Knitting Under the Influence (9 page)

Her anger and her guilt—all the fault of Jason Smith and his friends.

She lay in bed now and wondered: would there truly be any comfort in revenge?

And immediately knew the answer. Of course there would.
Of course there would.

3

Patterns

I

S
ign me up,” Kathleen said. “It's perfect.” She hoisted herself, ass first, onto the edge of Lucy's kitchen table and sat there, long bare legs dangling—she was wearing shorts, a tank top, and flip-flops, even though it was a fairly cool October morning. “Tomorrow at work, I’ll ask Kevin to sponsor me for Sari's autism walk, and then I’ll try to get him to ask to come with me, and he probably will, but even if he doesn't, it'll still make me look all noble and caring.”

“How gullible
is
this guy?” Lucy asked. “And get off my table. You'll break it.”

Kathleen jumped down. “I need to jump-start this thing. I mean, it's not like we're
not
spending time together—so far, we've gone running twice, and he flirts like crazy. But he's got this girlfriend to get rid of and he's too nice a guy to just dump her. But if I take him on Sari's autism walk thing, I’m pretty sure I can clinch the deal.”

“How romantic,” Lucy said. “How long is the walk, Sari?”

“Five K. And afterward, they give us lunch. In-N-Out Burgers. And there's supposed to be Krispy Kremes and coffee in the morning before the walk.”

“Woo-hoo,” Kathleen said. “Krispy Kremes? I’m so there.”

“I’m coming late and leaving early,” Lucy said. “I don't want to eat that stuff but I will if it's right there in front of me.”

“No, you won't,” Kathleen said. “You never do. You only eat self-denial. What does that taste like, anyway?”

Like chicken,” Sari said.

“Yeah, well we can't all have your metabolism,” Lucy said to Kathleen. “Or lack of willpower.”

“Haven't you heard?” Kathleen said. “Willpower's out. Self-indulgence is the new willpower.”

“That doesn't even make
sense.”

“See if you can dig up anyone else to come, guys,” Sari said. “They want as huge a crowd as they can get.”

Lucy said, “I’ll ask my lab partner. David. He's always doing charity stuff. I bet he'll go.”

“Great,” Sari said. “I’ve always wanted to meet him.”

“You
have
met him,” Lucy said. “You came to get me at the lab once a few months ago and met him. You guys talked for like ten minutes.”

“Really?” Sari said.

“That's David's most remarkable quality,” Lucy said. “He's completely forgettable. I work with him every day and
I
can barely remember him.”

“Oh, wait—is he Asian?”

“Half Chinese, half Jewish.”

“Okay. It's coming back. I do remember him. He's a nice guy.”

“He's a nerd,” Lucy said. “A nerd who's very good at killing rats. Not as good as I am, but very good.”

“Excellent,” Sari said. “It's a relief to know we'll be covered if any small animals attack us during the walk.”

II

B
ack at her own place later that day, Kathleen let herself slide into a delicious Sunday afternoon nap on her airbed but was woken up by the buzzing of the intercom. Sams state-of-the-art intercom was built into his phone system, but Kathleen hadn't bothered to get a line installed since she had her cell. Fortunately, the building's original buzzer system from the seventies still worked. Very loudly.

Since she rarely had visitors to her unfurnished apartment— and never before an unexpected one—Kathleen quickly shook herself awake and ran over to the speaker.

“Your father's here to see you,” the doorman said.

“Oh, shit,” she said, right into the intercom. “Send him up, I guess.”

She turned and surveyed her living room. It stretched out in all directions, an enormous room with high ceilings and magnificent moldings, furnished with only a single twin airbed. Actually, Kathleen owned two airbeds, both bought at Bed Bath & Beyond for ninety-nine dollars each. One was in her bedroom and therefore her designated bed. This one was in the living room, so it served as a sofa and a place to nap. She also sat on it to eat, so it was her de facto dining room, as well. The actual dining room served as her soccer and field hockey playground. She had recently purchased a set of orange cones, which she used as goals for whatever sport she felt like playing and were currently arranged for soccer. Balls, pucks, bats, and hockey sticks lay scattered on the floor.

There was a knock on the door. Kathleen opened it. Lloyd Winters wasn't alone. There was another guy with him, a younger one, with big brown eyes and longish hair. He wore an oversize sports jacket over a yellow mock turtleneck.

“There she is. My gorgeous baby girl.” Lloyd approached her with his arms out. Kathleen crossed her own tightly across her chest and took a step back. He gave up on the hug but did manage to kiss the air near her cheek. “Kathleen, my beauty, this is Jordan Fisher. Jordan is not only a friend of mine, but one of the hottest young talent agents in Hollywood.”

