It’s seven o’clock when Lupe sticks her head into my office. “You still here?”
“Yeah.” I lean back in my chair. “Lots to do. We sign on Thursday.” I look away, as if I need to find some sheet of paper on my desk. But really I just don’t want her to see my deep blush as I think about Jack
again
. Make that still. I can’t stop. “What keeps you here so late?” I ask.
“SAT class just got done. I’m leaving in a minute. You gonna hang out a little longer?”
“A little.”
Lupe goes back to her office to get her stuff, and when she leaves, I’m left all alone.
I pick up the phone, deciding to try Jack on his cell. I’m starving, but I don’t want to miss out on eating with him if he wants to grab dinner.
Am I being a freak?
Chances are good.
No answer. No Jack since we pried ourselves apart at five this morning. Now, I’m suffering serious withdrawal.
That’s it. I’m going across the street for a really fatty pastrami sandwich and a Coke. After that, I’m heading home.
Forty minutes later, I drive through the rich blue night dotted with winks of lights. I turn onto my street and just stop myself from slamming on the brakes.
Holy !
Some survival instinct prevents me from making a spectacle of myself and keeps my foot on the gas, allowing me to cruise casually down the street.
The media is in front of my house. No emergency vehicles, just media.
THE MEDIA.
Lights, people, commotion. The dogs bark up a racket.
I bite my lip and swallow. I need a place to hide. I look up to Dolly’s house, but it’s two houses beyond mine. Too risky. Dom and Jeff live even further up the street. That leaves Ethel. I turn into her drive, pulling all the way to the back. I dash out into the night chill and scamper to her back door, getting there just as she opens it. Without saying a word, I slip inside.
“Sorry, Ethel.” I close the back door so hard that it’s peach and white checked curtain jumps. “Something’s going on at my house and I have no idea what. I just need a sec to collect myself.”
“Well, I was wondering what all that kerfuffle was.” She seems put out, but then looks at me from under wrinkled lids. “You don’t know either?”
I shake my head, trying to hold back the panic.
Ethel thrusts her hands on to her hips. “You need to get out of here.”
“I know,” I cry, grabbing the door handle. “I’m sorry.”
“No,” she interrupts, crossing the kitchen to a pegboard by the fridge. “I mean out of the neighborhood. At least for tonight.” She brings me a set of keys. “You can take the Lincoln. It’s in the garage and fully gassed. I just had it out on Friday.”
I stare at her.
“And I’ve got a pageboy wig around here somewhere.”
* * * * *
Ethel is very organized. It took us only about five minutes to find the wig in the extra bedroom, sitting on a mannequin head next to pile of
McCall’s
magazines from the seventies. But then it took us another ten minutes to dust off, de-cobweb, and style the thing.
Now, with my frosted bob bouncing around my collar, I navigate the buoyant Lincoln through impossibly narrow streets toward the heart of Echo Park. Right now I need a home base, and anywhere near Jack is out of the question.
I just can’t shake the feeling that this Media kamikaze has something to do with
him
. Ridiculous, I know, that anyone might be spying on me and care about my sex life.
But the only amazing thing that has upended my life in the past 48 hours is my sleeping with Jack. And now cameras are hounding me.
So, I head to Lupe’s apartment. I’ve never actually been to her place, but I’ve seen her address countless times on her paychecks.
Jeez. Maybe going to someone’s house because you’ve printed their paychecks is illegal.
Like I care. This is an emergency. I just hope she’s home. I didn’t dare call her. Can't people spy on what you’re saying on a cell phone pretty easily?
I pull to the curb across from Echo Park itself, and park. I dart across the street and race up a set of steep stairs. At the top, I find myself on a small, idyllic lawn with big
Fantasy
Island
-looking plants all around. The greenery camouflages the aging stucco and ill-fitting screens of a one-story apartment building. A few lights by various front doors help me find Lupe’s place.
I knock quietly. “Lupe,” I whisper when she opens the door, “I’m in trouble. I need help.”
She sweeps me in with a hug and closes the door. She makes
shh
shh
noises as she strokes my hair. “How long have you been pregnant?”
