50
L
auren handed the phone to Patrick. “My mama wants to speak to you.”
Patrick covered the phone with his hand. “What do I say?”
“Just talk to her,” Lauren said.
Patrick put the phone to his ear. “Hello, Mrs. Short.”
“It’s Mrs. Jimmerson,” her mother said, “and please call me Pamela.”
“Okay,” Patrick said.
“And Lauren’s real name is Lauren Jimmerson,” Pamela said. “She didn’t tell you that, did she?”
“No, ma’am,” Patrick said.
“I didn’t think she would,” Pamela said. “Hardly anyone knows or remembers—or cares. Has Lauren told you anything about me?”
“Just that you two haven’t been speaking for a long time,” Patrick said.
“Did she tell you why?” Pamela asked.
“Her breast,” Patrick said.
Why did I say that? You don’t say the word
breast
to your future mother-in-law in your first conversation with her!
“Excuse me?” Pamela said.
“That scene in
I Got This,
” he said quickly. “That movie she made after
Feel the Love.
Where her, um . . .”
Don’t say it!
“Where she was a little overexposed.”
“I knew what you meant when you said ‘breast,’” Pamela said. “I just can’t believe you said it.”
“Neither can I, Mrs. Jimmerson,” Patrick said. “I mean, neither can I, Pamela.”
Pamela laughed. “It’s okay, Patrick, and that breast of hers was the reason. That was the worst movie ever made. I almost had to change churches because of that movie.”
What do you say to that?
Patrick thought.
When you don’t know what to say to your future mother-in-law, it’s always best to stay quiet.
“Are you really a handyman?” Pamela asked.
“Yes,” Patrick said.
“Do you work long hours?” Pamela asked.
“Yes,” Patrick said. “Up to sixteen hours most days.”
“All right,” Pamela said. “Lauren found herself a real man for a change. That last one was gay and trying not to show it. I never would have had any grandbabies. Are you going to give me grandbabies?”
We’re not even married yet!
“Yes, ma’am. She wants at least two.”
“Where are you two going to live?” Pamela asked.
“I guess in Boerum Hill,” Patrick said. “It’s just south of downtown Brooklyn.”
“You mean to tell me that my daughter will no longer be living in LA?” Pamela asked.
“I guess not.”
“You guess not? Put Lauren back on.”
Patrick handed the phone to Lauren. “She wants to talk to you now.”
Lauren took the phone and listened for a few moments. “We haven’t decided on that yet.... He did? I guess that’s where we’ll be living then.” She handed back the phone. “Your turn.”
“You should have told your intended spouse where you planned to set up house before you told her mama,” Pamela said. “You two have a lot of things to discuss.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“Do you have a spare bedroom for your babies?” Pamela asked.
I don’t have a spare room, much less a spare bedroom!
“No.”
“Good,” Pamela said. “Keep your babies close to you at all times. So, when and where is the wedding?”
I can’t answer that yet!
“Um, well . . .”
Pamela laughed loudly. “You two haven’t even planned
that
yet? And you’re going to give me grandbabies?”
“We were only engaged yesterday,” Patrick said.
“What church do you attend?” Pamela asked.
“St. Agnes,” Patrick said.
“Sounds Catholic,” Pamela said. “Put Lauren back on.”
Patrick handed the phone to Lauren. “You’re up.”
Lauren listened for a full minute. “Yes, Mama . . . I don’t know that, Mama. You ask him.” She handed Patrick the phone without comment.
“Are you going to raise my grandbabies to be Catholic?” Pamela asked.
“I don’t know,” Patrick said.
“You two don’t know much of anything, do you?” Pamela asked.
“I guess not,” Patrick said. “But I do know that I love your daughter more than life itself.”
“You’re not after her money?” Pamela asked.
“No,” Patrick said. “I paid for the entire first date. I tried to pay for her plane ticket, but once we became engaged, she tore up the check.”
“Is that so?” Pamela said.
“Yes,” Patrick said. “I mentioned a prenuptial agreement, but she wouldn’t hear of it.”
