Born Under a Lucky Moon (11 page)

“Oxford Pictures wants my star for their next picture. I'll pull the deal right now. I have the chairman's number right here. No new trailer, no Ian,” Franklin pronounced. He had trumped my move. It didn't really matter who was right or wrong. He had four aces up his sleeve and he knew it. I didn't give a rat's behind if he called the chairman, but the outcome was going to be the same. The studio would cave in to keep the deal.

I hung up. “I can't believe I have to have these conversations this late at night.”

Aidan took me by the shoulders. “You look tired. Can you back off a little bit? Just for a while? Maybe we could take a trip together.”

“Look, you know as well as I do that I can't back off. There's always some fire burning.” I stretched. “So is something up with your work too? I heard you call Montana.”

“Um, no. I was just passing along a message.” Aidan suddenly seemed very interested in figuring out the TV remote control. I looked at him for a long minute. He was acting strangely. “Is everything okay?” I pressed.

“To be honest, I'm feeling really uncomfortable about a situation.” Aidan rubbed his face. “Montana is seeing a married guy. I know his wife very well. I said I wouldn't say anything to her. But for some reason this guy left a message asking me to tell Montana where to meet him next.”

I was incredulous. “That's so . . . so . . . wrong in every way. Why are they using you as a go-between?”

“Maybe this guy's wife checks his cell bill for odd phone numbers.”

“Sounds like she has a reason to,” I spat out.

“Yeah, I know. It's a bad situation. I'm going to have to tell Montana to leave me out of it.”

“Why does Montana need to see a married man, anyway?” She was five feet ten, had strawberry-blond hair, weighed about fourteen pounds, and was smart as a whip. In short, the girl other girls loved to hate.

“I don't know, Jeannie.” Aidan sighed. He picked up his car keys.

“Where are you going?”

“You have work to handle, and I want to sleep in my own bed tonight.” He kissed me good-bye and shut the door quietly behind him. I knew I should go after him, but I had promised Franklin I would telephone back with an answer. I called the guy who prints our trailers. Despite the hour, he picked up on the second ring. He listened and said he'd call me back. Four minutes later, my phone rang. I was told that about three hundred out of a total of ten thousand trailers had not yet printed. I figured out that we could change the pronunciation of the star's name on the three hundred at minimal cost. Then I called Franklin back to tell him that the trailer could be changed for some theaters—the ones that counted to celebrities, like the Promenade in Santa Monica and the Lincoln Center Theater in Manhattan.

“And get one to the Carmike Cinemas in Des Moines, Iowa,” Franklin demanded. “That's where his parents live.”

I rubbed my forehead. “Okay.” Franklin Gold gets to save face by telling his client that he had knocked some heads around at the studio. I don't create a big problem for the studio with this star and his next picture. We'd played the game so that we could both win. But looking around my Aidan-less house, I wasn't so sure that I had won anything at all. I took two Tylenol pms in the hopes of staving off insomnia. They didn't work. At 3 a.m. thoughts about my failures with my family, Aidan, and work spun in my head in a never-ending chant.

By now I knew that getting back to sleep was hopeless. I got out of bed, showered, and dressed and was at the office at five in the morning. There I carefully retyped my daily notes in a new and improved format until it was a decent time to start making business calls.

Chapter Eleven
Saturday, June 28, 1986, 7:15 p.m.

E
van and Anna swept down the aisle in wedded triumph. I had to wait to leave until the church emptied from front pew to back pew. I made my way through the crowd until I spotted Sammie's leopard-print hat.

“What happened?” I whispered in her ear once I got close enough.

“I don't know. Dad won't say.”

I looked over at Dad, who was in the receiving line next to Evan. He was still shaking one hand after another. “Why not?”

Sammie shook her head and I left her to see what Mom knew. I tried talking to her but ended up next to her in the line and started shaking hands, too. “Yes, they were beautiful, weren't they? See you at the reception? Oh, you're Anna's roommate from college's mother? How nice.”

During a break in the action, I snuck away. Elizabeth and Ron pushed through the crowd in the church foyer and asked if I was ready to go with them to the reception.

“Yeah. Do you know what happened to Evan?”

Elizabeth looked blank. “Did something happen?”

I stared at her. “He was half an hour late to his own wedding. Didn't you notice?”

“Of course I noticed. I called the country club to tell them to delay dinner.”

I walked away from my sister wondering how she could be from our family. She didn't wonder why Evan was late, and she had called the country club, even though it wasn't our party; it was Anna's parents' party. I considered myself organized but Elizabeth took it to a whole new level.

At the reception our family's table was in front, and everyone else was already seated. There was a pink place card for Walker next to mine. I stared at the empty setting and its accompanying chair. Mom reached over and touched my hand. “Honey, he might show up.”

“No, it's perfectly okay. Now we have somewhere to put the coats and purses.”

The DJ announced the bride and groom's dance during the salad course. Anna and Evan got up and slowly twirled around the floor to “Summer Wind.” Then the DJ launched into “Celebration” and asked the family and bridal party to join them on the floor. Our table emptied, and I sat by myself, hoping nobody was looking at me. Sammie had grabbed an old friend and dragged him out to the dance floor so I didn't even have her to commiserate with.