* * * * *
After I’ve explained to Lupe that I'm not pregnant but hounded by the media, she gives me a shot of vodka then sits down to boot up her laptop. “Where are your parents?” I ask before drinking. “And your brother?”
“Parents are bowling and Eric’s out.”
“Okay,” I say, and toss back the vodka, nearly choking myself.
Lupe slaps me on the back, then returns her attention to the laptop. “Maybe it’s not that bad,” she says as she types. “But we’ll Google you and find out what’s going on.”
I’m still reacting to the vodka when Lupe suddenly slams shut her laptop.
“What?” I ask, snapping to attention. “What’s wrong?”
Lupe doesn’t look at me. “It’s bad,” she whispers. “It’s really bad.”
“The center?” I cry. “Did the bank foreclose on HEYA behind my back? But we’re so close!”
Lupe looks at me. “HEYA? No, it’s nothing about HEYA.” She looks away and shakes her head. “You don’t deserve this.”
“What? What don’t I deserve?” My voice gets high and tight. “Is it Jack? Did something happen to him? Tell me. Please. Oh, God. Did he fall off a cliff or something? Oh, God.”
“No, no, no,” Lupe says, putting her hands on my shoulders to steady me. “It’s about you.”
Jack is okay. It’s about me. Jack is okay. “Come on, Lupe, show me.”
She doesn’t move.
“Please, Lupe. Just show me. Please.”
Lupe turns back to her laptop, opens it, presses a few keys, then turns the screen toward me.
And there I am.
Me in my tight white dress dancing and flapping my boa around as I teeter and strut across the dance floor of the Ritz Carlton Laguna. The music sounds tinny and distorted, adding to the sensation that I’m trying way too hard.
Streaming video of my dance for the whole world to see. And replay over and over.
My stomach turns inside out and my mouth tastes funny. I can’t breathe and I cannot look. Not for a second longer. My eyes drift to the right side of the screen where a news byte accompanies the video.
LISA FLYTE NOT RECOVERED FROM BURGER BARN BRAIN DAMAGE?
I read down the screen, trying to gulp air in high-pitched gasps. I recognize the website. It gets tidbits of information then sets them afire with queries and innuendo. And now it’s sunk its teeth into me with bloodthirsty euphoria.
Am I trying to get even richer as a celebrity? Is this a ploy to get the world on my side with this pathetic demonstration? Do I even know what I’m doing? Would a mentally balanced person wear that dress and boa? Is anyone taking care of me? Watching over me? Other than
millionaire
rebel
Jack Hawkins
?
“No.” Every muscle in my body clenches up so tight I can’t even exhale. “No no no. Not Jack. Please not Jack.”
I bolt out of the chair and head to the door. “I’ve got to see him.”
“Have you read this?” Lupe meets me at the door, pressing her palm against it. “Maybe seeing him right now isn’t such a good idea.”
“I don’t care what they’re saying,” I say. “It’s all untrue. I have to go see him.”
“But right now he might not want to be seen with a–” She stops herself.
“Lupe! I’m not really brain damaged! I’m just me!”
“But–”
I am so outta there that my pageboy tumbles off as I skitter down the steep steps toward the street. I manage to shove the wig back on just before I peel out.
Jack doesn’t answer his cell. I decide to drive to Into the Wild. It’s late, but Jack might have been trapped there by all the Media. And it’s practically on the way to his house anyway. I tear through the streets of old Los Angeles as quickly as the wave-like motion of the Lincoln will allow.
But I get careful as I approach downtown. Into the Wild is likely mobbed by reporters, so I rely on the pageboy and sheer dumb luck to get me access to Jack.
And the dumb luck pays off.
I’m at a stop sign looking two blocks down toward the Media hubbub clustered around the parking garage door to Into the Wild. The metal gate opens and Jack’s truck emerges.
Maybe he’ll stop and tell them all to go to hell. Or at least tell them I’m not brain damaged.