“Please, Lloyd,” Jordan said, holding up a thin, self-deprecating hand. Then, to Kathleen with a smile: “He exaggerates.” He held the hand out and Kathleen shook it briefly.

“Modest,” Lloyd said, draping an arm across Jordan's shoulder. “Not like most of those conceited bastards. They'll sell you a line, but not this guy. Are you going to let us in, Kathleen?”

“I don't have any furniture,” she said. “You'll have to stand. Or sit on the floor.”

“Only Kathleen,” Lloyd said with a laugh, steering the other man through the door and closing it. “She's an original.”

“How would you know?” Kathleen said. “And why are you here?”

“To see you,” Lloyd said. “Doesn't she look just like me, Jordan?”

“Just like,” he said.

“The features are almost the same, but on her they make something beautiful.”

“They really work,” Jordan said.

“You haven't answered my question,” Kathleen said.

“Can't a father come see his—”

“No, really,” she said. “Why are you here?”

Jordan tossed his long hair. “You really cut through the crap, don't you, Kathleen? I admire that.” And you really dish it out, Kathleen thought, without any admiration at all. “Your father's been telling me a lot about you. A lot of very interesting and wonderful things. Do you know what he says about you?”

“That we barely know each other?”

The men laughed as if she had said something witty. “The greatest regret of my life,” Lloyd said gallantly. He had gotten his hair cut very short recently—buzzed, really. It was starting to recede, and Kathleen suspected that this was his attempt to hide it.

Jordan put his hand on her arm. “Let me tell you what he says. He says that you're the true beauty of the family. The true talent, too. Not to disparage your sisters, who are lovely, lovely ladies. But we all know that the fact that they're identical twins has a lot to do with their success and—uh, may I be completely frank here?”

“Just get through it,” Kathleen said, shaking off his hand.

“I think their identicality”—Was that even a word? Kathleen wondered—”blinded people to everything else. It was all anyone noticed about them—about all three of you, if you don't mind my saying so. And, in the end, I think their twinness overshadowed something far more appealing. Or should I say
someone?”

“Someone, as in me?” Kathleen said.

Jordan smiled, showing teeth all the way back to the corners of his lips. “Exactly. She's quick, isn't she?” he said to Lloyd.

“Of course. She's my daughter.”

“It really is astonishing how much she looks like you. She's tall like you, too, the lucky girl.”

Kathleen walked over to a basketball that was lying nearby. She scooped it up and dribbled it a few times. It made a loud thud each time it hit the hardwood floor and the men turned to look. “Oh, sorry,” she said, catching the ball. “I didn't mean to interrupt.”

“You're probably wondering what the point of all this is,” Jordan said.

“Not really,” Kathleen said. She tossed the ball away and turned back to them. “I’m pretty sure I’ve figured it out. You think I should become an actress and you want to represent me.

“A star,” he said. “Not just an actress. A star. Kathleen, I could take you places you never dreamed of. Features. TV series. TV movies.
Indies.
You name it, and together, we'll conquer it.”

“Adult movies?” Kathleen said.

“Excuse me?”

“Oh, I just got the sense that with you at my side I’d end up in adult movies. Pornography.”

Jordan looked thoughtful. “If that appeals to you … I mean, Jenna Jameson has certainly proven that's one road to stardom and while I don't know that world as of yet, I’m certainly open to—”

Lloyd cut him off. “Jordan's totally legit, Kathleen. He represents tons of actors. Kimberly Sostchen. Jersey London. Just to name a couple.”

“I’ve never heard of them.”

“Then you're not watching enough TV. They're both on major series and very hot right now.”

“Good for them,” she said with a yawn. “What agency are you with, Jordan?”

“My own. I started with William Morris but decided to go into business by myself. I just didn't feel like we were servicing our clients well enough there—there was too much bloat at the company. Know what I mean?”

“Uh-huh.” She bet he had served coffee at William Morris. And gotten kicked out for not remembering the sugar. No way this guy was a real player. Not with that turtleneck. Not if he was hanging out with Lloyd and coming to her apartment to try to convince her to do something she had no interest in doing, all because she had the same last name as her moderately famous sisters. She moved toward the door. “Well, thanks for all the compliments, but I don't want to act. Sorry. Better luck next time.”

The men exchanged knowing smiles. Lloyd said, “I told you she'd take some persuading.” He rubbed his hands together. “Fortunately, we both love a challenge, don't we, Jordan? So how about we go get something to eat? We can talk about it more over dinner.”

“No, thanks,” Kathleen said. “I’m exhausted.”

“You're too young to be exhausted,” he said. “Come on, sweetie—it'll be lady's choice—whatever you want. So what do you like? Sushi? Indian?”

“None of the above. I’m tired.”

“I hear you. We'll do takeout.” He gestured toward her shorts and tank top. “No need to worry about how you look.”

