Trophy Kid (11 page)

“Bravo,” Larry said, though I was sure he already knew of Robert’s decision. In fact, Robert proved it with his next statement: “Larry has agreed to run my campaign.”

I looked over at Greta. She wasn’t looking at Robert or Larry; she focused instead on her piece of lemon cake, slowly cutting off a piece with her fork as if she were performing open-heart surgery (which she had once done when playing a doctor in the medical thriller
STAT
).

“Larry,” Robert continued, “why don’t you tell them how this all fits together with our trip to Dubrovnik?”

This was worse than I’d thought. Robert was using
my
trip to Croatia to launch
his
political campaign. I hated him more than ever.

“All righty,” Larry began, looking at his yellow legal pad. “On August sixteenth, we leave for Dubrovnik, for Joe’s visit to honor the events that led to his adoption by Bob and Greta.”

The events? How about that my family was killed in a horrible, stupid war?

Greta continued to operate on her lemon cake, but Tom gave me the slightest of nods, which I interpreted to mean
Hang on, everything’s going to be fine.

“On the day we leave for Dubrovnik, Robert will hold a press conference announcing his intent to run for Senate. We’ll be taking a private plane, and Cal and his crew will be along to document everything we do. Cal is a fantastic documentary filmmaker, and we’re lucky to have him with us.”

Lucky
in this case meaning
We’re paying him lots of money
.

I was fuming. Even before Larry Weinstein went further into the trip itinerary, I knew every moment would be planned out to maximize media exposure and promote Robert’s image as a good-deed-doer in the eyes of millions of California voters.

For the next forty-five minutes Larry went through every detail of the trip. All I wanted was to be alone with Tom to figure out how we were going to deal with all this.

When Larry had finished, Robert said, “We shouldn’t forget that this is an important trip for Joe, and we want to be sensitive to his needs. Some of this might be very emotional for him.” Robert looked at me protectively and then turned to Cal. “So the camera crew needs to stay a respectful distance from him at all times.”

“You got it,” Cal affirmed to Robert, and then said to me, “We’ll use long-range lenses to capture the moments without being intrusive. You won’t even know we’re there, Joe.”

Yeah, right.

Robert concluded the meeting by thanking Tom for the “inspirational idea of having Joe return to his place of birth.”

Place of birth? Obviously Robert didn’t want to say my “home” because he wanted people to think that this mansion in Bel-Air with its sunken living room, pool and tennis court, and all the bedrooms, bathrooms, and closets was my real home.

“This is going to be a wonderful experience for Joe, and hopefully an enlightening one for all of us,” Robert finished.

Greta got up, having uttered not a single word, and left the room, followed by Megan.

Robert hardly even acknowledged me at the end of the meeting, choosing instead to “talk about the next step” with Cal.

Tom and I went outside and sat in the gazebo.

“Everything’s going to be fine,” Tom said. “I kind of figured something like this would happen, didn’t you? I’m just surprised he’s tying it in to the Senate announcement.”

“He always likes to tie things together. You know, the sum of the parts is greater than each of the parts themselves.”

“Right, the credo of the modern publicist,” Tom laughed.

“Or the modern egomaniac,” I added.

“Greta didn’t look too happy,” Tom said.

“She doesn’t want him running for Senate,” I said.

“Yeah, I get it,” Tom said thoughtfully. “The press can be pretty tough on politicians and their families. But listen, Joe, we’re going to make the most of this trip, no matter what Robert and Larry have planned for you. And we’re going to do everything we can to find out what happened to your dad.”

“Okay,” I said, wanting to believe Tom.

“You don’t remember much Croatian, right?” Tom said.

“Hardly anything,” I said.

“Then we’re going to need someone to translate for us. Someone we can trust.”

thirteen

“Hana? You want Hana to come on the trip?” Greta said, surprised. “That seems a little odd. You haven’t seen her in how long?”

“I don’t know, since I was five or six, but she sends me a birthday card every year, and I bet she’d like to come. I
know
she’d like to come.”

“You do?” Robert asked.

Tom jumped in. “When Joe said he’d like Hana to come along, I suggested we call her first and see if she was available before coming to you.”

“And is she?” Greta asked.

