Charley's Web (27 page)

Charley was right beside him. “That’s bullshit, and you know it. You’re good at lots of things.” The dog jumped into Bram’s lap, licked at his face.

“Jesus Christ, can you call the damn dog off?”

Charley lifted Bandit off her brother’s lap and put him on the floor. “Come on, Bram….”

“Come on, Charley,” he countered. “Look at me. I’ve failed at everything I’ve ever tried.”

“Then try something else.”

Bram looked from his sister over to Alex, a slow smile filling his handsome face. “She’s really something, isn’t she?”

“She really is,” Alex agreed.

“What happened, Bram?” Charley asked. “You were doing so well.”

“I don’t know. I really don’t. I was watching TV last night and this stupid show came on,
Entertainment something-or-other,
with this horribly perky woman talking about all these dumb celebrities I’ve never even heard of, and then suddenly, there was Anne’s picture, and this cheerful voice was talking about Anne’s decision to give up her children, and I started shouting at the TV, and my neighbor started banging on the walls, and next thing I knew, I was at some bar talking to a pair of torpedo-shaped breasts. And the rest, as they say, is…a total blur. Is Anne really letting A.J. have the kids?”

Charley put her arm around her brother’s shoulders. “Apparently.”

“Figures. What’s the expression? History teaches us that history teaches us nothing?”

“Maybe you can change her mind at dinner next week.”

“Yeah, sure.” He glanced over at Alex. “And speaking of dinner, give me back my food.”

“I should probably get going,” Alex said to Charley, returning Bram’s plate.

“No. Don’t go.”

“Yeah, it’s better if I do.”

“Please don’t leave on my account,” Bram said.

“Nice meeting you, Bram.”

“You, too.”

Charley followed Alex to the front door. “I’m so sorry about the way things worked out.”

“Don’t be. This way I’ll be super-prepared for my case on Monday.”

“Will you call me?”

Alex took Charley’s face in both his hands, kissed her tenderly on the lips. “Are you kidding?” He opened the door, stepped into the cool night air.

“Don’t forget your dog,” Bram called after him.

Charley closed her eyes and did the only thing she could do under the circumstances: she laughed.

The phone rang at just after midnight.

Charley groped for it in the dark, picked it up in the middle of its second ring. “Hello?”

“Hi,” the voice said. “It’s me.”

“Jill?” Charley pushed herself up in bed. “It’s so late. Is something wrong?”

“How are Franny and James?”

“What?”

“I thought I heard them crying for their mommy.”

“What?” Charley said again, louder this time, and then again, until she was shouting, “WHAT?
WHAT?”

“Charley,” another voice interrupted. “Charley, wake up.”

She felt a hand on her shoulder.

“Charley, wake up. It’s okay. You’re having a nightmare.”

Charley opened her eyes, saw her brother perched on the side of her bed, the dog licking his hand. “Oh, God. That was awful.”

“Dreaming about me again?”

Charley shook her head, tried to smile. “No. You’re off the hook this time.”

“I’m gonna get my act together, Charley,” Bram said. “I’m gonna call my sponsor first thing in the morning. I promise. This won’t happen again.”

“That would be nice.”

“I’m sorry I ruined your evening.”

“I’m sorry I woke you up.”

“I’m glad I was here.”

“So am I. I love you, Bram.”

“I love you, too.”

T
he phone rang at exactly nine o’clock the next morning. “Can I please speak to Charley Webb?”

Charley tried to put a face to the unfamiliar male voice. Was she having another nightmare? She gulped at her coffee, grateful when she felt it burn her throat. It meant she was awake. “This is Charley Webb.”

“My name is Lester Owens. I’m a senior editor with Pinnacle Books in New York. I apologize for calling so early, especially on a Sunday….”

“That’s quite all right.”

“It’s just that I finally got around to reading your proposal last night, along with the columns you sent, and I wanted to touch base with you as soon as I could, to tell you that I find the idea of this book enormously exciting. I love the way you write. Your style is so accessible and engaging. Please tell me you haven’t already signed with another house.”