But he doesn’t even slow down. He’s not giving them the time of day. I can smell the bio-diesel truck from here even as it turns away from me to move in the opposite direction.
Unbelievably, the huddled camera people are unprepared to give chase. As they scurry to their vehicles, Jack and I are handed the few seconds we need to navigate the deserted one-way streets of after-hours downtown L.A. I turn right. In less than a minute, I find myself face to face with Jack’s truck at a green light on a one-way street. I’m the one going the wrong way, but I totally planned it that way.
Finally. Jack.
We just stare through our windshields at one another.
Jack
.
I mouth the word, my heart sobbing in relief to see him.
His face is unreadable in the greenish glow of the traffic light.
I reach up, pull off the pageboy.
Jack
.
Now he knows it’s me, and we’re in this together.
Jack
and
me
.
He turns left away from me and drives down toward USC. I follow.
My cell rings. Jack. I answer. “Jack!”
“Stop following me. Go home.” Then nothing.
My foot slides off the gas and I look at my phone. Call ended.
Call ended?
Jack must have a plan. And he’s being cagey about using his cell.
I turn around, heading for the 101 and home. Jack and I are like spies, or super-heroes, on a mission. When I pull onto my street, it looks as though some newscaster is giving a live report. I look at my cell again. 11:05.
Wow. I’m breaking news and I’m not even home.
I slip into Ethel’s drive and she opens the back door for me.
“I remembered about the dogs and all the cats and realized you’d be back.” She shoos me into her kitchen. “We have a plan. Dom and Jeff are standing by. Casey and Jessica are ready too.”
“A plan to do what?”
“To get you past the crowd of vultures, of course.”
A few minutes later, Dom storms out of his house like a drunken parade marshal. “All right!” He teeters toward the lights and cameras. “Enough is enough! You’ve been here all night, and you made your stupid report! Now get out!”
Jeff makes a good show of trying to restrain him, and when Casey and Jessica join the fray, everyone is captivated by the brewing domestic violence. On foot, I skulk across the street, sneak along the drive, and vault the fence into the back yard. Aaron and Christian flank me all the way to the back door. I hear how hoarse they are from barking all night, and I want to KILL someone. I run into the kitchen to refill both their water bowls. Then I make my way through the house closing curtains as I go before I flick on the lights.
I hear the buzz outside as I light up my house. Ha! You stupid gossip hounds. Outsmarted by the mentally impaired.
The phone rings.
Jack!
“Hello?”
“You got in all right?” Ethel.
“Yeah. Thanks, Ethel. And Dom and Jeff, and Casey and Jessica, too. I…”
“Well, it’s been a hard day. Goodnight, Lisa.”
I hang up. No Jack.
I look at my cell.
No messages.
I check the machine on the counter between the kitchen and dining room.
A message! The red light blinks out one message. I hit the play button.
“
Lisa
.”
Mom?
“You’re brain damaged and you never told us? We have to find out with everyone else? Is this your idea of revenge? Making us look ridiculous? If you’re planning to get back the money just because you’re brain damaged, well, we didn’t even know about it. See how far you get!”
I throw the machine against my beautifully papered wall as hard as I can.
One by one, I find all the animals, petting, calming and soothing as I go. Then, I feed them all. Then, I scoop the litter boxes. Then, I do dishes, vacuum, and take a shower.
Still. No. Jack.
I try his cell.
Nothing.
I sweep the floors, dust, make the bed.
Still nothing.
I sit down on my couch and let it hit me like a tidal wave. Jack has abandoned me.
I scrub my skin pink in the shower then I make sure my hair is nicely dried and fluffed. I get dressed and brush my teeth. I peek through the living room sheers. Two days of my hiding, and still they lurk, those vampires waiting for the most embarrassing photo op. But they’re not going to get one. Not this time.
As I have for the past thirty hours, I get some food from the kitchen and settle in front of the TV to watch season after season of DVDs. No TV news, no radio, no net. I don’t want to know.
The doorbell rings. The dogs bark and scuffle. I stay right where I am but crank up the volume to drown out the dogs. In a second, I’ll call the cops to get whoever it is off my porch. But not until the end of the episode. This is the one where David speaks in Dr. Seuss rhyme to the maître d’.
