Splintered Heart (38 page)

"We do?"

"The first one is the week after your party. The producers want to meet you."

"They do?"

"I played them one of our songs. They think we're the greatest. But everyone talks that way when a show's getting going. The producers are already talking about us writing another show for them."

"What kind of show? When do they want the music?"

"Ah ha, so you're not brushing me off?"

"I never said I was."

"So when do we get back to work?"

"Dave, maybe not until after my party, I have a lot to do."

"O.K. But after this get-together, you're going to have to start explaining to me about a lot of things, including you and me and where do we go from here?"

* * *

Marian phoned Stephen and left a message with his answering service, inviting him to dinner. She didn't specify that it was a party — she wanted to surprise him. She was curious to see how Stephen would look in her home next to her friends and relatives, next to Dave Kay, next to Ferris.

Nancy buzzed. "There's a call for you on line two, Mrs. Cooper. Elena said I should ask you if you want to take it. It's a Miss Andrea McCreedy."

Marian wanted to say, "Tell her to go jump in the lake." Instead she said "Nancy, tell Miss McCreedy I've gone for the day."

* * *

Marian collided with Jeanna Dawson at
 
Stephano's
.

"Marian, what perfect timing! I have package for you. The postman was going to leave it with Jimmy, but I knew I'd see you so I said I'd deliver it — it's from a department store."

"It's probably from my Aunt." Paula was always discovering new household gadgets, sending them to Marian like "Care" packages — egg yolk separators, the latest in vegetable slicers, can openers, new fangled pot holders, garlic presses. It was Aunt Paula's way of reminding Marian that a woman's job in the home had infinite possibilities. "Bring it over anytime Jeanna. You know, I still have your book."

"The sex manual! Jannine's been asking about it. You are going to give me a book report, I hope?"

Marian laughed. "Very condensed!"

They disengaged the wheels of their shopping carts and began moving side- by-side down the aisle plucking items off the shelves. Jeanna's list was staples. Marian's was fancy groceries. Each, without comment, was observing what the other was buying.

"How are you and your husband doing, Marian?"

They both were remembering the morning in the kitchen when Marian had told Jeanna about the box of love letters.

"I think we're at a turning point. We haven't been communicating too well since I got back. Maybe we're drifting apart."

"Oh that would be a shame!"

"Why?" Marian turned to look at Jeanna. "Why would it be a shame?"

"I don't know why I said that. I guess, because you and your husband look so good together. When I see the two of you in the lobby you just look like you belong together."

"Is that a good reason do you suppose?" Marian was asking herself the question as well as Jeanna.

"It's a dumb reason. It's a reason our Mothers would give us, isn't it? Still, I don't know if I could stand being a single lady in this day and age." Jeanna looked down thoughtfully at the groceries that were in her cart.

"I know what you mean. Being a single lady always seemed to me a fate worse than — " Marian paused. It was ridiculous to say being single was a fate worse than death.

Being a single, like being old, like being faithful, or unfaithful, had a lot of hand-me-down palaver attached. Then and there, Marian decided she was not going to palaver with herself. She was going to exorcize the aphorisms and old wives tales and try hard, very hard, to see things through her own eyes, not Mamma's, Paula's, Mary Ellen's, Jeanna's, Elena's, or Miss Cresset's.

"Jeanna, what are we jabbering about? We've got our shopping to finish. I'm giving a party on the 20th, dinner at seven. Why don't you and your husband join us? I'd like you to meet Ferris."

* * *

.
..BU 6- 6265...

Marian dialed it without having to check the note on which it was written down. She counted the rings, remembering the jealous wife.

A man answered.

"May I speak to Miss McCreedy — this is Marian Cooper calling?"

She heard him calling..."An-dy!" Then muffled sounds, a verbal exchange before Andrea picked up the phone.

"Hello?" Andrea's voice was soft, very tentative.

Marian's could feel her hand gripping the phone hard. "I'm returning your call?"

"My call!" Andrea laughed dryly.

"You called my office. This is BU 6-6265? Aren't you Andrea McCreedy?"

"Yes it's me, I'm sorry I had to phone you at the office, but…"

Marian heard the man yell, "Goddammit Andrea, don't apologize!" Her heart started beating. There was something going on that she didn't understand.

Andrea continued. "My husband and I want you to stop phoning us, please. I'm sorry about what happened, but I'm married and I just want to live my life with my husband. Mrs. Cooper, I'm not bothering you, so I would appreciate it if you would stop phoning me."

"I don't know what you're talking about."

"Mrs. Cooper, it was two a.m. when you phoned Saturday, and then seven a.m., Sunday morning."

"But that's impossible — I was in California!"

Marian could hear the man's angry voice again in the background, she heard Andrea say, "Aldo, she's been in California."

Then Andrea came back on the line. "My husband is very angry because this person has been phoning me sometimes three or four times a day."

"And this person just listens, doesn't hang up — is that what you mean?"

"Aldo and I can't get a good night's sleep."

Neither woman spoke for a moment.

"Andrea, I've been getting strange calls for a long time. I thought
 
you
 
were phoning me."

"And I thought it was
 
you
! How weird — it couldn't be Myra, could it?" Thinking out loud, Andrea murmured, "Myra's an old girlfriend."

"Whoever it is, she doesn't bother me anymore because I had our number changed."

"Well, I'm real sorry I bothered you." Andrea said.

Marian replied, "It's O.K. I understand the problem very well."

++++++++++

Chapter 68

"Oh Chaz, I just hope it leaves a permanent scar on his cheek. That bastard, did you tell Ferris we're going to sue?"

