Hollywood Beginnings (A Novella) (10 page)

I'd have to talk him out of my way. "Let me sum things up for you. You don't have a thing for my mom, so thanks for that. But you lied about who you were and what you were up to, so that's a deal breaker. The house and the beach cottage are Van's. Were Van's, now yours, so you've got that going for you. You can add to the bikini collection for all I care, so spare me the talk, and move."

He shook his head but smiled an apology.

"You're starting to piss me off, Brian, but I will concede you didn't tell me because I wouldn't have been open to it. I don't listen very well. I'm hard to talk to. You have your own problems without having to deal with mine. Hey, it's all me, so let's move on. I'm not enough fill-in-the-blank or I'm too much fill-in-another-blank. Whatever. It's probably my fault you cheated anyway."

I froze. Dear god, had I just confused him with Duane? Maybe he wouldn't notice my display of old baggage if I just kept going. "So, it was interesting meeting you. Good luck with everything, and we'll say
see you around
and not mean it."

I prepared to scoot around him as if he might not register my dart for the exit, but he took a step closer and then another and another. He wore a calm expression I couldn't read, and I found myself stepping back until I hit the wall.

He kept coming closer and closer, so gently, I wished he'd missed my slip or thought it was funny because this felt serious.

He put his hands on the wall on either side of my head and leaned in until we were inches apart. "I'd say
what am I going to do with you, Amy Moore?
But I already know what I'm going to do with you."

I felt a tremor run through my body and hoped he'd missed it.

"But we have to get a couple of things straight."

And that reminded me I was mad. I glared up at him, but before I could remind him of his foggy way with the truth, he shook his head.

"You can yell at me later."

He leaned even closer, and I felt myself lifting up for a kiss, my eyes fluttering closed. When no kiss came, I blinked up and saw a smile I wanted to wipe off his face with my Louisville Slugger.

"First things first. I should have told you about Van, but I wanted to meet your mother, and I was afraid you wouldn't let me. Rightly so. And yes, I wanted to hate her and tell her how she'd ruined my mother's life, but the truth is my mother had a pretty big hand in ruining her own life I'm sorry to say, but it's true. Your mom told me I turned out great despite it all." He smiled, "And yeah, you can tell me all the ways I didn't turn out well. I look forward to it. But that's not even first things first. First? I'm not now, nor will I ever be stupid."

I rolled my eyes.

"I may be degrees of dense as all men are, but full-out-numb-nuts-stupid? No. And like it or not your last man was. Sorry about that, but it doesn't have a damn thing to do with me, and more importantly it doesn't have a damn thing to do with you. Now, I'll talk about it all you want. I get it. Even a woman with an arm like Laila Ali needs time to process things, and I'm very interested in being part of that. But he's not
me
, and we're not the couple you were with Dickhead. Okay, done now."

I tried to take in a breath, reeling from how quickly and cleanly he'd dissected my failed marriage. And I was really impressed that my punch could even marginally be compared to Muhammad Ali's daughter. My voice came out as a whisper. "What's second?"

He smiled, leaned half-way to my lips and stopped. "Stay a while."

I didn't answer, just felt his breath and mine mingle and then a kiss that spun out warm and soft like it was the only thing in the universe. I fell into it, everything gone but the feel of his body against mine, his lips against my own. The kiss deepened, took us up, and I held him closer, and it still wasn't enough. His ragged breathing and mine were the only sounds besides the pound of my heartbeat.

The door beside us opened and a flurry of movement made us both look over. We stood, still holding each other, trying to take in the interruption.

A small boy and girl, dressed in suit and dress darted by, chased by a woman in the same periwinkle silk dress I'd seen the woman on the stairway wearing.

And then the rest of the party emerged, followed, of course, by the bride. In silence we watched them ascend the staircase, several bridesmaids, all in the same periwinkle dresses, bringing up the rear and holding the tulle white train.

They disappeared up the landing, and it took a beat before Brian and I made eye contact.

He grinned at me, and I realized I was smiling back. And then he stepped back, held his hand out, and tipped his head toward the stairs. "Shall we?"

I laughed, felt the possibilities of life shimmer around us, and took his hand.

