without much planning, and without remorse. Yesterday it was possible to bump into one of the most famous actors of all time and party with him. Today, we find ourselves with a dead grandmother, several hangovers, and an elusive celebrity with unclear motives.

  At the back entrance to A Place I Know, we find and immediately begin to console Jodi, who is crying on the phone again. “Lee,” she mouths, rolling her eyes skyward. She turns back to her husband’s call.

  “Of course I saw her yesterday,” Jodi insists while sobbing into the phone. “She seemed pe
rfectly fine. I mean, fine for someone ninety-three years old and basically unconscious.” She listens to Lee’s response as we sit on either side of her on a teakwood porch swing.

  “No, she didn’t know I was there. I felt like…like I was sending her love from afar. Like my presence was felt even when I wasn’t in the room.”

  “Which was never,” Kat whispers.

  “Be nice,” I answer.

  “My sarcasm is worst in times of distress,” she shrugs. We’re in for some morning, then, I think.

  Jodi disconnects and looks at us, eyes tired. “I have to keep lying about this! Concocting new webs! It’s going to drive me insane, I tell you.” She takes a deep breath. “I mean, it’s one thing to lie for pleasure. It’s another thing entirely to lie out of necessity.”

  “So tell the truth,” I venture.

  “Ha,” she responds, not even hesitating to consider the possibility. “The truth, meaning that I’m here with you? Lauren, even if I wanted to talk truth, I don’t see how that’s even possible without dragging you into a boatload of shit.”

  Except that Doug already knows. Maybe. Some of it. All of it?

  Then she stands and stretches, reaching for her bag. “Well, I guess I better get going.”

  “By yourself?” I say. “No way. We’re all for one and one for all.”

  Kat nods. “The Three Musketeers take Miami’s Golden Girls.”

  “Where are Lenny and Tim?” Jodi asks. We do our best to explain the conversation we had with Tim and how it led to a guy-only talk.

  “You were inquisitioning him?” Jodi asks, horrified.

  “That’s one way to put it,” I counter.

  “Hey, guys?” Kat calls down to the beach from our spot along the path, catching Lenny and Tim’s attention. “We’re off!”

  “Where are we going?” Tim calls back.

  “The hotel?” Lenny guesses, their voices coming closer.

  “We?” Kat and I ask in unison.

  “Nope. Hebrew Home for the Aged!” Jodi yells.