“I haven’t signed anything as yet,” Charley said, holding her breath. Okay—so not a nightmare, she was thinking. But a fantasy for sure.

“Good. Do you have an agent?”

“I have a lawyer,” Charley qualified. Did she? Would Alex be prepared to negotiate on her behalf? Was she getting ahead of herself? Calm down, she told herself. Calm down. She gave Lester Owens Alex’s name and phone number.

“I’ll be in touch,” Lester Owens said instead of good-bye.

Charley returned the phone to the kitchen counter and took another gulp of her coffee. “He’ll be in touch,” she told the dog at her feet. Bandit cocked his head from side to side as the phone rang again. “He’s changed his mind,” she wailed, raising the phone gingerly to her ear. “Hello?”

“I just wanted to tell you how much I enjoyed this morning’s column, darling,” her mother said. “Your sister will be very pleased, I’m sure. You said such nice things about her book. And I think you’re so right about this elitist attitude toward women’s fiction.”

“Mom, I think I may have my own book deal,” Charley squealed, filling her mother in on her conversation with Lester Owens.

“Oh, darling, congratulations. That’s such good news.”

“Well, it’s not a done deal yet, but…”

“What’s not a done deal?” Bram said, shuffling into the kitchen and pouring himself a cup of coffee, as Bandit rushed over to greet him. “And what’s with this dog?” he asked, sitting down at the kitchen table.

Charley quickly said good-bye to her mother. “How are you feeling?”

“Tired and cranky. Who’s been calling so early anyway? It’s like Grand Central Station around here. What are you smiling about?”

“I might have a book deal,” Charley told him, trying to keep from jumping up and down.

“You’re writing a book?”

“About Jill Rohmer.”

“About Jill Rohmer,” Bram repeated, a worried look furrowing his brow. “When did all this happen?”

“About a month ago. She wrote me a letter. You remember. We were in Glen’s office….”

“Who the hell is Glen?”

“Glen McLaren. Owner of Prime.”

Bram’s eyes narrowed in concentration. “The one who hit me?”

“That’s the one. Bandit is Glen’s dog, by the way.”

Bram raised his hand to his forehead, as if he had a sudden headache. “You know, I think it’s better when I’m drunk. Things seem to make more sense that way.”

“Very funny.”

The phone rang again. Charley picked it up. “Hello.”

“I just had a very intriguing conversation with a Mr. Lester Owens in New York,” Alex said. “Apparently he’s quite interested in a projected book by a gorgeous newspaper columnist and first-time author whom I’m apparently representing.”

“Are you mad? Is that okay?”

“Are you kidding? It’s fabulous. He’s going to get back to me in a couple of days with an offer. Congratulations.”

“Thank you. I can’t believe how excited I am.”

“You should be. How’s your brother?”

Charley glanced over at Bram. “Looking pretty good actually. We’re just having some coffee. Want to join us?”

“I better not. Rain check?”

“Of course.”

“I’ll call you later.”

“Alex Prescott, I presume from the smile on your face,” Bram said, as Charley replaced the receiver and sat down across from her brother.

“He’s going to negotiate my book deal.” Charley’s smile widened, threatened to spill off her face.

“He’s an agent?”

“A lawyer. Jill’s lawyer, actually,” she added, her smile disappearing.

“Jill Rohmer’s lawyer,” Bram repeated.

“He’s very good.”

“You’re dating the man who defended Jill Rohmer,” Bram said incredulously.

“It’s not as crazy as it sounds.”

“That’s good, ’cause it does sound kind of crazy. Was this book thing his idea?”

Charley scoffed. “Hardly. He didn’t want me involved.”

“Good. Neither do I.”

Bram’s vehemence caught Charley by surprise. “What? Why?”

“Oh, I don’t know. Wait, I
do
know. Jill Rohmer’s a lunatic. She’d just as soon slit your throat as look at you. How’s that?”

“I thought you didn’t know Jill.”

Bram pushed his hair away from his face with his free hand, slumped back in his chair. “I don’t. Not really.”

“Not really? What does that mean?”

“It means I met her once, and believe me, once was enough. She scared the hell out of me.”

