Born Under a Lucky Moon (12 page)

Lucy and I had driven every road hundreds, maybe thousands, of times together. She drove by herself in faraway states all the time now, but when she was home, she was certain she would get lost.

Chapter Twelve
Sunday, June 29, 1986, 1:00 a.m.

T
he exchange at the country club bar didn't seem to bother Lucy as much as it did me. When we got home she said she was going to bed and went inside. Ron waited in the car to go over to Evan's house. Out by the curb Elizabeth asked me if I thought Lucy was going to be all right.

“I don't think she needed that tonight,” I said.

“Check on her later, okay?” Elizabeth twisted the handles on her purse, a sure sign she was worried about one of us. She looked up at the house and hesitated like she might rush in to save Lucy. Ron honked the horn. “Make sure she's up by seven. The wedding's at noon.” Elizabeth had a way of breaking things down to their most elemental. What is the problem? How do we solve it? It was her way of having some control and logic in a family that had little of either. As she got in the car I heard her chide Ron, “Keep it down. You'll wake the neighbors.”

I stopped to take off my white heels on the way up the front walk. Through the front window I could see Sammie maneuvering Chuck to the couch. I went inside and Sammie followed me to the kitchen.

“Can you make some coffee?” Sammie asked. “We'd better get him sobered up before he goes to bed.”

“Why were you so pissy about Evan's toast to Anna?”

Sammie sat down at the table and played with a spoon. “Evan's special. He's the most sensitive of all of us. His whole life he's gotten run roughshod over by us girls because he's so much quieter than us. I don't want to think that his wife would do the same thing to him. I mean, how many guys like Japanese art and Yogi tea and still like to go out to some duck blind or deer camp with the guys? He's unique.”

“I didn't know he liked Japanese art.”

“You should talk to him more often.”

Buddy was following me around like I had bacon in my pocket. “Sammie, would you take Buddy out?”

“Nope. I didn't make the deal with the cops.”

I got Buddy's leash out of the closet and opened the front door. Before I could snap it on his collar, Buddy had blown by me and out the door. I followed after him into the darkness. He pummeled through the bushes into the Longs' yard, and then I heard him turn and crash down the steep hill to Bear Lake. God! He was going to make me chase him in my skirt and hose. I hadn't bothered to put my shoes back on because I had only planned to walk about ten feet. I could now hear Buddy racing along the beach. I made my way across the yard to the back of the house, avoiding the big tent. Gingerly, I tried out the new dock stairs that led down to the lake. They seemed solid enough. The lights Dad had put in along the stairs weren't working, though. Like Dad, Tom the handyman couldn't fix one thing without messing up another. I gripped the railing and felt for each step with my toes. My eyes were starting to adjust to the darkness and there were a few stars out to help me. My feet finally touched the beach grass. Ah jeez, now I had sand inside my nylons, which is just a bizarre feeling. I looked down the beach and thought I could see Buddy's black silhouette moving around about fifty yards away.

“Buddy!” I hissed.

Nothing. I couldn't yell too loud at 1:30 in the morning, and Buddy wouldn't have paid attention anyway. As I turned to go back up the stairs without him, I caught sight of someone sitting in our speedboat.

“Who is that?” I said sharply, feeling that tingly feeling of fear and adrenaline.

“Shhh. It's just me. Lucy.”

I walked across the beach and halfway out on the dock. “I thought you went to bed.”

“I wanted to be by myself for a while.”

“Oh.” I wasn't sure if I should leave or not. “Can I be with you while you're being by yourself?”

Lucy's dress was tucked up under her feet. She was seated on the back of the boat facing the water. “Sure.”

I stepped onto the gunwale and made my way next to my sister.

“What are you doing down here?” she asked.

“Chasing Buddy.”

We sat in silence. Every once in a while, a bluegill or a sunfish broke the surface to feed.

“Do you want to talk?” I nudged my shoulder into hers.

“No.”

“Why did you get married?”

“I just said I didn't want to talk.” She flipped a stone into the lake.

“Do you want me to leave?”

“No.”

There were a few lights on the other side of the lake a half mile away. Evan's house was directly across from my parents' house. We watched the lights click off. Elizabeth and Ron had gone to bed.

“Why do you suppose Elizabeth married him?” Lucy asked.

“I don't know. He doesn't say much, he wears Gucci shoes, he brags about how expensive his cars are, and he says he was raised in Manhattan but he speaks with a New Jersey accent. Maybe because he's not like anybody around here?”

“I married Chuck because I had to.”

“Are you pregnant?”

“No. He was about to be shipped overseas and the only way to stop that is to be married to someone stateside. At least it delays the process.”

“You've only known him seven weeks. You must really love him.”

“He's in love with someone else.”

