For the Love of His Life (3 page)

Marie shook her head. “We need to set down some rules because I don’t want to get busted for allowing someone with drugs to stay in our cabin. They got in after closing time again last night and there’s been no movement from the cabin yet today.”

Veronica smiled while she began to get her ingredients and utensils out for the day’s pie-baking. “He’s obviously on his own kind of schedule. He sleeps most of the day, parties all night, probably gets laid whenever he can, then he passes out to do the same thing the next day. Every day for him is same shit, different day.”

Marie smirked. “Well he’s going to have to learn that the rest of the world doesn’t dance to his tune just because he’s rich and famous. I don’t care how much he’s worth—no one brings illegal drugs onto my property. If he thinks I’m kidding…just wait until I have him arrested.”

They worked in quiet harmony for a while, two kindred souls who loved and respected each other, and had been working together the same way for years.

Veronica broke the silence once her pies were in the oven. “Since I don’t have any financial duties this afternoon, maybe I’ll bring him some coffee and pie once they’re done?”

Marie glared at her. “No. Better you tell him if he wants coffee, he has to come and get it, and eat some soup. Then he can have some pie. That way I can have a little chat with our guest.”

Veronica grinned widely. “Can I stay and listen to what you have to say?”

Marie nodded. “I was hoping you would. I may get excited and switch to French, so you have to be here to translate.”

As Veronica set the timer for the pies she thought,
I wouldn’t miss that for anything! And I’m glad I’m not Raul Roderick!

* * * *

Raul sat up with a start. In the same nightmare he often had, he was being chased by a man insisting he was his father. His mother had once shown him a picture of a fiercely proud man with long black hair, black eyes and the dark reddish skin common to members of the Sioux tribal nation. In the dream he was always happy to finally meet his dad, but it quickly turned to fear and horror when the man used some kind of weapon on him…sometimes a knife, or a tomahawk, sometimes a gun. As always, he was forcibly reminded his father had never wanted him as he yelled, “I gave you life, now I’m taking it away!”

As a child, Raul had run crying to his mother whenever that nightmare occurred. The first time it happened, she’d made him sit and watch as she burned the picture in the already full ashtray. After that she’d held him on her lap, soothing him, saying, “It doesn’t matter that he didn’t want you. I did. Forget about that asshole. The only good thing he ever did in his life was give you to me. We don’t need him, right? Mama and Raul, that’s all the family we need.”

Now he looked around disoriented.
Where the hell am I?

The cabin was comfortably furnished, but shabby by the standards Raul was used to. The bed was only a double, not the king-sized waterbed he had in his mansion. The walls looked like the inside of a log cabin. The curtains and covers on the bed and the couch looked home-made and rural, with patterns of pine trees, bears and moose. It appeared the room he was sleeping in was the only room besides the bathroom he could make out through the one open door.

Pee! I’ve gotta pee!

Raul tentatively lowered his feet to the floor and stood up…a little too quickly. The room began to spin and he felt nauseated. He steadied himself by holding onto the wall next to the bed and taking deep breaths. When the room became stationary again, he slowly made his way over to the bathroom. He leaned heavily on the wall behind the toilet to hold himself in place, sweat running down his back. He stopped to admire himself in the mirror over the sink. Deep purple circles dogged his pale, gaunt face. He bent over to splash cold water over his face to wake up, and dried it as he walked back into the main room.

I’m hungry. I need coffee. I’ll call for some room service.

Raul looked around for some kind of menu, or even a phone book, but found nothing like either one of those lifelines. He picked up his pants from the floor, pulled his cell phone out of the pocket and touched it to call his agent. He hit the speed dial number and waited, holding the phone close to his ear. Nothing happened.

What the hell?

He tried the same number again. Nothing happened. Getting irritated, he dialed 9-1-1.

I’m hungry, thirsty, and god-damn it that’s an emergency to me!

Nothing. Even more irritated, he squinted to look at the offending implement in his hand and was shocked to see there were no bars to indicate cell phone service. Thinking that if he was in a motel of some sort there would be an old-fashioned phone connected to the wall, he looked around hopefully.

Nothing! Shit! How the hell am I supposed to let that kid who’s been driving me around know I’m up and ready to head for the bars?

He shook his head while he gnashed his teeth in frustration, but the actions combined to make his head throb and his stomach rumble ominously. Since he didn’t remember when he had last showered, he sniffed an armpit.

Hmm, better shower before I go in search of coffee and a phone. It looks like I’m in some kind of cabin. Nothing like what I imagined when Jared told me he was sending me to stay at the resort his relatives own, nearby to where he’s gonna be filming our masterpiece. No room service…not even a fucking working phone! I’m gonna have something to say about all of this when I find a phone! If Jared isn’t going to be here soon, I’m heading back to L.A. and he can let me know when there is something going on up here.

Satisfied he had a working plan, Raul rummaged through the clothing heaped on top of the suitcase that looked like it had exploded. He found a pair of jeans that looked relatively clean, and a tee shirt that smelled washed. Since he never wore anything under his pants it was enough for him to be satisfied he would be decent enough to appear in public.

Fifteen minutes later he opened the door and was blinded by the glare of the sunlight, acting like a mirror as it amplified off the smooth lake water right outside his door. He slammed the door shut, stumbled back into the cabin to sit heavily down on the bed and waited for his pupils to readjust to the darker interior of the cabin.

Sunglasses! Where the hell are my sunglasses?

Once he could see again, he kicked at the clothing on the floor and pushed things around until he found his sunglasses in the pocket of one of his shirts. He jammed them onto his face and once again opened the door in search of someone to yell at for his discomfort.