“She is,” I said with zeal. We had called the night before. It had taken some convincing, because Hana would have to take time off from her regular job, but when I told her how important it was to me, she’d agreed.

We were sitting in the breakfast room, where hummingbirds and squirrels wouldn’t disturb Robert.

“It would be cheaper to hire someone there,” Greta said as she lightly buttered a piece of toast. She still seemed to be a reluctant participant in Robert’s run for the Senate. About the trip, however, she was excited; not only for me, but also for Guava, who would get to see where I was born.

“I’m sure you don’t remember this, Joe, but that woman was very difficult,” Robert said as Octavia placed a bowl of whole-grain cereal, covered with every type of berry known to man, in front of him.

“I thought she was quite helpful,” Greta said. She seemed to mean it, but she also might have been in one of her
I’m going to contradict everything Robert says
moods.

“She was very possessive of Joe, don’t you remember?” Robert said to Greta.

Greta took a bite of toast. “I remember I was glad she was there, especially during that first year.”

“Well, it always seemed like she thought she knew more than we did about raising him,” Robert said sourly.

No kidding. The fish in the koi pond knew more about raising me than Robert or Greta.

Tom got the conversation back on track. “We just thought that since Hana knows Joe and was there when he was adopted, he would feel more comfortable visiting some of the places that might bring back painful memories if she was with us.”

I felt a little uncomfortable with the words
painful memories,
but if they convinced Robert and Greta of Hana’s importance to me, I could deal.

“That’s very sensitive of you, Tom. Of course she should come along,” Greta said, not seeking agreement from Robert. “And it won’t cost us that much more. There’s room on the Gulfstream, so we’ll just have to pay for her hotel in Dubrovnik.”

“She says she can stay with her brother,” I piped up.

“Perfect,” Greta said.

Robert seemed content to let the issue rest.

“I’ll have Megan call her today to make arrangements.” Greta took a sip of grapefruit juice and smiled. “I’m delighted that Jessica will be coming with us, too. Maybe the two of you can get some time alone, and you might finally make a proposal.”

Tom’s usually sure hands fumbled with the shaker he was using to salt his eggs.

“You’re making Tom uncomfortable, Mom,” I said, coming to Tom’s aid.

“Well, someone’s got to.” Greta smirked. “Why not me? I talked to Jessica at the Fourth of July party and at Guava’s taping, and she says she wants to get married.”

Megan walked into the room. “I’m sorry to interrupt,” she said to Greta, “but your agent’s on the phone. She said it’s important.” She then looked at Robert. “And Larry wants you to call him at his office about some adjustments to the itinerary on the Dubrovnik trip.” Megan smiled at me at the mention of Dubrovnik.

“Thank you, Megan,” Greta said. “Tell Sandi I’ll be right there.”

Greta daintily dabbed the corners of her mouth with her napkin before standing up. “And Tom, I know a great jeweler who I use a lot. I can get you an amazing price on a ring.”

“Thanks, Greta…. I’ll think about it.”

“Really?” Greta said, delighted.

“Really.”

Greta left the room, obviously pleased with herself.

“Don’t let her push you into something you’re not ready to do,” Robert said once she was gone. “She can be quite a force when she makes her mind up about something.” He gave Tom a rueful smile and stood up. “I should get going, too. Tennis this afternoon?”

“Sure,” Tom said.

“Great. See you then.”

As soon as he left I said, “Sometimes he almost seems human.”

Tom laughed.

“Are you really going to propose to Jessica, or did you just say that to make Greta happy?” I asked.

“Actually, I am thinking about it,” Tom said, “but don’t you dare say anything to Jessica, okay?”

“Got it.”

“I don’t understand,” Jessica said while stirring the tomato sauce that was simmering in a pot on one of the stove’s front burners. On another burner, spaghetti was boiling. Robert and Greta had said I could eat at their house that evening. The heat from the cooking food combined with the heat of the day was making me sweat. “If Robert and Greta are coming along, how are you going to find out about Joe’s real dad without them knowing?”

“I haven’t figured that out yet,” Tom said, looking in the refrigerator. “Where’s the salad dressing?”

“It’s already on the table with the salad,” Jessica replied. “Where is it you need to go?”

“Zagreb,” I said enthusiastically. “That’s where the Ministry of Defense is.”