I was starting to wonder if I had had a few more drinks than I thought. Or maybe I hadn't had enough. A slight breeze came up on the lake and I wrapped my arms around myself.

“If you're cold, there's a beach towel over there.” Lucy indicated the captain's chair. I got it and Lucy took one end and I took the other end and we huddled inside it together.

“Why did you marry him if he was in love with someone else?”

Lucy sighed. “He's in love with some girl from Illinois. He was shipping out in two days and she couldn't get there in time. She said her car broke down and she didn't have enough money for a plane ticket. So I married him as a favor.”

“Why didn't he go to her?”

“You can't just go AWOL. It's not like cutting class.”

I didn't know what to say to this and looked down the beach to see if I could see Buddy. I couldn't. He had probably made his way back up to the house by now and was scratching to be let in. He tore up the screen door every summer.

I could sort of see why Lucy would marry Chuck as a favor. Dad always said, “Take a chance. If you ever have a chance to do something different in this life, do it.” Our family was also big on helping out. Walker called it our “hostess gene.” If someone had car trouble, I'd lend him or her my car even if I barely knew the person. Marrying Chuck combined two of the things Lucy did well.

“Why did you bring him home?”

“After we got married,” Lucy went on, “we started sleeping together. We planned to get the whole thing annulled. I just brought him home because I'm dating him.”

I pondered the idea of dating someone after you had married him.

“Lucy, you have to tell Mom and Dad. You can't go through with the wedding tomorrow.”

Lucy pulled the towel closer around her shoulders. “How can I do that? All my life they tried to do the right thing for me, and it always made them feel bad when it didn't work out. I went to college and they paid all that money and then I dropped out. Now they're spending all this money on a wedding for me.”

“This is not about money. Why would you go through with this?”

Lucy dropped her chin into her knees. “I can't look like a loser to every single person I grew up with.”

“They don't have to live with Chuck. You do.”

“Maybe I love him.”

“Do you?”

“I don't know. Sometimes I think I do.”

Lucy unwrapped herself and got up to leave. Her motion upset the boat and her purse and shoes started to go over the side. I made a valiant grab and wound up with one shoe and the purse. We watched the other shoe disappear under the water.

Lucy sighed. “Now I don't have a mate.” Then she tossed the other shoe in after its partner.

We trudged back up to the darkened house. Chuck was snoring on the couch, my bed. I followed Lucy upstairs and we both climbed into her bed. Lucy lay on her side, turned away from me.

“Lucy, are you awake?”

“No.”

“What did Fudgie Shaw give you?”

“Hush up.”

I snuggled up to her so her back wouldn't be unprotected and we both fell asleep.

Chapter Thirteen
March 2006

W
hat do you mean you can't come?” Aidan was incredulous. He had a right to be. Tonight was the premiere of one of his movies. It was being held in Westwood with klieg lights, red carpet, paparazzi—the works.

Earlier, in the bathroom at work, I had changed into a decent dress and fixed my makeup. Walking out the front doors, my cell phone rang. It was Elizabeth. “I just wanted to tell you where to park tonight.”

I stopped looking for my car keys in my purse. Alarm bells went off in my head. “Parking?”

“Right, for Madison's ballet performance.”

Ballet? I had no idea what she was talking about. Cautiously I said, “Can you remind me about this?”

Elizabeth spoke in a controlled tone. “Don't tell me that you're blowing this off.”

“No, no, of course not.” I stood in the middle of the parking lot, phone to ear, and fake-smiled at some colleagues walking by. “I just can't remember the address.”

Elizabeth's voice became friendlier. As she reeled off the information I suddenly remembered. I had responded yes to the invitation by email. Then I had forgotten to write it down. Two places I absolutely had to be tonight meant one big problem.

I tuned back in to Elizabeth. “Be sure to get there early because Madison is in the second and fourth numbers. Your ticket is at will-call. Unless Aidan is coming? Then I can get one more ticket. Do we finally get to meet the mysterious Aidan?”

“Uh, no. Um, Aidan is out of town right now.” I cringed at my lie. Then I listened to Elizabeth rattle off parking instructions. After promising I would be there early, I had called Aidan.

“Jeannie, you've known about this movie premiere for months. This is a huge moment for me. I'd like you there by my side, you know, like someone who loves me? My girlfriend?” The hurt and anger in his voice were more than evident.

“I'm sorry. It's just . . .” I trailed off. I couldn't explain about Madison's ballet performance. Up until now, I'd been able to keep Aidan, Elizabeth, and Sammie apart by some creative maneuvering. Fortunately, the rest of my family lived a couple thousand miles away. But Westwood and the UCLA campus are literally a few short blocks apart. Aidan might want to go meet Madison and Elizabeth after his movie premiere.

“It's just . . . an emergency at work,” I finally finished.