“
Uh-huh,
” Pamela said. “What do you know about that?”
Don’t answer,
Patrick thought.
That was a rhetorical question.
“Patrick, I don’t know you,” Pamela said, “but I do know my daughter. After that mess with Chazz, she is ready to get married to someone, and she’ll want to be married very soon.”
Patrick glanced at Lauren. “I know.”
“I never figured she’d have a courthouse wedding, but I suppose it’s inevitable,” Pamela said.
“Do you think you could you come up for the ceremony, wherever we have it?” Patrick asked.
“I drive a bus Monday through Friday,” Pamela said. “I can’t afford to take weekdays off, and they often call me in on weekends.”
“This is the first time I’ve missed work in fifteen years,” Patrick said.
“Are you going to make a habit of it?” Pamela asked.
“No, ma’am.”
“Good,” Pamela said. “What’s Lauren going to do all day while you’re at work?”
So many questions!
“I really don’t know.”
“She should get a real job,” Pamela said. “A job that makes her really work.”
“But she’s an actress,” Patrick said.
“She told me that she’s going to quit,” Pamela said.
“I don’t think she meant it,” Patrick said. “I really don’t.”
“Don’t you two ever talk to each other? Put Lauren back on.”
Patrick handed Lauren the phone.
Lauren glumly took it. “I was going to tell him. Okay, okay.” She covered the phone. “Patrick, I am really thinking of retiring from acting.” She uncovered the phone. “I told him. . . . Ask him yourself.” She handed Patrick the phone.
“Are you going to let her quit acting?” Pamela asked.
I am so confused!
“If that’s what she wants to do.”
“Do you want her to quit?” Pamela asked.
“No, ma’am,” Patrick said. “I think it’s what she was born to do.”
“At least you’re honest,” Pamela said. “There’s crazy money in acting, too much if you ask me. Getting paid for lying and being someone else. That’s all acting is. Could you get her a job in Brooklyn?”
“I don’t know,” Patrick said.
“I know she has no real job skills,” Pamela said, “but it wouldn’t hurt to take her with you when you work. She doesn’t know what work is. Her daddy was a handyman, too, and he took her around a couple times, but then he gave up. She was always making faces in people’s mirrors. Maybe you can teach her some kind of trade.”
“I don’t know if I could do that,” Patrick said.
“You’re making her live in Brooklyn, right?” Pamela asked.
“I doubt I could make her do anything,” Patrick said.
Lauren grabbed his arm. “Hey, now.”
“You’ve already been making her do things,” Pamela said. “She’s riding on a bus. She hated riding the bus, even the one I drove. It was beneath her. Except for the Catholic thing, I think I’m going to like you. Are you a good Catholic?”
“I go whenever I can,” Patrick said.
“At least you’re spiritual,” Pamela said. “Put Lauren back on.”
Lauren snatched the phone this time. “What have you been saying to him? Oh, I will ask him. Okay, sure . . . soon, right. Bye.” She turned off her phone and put it in her lap. She took his hand. “She wants to meet you as soon as we can get to D.C.”
“She wants to meet Catholic, don’t know anything me,” Patrick said. “You’re really thinking of retiring?”
Lauren nodded.
“You don’t have to.”
“I think I do,” Lauren said. “I mean, how can I continue any kind of career when I’m going to spend my every waking moment with you?” She looked down at her phone. “I wonder . . .” She picked up her phone and pressed several buttons.
“What are you doing?” Patrick asked.
“I’m Googling myself,” Lauren said. “Oh, my goodness! Look.” She turned the phone toward him. “We’ve gone viral.” She tapped the screen. “This is a video of you proposing to me.”
Patrick watched himself drop to one knee.
I look like a beast! I can’t believe this woman accepted my proposal!
“You’re a natural,” Lauren said.
“I wasn’t acting,” Patrick said.
“And that’s what makes you a natural,” Lauren said. “And now you’re famous.”
“I don’t want to be famous, Lauren.”
I just want to be left alone and happy.
51
W
ell, what do you know?
Lauren thought.