The doorbell rings again. The dogs are still barking, so I turn the TV up even louder.
“Lisa!” A muffled voice through the door. “It’s me, Mia!” My head whips around toward the door. I get up, approach it slowly, and press my eye to the peephole. It is indeed Mia.
But I cannot let her in. I can’t.
“Lisa!”
Then I hear the swarm descending on her, shouting questions at her. Those hyenas are attacking Mia! I yank open the door and she slips in. I slam the door and there we stand, facing one another.
But what can I say to her? In the past few days I’ve completely ignored her for her own good. Now I’ve let her into my house, which can lead only to her destruction.
Mia looks over at the TV. “Is that Bruce Willis?” She walks toward the screen. “What movie is this?”
“It’s
Moonlighting
. A TV show.”
“Bruce Willis was in a TV show?”
“Made him famous,” I say.
“Really?”
“Yup. Won an Emmy.”
“Really?”
“Yeah.”
We stand there.
“Uh…” I look at the TV. “The guy from
Breaking Away
is in this episode.”
“What’s
Breaking Away
?” she asks.
“Movie from the seventies.”
“Oh.”
“About bikes.”
“Oh.” She nods. “Cool.”
I pick up the remote and turn off the TV. “Mia, you should go. Everyone thinks I’m brain damaged, and anyone who knows you’ve been hanging out with me will think the worst. Whatever that is.”
Mia laughs, as if in relief. “It’s okay.”
“Mia, I’m sorry for shutting you out.” I step closer to her and take her hands. “It breaks my heart every time I don’t answer the phone or respond to your emails. I know you must hate me for dissing you, but I don’t want to hurt you.”
She shrugs. “You never would. Don’t take the blame for what the butt-head Media is doing.”
“Mia, it’s not so simple.”
She laughs. “Lisa, chill. We’re cool.”
“We’re cool?” I can barely process what she’s saying. I feel cold and weird and inept. “I don’t want us to be cool! I’m poison, Mia. Every life I touch right now—”
“Is better off,” she says. “I am, for sure. And I don’t want to lose you over this. And I don’t want you to be alone. I know it probably doesn’t matter anymore, a kid from across the street when all this other stuff is happening, but—”
“Mia,” I say, ”Of course you matter! I’m doing this for you. You have no idea what it feels like when they get a hold of you. It hurts. The humiliation is so extreme, and you just want to die all the time.”
“You survived it once. I can be a survivor, too.”
“This is not a club I want you to join,” I tell her. “Your parents will say I ruined your life, and they'll be right.”
Mia throws her arms around me, hugging me fiercely. “You didn’t ruin my life.” She pulls away, a huge, sparkly smile on her face. “What do I want more than anything in the world?”
“Huh?”
The light in her eyes positively twinkles. “What do I want more than anything in the world?”
“Uh…a boyfriend?”
“Yes!” she squeals. “And I got one!”
“What? When? How?”
“I don’t even know! His name is Rob Yeager, and I’ve known him forever, and he was just so nice to me when everyone else started making fun of me a few days ago and saying the meanest things. So see? You can’t protect me because kids in school already know I’m your friend and no WAY the Media could be worse than them. Anyway, as it turns out, Rob’s liked me since, like, seventh grade. He’s one of the smart kids, kind of skinny, and quiet. I never really thought of him that way before.” She blushes then, from the collar of her shirt to the roots of her hair. “But you know,” she says quickly, “he reminds me of Jack.”
“Jack?”
“Yeah. Rob just…he just does his own thing, you know? He’s, like, totally oblivious to what anyone else does. He’s cool, but for real, not fake cool. Like Jack. Jack’s not fake cool, either. He just does his own thing.”
I look at Mia. I don’t say anything. What
can
I say?
Mia, Jack is a fraud. Mia, Jack is off doing his own thing when I just want him to call me. Mia, he’s not as oblivious as you think
.