He looked around and saw a sign that said ‘Office-Restaurant’ with an arrow pointing in the direction of a much larger building a short way up the hill. Looking hopefully around for a golf cart or some other vehicle he could drive up the hill, he was chagrined to realize he would have to walk.

Damn that Jared! Someone’s going to answer for this!

The abnormal physical activity combined with the emptiness of his stomach and the pounding of his head, and by the time Raul got to the door to the restaurant, he had worked up an attitude that demanded reckoning with. He pushed open the door using more strength than he needed to, and was pleased when it swung open and slammed against the wall. With another loud
bang
, it swung shut again.

He smiled grimly then yelled, “Hello? Is there anyone here? I need some coffee and I need it now!”

When there was no immediate answer, he sat down on one of the closest chairs and looked around. He was the only person in the place, but the well-worn chairs and cozy atmosphere suggested this was usually a place crowded with people. There were bumper stickers along the walls and the tables. The sayings on them ran the gamut from politics of all persuasions to pithy truisms about life in general. Despite himself, he got so interested in reading some of them, he almost forgot how angry he was about his circumstances…almost. He looked up when the door to the kitchen opened and an enticing smell assailed his nostrils—at the same time the vision of a tall, beautiful, blonde woman appeared before him.

Wow! I still feel like crap, but Big Rod just may have found some reason to like it up here!

Unexpectedly, he felt himself smile.

* * * *

Veronica was going through some of the bills as she sat in the kitchen chatting amiably with her grandmother. They both looked up when the outside door slammed open loudly, then shut. When Raul’s voice bellowed, Veronica was first shocked at his bad manners, then amused by the look on Gram-Marie’s face.

“I’ll go get him some coffee,” Veronica began, trying not to smile.

Marie’s eyes narrowed. “You do that. I’ll be out in a minute, once I get control over my temper so I don’t just throw him out on his spoiled-bratty ass.”

Veronica pushed open the swinging door and went out into the restaurant, trying to compose her face so the anticipation she felt at watching Gram-Marie put someone in his place wouldn’t be too noticeable.

* * * *

To Raul, the look of anticipation was what he was used to seeing on the face of his fans, so his ego being stroked like that made him somewhat more polite than he’d intended to be. Besides, the woman really was good-looking, in a Nordic, blonde-princess kind of way. She looked tall enough to be an Amazon, but light-skinned enough for light-blonde to be her natural color. She wore jeans tight enough to show off her ample curves, but too baggy to have been chosen to entice him. Her sleeveless tee shirt shouted
SLR
in big letters with an asterisk to indicate smaller writing underneath.
Sorrenson’s Lake Resort—you’ve stayed at the rest, now try the best!

He became aware he was staring at her breasts and cleared his throat before he spoke.

“Do you work here?”

She nodded slowly.

“Is there any coffee?”

“Sure. There’s some old stuff left in the pot, but I can get a new one going if you like. Not many folks come in for coffee in the middle of the afternoon…but then most of us have been awake for a long time.”

Sensing he was being criticized by the blonde, pony-tailed waitress, he went on the offensive.

“I need some coffee and lots of it. Give me what’s left and make more. And I need a phone. What the hell is wrong with my cell phone? I can’t get a signal at all.” He glared at her as if it was her fault.

Unconcerned, she poured him a cup of coffee and slid it onto his table before she turned to go back to the counter to start another pot.

“We don’t get any cell phone signal up here. You can get Wi-Fi if you’re in the cafe here, but only in the main building…and it’s really slow. Most people who come up here like the fact they aren’t reachable. It allows them to really relax, knowing the rest of the world can’t find them.”

Raul retorted, “Well in case you hadn’t notice, sweetie, I’m not
most people
. I need to be able to access my agent and my people whenever I want them. I want room service available and I need to call that boy who has been driving me around, because once I’m done with my coffee and a few phone calls, he needs to drive me into town to the bars. There are drinks and hot women waiting for me and I don’t wanna be late.”

Veronica snorted. “Hot women? In the local bars in Grand Marais? Maybe from their hot flashes! The young women around here are mostly married with babies. The rest of us work hard for our money. The only ones who have the time to hang around in bars have grown adult kids, so they are probably old enough to be your mother!”

Since he had no memory of what had happened in the bars in town, Raul took a moment to think up a retort. He was sipping at the over-cooked coffee in his cup when the kitchen door swung open and a tiny, elderly woman with white hair braided and piled on top of her head, strode purposely into the restaurant.

“Gram-Marie, this is Raul Roderick, the actor Jared is going to have star in his next movie. Mr. Roderick, this is Marie Yvonne Sorrenson, my grandmother and the owner of the SLR.”

Raul nodded politely at the old woman, then turned back to the more interesting young blonde to ask, “How do you know Jared?”

She smiled. “He’s my cousin. His mother is my father’s sister. He’s been coming here to spend the summer with us since he was a little boy.”

Marie spoke sharply, “And obviously he learned better manners than you did. He knows enough to show respect for his elders and look at them when they are going to speak to him.”

Raul turned in surprise at the tone in her voice but before he could say anything, she stared him down and continued speaking.

“What did you say his name is, Ronnie?”

“Raul, Gram-Marie.”

“How is that spelled, girl?”

“R-A-U-L. It’s Hispanic.”

“Hmm, it’s spelled just like my late husband’s name was, only his started with a P. So I guess I’ll just call you Rall, so it rhymes with Paul.”

Shocked, Raul began to sputter, “But that’s now how you say it, old woman—”

Marie leaned over the table and, despite his size and his age, he immediately felt like an errant schoolboy about to be punished by the teacher.