Trouble Me (21 page)

Devon gives a small nod. “That’s cool.” He sounds very noncommittal. Maybe he hasn’t read it.

Hunter finally strolls in. “I’m ready.”

Devon turns to the door. “I don’t see a backpack.”

“Damn!” Hunter sprints back out of the room.

“Mouth!” I call after him.

But he’s gone, back to his room to retrieve the backpack.

I grab my Hemingway and my phone, which is buzzing, and answer it as I walk. “I’m on my way out the door, Tuck.”

Today’s sure to be a long one. I hope to text Kelly, read my book, and maybe nap in my trailer in between blocking the next action sequence.

“Have a good day on set, Andy.” Devon waits for Hunter to return.

“Take care of my boys, Devon. And have fun sitting in traffic.”

W
E
A
RE
A M
ONTH
O
UT
. It’s mid-January in LA, about sixty degrees, and I’m sweating. Partly because it’s warm, but mostly because today is the baby shower. Baby showers are all well and good when they’re someone else’s. But when it’s a shower for me and Hiccup, well, let’s just say I’m less than thrilled.

“Where’s the Play-Doh?” Tessa rushes into the gigantic kitchen. Yes, she made good on her promise, and she swept into LA last night with bags and bags of stuff.

It’s kind of silly. We don’t have a lot of family here. My mom, yes. She’ll be here today. But I don’t have any sisters. And Andrew’s sisters live back in Pennsylvania. And Mari, from New York—we’ve texted and talked on the phone, but she’s a grad student. There’s no way I’d expect her to come out here just for a baby shower.

Now that we’re in LA, I hang out with my mom and dad, the boys, and Andrew when he’s not working. It’s nice to have family in town, because I haven’t really met anyone here. Our house, super Fortress of Solitude that it is, is in a development of similar fortresses. I think the next door neighbor is a rap producer. I’ve seen him backing out of his driveway twice. I take walks and mostly run into the guards at the gatehouse. I guess the whole point of our subdivision is seclusion.

So, guess who’s coming to the shower? Sandy, Andrew’s publicist; Mallory, Andrew’s makeup artist; my mom; and Tessa. That’s about it.

Tucker enters the kitchen. “Did you look in the living room with your other bags? I don’t think it’d be out here.” He’s been recruited into helping get ready for the shower.

“Should I ask what the Play-Doh is for?” I sit at the kitchen island, following orders. I don’t disobey Tessa, not when she’s in this kind of mood. I’m not foolish.

Tucker shakes his head. “No, you shouldn’t ask.”

Baby showers seem to revolve around humiliating the mama-to-be. Predict how big she is with this piece of string! Find the goofiest or weirdest baby or new mama equipment! Take pictures of her ginormous belly for all posterity!

I think it’s clear why I’m less than thrilled. I’m about a month out from my due date, and, yes, I’m huge. The Miss Softee soft serve ice cream cone look is just about complete. The added touch is that Hiccup likes to press out a foot or hand and distend my tummy in weird, alien-like ways. So, I’m an alien-infected soft serve ice cream cone. Even better.

Tessa disappears into the other room, then shouts “Found it!” to no one in particular. Andrew rolls in with a glass of iced tea in hand. “Why don’t you go out by the pool? It’s nice out there.” He comes to me, gives my belly a rub, kisses me behind the ear, one of those spots that I love to have kissed.

“Tessa’s having the shower out there in an hour. I’m not allowed.”

“It’s a surprise baby shower? I think you already know you’re having a baby.” He sits next to me.

“The decorations. She wants to surprise me. It’s an awful lot of effort for, like, six people.”

He sits with me for a minute, sips his tea. “That’s Tessa. Indulge her.”

“I am, which is why I’m in here.”

He goes to the fridge, opens both doors at the same time. “What’s in here that’s good?”

“Hey, Mr. Movie Star, you’re shooting a shirtless scene tomorrow, remember? Stay out of the corn dogs. They’re for the boys.”

He rolls his eyes. “You’re no fun.”

I smile sweetly at him. “Just trying to be helpful. You can have a slice of cake from the shower if you want.”

“Oh, there’s not a cake. That’s so passé.” Tessa’s back. “You ready to go to your shower?”

I stand up. “I thought it was in an hour?”

“Surprise! We’re ready for you now, Kelly Jo.”

“Okay.”

Andrew takes my hand, and we follow Tessa out into the backyard.

It’s more than six people. It’s closer to thirty. Holy cow.

“Surprise!” Everyone yells at once. People clap.