“I’m not hungry,” Kathleen said. “I just want to go to bed.”

“I know what that made me remember!” Jordan said suddenly.

“What what made you remember?” Lloyd asked.

“That basketball. It just came to me. Someone told me recently about this huge movie they're doing. About a women's soccer team. Sort of an American
Bend It Like Beckham,
with a dash of
League of Their Own
thrown in. And they want to cast unknowns. You'd be perfect, Kathleen. With your athleticism and grace … I mean,
wow.”

“Now we're getting somewhere,” Lloyd said. He took a step toward the door. “I’ll get us a bottle of wine. A bottle of wine and something to go with it.”

“I could really go for some Mexican right now,” Jordan said. “But not the greasy kind. Tacos al carbón. Something like that.”

He slapped his skinny stomach. “Got to watch my figure.”

Kathleen said, “I don't—”

“If it's Mexican, I think I should get beer instead of wine,” Lloyd said to Jordan.

“Oh, absolutely,” Jordan agreed. “There's a place down the block—”

“Hold on,” Kathleen said, but the men were discussing brands of Mexican beers and didn't seem to hear her. So then she said, “Excuse me,” and dashed down the hallway to the kitchen and through the kitchen to the back stairs. She ran up quickly.

Sam's kitchen door was unlocked, as it usually was these days. She shouted for him as she stuck her head around the door.

“I’m right here,” he said. “You don't need to yell.” He was cooking at his stove. Something with onions and butter. It smelled good. He peered over his shoulder at her. “What do you want?”

“Help,” she said, coming into his kitchen. “I need help.”

“Why? What's wrong?”

“My father showed up with a creepy agent type and they won't leave me alone. They want to put me in porn. I can't get rid of them.”

“Just tell them to leave.”

“I’ve tried. They won't.”

“So go be in porn. You wanted a career.”

“Come on, Sam. Please. Help me.”

“Do I have to?”

“Yes.”

He sighed. “All right.” He turned the burner off and shoved the pan across to a cool one. “I don't remember signing on as your personal bodyguard when I agreed to let you house-sit.”

“I didn't know my father was going to start bringing creeps over to my place.”

“You should never have given him your address.”

“I didn't,” she said, heading back down the stairs, with him following. “He's sneaky.”

He followed her back through her kitchen and down the hall into the living room, where they found the two men kicking the basketball back and forth without much enthusiasm or ability. Sam said, “Hello, Lloyd.”

Lloyd looked up and immediately strode forward, neatly sidestepping the rolling ball. “Sam Kaplan! Where the hell did you come from?”

“Upstairs.” The two men shook hands.

Lloyd said, “Sam, Jordan Fisher. Jordan, Sam Kaplan. Sam's the real estate guy I was telling you about. Very big.”

“Pleased to meet you,” Jordan said.
“Very
pleased to meet you. Do you live here?” He looked at Kathleen. “With her? Are you—”

“No,” Sam said. “I live upstairs and Kathleen just ran up because she wanted me to ask you both to leave.”

“Excuse me?” Lloyd said.

“Kathleen's not interested in representation at this time.”

Lloyd looked back and forth between them. “I don't know what Kathleen's been telling you, but we just wanted to have dinner and talk. No one was putting any pressure on her.”

“You wouldn't leave,” Kathleen said. “I told you I didn't want any dinner but you wouldn't leave.”

“I’m sorry if you felt we were wasting your time,” Lloyd said.“I thought we were having a pleasant chat. I’m not sure why you felt the need to misrepresent the situation to my friend Sam here.”

“Me neither,” said Jordan.

“I apologize,” Lloyd said to him. “I thought my daughter had manners. And some intelligence. Clearly, I was mistaken on both accounts.”

“Yep, you were,” Kathleen said. She opened the door and gestured toward it. “Now you'll know better. Goodbye.”

As they went through the doorway, Lloyd turned and said, “I think you at least owe us an—”

She slammed the door in his face. “Idiots,” she said. She turned and looked at Sam. “Thank you.”

“You're welcome.” As he headed back toward the hallway, he gestured around the living room. “I love what you've done to the place.”

“It suits me.”

“It also explains why you're always coming up to
my
apartment. Good night, Kathleen. I’m going back to my cooking. Unless you're expecting some more surprise visitors.”

“How can you expect a surprise visitor?”

He laughed, then said, “Back to my onions.” He crossed through the kitchen to the back door. Kathleen caught the door before it closed and held it open. Sam paused on the stairs to look back at her. “What?”

“I’m hungry.”

He waited, his eyebrows cocked expectantly.

“It smelled good, what you were cooking.”

There was another pause. He sighed. “Come on up, then.”

She bounded up the steps to his side. “So,” she said. “What are we having for dinner?”