A Pinch of Ooh La La (29 page)

After another hour of work, we walked back to the Dumpster with the last of our trash bags. I was telling them how depressed I'd been, how I still didn't understand how I could've chosen two lousy men.

Velvet threw the first of her two trash bags into the Dumpster. A man ran up and asked if she needed help with the second. She pointed to Myrna and me. “Yes . . . and dump their bags, too.” The guy did as he was told and Velvet waved him away. She then stepped closer to me. “I don't understand . . . what your problem is. You depressed? Depressed about what? Seems to me . . . you giving yourself problems just to give yourself something to talk about.”

“What do you mean? I'm back at square one. No, it's worse. I'm getting a divorce and I'm here picking trash—and I'm childless.”

“You can have my kids,” Myrna laughed. “They drive me crazy.”

Velvet looked at me. “You seem okay, but you whine too much.”

I raised my Nabber! into the air. “I do not whine!”

She blinked slowly. “I should give you a crown, because you're a drama queen.”

Myrna laughed and said, “I think what Miss All That is trying to say is: Who cares that you were in a documentary? You
got to be in a movie and that's more than what most people can say. And you don't have any kids with your ex-husband so that means you won't ever have to see him again; I call that a celebration. And you own your own bakery. You don't just have a job; you give jobs.”

Velvet said, “Mmmm-hmm.”

Myrna rested her hand on the Dumpster and gave me the same steely-eyed look she'd given Velvet earlier. “SWAP will be over for you next weekend, and then you go back to your boohoo life with your boohoo, I'm-getting-a-divorce problems, and boohoo, I don't have any kids.
Adopt a kid.
So many kids in foster care who need homes—am I right?”

Velvet pursed her lips and gave a nod.

“And I'm sorry about your father, but at least you knew him.”

Dwayne appeared, pushing his shirtsleeves up his arms. “Having a tea party, ladies? I didn't give you enough to do that you can stand around and gossip?”

I did my best Velvet impression and spoke to him as though I had all the time in the world. “We're . . . finished,
Dwayne
.”

He stared at me as though I might have heatstroke, then took out his whistle and blew it in my face. “Let's close our mouths and line up! Time, people! Let's get outta here!”

We sighed at the sight of him.

Once inside the van, Velvet and Myrna grabbed the seat behind me. Velvet entertained herself on her phone and Myrna rested against the window and closed her eyes. I sat next to a man who took up most of the seat and looked like he could crush a small car with his fist. He pulled out his phone and I joined him in gazing at pictures of a baby only a few days old. “You're looking at my heart,” he murmured. “After I'm done with SWAP, I'm through. You won't see me in no kinda trouble.”

I wondered what offense the guy had committed but thought
it best not to ask. Instead, I took in a few of my other SWAP mates and thought about the possible stories they had to tell. I'd already learned that Myrna was a single mother of two and out of work. Velvet, who still refused to tell us why she was there, had mentioned that her younger brother
and
her father were both in prison.

I thought about what Myrna had said earlier. Yes, I'd felt hurt and confused by what had happened with Samuel, but sitting in that van I was starting to see that Myrna and Velvet had been right: I'd been looking at life through a big, whiny prism of
boohoo
. Okay, my life took a few unexpected lousy turns, but what was I going to do about it? Was I going to keep telling and retelling the story about Avery only to now add Samuel to the mix? Who was I without my boohoo stories and drama crown? I'm not trying to say I needed to forget what happened; I mean, my soon-to-be ex-husband made a play for my little sister—
eww!
—but just because things were tough didn't mean, as Bendrix had told me, I needed to retreat from life.

Yes, I sat in that funky van smelling my own stench (not to mention my neighbor's), but that didn't mean my life was falling apart; as Myrna and Velvet had pointed out, things were actually the opposite. Because, seriously, even at my lowest, picking trash with SWAP, I still had it pretty good. I had a wonderful family, an amazing best friend, and a job I loved.

I smiled to myself while taking out my phone. Bendrix had gone back to the piece we'd made of Dad during daylight hours and had taken a picture. The resemblance to Dad was exact enough that anyone who knew him would know they were staring at Lincoln T. Ross.

I eased into my seat, feeling my smile grow. The Ross of Benz and Ross would be proud of me. She'd believe that every minute in SWAP, including my aching back and stinking armpits, was
worth that night with Bendrix. She would've laughed at getting caught and laughed her way through hours of trash picking.

Al started the engine. Dwayne turned in his seat, and after making eye contact with me he reached for the radio and turned up the volume. Smooth jazz filled the interior of the van, a sax over a synthesizer—a synthesizer! I couldn't take it, not for another second. I banged my hands against the seat in front of me. “Turn it off! Turn it off!” The guy next to me grinned and raised a fist. “Turn it off!” he shouted. Soon, Myrna and Velvet joined in, and a few others as well. I doubted that they knew the specifics of our protest, but the excuse to yell made it worth it.
“Turn it off! Turn it off!”

