She's All That (19 page)

“Valeria picked it out,” Nana says as she tries to squeeze into what there is of a backseat. Italian cooking and riding in the back of a Jaguar are not a great mix. Eventually, Max gets tired of watching her maneuver and somehow gets himself and his cast back there.

“Don't mention that woman's name,” Max says about Valeria, his eyebrows lowered menacingly.

I slide into the driver's seat. “You know, Max, the best of us get dumped. Welcome to the real world. She was too young for you anyway.”
Some of us get dumped without actually realizing
we had a relationship in the first place, and doesn't that feel
good?

“I didn't get dumped,” he snaps. But inside, I'm thinking,
Yeah, she did dump him, and what do guys expect when they're
twice someone's age, and they are only slightly better than a troll,
and the woman is a swimsuit model? I mean, call me naïve here,
but DUH!

“How's unemployment, Lilly?” Nana asks.

“Liberating.”

Here Max laughs, and my grandmother
harrumphs
.

I start up the car, and it just purrs like a kitten. Granted, a powerful, lion-like kitten, but still. I wonder if now is a good time to tell him I've never driven a car worth real money before. Seeing his scowl in the rearview mirror, I'm thinking probably not.

We're silent as we drive home. I assume Max doesn't want to talk about getting dumped, or whatever his macho name for it is, and I'm not keen on speaking of my unemployment or my loss of $20,000. So silence is definitely golden. As we drive up to his house in the Marina, it's obvious that Max has time to take care of the place. I don't know why it never dawned on me before, but this place has to be worth two million at least for its location. Its façade is much grander than those in the neighborhood, with ornate iron gates leading to the entrance and carefully-planted landscaping giving it a designer's touch. Even the paint job is elaborate, like the City's Victorian-era Painted Ladies.

He's got an incredible view of the Bay from his place, although he usually has the plantation shutters closed for better television viewing. He's also got a totally redesigned kitchen with granite counters, but you never notice any of that because the TV is so disproportionate to the rest of the place. It definitely makes me wonder how everyone in this city seems to have money except me. He sits and watches TV and makes more than I do! Obviously a lot more! It's clear that my degree in finance translates into a complete loss when you look around at Bay Area success.

Nana speaks first as we reach the small driveway. “I'll be inside making some soup. You make sure Max gets settled, Lilly. I'll be up in a while.”

Max and I scowl at one another. “Sure, Nana.” Thankful the car is still in one unencumbered piece, I come around to the passenger side to get Max out, and rescue him from being wrenched in the backseat. Have you ever tried to get the first pickle out of a full jar? Um, yeah, it's like that.

Max takes my help this time, as the Jaguar is extremely low to the ground, and having a straight leg for the maneuver is more than he can handle. He puts his arms around my neck and I help him to his feet. He steadies himself on me, and I hand him the crutches.

“There. Could Valeria do that?”

“She's a black belt in karate.”

“Would you give it up? She's a child,” I say angrily. “You know what happens to those girls? They turn thirty, grow up, and think,
What am I doing with this old guy?
It happened to Rod Stewart; it can certainly happen to you.”

“She wasn't my girlfriend.”

“I never said she was.” But usually, when a woman hangs out and watches TV and makes you dinner she's generally your girlfriend. Unless she happens to be my Nana.

“Valeria was sponsored by my father to come to America and work in one of the hotels. My father was a Russian-Jew. He tries to do a lot for the old country.”

Like get his son hot-looking women?
“You don't need to say anything more,” I say, silently praying he will. “Wait a minute. What do you mean your father's hotels?”
Emphasis on the
plural.

“She found out who I was and made her move for marriage. I didn't fall for it, but I ended up looking the fool just the same. Maybe she knew all along. I don't know. Your Nana figured it out.”

“Who
are
you?” I ask, as he leans on me on the driveway. His eyes are so expressive. They seem to talk without even a hint of a smile on his face.

It's obvious he doesn't want to talk. “I'm a TV critic.”

