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Authors: Nancy Kelly

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“I could kill him,” Daphne declared through tight lips as she and I walked ahead of Jill and CeeCee on our way to the entry doors of the auditorium. “Getting Able With Kane” was being held at a rent-a-room in the business district of downtown LA, not far from Liam Engleston’s restaurant. I recalled how Jill had dressed him down, much to my horror at the time, and my mouth curved at the memory.
“Why are you smiling?” Daphne demanded.
“Ian’s going to miss her.”
She reared back and gave me a look of horror. “Do you want them to get back together?”
“I have no idea,” I said truthfully.
“Well, I don’t. He’s hurt her so much. Talk about a loser. He’s at the top of the list.”
“I can’t decide whether he called it off over her eating disorder, or if he’s just saying that’s the reason. He’s known she’s had food issues all along. Maybe he just got scared. The responsibility of marriage, and all that.”
“I hope he really,
really
misses her.”
“At least we don’t have to wear the dresses.”
“Thank God.” She darted a glance back at Jill. “Who’ll pay for them, do you think?”
“Let’s hope it’s Ian.”
Daphne checked her watch. I knew she was thinking ahead to tomorrow’s shoot. Though she’d been the one who’d pushed hardest for this event, she was fighting the clock.
“We don’t have to stay for the whole thing,” I pointed out.
“
You
do,” Daphne stressed, shaking a finger playfully at my nose. “Come on, Blue. You’re not going to let this derail you, are you?”
“I’ll use any excuse I can get,” I answered honestly.
Daphne chuckled. “And I’m here to save you from yourself.”
“Like Kane?”
“Exactly.”
Inside we were met by several fresh-faced young women in dark blue shirts and slacks with bright red “Time To Get Able” stickers affixed above their breasts. I suddenly felt very strange. I’d been so wrapped up in Jill’s problems—and CeeCee’s, and come to think of it, my own—that I really hadn’t thought ahead to what this meeting would be like.
Jill and CeeCee met us at the entry door and we all nodded to the greeters. I declined a name tag, though the pressure was pretty damn intense. Free will seemed to be something Kane & his Able company didn’t believe in. I had to be firm, as firm as I am to the people who try to get me to switch long-distance service. Thanks, but no thanks. I’m not interested. I’m getting off the phone now. Click.
Unfortunately, I couldn’t just hang up on these kids. CeeCee gazed down her nose, looking fierce and alternative. But the kids were spunky, giddy, and kind of spaced out in that natural high way only religion, mind-altering drugs—and, I guess, Kane Reynolds—seemed to provide. Nothing could get them down. I had a feeling we were all going to join in with
Kumbaya
or
We Are The World
.
Jill let them stick a name tag on her—a clear indication that the real Jill wasn’t inhabiting her body just now. She followed me to a seat about halfway to the front and left of the main aisle. I gave the people sitting front and center a hard look. Who are these people who have to be right up in front?
“Let’s move closer,” Daphne said.
Oh.
“I don’t want to miss anything,” she continued.
“I do,” I said, planting myself in a chair.
“This Kane is the guy you smoked dope with in high school?” CeeCee, still exhibiting her just-dare-to-speak-tome body language, asked without looking at me. She perched on the edge of her chair, ready to shoot out of there at a moment’s notice. I glanced around the gathering crowd. There were several middle-aged women in knitted sweaters; one displayed Persian cats; another, baskets of fruit. The men were in suits and ties that were about eight years past the current fashion trend.
“This is ... frightening,” I said.
“It hasn’t even started yet,” Daphne shushed me. “You should tell someone that you know Kane. Warn him, so that you can have some time afterwards without all the wannabes around.”
“I’ll take my chances.”
I was having a hard time remembering that Dr. Dick had professed some interest in Kane’s inspirational self-awareness shtick, but as we got closer to the actual start time more young professionals began to fill in the seats. I thought about Kane and the other nerds from high school, those evenings spent sucking smoke from a water pipe and the stoned hours afterward.
“Cool,” I said aloud.
CeeCee gave me a sideways look. Before I could explain, there was a sudden change of air pressure in the room. Everyone looked up expectantly as a side door opened and Kane strode to the front of the room.
