A Good Man (11 page)

“Thank you very much, Twan,” Sonya said.

Kim was still mesmerized by her hair.

“My sister thanks you, too,” Sonya added.

Twan nodded and left.

Lynn stood between Kim and Sonya. “You two need to be waxed,” she said.

“That won’t be necessary,” Sonya said.

“Bob Freeberg’s orders,” she said.

Lord, is it okay to hate Bob Freeberg? I doubt that he’s ever been waxed. “Oh.” Sonya beckoned Lynn closer. “I usually keep things tidy down there myself,” she whispered.

“This is TV, not porno, ma’am,” Lynn said. “Bob says to give you a bikini wax if you need it.”

But if I don’t wear a bikini … “Oh, I don’t wear bikinis,” Sonya said. “I wear a one-piece suit.”

Lynn frowned. “I still have to check.”

No, you don’t. “You tell Bob Freeberg that I won’t get a bikini wax until he comes down here and gets a bikini wax with me.”

“Gotcha.” Lynn nodded. “Men, huh?”

Sonya nodded. “Men.”

Lynn stared above Sonya’s eyes. “You need your eyebrows shaped.”

“Bob’s orders?” Sonya asked.

Lynn shook her head. “No. You just need your eyebrows shaped. The hairs are going in every direction. You wouldn’t believe how many people call TV studios to complain about wayward eyebrows.”

This woman is tripping, Sonya thought. Either that or she really loves her job. “If you think it’s necessary. Do you wax or tweeze?”

“I wax. I’ll try to be gentle.”

I doubt having parts of my eyebrows ripped off my head will be a gentle experience.

Michelle returned just as Lynn had turned Sonya’s “bushes” into “commas.”

“Can we go somewhere to chill?” Kim asked. “I’m tired.”

“No,” Michelle said. “Not yet. We have to get Sonya decked out in her princess gear over at WB.”

In an uninteresting, dreary room full of mirrors at Warner Bros. Studios, just down the way from the original Friends set, a team of costume designers, makeup artists, and several useless sycophants changed Sonya into Jazz. First, they slapped electric blue contacts into her eyes.

“To match your dress,” one of them said.

Then they supplied her with several padded bras, fussing over whether C or D was “in” this year.

They chose D.

I will tip over, Sonya thought.

Kitting Sonya out with jewelry took an hour.

“We want her to look regal,” someone said. “A princess should have a lot of bling.”

I will tip over quickly, Sonya thought, and make a loud crash.

Fitting Sonya into her electric blue, velvet party dress took almost half an hour.

If they had buttered my body first, Sonya thought, the whole process would have taken only a minute.

Kim, who enjoyed throwing her new hair over her shoulders, suggested a shoehorn.

Sonya was not pleased.

Sonya tried on several dozen pairs of high heels, each more painful and ridiculous than the last pair. When Sonya suggested going barefoot, the sycophants gasped.

Sonya liked making the sycophants gasp. It almost made the entire process bearable.

After a photographer captured Sonya in her full Jazz regalia for the Web site splash page, the lead makeup artist, Jillian, told her to arrive early Monday morning. “We have a lot of painting to do.”

Kim said Sonya would need the twenty-year paint.

Sonya was not amused.

On the ride up 110 to Casa Malibu, Kim rolled down the back windows to let her new hair flutter in the breeze.

“You really looked like black Barbie, Sonya,” Kim said.

“I felt like a fool,” Sonya said. “Have you ever seen so many suck-ups in one room in all your life?”

“So, what’s it like to be a princess?” Michelle asked.

“Princesses must have stiff necks and aching feet,” Sonya said.

As they drove through the entrance to Casa Malibu, Kim laughed. “It looks like a Super Eight.”

“How would you know that?” Sonya asked.

“I know Super Eights, okay?” Kim said.

I shouldn’t have asked, Sonya thought.

After squeezing the Camry into the last available space, Michelle led them over a red brick walkway between two tall palm trees directly to their beachfront room.

“You’ve already been checked in.” Michelle took out a key. “No keycards here. This is an old-school joint. It’s kind of seventies chic.” She worked the lock and opened the door. “Aren’t the crashing waves to die for?”

Sonya liked the white walls, white fireplace, and the king-size bed covered with a gold leaf bedspread. It reminds me of my TV room. Oh, the plastic plant next to the TV is a nice touch. Grandmama would have felt right at home here. She had an entire kitchen filled with plants she had to dust instead of water.

