Five for Forever (11 page)

“Then we roam until we find
our
place.”

Louise got up, and even though she was overdone and under a wig, men looked at her, as if unable to place that exotic lady. She was able to hide her face or body but never was able to hide her radiance, acting or not.

“We’ll take your car,” Louise commanded, and they head toward the old Chrysler minivan. Floris was drifting behind them, entering the Tahoe.

“Probably not your usual ride,” Rick said.

“Don’t worry about me. My normal ride is a midlevel Lexus, good enough for me as most of the time I have a service taking me to the studio or events. My bodyguard Floris insists on some more horsepower and protection, so he follows in the big black monster.” She looked around at the many kid modifications, from bumper stickers on the doors and leftover kids’ books to Happy Meal toys. “So this is suburbia,” she said.

“Toward town?”

“No, I have an idea.”

Louise directed him to a big beach parking lot that on a Sunday evening had only few remaining cars, mostly surfers, judging from the spare boards attached to the roof carriers. At the far end of the lot, overlooking the ocean and surrounded by some camping chairs and desks, stood a taco van under yellow sodium light. Three surfers, still in neoprenes, hugged in thick hoodies, sat around a cheap plastic table. They gave them a glance but continued their conversation.

“Now, this is your standard?” Rick teased.

“Little escapes.” They left the car. “Señor, anything left?”

The little Mexican cook nodded, pointed at the card sign, and gave off a machine-gun worth of words. Louise nodded. “Chicken and pork are out. Tuna and beef remain.”

“Tuna taco?” Rick was doubtful. “I’ll have the beef one. With everything. And a beer.”

Louise replied in more in Spanish, of which Rick only understood the universal words
Corona
and
Diet Coke
.

The Mexican cook came with both their tacos wrapped in wax paper and presented them. Louise pulled two camping chairs with them to the end of the parking lot and Rick carried food and beverages.

“What’s on yours?” Rick asked, taking a first bite.

“Special order, vegetarian, extra hot jalapeños, extra hot special sauce. I had been prepared for Indian food, remember?”

“How fitting!”

“You mean fussy and special?”

“I meant extra hot!” The second he had spoken the words, Rick realized the double meaning. Louise snorted and laughed out loud, and Rick’s ears turned red.

“You’ve never been here?” she asked after they clinked their opened beverage cans.

“Nope. We go to the Oxnard beaches, and if we are into celebrity spotting, sometimes Malibu. Never so close to Santa Monica.”

“So no sad memories?”

Rick smiled a little bit. “Sad memories always, but not related to this spot.”

Louise smiled that brilliant wide smile of hers. “Very good. The spot thing, that is. Not the sad memories.”

“Have you ever lost someone very close to you?”

“My mother and sister are still around. Major issues, but alive. My father left early, and I have no memory of him, nor do I know where he is nowadays. So, did I ever lose someone close? No. Well, maybe my first dog. Got run over by a truck when I was about twelve.”

Rick had to laugh. “You are playing your dead dog against my late wife?”

“It was a very nice dog!” Louise laughed.

“I had a very nice wife, too.”

“All right, you win.”

“Can we make a deal for this night not to talk about partners, or kids, or work?” Rick pledged.

“Deal.”

The agreement resulted in a minute of silence.

“Read a good book lately?” Rick finally asked and both broke into laughter so hard, tears rolled down their faces.

“All right, I know a topic. No partners, work, or kids: failed dates!” Rick proposed.

“All right, but you start. Best start, worst ending . . .”

After half an hour, the cook came over to collect their seats, so both of them bought a final round of soft drinks, and went down to the beach. They sat down, leaning their backs against the lifeguard tower. Louise shed her wig and glasses and cleaned her mouth. Then they watched the dark world and the stars for a while.

“Why are we having this date?” Rick broke the silence.

“I like you, and I am lonely,” she said. “And you?”

“My kids would have killed me if I had said no,” Rick said.

“No, honestly.”

“I couldn’t say no to Louise Waters.”

“You don’t like me and you are not lonely?”

