She’s still cooing.
“How’s the weather in St. Louis?”
“I have no idea,” Wendy said.
“It’s supposed to be snowing there,” Lauren said.
“I’ll check on it for you,” Wendy said. She vanished and returned a moment later. “It is snowing, but it’s not enough to keep us from landing.”
“Now,” Lauren said. “It’s not enough snow
now.
What about later?”
“I’ll check on it for you,” Wendy said. She vanished again and returned several minutes later. “The captain says we’ll be on time with no problems.” Wendy touched Lauren’s shoulder. “We’ll be fine.”
“Great,” Lauren said.
And don’t touch me.
Wendy rubbed Lauren’s shoulder. “Is there
anything
I can do for you before we depart?”
Leave me alone.
“I’m good. Thanks.”
“We’ll be serving breakfast once we’re in the air,” Wendy said.
Remove your hand from my shoulder. Now.
“I won’t be eating breakfast,” Lauren said.
“Oh, but you will be eating lunch, I hope,” Wendy said.
“We’re having wild Alaskan salmon.”
No way.
“I won’t be eating at all.”
Wendy removed her hand. “Would like some champagne or some wine?”
At nine a.m.?
“No thank you.”
Now please go away. I need to rest up for tonight.
Wendy crouched beside her. “Do you have an iffy tummy?”
“No, Wendy, I don’t,” Lauren said. “I rarely eat or drink while I travel, okay?”
“I have some Dramamine,” Wendy said.
“I’ll be fine.” Lauren smiled. “Really. I have flown many times before, Wendy.”
Wendy stood. “Well, if there’s anything you need, anything at all, just let me know.”
I still need you to go away.
“I will.”
Not.
As the last of the passengers boarded, Lauren heard someone yell, “Miss Short!” She leaned her head out into the aisle to see a black teenager taking her picture with his phone.
Lauren squinted at the flash.
“Yes!” The boy looked at his phone. “Thank you, Miss Short!” He smiled.
This has got to stop!
“Come here,” she said.
The boy pointed at himself. “Me?”
“Yes, you,” Lauren said. “Come here.”
The boy took a hesitant step forward.
“Come on,” Lauren said. “I won’t bite.”
The boy moved beside her.
“Sit,” Lauren said.
“You want me to sit next to you?” he asked.
“Yes,” Lauren said.
The boy sat, his feet rapidly tapping the floor.
“What’s your name?” she asked.
“Terrance,” the boy said.
“How old are you, Terrance?” she asked.
“Sixteen,” Terrance said.
“Are you traveling alone?” Lauren asked.
“No,” Terrance said. “My grandma’s back there.”
“Okay,” Lauren said. “This is the deal. I don’t mind that you took my picture, Terrance, but I don’t want you to send it to anyone until
after
we land.”
“I was just going to send it to my little brother, Jamie,” Terrance said. “He’ll be at the airport when we land. He’s a huge fan of yours.”
Lauren locked her eyes on Terrance’s eyes. “I’m trying to just get away, you know? I don’t want photographers there when I leave this plane. I’m trying to make a little escape here. I don’t want to face a bunch of media. After what I’ve been through, I really need some anonymity. You understand?”
“Not really,” Terrance said.
It does seem strange that a “star”—even a former one—doesn’t want free advertising.
“What would happen if you sent that picture to your brother?” Lauren asked.
“He’d be very happy,” Terrance said.
“Would he forward the picture to everyone he knows?” Lauren asked.
“I seriously doubt it,” Terrance said. “Jamie doesn’t like to share.”
“How old is your brother?” Lauren asked.
“He’s ten,” Terrance said. “He’s a great kid.”
Ten? And he’s a huge fan of mine? He wasn’t even alive when I made my first movie!
“I’m sure he is, but wouldn’t he brag to his friends about the picture?”
“He doesn’t have many friends,” Terrance said. “He has Down syndrome.”
“Oh,” Lauren said.
“He’s seen all your movies,” Terrance said. “He thinks you’re his girlfriend. He wants to marry you.”
That’s so sweet.
“If you hold on to that picture, I promise to have my picture taken with Jamie when we land.”
“You’d do that?” Terrance asked.
“Of course,” Lauren said. “I have to meet my biggest fan, don’t I?”
“That’d be awesome,” Terrance said. “Thank you.”
This boy surely loves his brother.
“I’ll see you and Jamie when we land, okay?”
Terrance smiled. “Okay. Thank you, Miss Short.” “Call me Lauren,” Lauren said.
“Okay,” Terrance said. “Lauren.” He moved out of the seat. “Thank you.”