“It’s got satellite TV, wireless Internet access, free continental breakfast,” Michelle said, “and you’re only fifty feet from the ocean.”

Kim slumped into a rattan chair. “I will die here.”

“Not bad,” Sonya said. “I’ve stayed in worse.”

Kim sighed. “So have I. But this is so creamy and peachy.”

Michelle opened a door to a tiny kitchen. “Oh, this is nice.”

Sonya had to turn sideways to get into the bathroom, a toilet to the left, a tub to the right. “Was this once an apartment complex?”

Michelle stuck her head in, and Sonya had to back up. “I think so.”

Sonya left the bathroom for the veranda, a lounge chair and table set up facing the ocean. Is the ocean always this loud? I don’t know if I could sleep with all that noise.

Kim wandered into the kitchen. “I’m eating on WB’s tab as much as I can.”

“Oh, there are lots of nice restaurants around here,” Michelle said. “And you’re liable to see someone famous.”

“You could always get some groceries,” Sonya said. “You’re a great cook.”

“I’m on vacation,” Kim said. “Why would I cook?”

Michelle went to the door and turned. “Sonya, they’ll send a car to get you Monday so they can paint and dress you in time for the show.”

“Funny,” Sonya said.

Michelle handed Sonya the room key. “Well, if you need anything, just give me a call.”

“Um, we’re both new at this agent thing,” Sonya said. “What exactly are you going to do for us from now on?”

“I already did it,” Michelle said. “I got both of you cast in a TV show.”

“You’re done?” Sonya asked.

“I’ll keep an ear open for anything that might come up after the show,” Michelle said.

“Like what?” Kim asked.

“Other shows, movies, TV, commercials,” Michelle said. “I know you’ll do your best.”

“So until then, we’re basically on our own,” Kim said.

“Right.” Michelle smiled.

“That sucks,” Kim said. “What if we need your help?”

“Well,” Michelle said, “Larry seems helpful. Ask him.”

“The man looks like a shar-pei!” Kim cried.

“Larry knows a lot about this business,” Michelle said. “Pay close attention. I may be calling you for advice and information.”

“Or you might not,” Sonya said.

“True,” Michelle said. “I have bills to pay. Bye.”

Sonya closed the door. “We’re on our own.” For almost two days!

Kim grabbed two pillows. “Michelle is insane. A little richer because of us, but she’s still insane.”

“What do you want to do first?” Sonya asked.

“Sleep.” Kim buried her head in the pillows.

Which doesn’t sound like a bad idea. “You don’t want to walk along the beach? The sun’s setting.”

“I set about an hour ago,” Kim said.

As the sun set in brilliant purples and oranges, Sonya felt exhaustion creep from her wounded pinkie toe cuticle to her sore eyebrows. Kim fell asleep on one side of the bed, snoring fitfully. Sonya lowered the windows to within an inch of closing to dampen the crashing waves and slid under the covers on the other side of the bed. All was peaceful, all was serene, all was blissfully quiet …

… until New Year’s fireworks cannonaded off the Malibu Pier. Sonya flew out of bed to shut the windows completely, but Kim never even stirred.

Happy New Year, Kim. Sonya found a blanket in a closet and settled it around her daughter. She kissed Kim’s cheek. Happy New Year, Shani.

Although the free continental breakfast consisted only of Costco muffins, orange juice, and somewhat drinkable coffee, Sonya didn’t mind. She had a full day planned, the only full day she’d get to spend with her daughter for up to two months. Though Kim dragged her feet through most of the morning, she perked up once they hit the beach.

They had the beach to themselves on New Year’s Day. Dolphins swam past, pelicans dove, and a few surfers tried to impress them.

“The pelicans have more skill,” Kim said as they walked to the end of the Malibu Pier and watched several sailboats crossing the choppy waters in front of them.

After eating Fish Grill tacos for lunch, they explored a tide pool. While Sonya fearlessly waded into the pool and lifted up rocks and tried to catch little crabs, Kim stood on the sand.

“I didn’t know you were so girly,” Sonya said. “C’mon.”

“Don’t be so judgy,” Kim said. “I just had a pedicure and a manicure, and I don’t want to get my hair wet.”

While grocery shopping at Pacific Coast Greens natural foods store, Kim asked, “Where’s the meat?”

“Shh,” Sonya said. “You should be eating healthier anyway.”

“I am not a vegetarian,” Kim said. “I am a carnivore. I eat meat.” She held up a prepared salad in a plastic container. “What is this shit?”