We caught my mother before she got in the cab. Apparently she knew more than I did about what would happen ing the basement with Brian Keller. She was a wise, wise woman.

"Mom!"

She turned, smiled when she saw us walking toward her, holding hands, although I hadn't even registered we were until she looked. "Mom, I, uh, should explain…"

She waved it off. "I think you should stay awhile. You can use some of the
Beach Blanket Twist
royalty money I set aside for you."

"You what?"

She held up her hand. "Before you start using your Old Testament diction on me, I probably should have told you before. Your brother and sister got theirs when they married, but I waited because Duane was, as your brother pointed out, kind of a
deuce
."

Brian looked at me in question, but I shook my head and tried not to smile at both my artist's windfall, which ended my involuntary vow of poverty, and my mother's sweet heart.

She tipped her head toward the taxi and looked as relaxed and happy as I'd ever seen her. "I'm heading home. I miss your father."

"I'm so glad, Mom."

She looked around the busy street, the sky a hazy blue bowl of California sunshine. "I miss some of this too. I may step up my wardrobe back home and do a little community theater."

She looked at Brian, a question in her eyes.

"You were a good actress, Mrs. Moore."

A half smile on her face, she seemed to wait for him to put the next piece together.

He turned to me, and I felt him take me in, all of me, the quirks and fun, failures and promise. And then he smiled at my mother. "I think you earned an Academy Award anyway."

"I know I did." She looked so relieved even I felt the burden lift from her.

And then Brian reached into his pocket, took out a small wrapped box, and handed it to her. "This was in the house."

Her eyes widened in surprise, and I could see her hand tremble as she unwrapped it. When she saw the small gold coconut charm, a tear slipped out she couldn't stop.

I turned to Brian in question, and he tipped his head toward it. "The proof."

Mom lifted her head, sniffed, and jiggled her charm bracelet. "Van bought me this 40 years ago, told me he'd give me a charm every year on my birthday, every year that he loved me. Thank you, Brian." She hugged him, and he hugged her back. Then she held me tight, kissed me, and I closed my eyes and took in the sweet mom smell of her.

She stepped away and opened the cab door, but before she got in I remembered the scene from
Beach Blanket Twist
when she'd worn the coconut shell bikini top.

"Mom?"

"Yes, sweetie?"

"Coconuts?"

She slid into the cab, subtly cupping the bottom of her breasts. "Sometimes we inherit the best from our parents. You can thank me later, Amy."

And my mother rode off.

I squinted into the sun and watched her head for home, the one she'd made from a rocky Hollywood beginning.

Brian cleared his throat, and I looked over at him as he pulled a pair of sunglasses out of his pocket. He held them out to put on me, and at the temples where logos and bling should be, I noticed a small silver coconut.

He slipped them on my face, and we smiled at each other.

"Amy Moore, I owe you a slow afternoon."

I laughed, grabbed his hand, and we ran to the parking lot. No need to go slowly when you've finally got your own Hollywood beginning.

Kathy began her career in journalism and later transitioned to the University of Montana and completed an MFA in Creative Writing. For the past eighteen years, her enthusiasm and educational skills provide students great learning opportunities in her current role as adjunct English instructor at Flathead Valley Community College. 

Kathy is a tireless writer. Her novels and screenplays have been finalists in numerous competitions, including "The Unsuitable Café" earning first place in the Pacific Northwest Writers Literary Contest.

You can read more about Kathy Dunnhoff and her work at 
www.KathyDunnehoff.com
 

As always I owe many, many thanks…

Thom, great husband and reader! Ava and Grace, who teach me about mother/daughter relationships every day. Dad, who asks, "What's new in your world?" and then listens. My sisters, Diane Guenther & Cindy Babon and the nieces, Emilie, Ana, Amanda & Eileen, who cheer me on.

Roxanne McHenry
www.eroxanne.com
marketing genius who also makes me laugh! Anna Mahlen, who creates book covers I LOVE. The Friday critique group with authors Phyllis Quatman (P.A. Moore), Jim Satterfield, Debbie Burke, and Dan Vogel & The Authors of the Flathead, especially Dennis Foley! Ann Bevis and Leslie Beard for a birthday story. A special thanks to my Facebook friends who helped me with song titles no one would want played at their funeral!