People in the first few rows actually stood up and clapped. Kane held up a hand, all modesty, and announced, “Welcome, one and all. So glad you could make it. I’ve been learning the LA freeway system. In the time it took to get here from the airport, I learned all the names and numbers. I hit the 405—the San Diego Freeway; the 10—the Santa Monica Freeway; and the 110—the Harbor Freeway; and I might’ve caught a bit of the 101—the Ventura Freeway. And wow. Traffic’s a bitch, huh?”
The sweater ladies shifted in their seats and giggled as another wave of thunderous clapping ensued. I stared at Kane. This was my one-time lover? Ex-File Number Two, who’d gotten my mind off Charlie, then expanded it with drugs, alcohol, and rock and roll? If anyone had ever decided to become a Tony Robbins clone, Kane was it.
“He’s really good-looking,” Daphne said, sounding surprised.
“At least he’s not gray,” I said, examining Kane’s cool, dark looks. “Or bald.”
“I like bald,” remarked CeeCee.
“I like it, too,” I said. “But not with Kane. He’s too ...”
“Perfect.”
This was from Jill, about the first thing she’d said all night. We all looked at her. “It’s an act, a show, a Barnum & Bailey circus. He dyes that hair. It’s too dark, too monochrome. And those teeth? They’ve been shined and buffed.”
“That’s what we do in LA,” Daphne reminded her. I just shrugged, happy Jill had joined the living again.
“He’s a Ken doll,” Jill said. And then her eyes suddenly filled with tears. “God damn it,” she whispered, bending her head.
“It’s okay,” I murmured.
“There aren’t any decent men left! They’re all fakes.”
“That’s not true,” Daphne tried to soothe, but Jill wasn’t having any of it.
“They’re all about the big show. The big
fucking
show. And you’d better be a part of it, ’cause if you’re not, you’re history. A broken toy. Shit to throw away!”
“I don’t think that’s strictly true.” Daphne couldn’t help arguing. She wanted things to be rosy. She lived for the silver lining. I put my hand on her shoulder to hold back anything else. Let Jill rant.
“Have you dated anyone since Leo?” Jill demanded in a harsh whisper. By this time Kane was in full swing, talking about self-awareness, goals, picturing yourself in the future ... pretty much the usual stuff.
“Do you mind?” a voice hissed from the row behind us.
“No,” Daphne whispered quietly to Jill, a little hurt that she was suddenly under attack.
“Shut the fuck up,” the voice behind us said.
I suddenly felt very self-aware, very motivated. I pictured myself in the near future turning to clock the guy behind me. But Jill came alive with all the fury and hurt she’d been nursing toward Ian. She twisted sharply, giving our annoyed friend the full benefit of her blotchy, furious, tear-stained face.
“Don’t worry. I’m leaving,” she told him coldly.
“Good.” He made one of those male sneers and glanced around, seeking supporters. I’d seen that sneer and glance technique before. It was used when some guy wanted to point out what a horror story the girl talking to him was.
Jill pushed out her chair and stood right in front of him. Several of the fresh-faced crew glanced over, alarmed at the developing scene. Most of the room laughed at some other amusing Kane remark.
“What do you want, bitch?” he said deliberately.
CeeCee suddenly swiveled sharply and karate-chopped him in the knee, like a doctor checking reflexes. Sure enough, his leg flew forward and banged into my chair. It was so comical it broke the tension. I think we would have burst into laughter if he’d relaxed a little. Instead, his face drew back into a grimace of fury and I swear twin streams of vapor shot from his nostrils. El Toro seemed to be pawing the floor, ready to charge CeeCee.
She warned coldly, “The last guy who touched me got a cigarette burn in the back of his hand.”
“Fuck you,” he said decisively.
“Excuse me?” a fresh-face interrupted. “Is there a problem?”
“These cunts can’t stop talking,” El Toro spewed. “Get rid of ’em.”
Her face whitened. She glanced around helplessly.
Kane seemed to wake up to the fact that there was a disturbance in the southwest quadrant. He glanced our way and I saw him zero in on me. There was no mistaking the flicker of surprise that crossed his face. I didn’t respond in any way. I couldn’t. Not while CeeCee was now nose-to-nose with El Toro. I thought she might get scorched by the fumes. I held my breath. He was a rhino-necked guy with close-set eyes and sausage-shaped fingers. I pegged him for either a hit man or an actor specializing in Mafioso parts.
Jill threw gasoline on the fire. “You’re making my point,” she told him. “The big show. All muscle-head bullshit.”