Charley got up from the table and ran quickly into her bedroom, returning with her tape recorder. She put it in the middle of the table, pressed
RECORD.
“Tell me.”

“Is that thing really necessary?”

“It is. Talk.”

“It’s nothing.” Bram lifted his hands in the air in a gesture of surrender. “Okay. One night Pam and I went out for some pizza after class. All of a sudden, Jill shows up—‘funny seeing you here, what a coincidence, etc. etc.’—plops herself down next to her sister, helps herself to Pam’s pizza, flirts with me pretty brazenly.”

“What did Pam do?”

“Just sat there, didn’t say anything. I got the feeling she was scared of her sister. When Jill left, she ‘accidentally’ knocked over Pam’s Coke, spilled it all over her. Pam was totally humiliated. Next time I asked her out, she said no.”

“And that was the only time you ever met Jill?”

“The only time.”

“You’re sure? You never dated her, never slept together?”

“I think I would have remembered that,” Bram insisted.

“And there’s nothing else you have to tell me?”

“That was the first, last, and only time I saw her.”

“So why didn’t you tell me this before?”

“I didn’t think there was anything to tell. Why didn’t you tell me you were writing a book?”

Why
hadn’t
she told him? “I guess I was waiting to see how things played out. So far all I’ve been doing is research.”

“Meaning you’ve already met with Jill?”

“A number of times, yes.”

“She say anything about me?”

“No. She didn’t mention meeting you at all.”

“She probably doesn’t remember.”

“Somehow I doubt that.”

“Well, it explains why you’re having nightmares anyway.”

The phone rang again. Charley stood up, returned to the counter. “Hello?”

“Charley, this is Lynn Moore,” her neighbor’s voice announced. Charley pictured the woman sitting at her kitchen table, surrounded by dildos and fur-lined handcuffs. “I just wanted to tell you that I agree totally with what you said about women’s fiction in your column this morning.”

“Thank you,” Charley said, turning back to her brother. But all she saw was the fading trail of steam from his coffee as he walked from the room.

Well, this day certainly hadn’t turned out the way she’d been expecting, Charley thought as she dropped Bram off at his sponsor’s apartment and headed toward the turnpike. She was supposed to pick James up from his father at five o’clock, and it was already after four. There was no way she’d make it up to Boynton Beach in time, which meant she’d also be late picking up Franny in Lantana, and Elise would be waiting with that patented Elise-look-of-reproach on her face that made Charley want to punch her into the ground.

This wasn’t exactly the way I’d seen myself spending Sunday either, she argued silently. I was supposed to be spending the day in bed, making mad, passionate love to one of the world’s great lovers, a man who actually understood the way a woman’s body worked, who knew just the right amount of pressure to apply, and where and when to apply it. Instead, she’d spent the day with her brother, driving him back to Miami, where they’d passed the bulk of the afternoon filling out police reports. The next stop had been Coral Gables to see his sponsor, a middle-aged man with brown hair and a graying beard, who’d smiled kindly at Charley and advised her she might benefit from calling Al-Anon. She’d told him she’d try to do that as soon as she could find the time, and he’d nodded patiently and told her she sounded a lot like her brother, which made her want to punch him to the ground as well.

We both carry around a lot of anger,
she heard Jill say.

“I’m not angry,” Charley said out loud. “Horny, maybe. But not angry.” Besides, the day hadn’t been without its share of good news: the call from Lester Owens in New York, a potentially lucrative book deal in the offing. She had much to celebrate, she was thinking, as she continued north along the turnpike. Maybe she’d take the kids out to dinner. Maybe she’d persuade Alex to join them. No, that wasn’t a good idea, she decided immediately. It was way too early to introduce him to her kids. Wasn’t it? What was she thinking?

James was sitting beside his father on the outside steps of Steve’s narrow trailer in the relatively upscale trailer park in Boynton Beach where he lived. “Mommy!” James shouted, jumping up as soon as he saw her car, and throwing himself at her feet as she walked across the small patch of lawn toward him. “Guess what? Guess what? Daddy’s getting married!”

