Lennon's Jinx (15 page)

They
chatter in French for a while until Lennon realizes I have no idea what they’re
saying. I took a real language, Spanish. The only people that speak French
besides the French are Canadians.

“When
are you going to London next?” He spoons imaginary food to Molly.

“Soon,”
Currie says. “I want to go back to the Westminster and the Tower of London.”

Throughout
lunch, Lennon pours tea for the dolls and chats with them. The girls titter in
their make-believe world of traveling to Paris and London, though in Currie’s
case, her descriptions of the places sound quite vivid. I’m guessing she’s been
there. This is a whole other side of Lennon that I wasn’t expecting. What guy
does this for his sister and her friend?

Lennon
even pulls out a Nikon and takes pictures of the girls, then he gets the
waitress to shoot us all together. I wear his sunglasses to hide the ugly
bruise of shame and my bloodshot eyes.

We
finally get to leave the creepy doll store. The girls carry their booty,
giggling the few blocks we walk to Oak Street.

Lennon
could be hanging out with the guys or getting into his usual trouble, but
instead, he does this because it makes the girls happy. Okay, I probably don’t
hate him anymore.

Our
first stop of high-end stores is Loro Piana. Cashmere, worsted fabrics, nothing
I can afford. Does Lennon think that if he buys me he’ll get some? That gives
me an uneasy feeling.

“What
size?” Currie asks Lennon, like he’d know.

“Zero
or children’s sizes.”

I
press my knuckles to my hips. “I’m not a child.”

Zoe
and Currie both eye me up and down and laugh. They’re almost as tall as I am.

“Yes,
you are,” Currie says. “I could probably fit you in my purse like a Chihuahua.”

Currie
shuffles through the rack before we head to the next store and the next and the
next. The girls are wearing out. Lennon sometimes carries Zoe and the packages while
managing to hold Currie’s hand. I’d heard Zoe was sick from Rena and goes for
chemo this weekend. It’s too bad. She’s so young and innocent.

The
farther he carries her, the more I wish it was me. I’m wiped out, too.

We
go through several more stores before stopping at Barney’s. My mouth drops
open. Their dresses are in the thousands. “I can’t afford this.”

Lennon
ignores me while chatting up the sales woman.

She
bats her lashes and touches his arm. Jeez, she flirts hard. Money certainly talks.
“We have newer styles over here,” she says, pointing to a few displays.

“Thanks,”
he says, his gaze consistently on the girls and not the sales woman. “Currie
has it under control.”

Currie
finds several dresses from the sales rack. “Here, try these on. We want to see
them.”

I
take the load from her. “A little bossy, aren’t you?”

“Just
do as I say, and we’ll get along just fine.”

I
chuckle at this mini boss lady.

She
lowers her head but not her intense gaze. “Chop. Chop.”

A
different sales woman shows me to a dressing room. I plop down into the chair
and relax for a moment. The food helped my upset stomach and pounding head, but
I’m not cured yet. It’s going to take more time and a hot bath.

I
check the tags on the dresses. The prices here are too steep for me. I wonder
just how much Currie and Lennon have. From the label, my first dress is a Drace
V-neck. It shapes my non-existent figure.

When
I come out, the girls are sitting beside Lennon in a loveseat, drinking hot
cider. They yawn and curl up against him while he sips a glass of champagne.
He’s too cool for school, yet he’s like Mr. Mom.

“Turn
around,” Lennon says. “That one’s okay.”

What?
He’s some sort of fashion guru, too.

Currie
shakes her head at me. “You’re doing it all wrong.”

“Am
I Zoe?” I ask.

She
nods and gets up with Currie. They both strut up and down in perfect
synchronization like pintsize streetwalkers, turning at the precise moment to
stop and strike a pose.

“Sashay
and pivot,” Zoe says. “You can do it.”

“Don’t
you watch
America’s Next Top Model
?” Currie asks.

“No,”
I say. “Why would I? In case you haven’t noticed, I’m not five-ten with big
feet.”

Both
girls first glance at their feet before rolling their eyes and returning to
Lennon.

“Show
us the walk,” Currie demands.

I
sway toward them, swivel with a bit too much hip, feel my lunch burn my throat,
and clomp back. “How was that?”

Currie
puts her hand over her face. “Pitiful.”

Zoe
and Lennon chuckle at me.