“I don't believe this. Can't Caitlin handle it?” I heard Aidan up-shifting his car furiously.

“Take it easy, Aidan. I love you and I want you to get there in one piece.” I hit the remote control to unlock my car. “Okay, I'll be there. I promise.”

I sat in my car and leaned my forehead against the steering wheel. What the hell was I going to do? Miss the ballet, and my family might disown me. Miss the movie premiere, and my boyfriend might break up with me. I finally pulled out of the parking lot and commanded myself to think.

Could I pull off both? The two events were about half a mile from each other. The movie premiere started at 7:30. The ballet started at 8:00. But premieres never started on time. You had to wait for the stars to run the gauntlet of press outside before the lights could go down. I quickly calculated: lights out at 7:50, opening credits would roll and be done by 7:55. I had to stay for the credits because the audience would cheer for the names of people they knew, and I needed to be there when Aidan's name appeared.

Could I then hoof it to the performance by 8:00? Unlikely. I tapped the wheel while waiting at a red light. I'd have to at least try. Looking down I regarded my strappy Jimmy Choo shoes. They were perfect for a movie premiere but not so great for running.

After circling the area twice, I gave up and pulled my car into the only parking lot with empty spaces, exactly as Elizabeth had predicted it would be. The lot was halfway between the premiere and the ballet performance. My car was going to be of no help, as I had expected.

Hurrying up the street, even in my angst, I still marveled as I always did at the elaborate display of neon on the art deco theater. The title of Aidan's movie was splashed in three-foot-tall letters on the marquee. I searched the crowd and found him almost immediately. He was waiting for me at the entry to the red carpet and he broke into a broad smile at the sight of me.

“You made it,” he said as we hugged. Taking my arm he led me down the red carpet cordoned off by velvet ropes. To one side was a long line of paparazzi and on the other side were publicists from the studio who directed Aidan to the various photographers and video crews

I respectfully stepped back when Aidan was being interviewed. The shot the magazines would want to publish was one of Aidan with a glitzy star next to him. During one of these moments I furtively pulled my left sleeve back to catch a glimpse of my watch.

“Don't do that!” a publicist whizzing by with a clipboard snapped at me. “Someone will take a photo and run a caption saying, ‘Is this movie over yet?' ”

Already 7:38 and we weren't even seated yet.

At an agonizingly slow pace, Aidan made his way down the long line of media waiting to speak to him. I had gone on ahead and was waiting in the theater lobby making nervous chit-chat with business acquaintances. It was 7:47. I peeked out the door. Aidan still had more people waiting to interview him. I had to take drastic measures. I marched back up the red carpet against the flow of traffic.

“Aidan.” I tugged on his sleeve. He turned from the cameras and smiled, but his eyes said, “What the hell are you doing?” “Aidan, they need you to come in and get seated right away. They're running behind schedule.”

Aidan bent down and spoke low in my ear. “But I haven't spoken to
Access Hollywood
yet. I can't ditch that.”

“Yes, yes, you can. The publicist was very firm. She asked me to come get you.” I was pulling on his elbow now.

Aidan pulled back, hissing, “I
can't
!”

I yanked his arm harder. “There's a problem. They need to turn the lights down
now
and roll the film.”

Aidan yanked back. “I have to finish up here!”

The cameras now were focused on us for a different reason. It appeared we were engaging in a minor lover's spat. We both realized it at the same time and stopped to plaster smiles on for the press. Our faces read, “Don't mind us, we're just one happy couple.” Aidan put his hand at the small of my back and propelled me rather forcefully into the theater. An usher showed us to our seats, which had been cordoned off by masking tape. A piece of paper with our names handwritten on it was taped to each of our seats.

We slid into our seats at 7:59. Thankfully, it was lights out at 8:02. Credits were done by 8:08. “Aidan, I have to go to the bathroom.” I was already climbing over him to get to the aisle.

“Can't you wait a few minutes? The opening scene is so good.”

“I know, I know. That scene is great. But I'm not feeling real well.” I was already past him and hurrying up the aisle. Once I cleared the doors, I bolted through the now-empty lobby and out to the sidewalk. The camera vans were packing up and leaving. One was just pulling away from the curb when I pounded on the driver's door. The driver stopped suddenly, clearly startled.

“Hey, can you give me a ride just up the street? Please?” I tried not to sound too desperate.

“Are you anybody we can interview?” the driver asked. Everyone is looking for an angle in L.A.

“No, I'm a nobody. But I need a ride. Please?” Now my desperation was showing.

He shrugged. “Okay, hop in.” Someone slid the large door on the side of the van back and I crawled in and crouched among the cables coiled on the floor. We got lucky and caught the green lights and two minutes later I was racing up the sidewalk to the performing arts center where Madison was dancing. After snatching my ticket from the hands of the woman at the will-call ticket booth, I ran for the doors to the auditorium. An usher blocked my way.