My mama is talking to me again. It might mean that she’s taking me seriously. Well, she’s taking me and Patrick seriously.
She smiled at Patrick.
I liked how he talked to her. He showed so much respect for a woman who was playing twenty questions with him. I knew she would. She used to do that with all my old boyfriends, not that there were many. Patrick passed with flying colors.
“Why are you smiling?” Patrick asked.
I made my mama happy, and you’re the reason.
“I like to smile.” She picked up her phone and deleted messages from Todd without listening to them. “My agent wants to talk to me for some reason.”
“So call him,” Patrick said.
“Why?” Lauren asked.
“Aren’t you curious?” Patrick asked.
“No,” Lauren said.
“Not even a little?” Patrick asked.
Hmm. I guess I am.
Lauren called Todd.
“Lauren, baby, what the
hell
are you doing?” Todd asked.
“I’m riding on a bus,” Lauren said. “What are you doing?”
“I’m going crazy!” Todd yelled. “My phone won’t stop ringing.”
“Isn’t that a good thing?” Lauren asked.
“It’s a
great
thing!” Todd yelled again. “That online video of yours started it all. I don’t know who he is, but wow! The whole world wants a piece of you now. But I have to know something first. You’re not having a nervous breakdown, are you?”
Lauren laughed. “No, Todd, I’m in love, and I’m engaged.”
“So it’s not a fling?” Todd asked.
“No,” Lauren said. “This is serious.”
“Hmm,” Todd said. “It would have been better if this was only a fling.”
“How do you figure?” Lauren asked.
“A fling shows you’re over Chazz,” Todd said, “but an engagement so soon might give people the idea that you’ve lost your mind. Some may even think you’re throwing away your career over this guy.”
“I did that seven years ago, didn’t I?” Lauren asked.
“That was different,” Todd said.
“How was it different?” Lauren asked.
“Yes, you stopped acting, but you were with one of the biggest names in the business,” Todd said. “You were only waiting in the wings for him to let you fly.”
“I was waiting to
get
wings,” Lauren said. “And now I’m flying, Todd. Don’t bring me down.”
“Lauren, you’re not thinking clearly,” Todd said.
“I haven’t had clearer thoughts in my life,” Lauren said. She took Patrick’s hand.
“He could be only after your money,” Todd said.
“He isn’t,” Lauren said.
“How do you know?” Todd asked.
“I know,” Lauren said. “He won’t let me pay for anything.”
“Well, what should I tell all these people calling me?” Todd asked. “I have at least a
dozen
bona fide offers right here in front of me.”
“Tell them that I’m happy,” Lauren said. “And then tell them that I’m not interested. Good-bye, Todd.” She turned off her phone. “Todd’s angry.”
“Why?” Patrick asked.
“Because he can be,” Lauren said. “He thinks I’m throwing my career away.” She squeezed his hand. “I’m not because I don’t have a career to throw away. It’s gone. It’s
been
gone. And now I’m happy for a change.”
“I don’t want you to give up acting because of me,” Patrick said.
“I’m not,” Lauren said. “I had my time, and now I want to have the time of my life with you.” She looked out the window. “How much farther?”
“In miles or hours?” Patrick asked.
“Lie to me,” Lauren said.
“I can’t,” Patrick said. “We’ve still got maybe six hours to go. This bus is running late.”
Lauren rested her head on his shoulder. “Wake me when we get to Brooklyn.”
“We have to change buses at Penn Station in Manhattan,” Patrick said. “And there’s an hour wait for the bus to Brooklyn after that.”
“Why?” Lauren whined.
“I don’t know,” Patrick said. “I don’t make the schedules.”
“How far is it from Penn Station to your apartment?” Lauren asked.
“About five miles,” Patrick said. “But in this weather, it’s about half an hour by subway and an hour by bus. If we wait for the bus, we’ll be dropped off three blocks from my apartment.”
“Let’s take the subway when we get there,” Lauren said.
“If it’s still running,” Patrick said. “During Nemo, the A and Two trains had problems. We’ll just have to see when we get there.”