“Louise, I don’t know you. You are a person I have seen a million times on TV and in films. This is completely strange to sit beside a woman that probably every straight male on this planet knows and finds sexy.”

“Tell me about it. But that is the issue. I am lonely. The whole industry, my public self, what you see in the media and in my work—that is the professional me. But when I get home and close the door behind me, I am alone. Never really out of sight of the others, namely Floris or the maid or the gardener. But I have no partner with me.”

“And that worries you? The diva alone in her palace, steps echoing in the big hall . . .”

“I admit, I like solitude; it’s part of my nature. I’ve had to rely on myself since I was sixteen. And most of the time I don’t feel lonely. I’m perfectly content reading a book for pleasure. I go to the movies on my own, in disguise, discovering strange works from Korean, French, or German directors.”

“That wouldn’t work for me. I love having my kids around me, I love hanging out with Hal and the rest of the team. Even with Styler, who is so far outside of my social circle. When the three younger ones are in bed and I watch late-night TV, I am always glad when Agnes comes into the living room for a final chat.” As an afterthought Rick added, “And I would feel silly alone in a movie theater or in a restaurant.”

They nursed their sodas for a few minutes and listened to the surf crashing softly onto the sand. Car sounds drifted over from the Pacific Coast Highway, and there was music somewhere in the distance.

“So, Louise Waters, what is your problem?” Rick asked.

“If I could tell you! I am tired of it all.”

“Burn out or midlife crisis?”

“Along those lines, maybe. But it is more around achievements, sharing, basic accomplishments, joint memories. Like having a permanent partner. Kids that you see growing up. Growing old together.”

“So you think I offer all of the above in an instant?” Rick smiled. “Remember I am in the middle of this, kids and growing old . . .”

“Would you consider having more kids?”

“Whoa, kids? Louise Waters, this is our first date!”

“You are a widower, relatively young. You should have an opinion about this, whether you would consider starting over.”

“Unless my new significant other comes loaded with money, the answer would be no, no more kids.”

“Why?”

“You said ‘starting over,’ Louise. With kids, there is no starting over. You gain experience as you raise them. Teaching swimming took a lot of patience with Agnes and was a breeze with Charles. And Dana is almost there, a few more weeks and she will be a little dolphin. But that’s it. There is no starting over. They all know how to swim, then you will never teach this to your kids again. And those are the easy things. But then come the tough things. Like giving the best possible future possible. Getting them into a great college that fits them and their dreams. If I am very, very lucky, I will be able to provide this to all four, and if we are blessed, they will actually do all these things we dream for them, and not lose their way.”

“That’s some legacy,” Louise said quietly.

“It is. And there is not a second when I do not think about providing for my four kids. Having one or two more kids with a new partner, how would I be able to do this?”

“You are aware that I come loaded?” Louise nudged him.

Rick laughed. “That is a bonus. Still, I would need to do some heavy thinking about it.”

The night grew later and colder, but both simply sat, enjoying each other’s nearness, without admitting it, and inwardly praying for the evening never to end. It had to be Louise who took the next step.

“Can we hold hands?” Louise asked. Rick looked at Louise on his right side, sighed, and shifted the soda can into his left hand.

“You are a tough sell, Richard Flint,” Louise said, and her fingers intertwined with his.

“That’s the nicest thing you’ve said to me, yet.”

“I can think of more, but I need to leave room for a second date.”

“Can’t wait for it.”

“What about tomorrow?”

“Let’s not get ahead of us here,” Rick said.

“You
are
a tough sell,” Louise lamented.

And the half-moon slowly rose.

eleven

Fool’s Days

The 5:30 alarm killed Louise’s sleep and brought her away from the dream of a beach, sitting beside Rick, talking about life and things, laughing, touching shoulders, holding hands. She couldn’t remember what had been the dream and what had been a memory of the previous evening.
Yesterday evening had been probably the most enjoyable evening you had since a long time, Lou-baby. It felt right. Hell, it still feels right.

She gave her body a stretch and got out of bed. Body inspection after shedding the T-shirt.

Lou-baby, your body will be a problem. I can feel it. Too perfect. When Rick sees this, he will be under pressure to perform. And that could be . . . difficult for a man like him.