“See you when we land in St. Louis.”
If
we land in St. Louis.
As the plane backed away from the terminal, Lauren called Patrick, but the call went straight to voice mail.
“Patrick, I hope everything’s okay,” she said. “We’re about to take off, and I’ve been assured that we’re going to land on time in St. Louis. I’ll be praying that you get there safely, too. Bye.”
She closed her eyes.
God, You know I don’t talk to You that often, and I’m sorry about that, but could You please keep the snow away from St. Louis, Ohio, Indiana, and Missouri for a few hours? I know it’s a tall order, but You’re God, so I know You can do it. Thanks.
“Miss Short,” Wendy cooed, “is everything all right?”
Lauren opened her eyes. “Yes.”
I only closed my eyes!
“Okay,” Wendy cooed. “If there’s
anything
you need, anything at all, you ask for Wendy.”
Lauren closed her eyes.
And, God, if You could . . . oh, I don’t know . . . give Wendy someone else to harass, I’d really appreciate it.
She opened her eyes and glanced out the window.
Good-bye, California. I don’t know when I’ll see you again, if I ever see you again. We had a good run, but now it’s time for me to go.
“Would you like me to close your window shade, Miss Short?” Wendy asked.
Stand down, Wendy!
“I’m leaving it open for now.”
“Okay,” Wendy said. “You just let me know when you want it closed.”
God, please get me to St. Louis quickly.
I don’t want to harm Wendy.
But if she coos in my ear again, I just might.
40
“Y
es, Mrs. Moczydlowska,” Patrick said. “I’m still here.”
I’m down to one battery bar, I missed Lauren’s call because I didn’t hear the beep, and I’m still here on the phone with the only tenant who truly cares about me.
“You are so quiet,” she said. “It is like talking to no one.”
“I’m sorry,” Patrick said.
We need to wrap this up.
“So other than the
chuh-chuh-chuh-chuh,
everything is all right?”
“Yes,” she said. “I did not expect you to answer when I called.”
“I answered,” Patrick said. “Are you sure everything is okay? If you need to, call that number I gave you.”
“But you would not show up,” she said.
“That’s true, but someone would visit you.”
“I need no visit,” she said. “I need the
chuh-chuh-chuh-chuh
to go away.”
“I’ll work on it when I get back,” Patrick said. “You take care.”
“You come back,” she said.
“Or you’ll call my boss, right?”
“No,” Mrs. Moczydlowska said. “You just come back. Good-bye.”
Patrick quickly listened to Lauren’s message as the battery bar began to flash. He shut off his phone to conserve the battery. He also pouted because he couldn’t look at Lauren’s picture anymore.
She’s on her way to St. Louis, and there’s no way I can tell her that we’re now an hour behind schedule because of the snow.
Interstate 70 in Indiana was a mess. Traffic moved toward Indianapolis in a single file through heavy, blowing snow as the bus followed overmatched snowplows that were rearranging more than removing the snow. The bus crawled to a stop often, idling while emergency vehicles screamed out of the snow and disappeared into more snow to the west.
He rubbed the fuzzy ring box in his pocket with his thumb to calm himself, but every time he looked outside or looked at the clock he began to worry.
I shouldn’t have taken the bus. I should have paid extra to fly. I’d probably be there by now. I’d be waiting at the airport for Lauren, and . . .
He closed his eyes.
And I’d be worrying the entire time about her flight. I’m sure she’ll make it. I wish I knew for sure that I was going to make it.
He gripped and released the ring box.
I don’t even know for sure if she’ll accept this ring, this little cheap ring. If this is my only shot, I have to make it count. But what do I say? When I asked Natalia to marry me, all I said was, “Will you marry me?” She said yes, we went out for ice cream at Baskin-Robbins, and . . .
I have to do much better than that for Lauren Short.
To pass the time, he rehearsed in his mind what he would say.
Lauren, only a few days ago I was a lonely man who—
That is so depressing. I can’t be depressing. A marriage proposal should never be depressing.
Lauren, you have brought light into my life, and—
That’s still depressing, because it means I was living in darkness before I met her. Well, I was, but . . .
Lauren, there’s been something I have wanted to say to you. I know we’ve only known each other for a short time—
Why introduce doubt? Why plant a seed like that? That’s almost like saying, “You know, we really don’t know each other well enough to make this lifetime commitment.”
He sighed.
Lauren, I love you. I have loved you since the first time I saw you in a movie, and—
I’m sure plenty of men have thought that about a star! I can’t make my love for her seem like a crush!
