The Redhead Revealed (2) (11 page)

“Sorry, I didn’t mean it.” I blushed furiously.

“Don’t let him fool you,” said Keili. “Who do you think taught her the word ‘asshole?’” She mouthed the last word.

Now that I was not the only one blushing, I turned back to Keili. “So you have another at home too?”

“Yes, Oliver. He’s almost five. He stayed at home with Daddy today. He’s getting over a bad cold,” she explained. Her ears perked up as we all heard a big bang from the end of a row. Seven seconds later we heard Abigail cry.

“That’s the I’m-more-scared-than-hurt cry. I’ll get her,” Michael said, walking briskly in the direction of Abigail’s newly red face as it appeared over the back of the last chair.

We watched him go to her and pick her up. He held her tight against his chest, and he told the nasty chair that bonked her in the head to leave his Abigail alone.

I smiled, watching him with her. Keili caught me and smiled her own secret smile. The two of us caught up for a few minutes, and she was very pleased to learn Michael and I had become close again. The whole family was thrilled he was working in New York. They hailed from Connecticut and were glad to have him close to home again.

“And, Grace, he was so totally floored when you turned up for that audition. It worked out perfectly. I always hated how you two ended things,” she said.

Keili had heard the entire story—from both sides. Ultimately, as Michael and I lost touch, she and I had as well. But she was always a fan of the two of us, and one of the only ones who saw our friendship for what it truly was back then: more than friendship.

“I hated how we ended things too. But that’s all in the past. I’m just glad we can work together now. It’s been so long since I’ve had a great guy friend, and it’s been nice to go through this process with him,” I said, watching as Michael now showed Abigail the lighting above the stage and how to move the followspot.

He was so great with her: calm and attentive, relaxed and happy. And she adored her Uncle Michael. I found myself watching her as well. She was really funny, curious about everything, asking question after question. Michael was patient, answering every question with the same careful detail he gave everyone else. He caught me watching them and smiled over the top of her head as he carried her across the back of the theater.

“And now you live here in New York! That’s so great. We’ll get to spend so much more time together. Once I have this baby I’ll be able to come into the city more often,” she prattled on.

“Well, I wouldn’t say I live here. I live in L.A. In fact, I just finished remodeling a house there that I bought last spring, and I can’t wait to get back to it when this is all over. It’s still a work in progress, but I love it.” I sighed, my face breaking into the smile I always got when I thought of my cozy bungalow in the canyon.

“Oh, I thought you were living here now. At least that’s what Michael said.”

“Well, that’s mostly true. I mean, I’m here until the show is over, and then we’ll have to wait and see what happens with it. I’m having a blast out here, but I love L.A. It’s my home,” I said.

She looked at me for a moment, then grimaced and rolled her eyes. “Jeez, guy, settle down in there,” she warned, taking a sip of her water and patting her stomach.

“Is he…what is it that they do? Kick?” I asked, looking at her stomach nervously.

“Yeah, you can say that again. He kicks and kicks so much. I must be cooking up a soccer player in here. Oof!” She rubbed her belly.

I watched her hand curiously, wondering what it felt like to have a baby rolling around inside you, kicking. Weird.

“Yes, you can.” She smiled.

“Huh?” I asked, my eyes snapping up to hers.

“You want to feel, right?”

“Oh, I don’t know. I mean…would that be strange?” I asked, backing away a little.

“Grace, you used to stand guard while I peed on the side of the road. Nothing is strange.” She laughed, grabbing my hand and placing it on her belly.

“Wait, I don’t know if I should—whoa. Wait, is that…is that a…kick?” I asked, eyes wide. It didn’t feel like a kick exactly, but more like a flutter. I imagine it would feel like a kick if it were my bladder taking the beating. Fascinating.

This felt strange.

I’d seen pregnant women walk around me every day of my life, and not once did I ever feel the compulsion to put my hand on there and feel. But this felt, strangely, normal. Stranger than that, it felt…nice?

“Feels cool, doesn’t it?” I heard Michael ask. I looked at him with the deer-in-the-headlights eyes and nodded.

He stood close to me, Abigail in his arms. He smiled.

I smiled back.

“That’s my brother in there,” Abigail explained, looking from my hand to my face.