“Sorry, miss. But the doors are closed. No one is allowed in until intermission.”

“But I have to!” I protested while trying to dart around him. He stepped into my path, blocking me.

“The ballet has started. You'll have to wait.”

“But this is a matter of life and death!” I heard myself blurt out. Oh my God, what was I saying? But it was too late to take it back. Anyway, it was kind of true because Elizabeth would kill me if I didn't show up.

The usher's demeanor changed. “What happened?” He looked like he was ready to sit down and listen raptly to every gory detail.

“Um, car accident. Yes, there was a car accident. I need to let my sister know.”

“Was it bad?” The usher didn't know when to quit.

“Yes, very bad. It just happened up the street.” Now why did I have to say that?

“Did anyone call an ambulance?” The usher was pulling out his cell phone now.

“I have to get in there, okay?” I pleaded.

This time the usher didn't try and stop me when I reached for the doors. It took me a while to find my seat next to Elizabeth in the near dark. Of course, she would have to be seated in the middle of a row. I climbed over several irritated patrons, none of whom were shy about hissing their displeasure at me. Finally I settled into my seat.

“You're late,” Elizabeth said, staring straight ahead at the stage.

“Traffic. Sorry,” I muttered. After a few moments, Elizabeth reached over and squeezed my hand. I was forgiven. Onstage Madison danced with confidence. She looked just like Elizabeth at that age: willowy and gorgeous. Relaxing for a moment, I enjoyed watching her. She really was good. After she danced into the wings, I peered at my watch. It was 8:33. Somehow I made it through the next performance until Madison reappeared onstage. As her part neared its end, I started edging my butt to the front of my seat preparing for a fast getaway. The moment she finished I was on the move.

“Madison was amazing, Elizabeth. Truly great.” I had stood up and was now wedging myself between Elizabeth's knees and the seat in front of her.

“Where are you going?” Elizabeth was incredulous.

“I have a problem at work. I'll call you later.” The same patrons who were mad at me on my way into the row now acted ready for civil disobedience on my way out. I hightailed it away from their angry comments and up the aisle. Fortunately the usher was nowhere to be seen in the lobby and I pushed my way out the doors and to the sidewalk.

This time there was no helpful car to ferry me back to the premiere. I trotted as fast as my high heels would let me go. It was 9:12. I had been gone for over an hour. My heels made a harsh clack-clack noise as they banged against the concrete at a pace they weren't made for. Sweat was forming at the small of my back and I was breathing hard. I really needed to try to do more cardio.

Up ahead of me I could make out flashing lights. A cop car was angled across the street blocking traffic. It didn't alarm me because it's not that unusual a sight in a big city. As I jogged past the cop car I saw an ambulance parked in the middle of the street.

Damn! The sidewalk inexplicably ended on this side of the road. I was going to have to cross over to pick it up on the other side, which meant jaywalking. Crossing anywhere but at a designated crosswalk is a big no-no in California, and I didn't want the cops to see me.

I stealthily maneuvered around the ambulance and heard a cop bitching that some moron had called in a phony report about a car accident with injuries. As I darted behind the ambulance, it started to back up. The next thing I knew I was skinning my hands and knees along the pavement. I must have hit my head, too, because when I opened my eyes a paramedic was already kneeling down next to me, and I was still sprawled out on the street.

“Shit! Lady, are you all right?” He was taking my pulse. “I didn't even see you behind me. You came out of nowhere.”

“I came from my niece's ballet performance.” I heard my words as if they were echoing somewhere far away in the universe.

Groggily I sat up and took inventory. The ambulance had sharply bumped me, but nothing seemed to be broken. Ruefully I looked at my stockings, torn from knee to ankle. One of my shoes had also lost a heel.

The paramedic insisted on treating me. After leading me by the arm to the rear of the ambulance, he sat me down on the wide bumper with its raised no-skid metal protrusions. Rectangular hash marks were going to be embedded in my ass for days, I deliriously thought.

He examined my knees, then motioned that I needed to take off my ruined nylons. So there, in the middle of a major thoroughfare, with a crowd beginning to gather, I reached up under my dress, yanked at the top of my tummy-control pantyhose, and wiggled out of them. The paramedic then picked gravel out of my wounds and shone a flashlight in my eyes. The cops took my statement even though I said it wasn't necessary. They were probably more worried about a lawsuit than they were about me.

Finally, with large, white gauze bandages taped to both knees, one hand, and my cheek, I set off for the premiere again. Barefoot and bare-legged, I staggered into the theater lobby at 10:22. Part of me wondered if I had shaved my legs that morning but then reasoned that the last thing anyone would notice was my hairy legs.