I
try on a dozen more. Most of them look good on me. I wish I could take them
all. When I’m on my last one, Lennon says, “Which two, girls?”

“The
purple A-line will work well with your matching ties and Armani suits,” Zoe
says.

These
girls even know fashion speak. I can’t tell Prada from Louis Vuitton. And the
band all has to match?

Currie
studies the last dress. “I like this one, too. The Philip Lin rose-colored faux
wrap.”

“My
choices as well, ladies.” Lennon looks at me. “I’ll pay for one of them to
replace your top.”

I’d
almost forgotten about that. “Thanks.”

Zoe
crawls off Lennon’s lap and fingers the silk scarves. I return to the dressing
room to check the price tags and change into my street clothes. They’re both
over two hundred. There goes my first few paychecks and then some.

Zoe
has a bright-colored scarf around her head when I come out. “Do you think this
will hide my bald head?”

She
has hair now, but probably won’t after this weekend. I bite back emotion for
the young girl suffering. My dad was in so much pain at the end, I wished him
dead.

Currie
picks out a similar one except in a different color. “Yep.” She wraps it around
her head and neck so it resembles a hijab headscarf.

Lennon
smiles at both of them. When I walk over to him, he takes the two dresses from
me and puts them on the counter. “Are those the ones you want, little ladies?”

The
sales woman smiles big because one of those scarves cost more than both my
dresses. “They look lovely on them, very vogue.”

Zoe
examines the tag. “Are you sure? It’s really pricey.”

Lennon
goes over to Zoe and picks her up. “And deny you of an accessory that is so
you. I think not.”

If
I didn’t know better, I’d think Lennon is gay with the way he carries on about
clothes and shopping with these two girls. He never does that at school. I’ve
never seen him in anything but jeans and t-shirts or polo shirts.

Zoe
pecks him on the cheek. “You’re a hunky monkey.”

“I
know.” He sets her down and puts the scarves alongside my dresses.

“Ew.”
Currie swats Lennon. “Don’t be flirting with my best friend. It’s so
pedophile.”

Zoe
wraps both arms around his hips. “Not if you’re in love.”

“Clive
will be so jealous,” Lennon says.

Zoe
glances up at him. “We won’t tell him.”

“Good.
I like secrets. Where do you guys want to go for dinner?”

“I
already told you,” Zoe says, punching his thigh. “Giovanni’s.” She takes the
scarf from the bag and completely wraps her head with it and so does Currie.

Lennon
turns around to me. “You like pizza, right?”

I
pull out my jeans pockets to show him how much I don’t have. “I have no money.”

He
leans down and whispers, “Have you ever kissed a rabbit between the ears?”

I
look down and realize my pockets that stick out do in fact make bunny ears. I smack
him hard, which I’m sure doesn’t hurt him because he doesn’t even flinch.
“You’re so disgusting.” Just when I was beginning to think he wasn’t so bad.

“I
know, but you set yourself up for that one.”

Currie
shoulder bumps me. “Only I can hit Lennon, so buzz off.”

“It
okay,” Lennon says. “I’m used to it.”

Zoe
tugs on my jacket. “So you’re like a boyfriend beater.”

“No.
Lennon just brings out the best in me,” I say.

“That’s
not what the real issue is,” Lennon says.

“You’re
right,” I say. “You can’t help it if you’re raunchy.”

“Other
girls think I’m funny.”

“Who,
your skanks?”

“No.
Girls that feel secure about their S-E-N-S-U-A-L-I-T-Y.”

Currie
shoves Lennon. “We can spell, you dope.”

Even though Giovanni’s is packed,
the hostess grins big at Lennon and seats us almost immediately. Two middle
school girls, sitting with their dad, gawk at Lennon as we take our seats.
They’re giggling and pointing at him while the dad is busy ordering.

His
words earlier resonate with me. I hate that he’s right. I’m not comfortable in
my own skin, let alone with my own sexuality. Rena can talk about anything with
me, including her sex life. It always makes me feel uncomfortable when she
does.

“Is
veggie pizza okay with you?” Lennon asks me.

I
like sausage and pepperoni but nod my okay since he’s buying, and I’ve had
enough lectures from Currie, the nutritionist. He orders the largest one Giovanni’s
makes and a bowl of salad for us to share.