Maybe I can be blunt about it.
Lauren, look at me. I’ve just ridden twenty-eight hours on a bus, I’m grumpy, I’m smelly, I need to use a bathroom, and I’m hungry, but I love you. Marry me.
Patrick shook his head.
That was creepy. A marriage proposal should never be creepy.
Lauren, it’s so good to finally see you.
That was weak. I don’t talk that way.
Lauren, I’m so sorry I’m late. I know I should have flown in, but I’m cheap. I hope you haven’t ordered anything yet because I can’t really afford to eat here. Let’s hit a McDonald’s for some Chicken McNuggets with hot mustard sauce....
While true, it has absolutely no romance in it. A marriage proposal should be romantic and should never involve fast food.
Lauren, I’ve been through hell to get to you, and I know you promise me heaven. Lauren Short, will you marry me?
That won’t do, either. I have to build up to it somehow. I am terrible at small talk, though.
He opened his eyes as the bus slid to a stop behind a tractor trailer.
I’ll think of something.
I have to think of something.
This is, after all, going to be my first public performance. . . .
41
“W
e’re circling until a runway is clear, Miss Short,” Wendy said.
I didn’t ask you what we were doing, Wendy. I’ve been in a circling airplane before.
Lauren looked out the window and saw only angry gray clouds.
Where’s the ground? We should be getting close to the ground.
“We’ve been circling for twenty minutes, but we made good time because of some fierce headwinds,” Wendy said.
They’re called
tailwinds,
Windy Wendy. Headwinds slow down an airplane.
“We’ll still land on time,” Wendy said.
I do not want to engage this person in conversation, but I have to know.
“How much snow is down there?” Lauren asked.
“I don’t know,” Wendy said. “Would you like me to check?”
“No, it’s all right,” Lauren said.
“I can check,” Wendy said.
Lauren sighed. “Go ahead.”
The
FASTEN YOUR SEAT BELT
sign blinked on. Lauren fastened her seat belt tightly.
“Ladies and gentlemen, we’re going to begin our descent into St. Louis,” the captain said. “We may experience a little turbulence, but there’s nothing to worry about.”
Lauren worried.
She was right to worry.
The turbulence wasn’t little. At times Lauren had to open her mouth wide to keep her teeth from banging together. Once the plane broke through the clouds, Lauren looked out to see a world covered in white.
That’s a lot of snow,
she thought.
I hope this plane has skis.
Once the plane was safely on the ground and was crawling toward the terminal, Lauren released her seat belt and took several deep breaths.
That was horrible.
She called Patrick, and again it went to voice mail. She left him a message. “I’m here, and there is a lot of snow on the ground out there. The snowflakes are as big as my hands. I did wear my boots, though. Call me when you can. Bye.”
“There are officially ten inches on the ground outside,” Wendy said. “Are we meeting someone in St. Louis, Miss Short?”
If I feel her breath on my ear one more time, I will backhand this woman.
“Yes. I’m meeting a little boy named Jamie.”
Once she left the plane and entered the terminal, she walked directly toward a little boy and his family. “Hi,” she said, kneeling in front of the boy. “Are you Jamie?”
Jamie’s eyes widened. “Lauren!” he cried.
This boy has some powerful lungs.
“That’s me,” Lauren said. “Your brother told me you were a fan of mine. Have you seen all my movies?”
Jamie nodded and grabbed her hand. “I love you, Lauren.”
Lauren hugged him to her as flashes flew around them.
Man, they know I’m here now.
“I love you, too, Jamie.” She kissed his cheek and turned to see Terrance embracing his mother and father, an elderly black woman following behind. “Do you go to school, Jamie?”
Jamie nodded.
“Do you get good grades?” Lauren asked.
Jamie nodded.
Such a sweet boy!
“Good,” Lauren said. She stood and smiled at Terrance’s parents, Jamie still gripping her hand fiercely. “Hello.”
“Thank you,” Jamie’s mother mouthed.
“Lauren,” Terrance said, “could we take a family picture with you?”
She looked at Jamie. “I don’t think Jamie’s going to share me with anyone today. Why don’t you take some with me and Jamie?”
Terrance—and half a dozen other people—took pictures of Lauren and Jamie.
Lauren squeezed Jamie’s hand. “I have to go now, Jamie.”
Jamie nodded.
“You be good and do well in school, you hear?” she said.
“I will,” Jamie said. He hugged her fiercely. “Bye!”
Lauren moved with the throng toward the baggage claim, camera phones and some real cameras recording her every step. A man with a voice recorder detached himself from the crowd and approached her.