“Oh, God,” Mia says, looking at me. “Oh, God. It’s Jack. He’s the reason you look so sad.” Mia pulls me over to the couch and sits me down with her. “What did he do, Lisa?”
She looks around. “He was at the Ritz Carlton with you. He’s in this thing, too. Where is he?”
I allow myself to go so still I feel numb. Then my quiet voice drifts along. “I haven’t seen him or talked to him since Monday night.”
“What did he say?”
Stop following me
.
Go home
.
I blink at her. “Aren’t you supposed to be in school?”
“I can miss first period. So, wait. What about after the party?”
“Have you had breakfast?” I ask, getting up and moving to the kitchen.
“No,” she says, running ahead of me to open the fridge. “After the party?”
“We, uh, spent the rest of the weekend together.” I pull the coffee pot toward me. “I don't know if I should tell you that, but–” My voice is small and high. I’m making it all sound so lame. And what the hell am I doing—telling a teenager about my sex life?
“Then the story breaks and he drops you?”
I don’t say anything.
“What is his problem?!” Mia slams the refrigerator door. “I mean, I knew he wasn’t talking to reporters, but—”
“He’s not?”
Mia stops pacing and turns to me. “Lisa, aren’t you following your own story?”
“No.” My voice is calm and quiet, like a cold morning with a hush of snow on the ground. “And it’s not my story.”
“I know, I know. I mean, I know you’re not mentally impaired. But you have to admit, one part of the story is true.”
“What do you mean?”
Mia giggles. “You’re a terrible dancer. We both are.”
She walks over to the DVD player, pops out
Moonlighting
. She yanks a CD out of her bag and puts it in the DVD player. As My Chemical Romance pulses through the room, she turns to look at me, her face glowing with an eager smile. I can’t help it.
We dance and dance and dance.
* * * * *
After Mia heads out to make second period, I go to my room, where I grab jeans and a long-sleeved T-shirt.
I have to get to work.
I’m not naïve enough to think that the Media storm will have no effect on the consortium plan. But I must save HEYA, even if it means bowing out. I don’t matter, but the community investment must go forward. The meeting to sign the agreement is set for tomorrow, and I’m not about to let that be affected by rumor and wildly inaccurate conjecture. I’ve met with every one of the investors. They
know
I’m not mentally impaired. One of them wants to date me, for Pete’s sake.
Ten minutes later, after some Rambo-esque moves through the backyards and across the streets of my neighborhood, I back the Lincoln out of Ethel’s driveway, waving good-bye to Dalton. I wish I could drive my own car. I could use a friend right about now. But at least all is calm and silent inside the pristine Lincoln. And nobody can link me to this old lady car.
I’m heading down Alvarado toward HEYA when someone honks at me. Okay, maybe I
am
driving too slowly, but I’m not about to sideswipe Ethel’s boat into a row of parked cars just to accommodate some speed demon who’s late for work.
Hooonk
!
Jeez.
Honk
!
Honk
!
Now I’m getting scared. Nobody can possibly know it’s me in the car. But creating a scene on such a major road is no way to stay inconspicuous. My eyes dart to the curb, looking for a place to dock until traffic can pass me.
Honk
,
honk
.
More sedate this time. I look in the rear view mirror.
Jack.
He’s in his truck right behind me, waving his arm across the front of his body. I put on my blinker and pull off onto the nearest side street. I drive along a block dotted with small houses and dirt yards with chain link fencing until I find a spot long enough for both of us to pull over.
As soon as I slam the car into park, I jump out and race over to Jack. I am going to KILL him.
He’s barely stepped down from the truck when I throw my arms around him.
“Jack!” But Jack doesn’t hug me back.
I pull back, feeling frozen and sick.
Jack puts his hands on my shoulders and sets me further away from him. “Lisa.” His voice is just as unyielding as his stiff, un-hugging body.
I stand back, my arms hanging at my sides. This can't be happening. I will not lose Jack over this. “Jack,” I say, “just tell me what’s wrong and I will fix it.”
“What’s WRONG?” He slams the door of his truck then punches it.