When
I order another diet Coke, Currie gives me devil eyes. I should be used to this
by now.

I
lean over to Lennon. “Don’t think that buying a couple meals for me will get
you anywhere.”

“What?”
He clutches his heart. “You aren’t going to take me home and ravage me. I’m
crushed.”

That
stings. He doesn’t find me the least bit attractive with the way he’s mocking
me.

The
pizza settles my stomach. It’s six o’clock, and I finally almost feel human
again. Currie and Zoe chatter loudly to be heard over the noise in the
restaurant. The dad looks over at us while the middle school girls are still eyeing
Lennon like he’s the last remaining unicorn. He definitely resembles his dad.

The
dad says loud enough for everyone close by to hear, “Goddamn Muslims should go
back to the Middle East where they belong.”

Zoe’s
face puckers up to point it may burst. She sniffles. I’m guessing she’s Greek
from her black hair, strong features, and her name. Zoe means life in Greek.
Currie and Lennon are dark as well. I read their dad Jonathan Tyler is mostly
Armenian. Oh the shame, I too read about his band Rage in the rag mags.

Currie
grabs Zoe’s hand. “Don’t listen to him. We look maar-velous.”

Lennon
gets up after wiping his chin and goes over to the table.

“Oh
my God, Lennon Tyler is at our table,” one of the middle school girls gushes.

His
parents never kept him from the spotlight. Lennon has made the front page of
the
Enquirer
a few times, once because some hot Brazilian model hooked
up with him. She dumped the
Us
hottest guy for a night with Lennon.

Rena’s
right. Lennon can have whomever he wants. Why would he waste his time with me
or any other commoner? I really should have nothing to fear from him.

“Hello,
ladies.” He stares down at the dad. It’s gotta be scary to have someone that big
glare at you. “Personally, sir, I’m an atheist, but to say anything that hurts two
young girls’ feelings is despicable.”

The
closest tables are watching Lennon. A couple college girls cheer him on.

“I
suggest you keep your narrow-mindedness to yourself.
Capiche
?”

The
guy swallows hard and nods.

“Good
day, ladies.”

They
giggle and give Lennon little waves.

After
we finish eating, Lennon drives us home. His face goes rigid when
Stairway
to Heaven
plays on Currie’s cell phone. I recognize it because it’s one of
my dad’s favorites.

“Daddy’s
on the phone.” Currie winces. “He wants to talk to you.”

“I’m
driving, Currie,” Lennon says a bit too harshly.

“Lennon’s
driving,” she says to the phone. “I’m working on him to let me come live there.”

Rage
spreads like a wildfire across his face. He grits his teeth and is silent all
the way to my house.

“Can
I speak with you?” I say, nodding outside when he pulls into my driveway and
stops.

Zoe
grins at Lennon. “You should go. I think she wants you to walk her to the door
for a kiss.”

From
the sparkle in her eyes, I can tell she’s a romantic and fairytale kind of girl,
and this warms me toward her. It sucks she’ll be in the hospital this weekend.

Currie
narrows her eyes to slits like she wants to run me through a wood chipper.

After
he walks me to my door, Lennon hands me the two dresses and leans toward me,
shutting out the daylight. Memories pour into my mind of that night. I push him
away, skittering backward. By grabbing my arm, he keeps me from falling onto
the concrete.

After
I’m stable, he shoves his hands into his pockets and steps back. “I’m sorry,
Zoe is usually good at reading girls.”

“Your
ego never ceases,” I say, quivering. I need to get a grip. Lennon isn’t Him. “And
that’s not what I want to talk about.”

I
hesitate, worried how he’ll take what I’m about to say. I don’t really know him
well enough to say this, but I have to tell him. Even if it’s only for Currie’s
sake.

“This
is really none of my business, but I miss my dad every day. Maybe you should
think about your dad’s offer. I know from the tabloids he wasn’t such a great
guy, not like my dad. But lately, I’ve read nothing but positive about him.
Every day I miss my dad, and even if you only have a few precious memories to
hold on to, it’s better than none.”

It’s
an effort to touch his arm without trembling. It came easier when I wasn’t
feeling so hot. “He must care if he keeps calling and seeing Currie.” I purse
my lips. “He’s probably afraid to talk to you. It’s hard to say you’re sorry.”
I know it is for me. “You won’t be able to avoid him forever.”