And this would be a real reporter,
Lauren thought.
So much for anonymity. How much do I tell him, if anything?
“Phil Thomas,
Post-Dispatch,
” the man said, shoving the voice recorder in her face. “Miss Short, what brings you to St. Louis?”
Lauren leaned away from the voice recorder. “Slow news day, Phil?” Lauren said. “I mean, there’s a raging blizzard outside, right?”
“I do the entertainment news,” Phil said.
“And a foot of snow in November isn’t that entertaining, huh?” Lauren asked. She slowed to a stop, and most of the throng continued moving away from them. “I’m here in St. Louis, Phil, because I have a date.”
“In St. Louis?” Phil asked.
No, in Reno, Nevada.
“Yes.”
“Who’s the lucky guy?” Phil asked.
“I am the lucky
girl,
Phil,” Lauren said. “His name is Patrick Alan Esposito.”
“Is he here at the airport?” Phil asked.
I wish!
“He’s meeting me later.”
“Where?” Phil asked.
Lauren noticed the crowd swelling around her again, cell phone cameras working overtime.
I have to get out of here before these flashes blind me.
“At a restaurant, Phil, but we’re hoping for some privacy. I hope you understand.”
“So it’s a rendezvous?” Phil asked.
It’s a date!
Lauren shook her head and continued toward baggage claim.
While waiting for her luggage, Lauren signed several autographs and posed for a dozen pictures.
Phil sidled up to her. “Many restaurants are closing because of the weather, Miss Short.”
Sneaky man.
“And I suppose you’ll call the restaurant for me to check, huh?”
“Something like that,” Phil said.
“I’m not stupid, Phil,” Lauren whispered. “If they’re closed, they’re closed.”
In a way, I hope they’re closed. That will give me more time with Patrick at the hotel. I wish my stomach would stop growling, though. We’ll have to get room service.
“How long will you be in town?” Phil asked.
Lauren spied her first suitcase and maneuvered through the crowd to snag it. “I’m not sure, Phil.”
“Why are you meeting here?” Phil asked.
“Truthfully, so we could get some alone time away from the media,” Lauren said. She saw her other two bags and grabbed them. “So if you don’t mind.”
Phil stepped back. “Where are you staying?”
Lauren looked outside at a line of snow-covered cabs. “Are you going to follow me, Phil?”
Phil didn’t answer.
“Don’t follow me, please,” Lauren said. She opened her biggest suitcase and pulled out her black overcoat. “Don’t you already have enough for your story?” She closed her suitcase and put on her overcoat, buttoning it to the top.
“One more question,” Phil said. “Did you know that kid back there?”
“Sure,” Lauren said. “That was Jamie, and he is my biggest fan. Now I have a question for you. How did you know I’d be on that plane?”
“I can’t reveal my sources, Miss Short,” he said.
“How about if I guess, then?”
The cabdriver, the skycap, the ticket agent in LA, or Wendy?
“Was her name Wendy?”
Phil nodded slightly.
“Please don’t quote me here, Phil,” Lauren said, “but Wendy is an evil heifer. What do you owe her for the tip?”
Phil sighed. “Hockey tickets.”
“Really? That’s all?”
“Wendy is nuts about the St. Louis Blues,” Phil said. “I have no idea why. They’re not even that good this year.”
“Well, that woman gave me the blues the entire flight,” Lauren said. “She likes to hover. You don’t have to go with her, do you?”
Phil nodded.
“Does she coo at you, too?” Lauren asked.
Phil grimaced. “All the damn time.” He smiled. “Thank you for talking to me.”
“I’d say anytime, Phil, but I have a date,” Lauren said.
“And it’s a date, Phil, not a rendezvous.”
“If you say so, Miss Short,” Phil said.
While snowflakes as big as pancakes bludgeoned her hair, Lauren rolled her luggage out to the curb beside a cab. The cabdriver didn’t move from his seat.
Lauren tapped on the passenger window, and the window descended. “I need some help here.”
The driver rolled his eyes. “Where you headed?”
“The Millennium Hotel downtown,” Lauren said, batting snow from her hair.
“Ah, lady, that’s at least an hour ride in this weather,” the driver said. “I-Seventy is closed, and they’re about to close Sixty-Four.”
“I’m sure there are other ways to get there,” Lauren said.
He sighed. “Get in. I’ll have to take Natural Bridge Road, but the whole world is taking Natural Bridge Road now. We’ll get there in about ninety minutes.”