“It is? Does that mean you’re going to be a big sister?” I asked her, smiling.

“Yep,” she answered.

“Abigail, this is my friend Grace. Can you say hi?” Michael asked, leaning her toward me.

I offered her my hand, and she shook it like a little grownup.

“Hi, Abigail,” I said.

“Hi, Grace. Your hair is red,” she said promptly, pulling at a curl that had fallen out of my bun.

“Yes it is, and your hair is blond. You have very pretty hair, Miss Abigail.” I laughed, crossing my eyes at her.

She giggled. “You’re funny,” she said, looking at Michael for approval. “She’s funny, Uncle Michael.”

“Yeah, she’s pretty funny,” he said, then winked at me.

“She’s pretty tooo,” Abigail crooned.

Michael flushed and cleared his throat, suddenly flustered. He snuck a look at me, then nodded his head. “Yes, Abigail, she’s very…pretty.” He hesitated, then finished with, “Just like you!” then gave her a zerbert on the cheek.

She screamed and kicked to be let down. Off she ran, back to playing in the rows.

“She’s super sweet, Keili, really. And you, Uncle Michael, you sure have a way with her. Although you always have preferred blondes,” I joked, poking the hair back into my clip.

“Not so much blondes,” he said softly, smiling his shy smile. Then he went to help Abigail investigate a coloring book sticking out of her mother’s purse.

Again, I was caught up in watching the two together. I became vaguely aware of someone calling my name.

“Grace! Hey, Grace!”

“What’s that?” I answered, distractedly.

“Didn’t you hear me? I was asking if you ever thought about having kids,” Keili said.

“Wow, that’s twice in as many weeks. What’s going on with the universe?” I chuckled, thinking of my conversation with Jack.

“Someone else was asking you about having kids?” she asked, digging through her bag to find crayons for Abigail, who then took them to Michael.

“What? Oh, well, yes, actually. My boyfriend and I were talking about it,” I said, smiling as I always did when I used the word “boyfriend” to describe Jack.

“Boyfriend? Oh, yes, Michael mentioned you were seeing some guy. Quite a bit younger than you, I hear?” she asked, her face very curious.

“Yes, he’s younger than me, but it’s actually pretty great. He’s an actor too. He’s, well, I hate to use this word, but he’s awesome.” I smiled again, thinking of my George.

“How much younger?” she prompted.

I sighed, irritated that everyone was so preoccupied with this—including myself.

“Twenty-four.”

“Oh, well, hell—have your fun then, girl! For now…” She trailed off.

“For now? What does that mean?” I asked, looking at her carefully.

“Exactly what I said. Have fun! I’m a little envious of a fling with a young guy—wow. But I mean, come on, what can you possibly have in common with a twenty-four year old? Other than s-e-x…” She sighed, smiling at the thought of s-e-x with a twenty-four year old, no doubt.

I knew what she meant, and since I’d known her so long, I didn’t take offense. But Jack and I had more in common than just the s-e-x, didn’t we? Sure we did.

Keili stayed for rehearsal, and we spent a little more time together over lunch. She promised to email and keep me updated on the baby. She was due right before the show went up, so it was doubtful she’d make it back to the city before she gave birth.

I was very glad to have seen her, but she’d planted a seed.

She’d planted several.

The Redhead Revealed

Chapter 8

Jack had started his trek around the world. He was truly amazed at how many fans turned up to see him everywhere he went—and he was more than a little freaked out by it.

“Grace, I mean, it was just this blast of screaming. I could barely tell which end was up. I couldn’t really tell where it was coming from. And then the outside doors opened while I was going through the hotel, and there they all were,” he explained late one night, calling from his hotel in Chicago.

He was basically living out of a suitcase at this point, on the promotional tour for Time.

“I’m not surprised, love. You’re their Joshua. They love you.” I sighed into the phone, wishing I were there with him.

“It’s just so weird. I mean, literally last year I could barely get into a casting director’s office, and now?” He laughed mournfully.

“Hey, you’re about to have that town by the balls. When this movie opens you’ll be bankable. Everyone’s gonna want to work with you. Wait and see.”

“I know, I just…Jesus, if they only knew—” he started to say.