Somehow, I don't believe this is all he is for a second, but I figure I can ask Nana later what he means. His father owns hotels.
Big deal.
If he's an heir, is that a crime? I'd be shouting it from the rooftops and looking for my monthly handout!

Getting up the tiled stairs is a trick all its own, and more than once, I thought we might both tumble to the bottom.

Max gets to the door and opens it without unlocking it.

“You don't lock your door? In San Francisco?”

“I lock the gate.”

“Let me help you get settled.”

“You've done enough.” He starts to close the door on me, but taking after my Nana, I push it open.

“Don't be so difficult. You've got no reason to hate all women because of Valeria. She has to grow up first before we can technically call her a woman anyway.”

“I don't hate all women; don't be ridiculous. And she didn't dump me. I told you.”

“You didn't tell me anything. Typical male.”

“I just don't know what you women expect. You come on to us guys, using your wiles, and then once we take the bait, you cut the line and run off to the next guy.”

“I don't do that. None of my friends do that.
Girls
do that. You were dating a girl.”

“Your Nana liked her for a while. And we weren't dating. I keep telling you.”

“My Nana likes anyone with naked ambition, especially if they can turn it into cash.”

“That's a harsh assessment of your own grandmother.” Max lowers himself onto his leather sofa.

“It's said in love,” I answer truthfully. “If I didn't love her, I wouldn't have tried finance in the first place. I wouldn't have a useless MBA from Stanford. I don't think being rich is in my blood because I just don't really care that much, you know?”

“All women say that.”

“I'll give you that. I'd like to buy nicer fabric for my clothes, have a place that's lit by more than a single light bulb in the hallway. But I don't want to crunch numbers to get it. Does that make sense? I'm capable of making money, Max. I just want more than that.”

“Yes, you're waiting for Mr. Right to make your dreams come true and bankroll your life.”

I laugh out loud. “You cannot possibly believe I think
that
living in San Francisco. In case you haven't noticed, most of the men here aren't exactly looking for a
damsel
in distress.”

“So, do you want to live like that forever? In some dumpy loft you can barely make rent on? You got out of Stanford. You have to have a touch of ambition.”

“You don't think I'm ambitious?” I'm dumbfounded after Nate and Kim both accused me of being practically ruthless.

“I'm just saying I see your grandmother's point of view, but as one who turned down the family business, I understand more than you think.”

“I wasted eight years, all counted, with school and working in the industry. What did you go to school for?” I ask, wondering how one prepares for a life of professional television- viewing.

“Journalism.”

“Can I open these?” I ask, perched over the shutters.

“As long as you close them again,” Max grunts.

“Did they give you any happy pills for pain?” I ask. “You need some.”

I open the shutters, and a magical view of the San Francisco Bay, sapphire-blue from the afternoon sun, appears.

“Oh, Max,” I say wistfully. “You have the most amazing view. I'd never get anything done if I lived here. How can you keep this window closed?”

“It's not shut all the time, Lilly. Just at night. I didn't get a chance to open it this morning.”

“Does my Nana know your dad owns those hotels?”

“Yeah, why?”

“I'm just surprised she never tried to set me up with you. She must like you.”

“Did you want to be set up?” he raises an eyebrow.

Hmmm. An interesting question. I think on it for a minute. “No, I'm just sort of curious why she gets herself a certified heir in her presence, and the thought doesn't occur to her. I'm not good enough for you apparently.”

“I never said that.”

“You don't even have much hair, Max! You'd be perfect. So I don't really get it. I'm definitely asking my Nana.”

“You're telling me I'm bald? Am I supposed to say ‘Thanks'?” he says questioningly.

“Well, I'd better get going.” I close the shutters. “It's going to be something catching the bus at this hour. I hate Muni in the middle of the day.”

Max sits up. “You are not taking the bus home.”

“I'll be fine. I have a little Vicks for under my nose.” I pull the jar out of my purse to show him.

“Take my car home. I can't drive it anyway.” Max tosses me the keys.