Lauren opened the back door, threw in her soaked suitcases, and slid onto the seat. “As long as we get there.” She handed him a fifty-dollar bill. “Fifty more if you get me there in less than an hour.”
The driver peered back at her. “You famous or something?”
“Not anymore,” Lauren said. She fastened her seat belt.
“Let’s roll, man.”
“All right, all right,” the driver said.
In just under an hour, after some nifty driving and a series of harrowing detours, Lauren arrived at the Millennium Hotel, a tall cylinder rising into the snowy sky with the Gateway Arch looming behind. She handed the driver another fifty.
“Thank you,” she said. “You drive safely the rest of the night, okay?”
The driver got out, opened the back door, took out Lauren’s suitcases, and carried them to the curb where a bellhop stacked them on a cart and rolled the cart inside.
Lauren stepped out and smiled, shielding her hair from the snow with her hands. “Thank you.”
The driver shrugged. “I finally figured out who you are,” he said. “You’re that actress.”
“Is that the only reason you took out my suitcases?” Lauren asked.
The driver didn’t answer.
Lauren backed toward the hotel’s entrance. “You need to work on your customer service skills, man. You should have done that for
anyone
in your cab, especially on a night like tonight
.
”
As soon as she whisked the snow off her coat in the lobby, she headed straight to the reception desk.
“Lauren Short?” a woman cried. “Oh, my God! It’s Lauren Short!”
Lauren read her name tag.
Calm down, Penny. I’m as human as you are, only I’m much calmer.
“Hi, Penny. I’m meeting someone who already has a reservation. Patrick Esposito. Has he checked in yet?”
And maybe we can skip dinner and go right to dessert.
Penny fumbled with her hands. “What’s his name again?”
“Patrick Esposito.”
Penny’s fingers banged some keys on her keyboard. “He hasn’t checked in yet.”
Lauren checked her phone.
It’s a little past six, and he’s left no messages.
“Is he flying in?” Penny asked. “He might be delayed. They’re canceling flights left and right.”
You can’t cancel a bus, Penny.
“May I leave my suitcases here?”
Penny smiled broadly. “I can put them in the manager’s office for you.”
“That’d be great.”
Penny squinted at the computer screen. “Oh, that’s right. I talked to Mr. Esposito. I gave you one of our nicest rooms. It’s a riverside room with excellent views of the Arch.”
I’m not interested in that kind of view, Penny. I’m here to see a man.
“Great.” She looked through the lobby at the front doors. “How far is it to Tony’s?”
Penny snapped up a phone receiver. “I can call you a cab.”
That’s not what I asked.
“Isn’t it close by?”
“Yes, but look at the snow, Miss Short,” Penny said. “Think of your hair.”
My hair will dry, Penny. Hair does dry.
“I like snow.”
“Do you want a hat or something?” Penny asked.
“I’ll be fine, Penny,” Lauren said.
Penny leaned across the counter and whispered, “But I thought you were supposed to be incognito.”
They knew I was coming. How?
“I’ll be fine,” Lauren said. “The snow will keep me hidden. Now, do I turn right or left out of here?”
“I’ll draw you a map,” Penny said. She wrote a single line on a Post-it. “Turn right when you leave us and walk to Market Street. It’s only a little ways. Tony’s is on the corner.” She handed Lauren the map. “You won’t get lost.”
Not with an excellent “map” like this.
“Thank you.”
Lauren shot her hands deeply into her pockets and left the Millennium, turned right, and walked through a wall of falling snow on what she hoped was the sidewalk.
This coat isn’t nearly warm enough, and this snow is entirely too wet. I used to like snow. I guess I’ll have to get used to eastern weather all over again.
She crossed Fourth Street when she got to Market Street, walked up some steps, and entered Tony’s, shaking off her coat just inside the door.
“May I help you?”
Is that Joe Pesci’s father? He looks just like him! Nice dark jacket, white oxford shirt, no tie, and even Joe Pesci’s squint from—what was that movie?—
Casino.
Lauren smiled broadly. “Hello. I’m a little early. Reservation for Esposito.”
The man smiled. “We’ve been expecting you, Miss Short.”
“Yes,” Lauren said. “But Patrick Esposito made the reservation.”
“Oh, yes, he did,” the man said. “I talked to him the other night. A fine gentleman. I am Vincent Bommarito. Please call me Vincent.”
“Hello, Vincent.”
“Are we going incognito tonight, Miss Short?” Vincent asked.
Lauren took off her coat and folded it over her arm. “No.” “But you’re wearing . . .” His eyes danced. “I mean, most women who eat here wear . . .”