He threw back his head. I winced, certain he was about to bellow his fury and charge. More fresh-faced followers appeared. I expected no more than their collective wringing of hands but anything’s possible.
“Let’s go,” I urged harshly.
Daphne didn’t waste time. She practically yanked Jill out of her chair. That left me with CeeCee, who was keeping up a cool matador staring contest with our furious Taurus. She did let me drag her away; she’s not suicidal. But she kept her eyes on him all the way out. He, in turn, glared back, sneeringly triumphant. CeeCee gave him the classic “up-yours” gesture before we hit the cool night air outside.
“Well, that was fun,” I said.
“He called us the ‘c’ word,” Daphne whispered.
CeeCee snorted. “That was meant for me.”
“I think I can safely say that was meant for all of us,” I rejoined.
“My fault,” Jill said. But she didn’t sound repentant.
“Asshole,” CeeCee muttered. She was still focused, laserlike, on the auditorium doors.
“What are we going to do now?” Daphne looked shattered. “Ginny can’t meet with Kane.”
Since this seemed like the least important aspect of the situation, I pointed out, “We’re all still alive.”
“But this is your chance.”
I wasn’t sure if this was the right time to mention that Kane and I had briefly locked eyes during the skirmish. This wasn’t how I wanted to meet up with him again.
A door pushed open behind us. All four of us whipped around, wondering if El Toro had broken from the ring. But it was one of the fresh-faced blue shirts, a young man with an earnest face. “Is one of you Virginia Bluebell?” he asked.
I lifted a hand. Wearily, I said, “That would be me.”
Chapter
19
I
f there is a hell, I’m in it.
I sat primly in one of the straight-backed, auditorium chairs in an anteroom off to one side of the meeting room. Where my friends were I had no idea. After locking eyes with me, Kane had apparently asked one of his minions to fetch me. So, here I was. Waiting. For Ex-File Number Two.
I examined my fingernails, lifted my arms over my head several times and stretched. A refrain from a song kept running through my head, and I realized it was a song from my time with Kane. We’d been together, what? Two months? It was a far more distant memory than even Charlie, though it had been relatively soon after my first sexual experience. Funny, I had trouble remembering having sex with Kane, except for the fact that he liked to refer to it as ‘making love,’ as if that made it better somehow. I certainly believed it did at the time. Still, my memory of my efforts to smoke dope, and my lung-hacking afterwards, were far more indelibly etched in the wrinkles and folds of my brain. Was that all there really was to our relationship? Experimentation with marijuana? What I recalled most were the images of the basement of his parents’ house and the couch where we’d “done it,” and not much about Kane himself. It was high school, for God’s sake.
High school.
I didn’t see how meeting with Kane could make any difference to my life now.
The good news was I had neither fears nor anticipation. It sort of felt like I was on a job interview for a position I didn’t want.
My cell phone, which I had turned to vibrate, suddenly went off in my pants pocket. So far, this was my only thrill of the day. “Hello?”
“Hi, it’s me,” said Holly. “We’ve got a job for Trash Athletics in Seattle. I’m booking flights for a week from Sunday.”
“I’m in.” What a relief. The working world. The real world.
“We’re picking up a coordinator up there unless you have someone in mind.”
“Sounds good.” As long as it wasn’t Barb, I was happy.
Trash Athletics. A snowboard/skateboard/grunge-type outfit. CeeCee’s style to the max. I wondered if there was any chance she could come with along as a PA. I’d be happy to buy her airline ticket. Wishful thinking on my part, as she seemed to have her job at the radio station—and her nonrela-tionship with Gerald—thoroughly under control.
I’d barely hung up when the phone vibrated again, this time in my hand. I nearly dropped it and went through a juggling act for a second or two. “Yeah?” I answered.
“I’m naked and waiting for you.”
It was Will. I thought of Holly, her warnings, my future employment. I realized I had zero sex drive when it came to Will. Maybe seeing Black Mark, whom Will reminded me of, had some play in that as well.
I said, “I’m at ‘Getting Able with Kane’.”
“Where? Who?”
I was actually gratified that he didn’t know what it meant, until he said, “Oh, that self-help guru?”
“I wouldn’t call him a guru.” I was firm. This distinction mattered, though if asked I wouldn’t have been able to quite say why.
“Can you leave and get over here? I’m going to grill some steaks on the barbeque.”
“Naked?”
“I’ll be wearing a chef’s hat.”