Dwayne stood and began making his way down the row of seats. “Y'all need to shut up! Either shut up or expect more hours. You hear me?”

We closed our mouths.

When he turned his back, I whispered, “Turn it off!” Myrna and Velvet giggled.

Dwayne gave the thumbs-up to Al and he proceeded to drive us back to our meeting point at the police station. He returned to his seat, but not before raising the corner of his lip and turning the volume up even louder.

That's when I saw the magic pixie dust. It was Dad and Louis Armstrong visiting from jazz heaven. Dad wore his hat and shades like in the painting Bendrix and I had made. He pointed to me and told Louis that I was his oldest daughter.
Oh yeah,
said Louis in his sweet, gravelly voice,
I see the resemblance.
Dad took off his shades then and said,
Real proud of you, baby.
He grinned and gave a wink. Louis wiggled his fingers at me, and then they were gone.

I leaned back in my seat and closed my eyes. I no longer heard the terrible diarrhea Muzak. No, I heard Dad's piano. He
played a lovely medley for me, communicating as he liked to do with each song: “Lady Be Cool,” “I've Got the World on a String,” “Our Love Is Here to Stay,” “I'm Beginning to See the Light.” I smiled the entire way back.

•   •   •

O
n my final day with SWAP, I invited Velvet and Myrna to come back to the bakery later that evening and celebrate. Velvet mentioned she'd never had a cream puff before and asked if they were like Twinkies or Ding Dongs. I shook my head and said, “Whatever you do, come by the bakery. I'm going to make you a very happy woman.”

When Bendrix texted and asked where I was working that day, I didn't take the time to wonder why he needed to know and texted back that we were near Market Street near Fortieth. I then went back to picking up tossed fast-food bags and empty cups in front of a car repair shop.

About twenty minutes later, I heard honking from up the street. I saw what looked like Bailey's Mercedes coming toward me. (I guessed it was hers because it was brown and from the 1990s.) Myrna and Velvet stopped what they were doing, as did a few other SWAP mates. The Mercedes slowed and Bendrix leaned out the side window with a sign that read
FREE ABBEY!
Joan and Rita sat in the back. Joan waved and Rita leaned over in her seat and yelled, “We love you!” Bailey continued to honk the horn. “Make sure you take a shower once you get home!” She laughed. Bendrix held the sign higher. “Benz and Ross forever!” he yelled.

When they were gone, Myrna said, “Who was that?”

I stood watching the car make its way down the road. “That was my best friend Bendrix and three of my mothers.”

Velvet blinked. “Damn . . . girl. How many mothers do you have?”

“Five.” I smiled. “But who's counting?”

What's New?

A
year after my release from SWAP, I thought it would be fun to commemorate the date by giving out cupcakes at Scratch. What I called SWAP cakes were made with chocolate buttercream, coffee, and fine Dutch cocoa, and I gave them out for free until noon. Myrna was working at the counter by then. She was bossy and in everyone's business and perfect for the job. Velvet was taking cosmetology classes but stopped by to say hello. I'd hired more workers because I was starting the adoption process and knew once the baby came I would have to cut back on my hours, at least for the first few months.

Around New Year's, Carmen and Jake announced their engagement. They were going to have a party with the family later in the month, but I wanted to do something with just the three of us and took them to hear the Mark Rollins Trio at Yoshi's. It was after they played “I Remember You” that I heard someone whooping and whistling from behind. When I turned, I saw none other than Jason Ethan Cooper sitting alone at a table and
clapping loudly while grinning up at the stage. I smiled and kept my eyes trained on him until he finally looked my way. His face brightened when he saw me.
“Abbey?”

He gestured at the empty seat next to mine and I waved him over.

“How have you been?” I asked.

“How have
you
been?” He smiled.

Memories of our night together came rushing back. I couldn't take my eyes off him. After a moment I heard Jake say, “Hellloooo? You going to introduce us?” Since the musicians had started the next song, I had to speak quietly. After everyone shook hands and said hello, Jason moved closer so we could talk.

We were being rude, whispering to each other while the musicians played—a big no-no, especially if you were a Ross, but I couldn't help it. Jason leaned next to my ear and told me how sorry he was about Dad. At one point I asked about Gina: Where was she? How was she doing?

That's when he told me they'd divorced.

I giggled.

He looked at me, confused.

“I mean, I am so sorry to hear that.” I tried to feel sad. I did.

“And you?” he whispered. “How's your husband?”