I pretended to wave to people across the room but eventually realized I couldn't continue that charade and got up from the table. I swiped a glass of wine from a passing tray and went out onto the eighteenth green. The grass was spongy and the air had a moist smell. I lay down on the green in the dark.

This was where Walker and I had had our first date a few years back, on the Fourth of July. I didn't know how to golf and he teased me all day. My score was 122 for nine holes. Then I had turned somersaults all the way down the hill leading to the fourteenth hole. We had laughed, and then we watched the fireworks when darkness finally came. It doesn't get dark in Michigan until about 10:00 or 10:30 in the summer. I missed my 11:30 curfew and had to clean out six closets to avoid being grounded.

I stared at the stars above my head. It was a beautiful night to be humiliated.

Lucy stood above me. “Mom sent me out to find you.”

“How come?”

“Because she figured I knew all the places around here to hide.”

“Good point.”

Lucy stretched her hands out. I leaned forward to grab them and jumped to my feet. “The fact that your boyfriend didn't show up isn't all that bad.”

We started walking back to the porch. “It's not?”

“Hell no. Take it from me, worse things than this will happen to you.”

“That's a comfort.”

She put her arm around my shoulder. As we entered the room, Evan was tapping the side of his wineglass with his spoon. The room quieted down and everyone looked at him expectantly. He lifted his glass to his bride and said, “I now know a perfect moment of joy. And it is because of you.” Anna's eyes welled up, and, to the many tappings of spoons on glasses, she got up and kissed him. Elizabeth, Sammie, Lucy, and I applauded from our table.

Sammie muttered under her breath, “God almighty, it's a long life. I hope he gets more than one perfect moment of joy out of it.”

“Stop being cynical,” Elizabeth chided.

“Start being cynical,” Sammie retorted.

“Can both of you shut up and let me enjoy this?” Lucy threw down her napkin. It was one of those times I knew well. Either a big fight was going to break out or somebody would back down. The three of them glowered at each other. They knew they couldn't have a catfight right here at Evan's wedding. They only had a few options open to them. Somebody could stomp away in anger. Somebody could start crying. Or they could realize what damn fools they were being. We had been through this so many times. Like knowing the punch line to every joke, we knew the eventual outcome of every scenario and, for the most part, skipped the drama and went straight to the inevitable ending. Sammie sputtered with laughter. Elizabeth, Lucy, and I joined her.

Sammie raised her glass to us and said, “To Evan and Anna. Let's hope that growing up together will be easier for them than it was for us. And that they have as much laughter as we've had.” We nodded our heads in agreement and clinked glasses.

Chuck and Ron walked up. “What's so funny?”

“Nothing you are going to understand for years to come,” I said. Chuck looked perplexed and said he was going to the bar to join the kamikaze shot challenge. Anna and Evan got up from the bridal table to do the ceremonial wedding bouquet and garter belt toss. At the DJ's urging that “all single women report to the dance floor,” Sammie and I got up to stand amid the milling women only because we didn't want to embarrass Evan. Anna's throw went way right. The crowd of women launched themselves in that direction. Sammie and I didn't move and were suddenly conspicuously by ourselves on one side of the dance floor.

“Who thinks up these dumb traditions?” Sammie asked me.

I shook my head and we returned to our table as Evan threw the garter. His best friend, Phil, caught it and kissed his girlfriend, Patty.

Mom and Dad were up at the head table beaming at Evan and Anna, who were now making motions to leave the reception. “Who's going over to the Holiday Inn tonight to get Anna's wedding dress?” Elizabeth asked.

“Dad is,” I said.

“You're kidding me, right?” Lucy moaned. “This is so embarrassing.”

“Hi, Lucy, haven't seen you since the big day.” It was Fudgie Shaw. Lucy leapt up and hugged him.

“Why are you here?”

“I'm not. I'm over at the bar with Jeff and some of the guys.” Fudgie patted his pockets. “I have something I wanted to give you.” He finally located what he was looking for and handed it to Lucy.

She looked at it impassively, then put it in her purse. “Thanks, Fudgie. It meant a lot to me to have someone from home there.”

Fudgie turned to walk back to the bar. Lucy called to his back, “Fudgie?”

He walked back. “Yeah?”

“Why did you tell them?”

“Tell who?”

“Whoever you told about Chuck's and my elopement told my parents. That wasn't cool. You promised me.”

“I didn't, Lucy. I thought you did.” Fudgie had the flustered look of someone who is innocent but feels guilty for being accused of something.

Jeff Petty was hollering for Fudgie to come back to the bar. “Jesus. That guy has class, huh? I gotta go stop him from doing more shots. Lucy, we'll talk more.” We watched him swing through the crowd, grab Jeff in a manly-man sports-type of bear hug, and move him back into the more private reaches of the bar.

Lucy turned back to the table and to three faces staring at her. She stared back. “It wasn't Fudgie who blabbed.”