She turned and investigated her behind, all good.

Downstairs, Emile waited for her with the stack of duties. “You look fa-bu-lous, Lou. The girl at her peak!”

“You telling me it’s downhill from here?” Louise said and started her mini-breakfast.

“The schedule for the remaining week: We have a mix of promo work and some business meetings. I gave you off on Thursday; there wasn’t too much on the agenda in the first place. Friday and Saturday, we’ll fly over to Austin for South by Southwest. Sunday’s free with possibility of a party in the evening.”

“That’s good, please keep the two days free.”

“Noted, honey. And here are the talking point notes for today’s interview partners.” Emile pushed mercilessly through his agenda. At 6:00 a.m., Simona came for the daily torture. Some things did not change.

Rick woke up totally shell-shocked from the previous evening on the beach with Louise Waters. He had been sexually aroused for the better part of the night, replaying Louise’s nearness and the conversations they had had. He was tight-lipped with his kids when they bombarded him with questions the next morning at breakfast and only answered with few facts. Thankfully, Agnes had sensed his unease and led her siblings’ barrage away to other topics.

Hal saw Rick entering the workshop’s office, saw the look on the face of his best friend, and raised his hands in defense. “Don’t blame me, she made me do it!”

Rick sat down at his desk and switched on his computer, sorted the papers on his desk. “You meant well.”

“Did she call?”

“We already had a first date last night.”

Hal raised his right hand for a high-five with his best buddy, but Rick didn’t play along. Hal let his hand sink. “Man, it had to be a disaster of a Debbie grade?”

Rick leaned back. “No, it actually went pretty well.”

“Your lack of enthusiasm is worrisome. Come on, first word that pops into your mind. Sexy? Fantastic? Funny?” Hal proposed.

Rick took a minute to think. “Scary.”

“That is the most improbable answer I expected to hear about dating Louise Waters.”

“No, that is the only way to describe it. She was totally . . . normal, and we had a great evening. Not what you think, more like from a Woody Allen movie.”

“From before he went nuts and married his daughter?”

“Yeah, like in
Annie Hall
or
Manhattan.
A lot of meaningful talk, partially funny, partially serious.”

“I hope you don’t take it the wrong way if I tell you that you look much better than Woody Allen.”

“And she looks better than Mariel Hemingway and all those other actresses combined.”

“A little bit like Meryl Streep, though.” Hal pointed out. “But why scary?”

“I am a normal guy, sitting on the beach with a woman who is so much larger than life. That is scary for a guy like me. No romance. I couldn’t even think about having sex with her and did not dare to give her a kiss. She had to pry a can of Coke from my hand just to hold it.”

“Richard, my friend, let me write this down for my best man speech for you guys. Will you go out again?”

Rick patted his monitor. “My computer is ready for me, and my boat design skills are needed to save our asses. Can I go and earn some money now?”

Hal came over and put a hand on his friend’s shoulder. “Admit it, you are too scared to even call her.”

“Scared spitless,” Rick admitted.

“As long as you don’t change your phone number . . .”

On Tuesday evening, between dress changes, running from a Getty Museum gala to an after-show party in the hills, Louise sat in her limousine and dialed Rick’s number. She was aware that she probably had been a little too much for the handsome boatbuilder, though she had held back considerably. She had a million ideas what she could do to impress Rick, but most of them were simply not feasible. If you had four kids and a maid-less household to manage, a spontaneous trip to Acapulco for a day was not in the stars. But she had a boat and planned to invite the whole family to a little day trip to Catalina.

The phone rang twice, a girl’s voice answered. Louise identified herself.

“Hi, it’s Agnes. We were expecting your call.”

“
We
as in . . . ?”

“The United Kids of Flint. About Dad, I am not so sure.”

“Uh-oh, anything I need to do to make him feel better?”

“I am torn between loyalty to my father and the outlook of having a super-rich stepmom,” Agnes said.

“So, let’s make it a win-win for everyone. Is he in?”

“It’s Tuesday around ten! No other place to be for a family guy. I’ll pass you along.”