“If they only knew what? If they only knew you were an amazing musician? If they only knew you’re the funniest motherfucker this side of London? If they only knew how much you love your Fatburger?”

“Grace, please. No one cares that I like Fatburger.” He chuckled.

“Oh, really? I know teen girls, and I know how their minds operate. New Kids fan, remember? I guarantee if you mention your favorite fast food, at some point it will be mentioned again. Us girls? We love that stuff. I still remember who Joey McIntyre’s favorite singer was, and I haven’t read anything about him since 1991.” I laughed, thinking of the issues of BOP and Teen Beat I used to read cover to cover.

“Girls are weird,” he muttered.

“I heard that,” I warned.

“Good, I ruddy well meant you to. You’re all mental, and somehow I ended up with the craziest one of all,” he said, teasing me now.

“Tread carefully there, or I’ll make you watch my Hangin’ Tough Live tape.”

“Tape? Like an actual videotape? Wow, like, from the eighties?”

“You’re on thin ice, fucko,” I said, lowering my voice to let him know I was serious. I tried to stifle a yawn, but he caught it.

“You need to get some sleep, love. You sound exhausted. How are the rehearsals going?”

“Good. They’re good. Everything is pretty well set. No more rewrites so it’s getting easier.” I snuggled under the covers. This was the time of night I missed him most.

“You’ll be ready to open?” he asked, covering his own yawn.

“Yes, I think so. Sweet Nuts, you sound tired too. Why don’t we go to sleep?”

“That sounds good. If I were there, what do you think we’d be doing now?” he asked. I could hear his covers rustling. Somehow, knowing we were both doing the same thing made me feel better.

“Hmm, right about now you’d be turning me on my side.”

“Yes?”

“And sneaking your hands under my shirt.”

“Mmm-hmm.”

“And now you’d probably be surrounding my boobies with your hands.”

“Definitely.”

“And now you’d be groaning.”

“Because your boobies feel so fantastic?”

“No, because I just turned on Golden Girls, and it’s the episode where Rose tells Dorothy and Blanche about the Great Herring War.”

“And on that note, I will say goodnight. Say goodnight, Gracie.”

“Good night, Gracie.”

He paused, and I could hear him turn out the light.

“I love you, Jack.”

“I love you too, Grace.”

***

The next week was hell for both of us. I was in rehearsal all day, every day, and usually well into the night. He was on his monster promo tour, all over the country. I checked in on him each day via the internet, and my Sweet Nuts just looked exhausted. But he was having fun too. As a great tie-in to the time-traveling aspect of the film, the studio had booked personal appearances for Jack in the science centers and museums across the country. These places had never seen such giddy crowds! This was truly the most exciting thing he’d ever gone through, and when he told me how nervous he was, or how much it freaked him out when everyone screamed at him, I simply reminded him this was awesome.

He was experiencing something hardly anyone in the world could appreciate, and the more he gave to his fans, the more they loved him. They loved that he said whatever he wanted, that he was self-deprecating, that he was funny and silly—and, boy, did they love that he was British.

“I’m just about to get in the shower. What’s your schedule like today?” I asked one day when he called to check in. He was somewhere in the Midwest, although he wasn’t sure exactly where. Different city, different hotel every day.

“Mmm, taking a shower are you?”

“Yes, George, settle down. Although I do miss showering with you,” I said, knowing the reaction I’d get.

“Stop it. Killing me!”

“You know how much I love to wash your hair. It makes me a little crazy,” I purred into the phone, grinning like a cat. “That’s something only I get to do.”

“Maybe I should include that in the interview I have this afternoon. I can tell them all about this nuts girl that gets off washing my hair while I hold on to her boobies—for balancing purposes only,” he said.

“You wouldn’t dare. That hair and those coconuts are mine and mine alone,” I laughed.

“Mmm, don’t remind me, Grace. Not right now. I have a meet-and-greet in twenty minutes, and I don’t think I could explain away my current state of excitement.”

“Easy there, trigger. Only two more days and you can channel your excitement my way.”

He was going to be in town for literally twenty-four hours, at least sixteen of which were taken up by promotional and press obligations. I would be in rehearsals. The only time we’d have together would be night. Which was fine by me. I’d take what I could get.