I jump. “I know what’s wrong, but why are you being so mean? It’s not my fault. This all happened because—”
“It happened because we were fucking all weekend while everyone one else was busy putting together a story about you!”
“And you’re blaming
me
?”
“I’m blaming
us
.”
“Will you stop yelling at me?
I’m
the victim. Everyone thinks I’m retarded.”
“No, Lisa,” Jack says. “That was two days ago. Aren’t you even keeping up with your own story?”
“It’s not
my
story.”
“Lisa, they know we were at the hospital.”
“Huh?”
“That first day when we did the helicopter and the ocean.”
“So?”
“So now everyone thinks I bashed you on the head so I can get your millions.”
“
What
?”
But he doesn’t say anything else. I wonder if he even can. I mean, he looks really upset.
Jack Hawkins looks
bothered
.
“Wait,” I say, “what do you mean, ‘everyone?’ Why do you care what they think? You didn’t bash me on the head. And I’ve never given you a dime.”
“
I
know that.”
“REALLY?” Now I’m shouting. “Because you’re not acting like it! Jesus, Jack! Where were you yesterday and the past two nights? You never even called!”
“Lisa, this is serious!”
“Jack, this is life! Deal with it!”
He blasts me with his stare. “This is
life
? No, Lisa, this is not
life
. This is some trumped-up nightmare.”
“Jack. You’ve scaled mountains with no ropes, for Christ’s sake. This isn’t that bad.” I huff and puff, trying to believe what I’m hearing from this man. “Have you really made it this far in life without having any idea what it feels like for people to laugh at you and say bad things about you?”
“Jesus, Lisa, don’t even try to say you get it. We’re not talking about wearing the wrong sneakers to school or everybody seeing a picture of me that makes me look fat!”
The silence echoes like the aftermath of a sonic boom. Could he
possibly
make me sound more pathetic?
My voice gets quiet, but it’s enforced with the knowledge that Jack Hawkins totally SUCKS as a human being and definitely as a boyfriend. “We’re talking about everyone having the wrong idea about you, and you don’t like it.”
“We’re talking about everyone being wrong about me and being appalled and disgusted. And believe me, I know
exactly
how that feels.”
“I get it,” I say. “I’m just another glaring example of how your forged relationships are nothing but disaster.”
Jack just looks at me, wide-eyed and unblinking. “Can you deny it?”
“I didn’t do anything mean to you,” I grind out. “I’m not like your parents or Luz or her parents.
I
didn’t hurt you.”
“This isn’t about you hurting me. It’s about what I did to
you
.”
This stops me cold. “To
me
?”
“I get close to people and ruin their lives.”
“Are you saying that you abandoned me for
my
sake?”
Jack slams his fist into his truck door again. “Griselda and Edgar? I killed their dreams and ruined their lives. And I wasn’t even trying.”
“A few days ago you wanted to be my boyfriend, and
now
you’re trying to convince me it’s too risky? And I don’t even get a say?”
“This isn’t about whether I want to be your boyfriend or not!”
“No, I guess not.” I lean my butt against the car, watch the traffic on Alvarado. “Just like how for your parents it was never about spending time with a whiny kid. Or for Luz it wasn’t about changing her life for the guy in her bed.”
“Shut up.”
“Fine.” I push off the car and get all up in his face. “I don’t even want you anymore. There are PLENTY of people out there who think I don’t matter, so what the hell do I need you for?”
I storm my way back to my car.
“It’s all about you, as usual.”
I turn around. “Not this time. This time, I wanted it to be all about
us
. What a stupid, ridiculous fantasy.”
I yank open my door but Jack slams it shut, almost jerking my arm out with the reversal of such vicious momentum. “Can you just stop thinking about yourself for a second and look at the big picture? Almost half my employees walked out yesterday. God knows what they’re planning to do with their shares. All because they think I’ve seduced you, bashed you on the head, and now I’m after your money. The papers are talking about bringing me up on charges, for God’s sake. My company is slipping away, the world thinks I’m Claus von Bulow, and you want to talk about our
relationship
?”