“Max, you can't park a brand-new Jaguar in my neighborhood and expect it to be there in the morning.” I'm laughing at the thought. “I'm used to using Muni. Are you going to be okay?” I sit next to him on the sofa and he suddenly plops his broken leg in my lap.

“It's fine. Doesn't hurt that much. They say I'll have to do some physical therapy. So it's good that I watch television for a living.”

I look straight into his eyes. “I hope you weren't on that ladder for Nana.”

Max looks away. “I wasn't.”

“I'd better get going home,” I say, waiting for him to remove his leg.

“Lilly, take the car. You're not getting on the bus when you came all the way over here!”

“If I take your car, you won't have one tomorrow morning when it's sitting on jacks without its wheels or stereo system. I've already lost $20,000 today.”

“What?” Max laughs. “How'd you do that, if you don't mind my asking?”

“My roommate stole the check because I am, apparently, honest to a fault. Do you need anything before I go?” I pat his leg, trying to give him more of a hint.

“I'll give you the $20,000.”

I just laugh.

“I'm serious.”

“Where would a TV critic get that kind of money? I thought you weren't working for your dad.”

“I'm not an idiot, though I know you prefer to think of me that way. I may not be exceptionally smart with women, but I have my strengths.” It's here that I see he's completely serious.

“No, Max, I wouldn't want to put you out.”

“I'm serious,” Max says. “Lilly, I want to do this for you. I've been where you are. I want you to follow your passion in life. I love real estate, but I never had a passion for the hotel business. Too much pressure for occupancy. Did you know you need a 50 percent occupancy rate every night to make it? And that the restaurant in the lobby is just a loss leader?”

“Interesting,” I say, patting his leg again. “I still can't take your money. I can't take your car. Is there anything else you want to give me? Because I might be open to the house with the view. You could still live downstairs.” I wink at him, but he doesn't even crack a smile. Suddenly, I feel very guilty for taking Nate's gifts. Everyone obviously thinks I'm completely inane, or they wouldn't want to take care of me like this!

“I'm not asking you to
do
anything for it,” Max says.

Well, that goes without saying.
“Why does everyone want to give money to me? Am I that pathetic? I got myself into this mess. I don't want your money. I want to be a grown-up. It's time I started bailing myself out instead of people rescuing me. And why is it everyone in this town has money except for me?”

“Maybe you're supposed to take it. Did that ever occur to you? You know that old story about God sending the helicopter and the man drowning because he didn't get on it?” Max scoots over on the couch until he's sitting right next to me. His proximity is warming and completely frightening.
What is up?
Have I suddenly developed something? Does he want to kiss me and act like it never happened as well? All while giving me gifts to soothe his tortured soul?
I wonder if
Vicks has an aphrodisiac effect.

“Listen,” I say, moving his leg gently and jumping up. “I've got to get back to the loft and set up my computer and sewing machine. I appreciate the offer, Max, but your looking after Nana is more than enough of a donation to my cause.”

“You'd pay it back. You're good for the money. I can tell you if there's one thing about Mildred that never wavers, it's her unflinching honesty; and I see that trait in you.”

“You're
not
saying I'm like my Nana?”

“More than you know.”

“If you need anything, I'm writing down my number so you have it handy.” I bend over a pad of paper near the phone and scratch my name with my charcoal pencil. “I'm getting a cell phone today, so I'll call you with the new number as soon as I get it. Please don't let Nana put you to work. Rest.”

“Lilly, don't go just yet. I have to tell you something. Come sit down.” He pats the space I just left.

Just the way his face is solemn makes me stop in my urge to get out the door. “You should know I won't take your money. We're a proud people, my Nana and me.”

“It's not about the money.” I sit beside him on the sofa, and I have to say, there's something very endearing about his tone. He covers my hand with his own. “We weren't at the hospital for my leg. I broke it two days ago. Your grandmother drove us to the hospital, and I swore she would never drive me anywhere again. That's why we called you. I should have figured something else out, but by then—I just wanted to get her home.”