Elizabeth was the first to try to bolt. “Excuse me. That waiter is serving from the wrong side. I should—”

“No way.” Sammie grabbed her arm and made her sit again.

“You?” Lucy looked at Elizabeth incredulously. “How did you know?” Elizabeth explained the whole thing in fits and starts.

“Couldn't you have asked me? I mean, for Christ's sake, we went to dinner that night. You could have asked me.”

“It seemed too personal.”

“Too
personal
? More personal than having an entire wedding thrown for you without your knowledge? More personal than
that
?”

Sammie rubbed Lucy's arm. “Come on, Lucy. We love you. That's what this whole thing is about.” The Lucy from ten months earlier would have made a righteous scene, but something about her now seemed more grown up. This Lucy didn't launch into histrionics but rather just sat quietly and watched Mom and Dad dancing to “String of Pearls.” Dad spun Mom out neatly and she tucked back in. They laughed at a minor misstep. Lucy looked back at us and gave us the big goofy smile she always did when she was feeling silly.

“I'm loved.”

“Despite everything, yeah.” Sammie grinned.

“Hey, what did Fudgie give you?” I asked. I felt safe enough to direct attention to myself now. The ammo seemed to be put away for the moment.

“I'd rather not talk about it right now,” Lucy said, gathering up her purse. “Are you all ready to go?”

We went to collect Chuck and Ron. Chuck was dribbling kamikazes out the side of his mouth guard.

I handed him a straw. “Try this.”

Ron was drinking a Hennessey XO, sitting by himself on the other side of the bar. That'll run up the bar tab for Anna's parents, I thought. Jeff was staring hard at Lucy. She ignored him and quietly asked Chuck to get up and escort her home. But he was leaning across the bar trying to get the bartender's attention.

Jeff stood in front of Lucy and me. “So this is what you brought home?” He jerked his head in Chuck's direction.

“Leave it alone, Jeff.” Fudgie was on his feet and pulling on Jeff's arm.

“You bring home this jarhead? I tried to be nice to him, but he's a loser.”

“Jeff, I am at my brother's wedding and you do not want to start this right now. Do not embarrass me or yourself in front of my parents and everyone we know,” Lucy said evenly.

“I knew all along you weren't worth anything, and they should know, too.” Jeff was starting to yell and Fudgie tried to pull him away.

Lucy stood frozen in silence.

Fudgie yanked Jeff away to a corner and spoke to him in low, intense tones.

Chuck didn't seem to know what was going on. He came up to Lucy and threw a drunken arm around her shoulders. “Ready to go, sweet pants?” She turned away with Chuck and walked out.

I strode up to Jeff and jammed my finger in his chest. “You asshole. First of all, a jarhead is a marine, not an army soldier. And second of all, Lucy is learning Russian at the best language school in America and is proudly serving her country. What did you ever do? Besides getting a DUI last month and taking three years to get through a two-year school?” At least, that's what I said to him in my head when I thought it through later. All I managed to get out at the time was, “You asshole.”

We guided Chuck and Ron outside to the cars. Ron was fine, but Chuck was like a drunken Slinky. “You're really pretty,” he slurred in my ear as I struggled to hold him up. “Is your boyfriend taking care of you?”

I managed to get the car door open and dumped him inside. “Do you want to drive, Lucy?” I called over to the other side of the car. I was worried she would be shaken up by the exchange inside, but she just seemed sad, not angry.

“Yeah, I'll follow you so I don't get lost.”

I smiled as I climbed into the other car with Sammie, Elizabeth, and Ron. Lucy and I had driven these roads together for years, and there weren't that many places to get lost unless you were trying to get lost. There wasn't much to do when we were growing up. In the evenings, we would drive the three miles to Lake Michigan and hang out in the beach parking lots waiting for friends, who also didn't have much to do, to show up. We would raise the hatchbacks or lower the tailgates and let music pour out from the stereos. It's also where we kept the coolers with the beer or the sloe gin fizzes. I shuddered now at the thought of either drink. There were lots of long, slow summer nights when we drove the back roads just to pretend we were going somewhere, but we always wound up at the beach parking lot. We were a Bruce Springsteen song personified. Barefoot girls drinking warm beer on the hood of a car. I hummed under my breath. Mostly I had watched the water. The blue waves of Lake Michigan rolled up on sugar-sand beaches. The sand was so fine that an industrial company had come years before and mined off most of the dunes to make glass.

Like Walker knew his rivers, I knew this lake. I knew the cold smell of the lake mixed with the diesel exhaust of boats. I knew the perfect time for swimming was late July, when the water was sixty-nine degrees and the sun was beating down. I knew that when the sky turned green, a storm was coming in from Wisconsin across the massive lake. Spitting fireworks and rolling thunder, the storm would kick up whitecaps and boats would head into the channel. When the sun finally went down, the Connies—the State Park Conservation Officers—would come to kick everyone out and close the gates. After that, when someone could get a keg, we would all meet out on Fenner's two-track. We would build a bonfire and pump the keg and drink beer out of red Solo plastic cups. Kids just leaned against the wagon circle of cars trying to look cool.