“I just want to get home,” Lauren said.
Patrick smiled. “I like how you said that.”
“I meant for you to like it,” Lauren said. “Wake me when we get to Penn Station.”
Seven
hours later, after being buffeted by gale-force winds in New Jersey and sitting for a solid hour before getting through the Lincoln Tunnel, the bus crept into Penn Station.
Lauren woke to passengers cheering.
“We’re here?” she whispered.
Patrick nodded. “And only five hours late,” he said. “You just survived
thirty-three
hours on a bus.”
After gathering his duffel bag and Lauren’s luggage, they headed for the A train through a massive throng of people, many of them shouting photographers.
“Why are you here, Lauren?”
“Are you really engaged, or is this some publicity stunt?”
“Did you come here to eat, Lauren? Have you gained some weight?”
“Are you having an affair with your bodyguard?”
“Ignore them,” Lauren whispered, and she held on to Patrick’s elbow as he guided her through the crowd, flashes going off all around them. “I’m glad you know where you’re going.”
I have not missed this hustle and bustle one bit.
“I really don’t,” Patrick said. “I don’t hang out up here that often.”
“It’s only five miles away from where you live, right?” Lauren asked.
“Trust me,” Patrick said. “Five miles can put you into a completely different world in New York City.”
Lauren gripped his elbow more tightly. “Don’t lose me.” “I won’t.” Patrick took out his MetroCard and swiped it once at a turnstile. “You go first,” he said.
Lauren struggled through the turnstile.
He swiped his MetroCard again and bulled his way through the turnstile using Lauren’s luggage.
That is some impressive luggage,
Lauren thought.
I should do a commercial for them. They survive snow, paparazzi, and subway turnstiles with ease.
“I’m surprised I had anything left on that card,” he said. “This way.”
Lauren warily eyed the photographers, most of whom stayed behind the turnstiles. She latched on to Patrick’s bicep this time.
His elbow has to have gouges in it.
“What if you didn’t have anything on that card?”
“I’d have to stand in line to load it up again,” Patrick said, “and we might have missed the next train. I got lucky.”
Patrick staked out a spot on the platform with her luggage, and Lauren huddled under his arm. When the A train squealed in and stopped, they waited until the car had nearly emptied before walking on. While Patrick stood among the suitcases, Lauren sat.
Okay,
she thought.
What are the rules of the subway? I used to know them.
She looked at Patrick, who was staring at her luggage.
Oh yeah. Don’t make eye contact. Stare at the floor. Don’t make small talk. Just ride, keep quiet, and—
“It’s Lauren Short!”
And try not to let anyone know who you are.
Lauren looked in the direction of the voice and saw an elderly Hispanic man waving at her. She nodded.
“I see you on YouTube,” he said loudly as the doors closed. “Very romantic. You are lucky man.”
Patrick nodded, rolling his eyes at Lauren. “I am lucky man,” he whispered.
“I’m lucky, too,” she whispered.
Fortunately, the riders of the A train adhered to protocol and left them alone for the remainder of their journey to the Hoyt-Schermerhorn Streets Station.
“You might recognize this station,” Patrick said. “Michael Jackson filmed the
Bad
video in here.”
Lauren didn’t see anything especially noteworthy as they left the station and climbed the stairs to the street, where mounds of blowing snow—and an army of paparazzi in down jackets, shooting pictures as if their cameras were machine guns—greeted them.
“There she is!”
“Lauren! This way!”
“Lauren, over here!”
“What took you so long?”
“Do you regret taking the bus?”
“What happened to your hair?”
“Why are you eating so much?”
“Does Chazz know you’re here?”
Patrick turned to Lauren. “What do we do?”
“We walk,” Lauren said.
“I am getting sick of their questions,” Patrick whispered.
“Answer them or don’t answer them,” Lauren said. “It’s up to you. Just don’t whisper. The paparazzi can’t hear very well. They love to misquote people. And whatever you do, don’t do a Lily Allen.”
“Who’s Lily Allen, and what did she do?” Patrick asked.