She’d be eating that stuff if I had raised her. Sonya stood at the deli counter looking at the meat behind the glass. Hey, now. This is the real stuff. None of this is good for you. Look at all this potential heartburn.

Kim ordered a pound of every meat in the case.

As they brought their groceries to Casa Malibu, Kim munched on a slice of Genoa salami. “Like I said, I’ll be eating out a lot, but at least I won’t go crazy if I have the munchies. Mmm, meat.”

“Where would you like to eat out tonight?” On our last night together, Sonya thought. Why does that depress me so much?

“I definitely don’t want sandwiches,” Kim said.

“Italian, Mexican, or American?”

“I don’t want American. I can always eat at KFC.” She pointed at the KFC across the street.

Strange place for a KFC with all these health-conscious people around. “And I don’t really want Mexican.” I will be around people tomorrow. I do not like to have gas, especially around people. “Italian it is.”

Because of a cancelation, Sonya lucked into a reservation at Charlie’s. She and Kim donned their wigs and their finest clothes and walked through the doors to be greeted by Dolce and Gabbana leopard-print chairs.

“I could get used to this,” Kim said.

Dolce and Gabbana chairs? Sonya thought. This bill is going to be a scorcher.

Kim stared at the gold fork on the table. “You think this is solid gold?”

Check that, Sonya thought. This bill is going to be a mortgage payment. She looked at a giant red and white heart painting on a wall. I’ll bet that’s an original Jane Seymour. Wow. This place is a mortgage payment and a car payment.

Kim stared at her menu. “Ostrich? Is that Italian?”

They serve Big Bird? “I don’t think so.” I need to find something safe. Ostrich?

“Twelve bucks for a salad?” Kim whispered. “Are they serious?”

The cheapest salad is eight bucks! “Don’t worry about the costs. We’re on vacation.” Our first!

“If you say so.”

They split an order of crab cakes and ate baby arugula salads. Kim ordered a twelve-ounce filet with something called “forbidden rice.” Sonya played it safe with mushroom risotto and macaroni and cheese topped by crispy sage. While Sonya drank water, Kim ordered a thirty-five-dollar glass of Cabernet Sauvignon.

“Is it good?” Sonya asked.

“It is to die for,” Kim said.

For thirty-five dollars it had better taste like heaven itself and drive you home afterward, Sonya thought.

They ordered three items from the dessert menu: a lemon tart, a slice of carrot cake, and something called Tahitian Vanilla Bean Panna Cotta.

“Why isn’t anyone staring at us?” Kim whispered.

“Why would they?” Sonya asked.

“This is a swanky joint,” Kim said. “They should be thinking we’re stars as fly as we look.”

“Maybe famous people don’t stare,” Sonya said.

“Yeah,” Kim said. “Maybe they just know that they are being stared at.”

When the bill arrived, Kim snatched the receipt. “Holy …” Kim smiled. “See, I didn’t curse.” She handed the receipt to Sonya. “This might make even you curse.”

Holy … stuff! I’m still hungry, even with dessert! With tip … Two hundred and fifty bucks! For two people! In about an hour! Sonya signed the slip. “Let’s get out of here before they charge us for something else.”

“Where to next?” Kim asked, standing and flipping her hair over her shoulders.

That child really loves her hair. “Why does there have to be a next?” Sonya asked as she held the door for Kim. “We could just go strolling on the beach.”

“Dressed like this?”

Sonya smiled. “Sure. No shoes, though.”

“Of course.”

While the waves churned the sand and the wind whipped their hair, they walked to the pier and back as another sunset glowed in the sky.

“You scared?” Kim asked.

And now she’s caring how I feel! I can’t be away from her now! “No.”

“Not at all?”

“Okay, I’m a little nervous. I haven’t been in the spotlight for a while.”

“You mean, you haven’t had men undressing you with your eyes in a while.”

Has that ever happened to me? I doubt it. “That, too.”

“I’m glad it isn’t me,” Kim said.

“Why?”

“I like men, but I really don’t like men, you know?”

Which is why she’ll be perfect to play my “sister.”

“I mean, they’re nice to have around for a little while,” Kim said, “but when it’s time for them to go, they got to go.”

Sonya frowned. “I’ll be stuck with them for a long time.”

“So kick them off sooner,” Kim said. “I mean, what could they do if you, I don’t know, cleaned house one episode, you know, dumped half of them?”

Yes. What could they do? “Wouldn’t you want to help me with the dumping?”