I held up my ringless wedding finger.

“Can't blame us for trying.” He grinned.

The drummer from the trio hit his cymbal and the bass player took his cue and slowed the beat. Jason closed his eyes and leaned back in his seat, but then just as quickly looked over and smiled. “It's good to see you, Abbey Lincoln Ross.”

I laughed. “It's good to see you, too, Jason.”

After a moment, I glanced at Carmen and Jake, who were both staring wide-eyed. Jake pointed.
“Ahhhh!”

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Spoiler Alert: “A Conversation with Renee Swindle” and “Questions for Discussion” tell more about what happens in the book than you might want to know before you read it.

Q. An earlier version of this novel began with Abbey doing community service in an orange jumpsuit. What was your first inspiration for the novel, and how did it take shape as you wrote it?

A. I first saw an image of a woman in prison, actually, and that led to several oddball ideas as to how she got there. The writing became so much easier after I dumped the prison idea and went with community service. I see people in my neighborhood picking up trash and wearing these SWAP vests, and I just loved the idea of writing about a woman who has to do that. Once I realized she had a passion for graffiti art, I knew exactly how Abbey would end up wearing orange; thankfully, it didn't involve murder or any of my initial prison story lines!

Q. I love your description of Abbey's bakery, Scratch—the place itself, the food she makes there, and that it becomes a community hangout
by the novel's end. Can you comment on the research you did? I'll bet it was loads of fun!

A. I made Abbey a baker because I like to bake myself. If I liked working on cars, she would probably be a mechanic. Writing
Shake Down the Stars
, for instance, gave me the excuse to write about astronomy.

I can't remember how Abbey's specialty became wedding cakes, but I loved the idea that she was a wedding cake designer who'd never been married. I already owned several books on baking, and I now own three in-depth books on how to design wedding cakes. If writing doesn't work out, I officially have a plan B!

Abbey's bakery is a composite of a couple of cafés I like to visit, plus details I imagined. “Designing” my own café and writing about a woman who had such a great talent in baking was fun. I hate research with a passion, so if I'm going to open a book or look anything up on the Web, it has to be something I'm personally interested in.

Q. You've said you want to write stories about imperfect characters who make mistakes. Does that mean you think Abbey is partly responsible for her romantic failures, and that you have a lot of sympathy for Avery and Samuel?

A. Great question. I do have sympathy for Avery and Samuel. Avery was looking for someone to ground him and help him grow as an artist, so he jumped right into a relationship with Abbey. Abbey was caught up in Avery's looks and the “wow” factor. I think Avery and Abbey really fell in love and had a close
relationship, but Abbey became swept up in Avery's life and Avery lost sight of himself. After the Avery fiasco, Abbey chooses Samuel because he is safe and a “catch” by society's standards. Samuel, I think, is ready for kids; Abbey also brings more fun into his life. But do those two really get to know each other on a truly intimate level? No. Abbey is dazzled by Samuel's looks, his career, and her engagement ring as much as anything else. Poor girl.

Q. In an effort to maintain her relationship with Samuel, Abbey makes allowances for his beliefs, even when she disagrees with them, and for his behavior, even when it makes her uncomfortable. It's a dilemma many women face—when should you accept differing values and adjust your expectations to build a relationship, and when does doing so mean you are being untrue to yourself? Can you comment on what interests you about this question, and why you wanted to explore it?

A. I sometimes start novels by asking a question or putting the character into a situation I'll have to write myself out of. With Piper in
Shake Down the Stars
, I wanted to know if she could ever find happiness again after experiencing tragedy. With Abbey I was curious about why women ignore red flags.

From what I'm learning—and since I'm no therapist, I'll speak only for myself—my body will actually react when I know I'm being untrue to myself. Sometimes I'll feel my stomach shrink or an ache of some sort. This sensation might last for only a moment, but I know it's there. Making adjustments and compromises, on the other hand, feels just like that—a way to keep things fair and the relationship happy and balanced. I think
the problem is that we often talk ourselves out of what we're feeling. That tendency to rationalize can be a sign that we're not honoring our true feelings. If I have to explain away or analyze whatever I'm feeling, then usually something's not right.

I'm sure other women can relate to this issue. But, you know, I don't think men are all that great at paying attention to their true feelings either. It takes courage to learn to follow your gut; but once you start to honor your true self and desires, no matter how big or small, there's no turning back.

Q. Your knowledge of jazz is broad and deep, and you use jazz in many ways to enrich the novel. Would you tell us something about your personal relationship with jazz?