I smiled to myself. This was more like it but it still wasn’t quite enough. “Promise I won’t get any more snow globes thrown at me.”
“Oh, for God’s sake.” He sounded pissed.
“We’ve got a logistics problem,” I said, stalling. “I’m not even close to your place.”
And I’ve still got to meet with Kane
. “Can we delay a couple of hours?”
“No, Ginny,” he said with extreme patience. “Hard-ons don’t last that long.”
I almost said, “Ever thought about Viagra?” but decided it wasn’t the right call. Instead I said, “If I walked out the door now, I’d still be forty-five minutes from the barbeque.”
“Fuck it, then.” He hung up.
I stared at my phone as if it were a Judas. He
hung up
on me? Because I was across town? It’s not like anybody’s ever near anyone else in LA! What a pain in the ass!
I ground my teeth. Hadn’t I warned myself about directors? They weren’t any better than actors. It was all about me, me, me, and there was no room for anything else. Didn’t I know this.
Hadn’t I learned?
I heard a faint cheer go up and I checked my watch. It sounded like Kane was finally done motivating. Hopefully, this was the end of the event. I wondered if my friends were still hanging around outside or if they’d taken off in a cab. I phoned Daphne’s cell as she was the most reliable about answering but was instantly put through to voice mail.
“Still here,” I said to her chirpy direction to leave a message. “But it looks like the Dr. Feel Good is almost done.”
I was in the process of dialing CeeCee when the door opened and a couple of minions appeared, wearing their patented bright, white smiles, blue shirts, black slacks and red “Time To Get Able” stickers.
“Kane is almost ready for you,” one of the female ones said. The reverential way her mouth caressed “Kane” kind of gave me pause.
“But am I ready for him?” I asked.
They smiled knowingly at one another, completely missing the irony. “We’ll be back when the auditorium’s empty.”
“Go tend the flock. I’ll just wait here in my cell,” I said agreeably. Tiny frown lines briefly appeared between their brows, but then they must have spied their leader because they flew through the doors as if greeting a returning king.
It still was a good fifteen minutes before Kane entered the room. I used the time to stew about Will and his childish ways. I’d sensed a maturity in him that apparently was just a veneer. The good news was, I didn’t think Will could be considered an Ex-File. One sexual encounter does not an Ex-File make. Okay, maybe it had with Charlie, but not with Will. Charlie had been my first and that gave it more weight. This thing with Will was more like checking to see if we had things in common. And I was discovering that I didn’t really want to be with him or see him any more.
And besides, I reminded myself with new conviction, I hadn’t told anyone about Will except CeeCee. Jill and Daphne didn’t even know. So Will didn’t count. The fewer Ex-Files, the better.
Kane burst through the door at that moment, arms outstretched. A bevy of fresh-faced acolytes hovered by the door, their eyes adoring. He said simply, “Ginny,” and gathered me to him like a long lost sheep.
I let him hug me. I felt like crossing my eyes over his shoulder for the minions’ benefit. I held myself back at the last minute. Immaturity might not behoove me amongst the saved.
“You asked for Virginia,” I said to Kane. “Since when? I’ve never gone by Virginia.”
He laughed. “I always liked the name Virginia Bluebell.”
“You and no one else. Possibly my mother,” I conceded. “I didn’t even know you knew it.”
“When Mr. Tanlesky called roll, he asked for Virginia.”
Kane’s memory surprised and somewhat awed me. Mr. Tanlesky had been head of study hall, which I’d continually skipped, which had merely added more study halls on, which accumulated to a point where the threat of
you will not graduate if you don’t attend study hall
hung over my head. However, my grades had improved so drastically during my last semester in school, as I’d finally decided to be a student, that my mother marched into the school and suggested we rethink this whole graduation thing, pronto. Lorraine had made veiled threats about writing letters to the local paper about the lockdown policies Carriage Hill High pressed on the academically solid students of the school while truants with juvenile, nay, adult criminal records ran wild in the streets. Or something like that. Anyway, the school had relented and I’d managed to walk to the podium on graduation night. But it was testament to my rejection of authority that I’d been to Tanlesky’s study hall so few times he hadn’t even known my name.
“So, you actually made study hall?” I said, impressed.
“I had a tendency to stare silently into space just to bother the man. It was a highlight for me.” He released me and smiled benevolently down on me. I thought maybe he’d had his eyes done, too. After Mom, I was becoming an expert.