Steve studied his boots self-consciously, running his right hand through his long blond hair. “Thought we were gonna wait a few seconds before springing that on your mother,” he said, looking up and blushing noticeably. “Sorry, Charley.”

“You’re getting married?”

“We haven’t set a date yet, but…”

“…you’re getting married.”

“Yeah.” Steve smiled at her expectantly.

Charley wanted to smile back, but she wasn’t sure how she felt. Not that she hadn’t assumed Steve would get married one day. Certainly not that she had any interest in him herself anymore. Just that everything between them had been relatively easy and uncomplicated up until now, just as things had been simple and smooth between her and Ray before Elise entered the picture. “Well, congratulations,” she heard herself say. “You look really happy.”

“I am. Thanks.”

“Her name is Leo and she’s a Laurie,” James announced proudly.

“What?”

“He means her name is Laurie and she’s a Leo,” Steve corrected. “That’s her sign. She’s into that sort of thing,” he added sheepishly.

“I guess there are worse things she could be into.” Charley thought of her brother.

“Would you like to meet her?”

“She’s here?”

“She’s waiting inside.”

“In that case, I’d love to meet her.” Charley’s body tensed as Steve knocked on the trailer door.

It opened seconds later, and a very pretty girl with waist-length brown hair and a mouthful of blindingly white teeth stepped into the late afternoon sun. “I’m really pleased to meet you,” she said, extending her hand. “I’ve been reading your columns over the Internet ever since Steve told me who you are. They’re really good. You’re a Pisces, aren’t you?”

Uh-oh, Charley thought. A total flake. What she said was, “How did you know?”

“I swear I didn’t tell her,” Steve said proudly.

“It’s just so obvious. You’re creative, intuitive, sensitive. It’s all there in your writing.”

Well, maybe not a
total
flake, Charley amended. “Are you an astrologer?”

“No. It’s just a hobby. I’m a Leo. We like that sort of thing.”

“Laurie’s a dental technician,” Steve volunteered. “That’s how we met.”

“I thought he had the nicest teeth.” Laurie giggled.

“He does have lovely teeth,” Charley agreed.

“Do I have nice teeth?” James demanded loudly, pulling his lips away from his gums with his fingers, and opening his mouth as wide as he could.

“You have the best teeth of all,” Laurie said just as Charley was about to. James wrapped his arms around Laurie’s knees as Laurie instinctively caressed the top of his head.

Charley felt her body immediately relax. So what if Laurie was a bit of a flake? She was sweet and kind and she obviously adored her son. What more could she ask for? “Will you be living here?”

“We’re hoping to find a house,” Laurie said. “If we can find one we can afford.”

“We’re trying to save up,” Steve added.

“You’ll do it.”

“I hope you’ll be able to come to the wedding,” Laurie said.

Charley hadn’t anticipated this. “That’s very sweet of you.”

“I’m going to be the ring-grower,” James announced proudly.

“Ring-
bearer,
” his father corrected.

“It’s just going to be a small wedding,” Laurie continued, “but we’d love it if James’s sister could be the flower girl.”

“I’m sure she’d be thrilled.”

“And if you want to bring a date…”

“That’s really very kind.”

“So, what do you think?” Steve asked after Laurie had gone back inside the trailer and James had been secured in his car seat.

“I think she’s lovely. You’re a very lucky man.”

“I always have been.” Steve leaned in to kiss her cheek. “Thanks, Charley.”

“Take care.”

“You, too.”

Minutes later Charley was heading up Military Trail toward Lantana. It was only when she looked in her rearview mirror to check on James that she realized she was crying.

“Well, well, well. Look who decided to show up,” Elise said, opening the front door of her small, split-level home before Charley had a chance to knock. Her dark curls were piled on top of her head like a wayward bow, the baby attached to her right hip straining to untie it.

“Sorry,” Charley apologized. “Hi, Daniel. How are you, sweetie?”

“Sweetie is teething and miserable. He kept us up all night. Franny! Your mother’s here,” Elise called into the house. “She and Ray are building a fort out of Legos. They’ve been at it all weekend. Franny! Your mother’s waiting! You want to come inside?” she asked reluctantly.