“Can’t you just call?”

“Rusty tried—” Tom started to say.

“Rusty?” Jessica frowned.

“Yeah, I asked him to help out.”

“Are you paying him?” Jessica asked.

“A little bit.”

“Tom!”

“Well, that construction job got delayed for another week, and he actually found out a lot for me.”

“Like what?” Jessica said, still not convinced that Rusty could do anything helpful.

“First off, even though the war’s been over for a long time, there are lots of issues that are unresolved between the governments. There’s Croatians living in Serbia and Serbs living in Croatia. The Croatians and the Serbs both want to make sure their citizens aren’t persecuted for their beliefs or for retribution over what happened in the war. The same is true with the Bosnians and Serbs. Apparently, the governments have been reluctant to release information on MIAs. I guess they’re using it as leverage.”

“That’s horrible,” Jessica said, pouring the pasta and water through a colander. Steam escaped into the air, making the kitchen even hotter. “What else did Rusty find out?” she said, shaking the last strands of spaghetti out of the pot.

“Just that if we go to the Ministry of Defense in Zagreb, we might be able to get more information. Things they don’t give out over the phone. Like what other soldiers served with Joe’s father, who might be alive. Exactly where he was last stationed. And names of military hospitals that might have records of soldiers.”

“We could go to those hospitals, right?” I said.

“Maybe,” Tom said.

Jessica began dishing the spaghetti into bowls; Tom covered each portion with sauce.

“I know you don’t want him involved, but couldn’t Robert make this all easier for you?” Jessica said. “He’s got friends in Washington. Can’t they put some pressure on the Serbian government?”

“He’d make it all about his campaign, and there’d be all these reporters asking me questions,” I protested. “And if we don’t find my father…it would just make everything worse,” I finished.

Tom nodded. “Let’s eat,” he said.

We picked up our bowls and went outside to the patio, where we sat down around the table with the umbrella in the middle. It was still light out, and much cooler than inside the house. The dogs ran up to us, hoping to get in on the food action.

Ever since Tom had said we should go to Croatia, I’d been running a movie in my head. In the movie, I’m at a special hospital for people who have suffered physical and emotional traumas. The hospital is located somewhere in the hills near my home in Dubrovnik. A doctor leads me out of the main building and onto peaceful grounds filled with beautiful flowers and trees. Patients sit on benches or on the grass with family members or hospital staff. A man is sitting on a stone bench by a fountain, alone. The doctor leads me to him.

“There is one man here who we’ve never been able to identify,” the doctor says to me.

We arrive at the bench by the fountain. The man looks up at me. He has blue eyes just like mine, only sadder and older.

“Joe?” Tom said to me.

“What?”

“I was asking you for the salad dressing. Where were you?”

I handed Tom the dressing. “Nowhere,” I said, shaking my head.

“What about Greta?” Jessica asked.

“What about her?” I said, twirling some spaghetti onto my fork.

“Can you tell her that you know about your dad being MIA?”

“She’ll just be upset that I never told her before. ‘How could you not tell me?’” I said dramatically, imitating Greta.

That made Tom and Jessica laugh.

“She’s not so bad,” Tom said, pouring out salad dressing.

“I think she likes you, Tom,” Jessica said.

“What do you mean?”

“I mean I think she has a little crush on you.”

“You’re crazy,” Tom said.

All I could think of was Greta telling Tom he needed to propose to Jessica and Tom telling me he was thinking about it. As if reading my mind, Tom gave me a quick
don’t say a word
glance.

The doorbell rang.

“Who could that be?” Jessica said, getting up from the table. A few minutes later, she returned to the patio. “It’s Martie. Toni just dropped her off with a suitcase.”

“What’s going on?” Tom said.

“Who’s Toni?” I asked. My stomach did a happy-nervous dance, knowing Martie was in the other room.

“My sister,” said Jessica.

“What did Toni say?” Tom asked.

“She said it was an emergency and asked if Martie could stay with us tonight.”

“What emergency?”

“A guy, of course. What else? She said she’d pick Martie up in the morning. What was I going to say? I’m going to help her settle in.” Jessica went back into the house.

“What’s wrong?” I asked Tom. He was squeezing his temples.

“Well, Martie’s mom has some problems.”