“But as you can see,” he went on. “I’ve learned a lot on my journey of life. That kind of passive–aggressive behavior merely drags you down.” For emphasis, he pulled his clenched fists toward himself. I copied the gesture, careful to keep my expression neutral so he would have to guess whether I was poking a bit of fun at him. He took me at face value. There was a roteness to his being, a staleness. He’d been at this game way, way too long. I silently mourned the maverick nerd of his youth. It looked like he was due for a little self-help shake-up himself.
“Ever been to Tony Robbins?” I asked curiously.
He sidestepped adroitly. “What are you doing now, Ginny? Are you happy? Feel productive? Useful to yourself and others?”
“I work in commercials as a production manager. Productive is what I am.”
“You look well,” he said.
“Well ... thanks.”
“What happened in the auditorium? I understand there was a miscommunication.”
I paused. “Actually, I think we were communicating all right.”
“I understand you and your group were asked to leave?”
“We thought the guy behind us was an asshole and he thought we were ...” I couldn’t make myself use the “c” word. “He thought we were the problem.”
“You had a disagreement?”
I gazed at him in wonder. Did he seriously make money at this? “It was kind of a hearing issue,” I explained. “Some could hear, some couldn’t.”
“The acoustics weren’t effective?”
“My friends and I were talking and the guy behind us wanted us to stop. Tension grew. Ugly names were called. Luckily, one of your blue-clad assistants took care of the situation before it got out of hand.”
He gazed at me with, I swear, disappointment. “Do you need your money refunded?”
“You do that?” I asked in surprise.
“Well, of course.”
“We were all thrown out. My friends could use being reimbursed, too.”
“Thrown out is a hostile term. How many friends do you have?”
“Three came with me tonight.”
“Excuse me.” Kane left the room abruptly.
Well, now what was I supposed to do? Wait while Kane cut us a check? Or would we be getting vouchers for future Getting Able sessions? Somehow I didn’t think this meeting was really helping me in any meaningful way. It hadn’t even brushed on what reconnecting with the Ex-Files was all about. Sad to say, but the only one of my exes who seemed to really want to get to a touchy-feely reconnection stage had been Don.
To my surprise I heard familiar voices: Daphne, CeeCee, and Jill. They entered the room with Kane following. All of them had their eyes on him, really checking him out. He glowed under the attention.
Daphne sported a faint blush. “I didn’t expect a one-on-one. Especially after what happened.”
“It’s a one-on-four,” CeeCee pointed out. She was turning an unlit cigarette end-on-end on a pack, assessing Kane through narrowed eyes.
Jill said, “Are we ready to go?”
For his part, Kane couldn’t take his eyes off Daphne. At first I thought he’d chosen our weakest link, so to speak. Daphne was niceness personified. But then I realized our weakest link was currently Jill, as she was so shattered. The look on her face, though she sought hard to hide it, was pure misery.
“So, you’re all friends who live in LA together,” Kane remarked.
“Makes the lonely city a little less lonely,” Daphne said, smiling prettily.
CeeCee shot me a look. “I’ve got to leave.”
“How long are your sessions?” Jill asked him.
“They’re tailored for the individual.”
“How long to get over a really, really bad breakup?”
“It takes a while, but you come out the other side. It does happen.”
“But how long?” Jill was raw.
For an answer, Kane slipped her a card. As an afterthought he gave one to Daphne, pressing it into her palm. “I’m going back to my hotel in a few minutes. Why don’t you join me in the lobby bar?”
“That’d be great,” Daphne said a bit breathlessly. She didn’t even bother checking to see if it would be “great” for the rest of us.
“I have someplace I have to be,” I told them even though I had no intention of going over to Will’s now.
Daphne grabbed me by the arm, hard. “Later,” she said cheerily, then practically propelled me out of the room.
 
 
If I’d thought my night couldn’t get much worse, I was dead wrong. Jill and CeeCee let it be known that they did NOT want to meet up with Kane at his lobby bar or anywhere else. But Daphne insisted that
I
needed to talk to Kane, and that we weren’t being fair if we didn’t help make that happen. I tried to say that I felt Kane and I had talked enough, but I was overridden. The voices of my friends swelled so loudly that my ears were ringing as we walked into the lobby bar of the Beverly Westside Hotel, straight into Jackson Wright and his date. Carmen Watkins.

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