"Ferris isn't afraid of going to court. Macho man's scared out of his jock that I'm going tattle to his wifey-poo."

"But that's heaven! You've got him right where you want him!"

"Yes but meanwhile back at the ranch, money is getting a wee bit low. Thank God you were in the mood to do us a home-cooked dinner — most I could afford is 'Burger Heaven.' You're not a bad cook when you put your mind to it, dear heart."

Myra giggled, gave a toss to her blonde curls. "I've got other talents, luv." She reached across the table to hold his hand, "After Shell leaves, let's turn on!"

Shelley came in to the room with her musette school-bag. She stood there quietly, waiting for them to notice her.

"Where's Shelley going?" Charles asked.

Myra was clearing the table. "She's sleeping over, Shelley's got this fancy rich friend — kids in her school spend more time in each other's homes than they do in their own."

"You're very liberal Mother, luv. If I had a brat I'm not sure I'd let her go wandering about at this hour!"

"She goes by taxi. Shelley, for gawdsake, let me fix the back of your T shirt." Myra gave her daughter a few motherly pats. "Now give Myra a goodnight kiss... Sweetie, you're going to get cancer of the lungs if you don't stand up straight!"

Shelley stood up straight and put a kiss on Myra's cheek.

"She's getting tits — 32 A — isn't that sweet? Did you get lipstick on me Shell?"

Shelley shook her head.

"You need money."

"Could I have two-twenties, Myra? It's Brooke's birthday."

"I thought it was her birthday last week."

"No, that money was for the maid. You have to tip the maid every once in a while, Myra."

Myra handed Shelley the money. "It's '
The
'
 
Del Monte family — 'veddy ritzy titsy' — my little girl hangs out in the finest circles! Now be good Shelley, and mind your manners!"

Shelley smiled her little girl angelic smile and left the room.

The lights were out, except for the psychedelic spot that Herb had left behind.

Myra rolled a joint for Charles. "Relax Chaz, take a good drag on that one!"

"Shit, suppose I tattle about Elena? Suppose Marian divorces Ferris? Then where am I, Myra? Can you picture me collecting unemployment?"

"Dear heart, it'll work out
 
just
 
the way we planned. Now don't worry about money, Myra's got plenty."

"How much could you lay your hands on, if you had to?"

"More than enough to set you up in the style to which you've become accustomed, dear heart. Screw him! Screw them both!" Myra giggled, and blew into Charles' ear. "Capricorn and Taurus..." She was running her other hand lightly across Charles' chest to unbutton his buttons, working her way down to his zipper. "Oh Chaz, no matter how you play it, we're a winning combination, luv!"

++++++++++

Chapter 69

Shelley looked quickly up and down the dark street.

It was a business district, usually deserted during the night. When Shelley was sure nobody was out walking the dog or anything, she removed the two rusty nails, the board, and carefully opened the door.

It was a boarded up old loft building. She took a flashlight out of her musette bag and climbed up the creaky stairs — five flights — to the top floor.

Moonlight was coming in the window. Shelley put down the musette bag with a happy sigh.

She'd fixed it up. There was a red velvet pillow she'd sneaked out of the living room. It was next to the window. She'd shoplifted decals from the Head Shop. They were plastered all around. She'd found neato posters and empty record jackets in a garbage bin — 
Earth Wind and Fire
,
The Plasmatics
,
Funkadellic
,
Don't Eat the Yellow Snow
— they were edge to edge in a row.

Captain Beefheart's nose, Frank Zappa's mouth — she put a slurp kiss on each of them — they were up on the walls.
 
Pink Floyd
 
got a thumb up.
 
Gang of Four
 
and
 
Black Sabbath
 
got a heels-together, salute.

It was all a ritual. Shelley went through the same routine every time she came there, only each time she brought along something new, so the ritual got longer.

Lighting the candles came next. There was a big bunch of them. Every time around, she lit a fresh one plus the oldies. They were from boxes she lifted from the A & P on a regular basis. Stealing was part of it, but so was buying. Shelley got out the Sony Walkman she'd bought with Myra's twenties plus the extra she'd taken from Myra's purse. It was her new dude. She tuned in WPLJ. Let it blast.

Pushing and shoving, she got the big old window open.

Next, she put on her T shirts. First, was always "Keep on Truckin". Then, "No Nukes" followed by a beat up "Pac Man Fever" shirt. With each one, she took a swallow of Drambuie.

The next batch of shirts went on slower.

The "Vibra-ribbed Trojan" — it was always good for laughs. "Save Alligators — Kill Preppies" — that was when she started smoking.

By the time she got her
 
Smurfettes
 
shirt, and the one that said "Get Down with Barf Bags," she was feeling no pain. Then came the shoes. They were spike heels, a pair she'd smuggled out of Aunt Andrea's closet.

Shelley danced. She shimmied, wriggled, and strutted — shook her fanny, her shoulders, her 32 A's — kept sipping Drambuie till she felt just great, bugged out, wacky.

With the Sony phones in her ears, the music was going down good.

She had a hard time getting up on the window in her heels. But then it was cool. Singing along, crooning, looking for brown bugs below — ooo-oops — she felt like she was floating.

++++++++++

Chapter 70

"Marian, let's talk," Ferris said.

"O.K." Marian put down the letter from Beth she'd been reading.

"I have to go to Chicago for a few days, Marian."

"Fine."

"I have a feeling you don't mind the fact that I have to be away." Ferris spoke very quietly.