A. I don't know as much about jazz as I'd like to, but, yes, I listen to it all the time. I love the improvisation. I love that a single song can have a thousand interpretations. I love the incredible skill and talent of the musicians. You know . . . I pretty much love
everything
about jazz. And the lyrics to many of the standards are absolutely beautiful. I used so many song titles throughout the novel because you can tell from the titles alone that there's a story inside every song. It's hard for me to express how much I love jazz—which is why I let Abbey speak for me!

Q. Abbey's wild, creative, rambunctious family, with all the ex-wives and ex-girlfriends, siblings and half siblings, is one of my favorite aspects of the novel. I'd love to be invited to one of the warm, raucous, jiving parties at Abbey's dad's house! Yet you also make clear that however fabulous a musician, and however loving a father, Lincoln isn't able to “be there” for everyone who needs him. What do
you most hope readers will take away from your description of Abbey's family, and what originally inspired it?

A. I'm an only child and have always been curious about the ways families, especially siblings, interact. My father comes from a family of thirteen, mostly made up of half brothers and sisters. Whenever there was a family reunion, you wouldn't know who was a “full” sibling and who wasn't. My mother comes from a family of eight—and they are crazy funny. I didn't base Abbey's family on my parents' families in any obvious way, but I did like the idea of writing about a big family, and I'm sure my parents' families played a part in the writing.

In my first draft, everyone in Abbey's family was getting along too perfectly. I have to thank a few early readers who called me on my tendency to avoid conflict. In an earlier version Abbey mentioned that her dad was on the road a lot, so I went back to the story and highlighted the problems that can come when a parent is overextended. In a sense, Abbey's sister Carmen represents the downside to having such a large family.

My intention was to explore the idea that family is whatever we want it to be. Bendrix is family to Abbey as much as any of her brothers are. And while others may judge Abbey's father for remaining close to his ex-wives, it works for them and I like that he wants to stay in his children's lives. I hope readers can see that while these characters aren't traditional, they definitely love one another. Samuel's family, on the other hand, maintains strict ideas about what constitutes family, yet they aren't very close at all.

Q. As in
Shake Down the Stars
, Oakland, California, is a lively setting for this novel. Is there anything in particular about Oakland that you wanted to convey in this novel that you didn't in the previous one?

A. I wanted to focus on the Temescal neighborhood. I changed the names of the restaurants, but Abbey's bakery and almost every restaurant mentioned in the novel are located in the Temescal area of Oakland. I also wanted to get in the First Friday art walk, which takes place downtown.

I added the dig the bandleader makes about San Francisco because that rivalry does exist for some of us. I like visiting San Francisco, but I wouldn't want to live there, as the saying goes. There's more diversity here in Oakland, and it's mellower and has a fun, eclectic vibe. Some areas have serious problems that need addressing, and I hope to write about the crime and other issues in future books, but I get tired of people who don't live in Oakland putting it down. So there!

Q. Many years elapsed between the publication of your first novel,
Please Please Please
, published in 1999, and your second,
Shake Down the Stars
, published in August 2013. In that time, many changes took place in publishing, the rise of e-books being a major one. What differences about the two publishing experiences struck you in particular? What remained the same?

A. I remember the first time I learned about e-books. I thought,
That will
never
work.
Boy, was I wrong. Then again, when
Please Please Please
came out, people were still using beepers. Of course now we have Twitter and Facebook and everything
else. I guess social media is the biggest change in publishing. Thanks to social media, writers can get the word out about their novels and have a direct dialogue with readers. All the e-mail, posts, and tweets have helped make writing feel less solitary.

What's remained the same for me since my first novel was published is that I wake up early to write before starting the rest of my day. The publishing industry is going to do what it will; my job is to stay focused and keep writing.

Q. Do you have a method for keeping your creative ideas flowing, and for remembering them once you feel the “zing” of inspiration? We've all had the experience of getting a terrific idea in the shower, or while dozing at five a.m., only to forget it later!

A. I daydream a lot. I figure out scenes in my head while I'm walking my dogs or during my commute to work. I sometimes replay scenes over and over until I get the kinks out or resolve an issue. By the time I'm ready to sit and type, it's as if I've written out a draft. I'll occasionally jot down a note or two, but for the most part, if I can't remember the idea, it's not worth remembering.

Q. Where do you keep your to-be-read pile, and what's in it?

A. I'm usually reading two books at any one time. I have to keep them on a bookshelf in my room or I'll forget where I put them. I still haven't tried to read from an e-reader and have books everywhere. Right now I'm reading Gillian Flynn's
Gone Girl
and David Benioff's
City of Thieves
. I just finished
Twelve Years a Slave
by Solomon Northup and
Me Before You
by Jojo Moyes. These are all great books. I've been on a reading high lately. Talking to you gives me the idea that I should post my latest favorites on my Web site. Thanks!