“Lily Allen is the girl who sang ‘Smile,’ ” Lauren said.
“Okay,” Patrick said. “And?”
“You’ve never heard of Lily Allen?” Lauren asked.
“No,” Patrick said. “What’d she do?”
“She punched out a photographer in London and got arrested,” Lauren said.
“I won’t do that,” Patrick said. “I just don’t want to say anything that might embarrass you.”
“After all you’ve said and typed to me, man,” Lauren said, “I don’t think you could ever embarrass me.”
Patrick shouldered his way through the first row of photographers, Lauren gripping his hand.
“Where are you headed, Lauren?” a photographer asked.
“State Street,” Patrick said.
The photographer ignored him. “Where are you going, Lauren?”
“Like he said,” Lauren said. “State Street.”
Another photographer jumped in front of them, snapping away. “What’s on State Street?”
“My apartment,” Patrick said.
The photographer stepped in front of Lauren. “What’s on State Street, Lauren?”
“He just told you,” Lauren said. “My fiancé’s apartment. Are you deaf?”
As snowflakes clung to her coat and windblown snow hit her cheeks, Lauren watched as other photographers raced ahead of them and kicked up snow.
“Did Chazz freeze your bank account?” someone yelled.
What?
Lauren stopped, pulling Patrick close. “Who asked that?”
A man with a notepad stepped forward. “I did. Is it true?”
“Why would you ask such a question?” Lauren asked.
“Well, we heard you had to take a bus from St. Louis,” the man said.
“All flights were canceled out of St. Louis because of the snow,” Lauren said. “You do see the snow, don’t you?”
The man only blinked.
Idiot.
“We wanted to get home, so we took the bus,” Lauren said. “It was the only safe way to get here.”
“So Chazz didn’t freeze your money,” the man said.
“No,” Lauren said.
“Why didn’t you wait a few days to fly in?” the man asked.
“I have to work,” Patrick said. “Do you mind?”
The man stepped aside.
They continued up Schermerhorn and took a left on Hoyt.
Another reporter, this one wearing a ridiculous yellow rain slicker, cut in front of them. “Why do you have to work, buddy? She’s Lauren Short.”
Patrick guided Lauren around him.
“You won’t ever have to work again, buddy,” the man said behind them. “She’s your sugar mama.”
Patrick stopped and turned around. “I am not your buddy, she will be my
wife,
and work is what I do.”
That was a great answer,
Lauren thought.
I liked how the veins in Patrick’s neck bulged out. This man has fire, and I will need all his fire to warm me up when we get to his—I mean,
our—
apartment.
“Sorry,” Patrick whispered to Lauren.
“Don’t be,” Lauren said. “How much farther?”
“A couple blocks,” Patrick said.
They continued down Hoyt and turned east onto State Street.
“Why were you in St. Louis?” another reporter asked.
Lauren smiled. “We were on our first date.”
“Why’d you go to St. Louis for your first date?” yet another reporter asked.
“So we could avoid talking to people like you,” Patrick said.
He beat me to it!
“And to get engaged,” Lauren said. She flashed her ring, and a snowflake nearly drowned it.
“But, Lauren, you got engaged after only one date!” a reporter shouted.
Lauren didn’t turn to face the reporter. “It was the best date in the history of all dates. It was the perfect date.”
“Where’d he get the ring?” a voice asked.
“
He
is walking right beside me,” Lauren said.
“Where’d you get the ring?” asked a reporter with a high-pitched voice. “What’s it made out of? How many carats?”
Patrick shook his head. “It’s platinum, zero point four carats, it’s an antique, and I got it at Gem Pawnbrokers, the one off Flatbush.”
Really?
Lauren thought.
Wow. I have a one-of-a-kind ring then. It’s as unique as the man who bought it.
“Sure thing, buddy,” the annoying reporter said. “What have we seen you in?”
“Coveralls,” Patrick said.
Patrick is good at this!
Lauren thought.
I can’t wait to see him in coveralls. I really can’t wait to see him out of them.
“What movies, wise guy?” the annoying reporter asked.