I scan the crowd. Both of Andrew’s sisters are here. Several of Tessa’s friends, who by default are mostly my friends too, are here. And Mari from New York is here.

“You got people to come! How’d you do that?” I give Tessa a big hug.

“I’m pretty persuasive. And your husband-to-be helped fly some people out. Mari, for example.”

I make a silent note to thank him. He was wary of her when we were in New York, but bless him for respecting the fact that I so desperately needed her as my friend when I was down and lonely.

I see Mari walking toward us. “Hey! I’m so glad you could be here!” I tell her.

She gives me a hug. “You’re so pregnant. How close?”

“A month or so. Both my boys were overdue, so I’m not holding my breath yet.”

“I have news too.” Mari smiles and holds up her phone. There’s a picture on it.

“What’s this?” I take the phone from her. It’s a picture of a nondescript apartment building.

“I’m moving out here! I signed a lease on this apartment today.”

I’m surprised. I’d never have the guts to move across the country—use a plane ticket for a baby shower as the impetus to make a huge change like that. I give her a hug. “That’s huge news. Why? Are you done with design school already?”

She shakes her head no. “I might defer for a semester, maybe a year.” She points to her shoulder. “Remember the tattoo?”

“Yeah.”

“Well, the guy—the guy that was the future person, not the past? I think it’s going to work out. I moved out here to be closer to him.”

“Wow. He’s here now? That’s huge news, Mari. What about money?”

“I might sell my car back in New York. And I’ve got student loan money still.” She waves her hand, dismissing the question.

“Well, selfishly, it’s awesome for me, ’cause you can come over all the time now. Much better than just texting to keep in touch. And I hope the move will be what you want for you too,” I add, still trying to figure out her impulsive decision, wondering what Andrew will say about it. “And at some point, I want to hear all about this mystery man.”

Tessa comes over. “I hate to break up this chat, but we’ve got the first game to play.”

“Fabulous.” I take Mari’s hand. “I’m afraid of the Play-Doh. Don’t let them do terrible things to me.”

She laughs, a big, open-mouthed laugh. “Only if I’m helping!”

The party moves along at a nice tempo, with Tessa running the guests through several ridiculous games (the Play-Doh was to make a model of the baby, which resulted in ludicrous sculptures). Tessa got a doughnut pyramid, made from blue-and-pink-frosted Voodoo Doughnuts she had FedExed in from Portland. She knows we always try to stop there when we’re headed to the coast from Boise.

We open presents, and of course there’s plenty of
ooh
ing and
aah
ing over adorable little outfits.

The boys—all of them—are scarce. Andrew piled everybody into the car and took them miniature golfing. Even Jeremy went with, though thankfully he’s not living with us anymore.

Mom comes over with a big box. “This last one is from me and your dad. We never thought we’d be welcoming another grandbaby into the world—not from you, at least.” Mom’s always hopeful that my brother will give her more grandchildren, but he and his girlfriend are currently traveling in Southeast Asia, and the chances look slimmer with every grand trip they take.

I pull the blue and pink wrapping paper off the box and lift the lid.

It’s a sage green quilt. “Mom, it’s beautiful.” She made quilts for both of the boys too.

“I wish it didn’t have to be green, but oh well.” She hasn’t been keen on not knowing the sex of the baby.

I give her a big kiss. “Thank you, Mom.” Other guests applaud. It’s the last big gift. People begin to drift away from the circle of chairs and loungers Tessa has set up. Some wander into the house, or over to the snack and drink table.

Mom lingers, takes my hand. “Oh, Bug. It’s been so wonderful having you in town. I know the boys will want to go back to school in Boise, but maybe with Andrew’s career, you could make LA your second home.” She sounds hopeful. She’s always wished we could live in the same town.

“We’ll see, Mom. I’ve stopped trying to predict the future. It never seems to want to go the way that I plan it.” I give her a smooch on the cheek.

Tessa appears. “Just a couple more cards, and you can be done with this ordeal.” She hands me two thick envelopes.

“It’s been much less painful than I thought. Thank you, Tessa. Honestly. You’re great to do this.”

She waves me off. “Anything for the baby mama.”

I open the first envelope. It’s a gift certificate for a massage from my auntie in Tennessee.

Mom sighs in relief. “Thank goodness. She was sure it wouldn’t make it in the mail in time. I’m going to go in the house and call and tell her.” She gets up and goes in.

I’m left with one more envelope. Tessa and I sit together in the loungers, our feet up. This envelope has no return address, but it came to the house yesterday. On the back someone’s stuck an “Open on Shower Day” label, complete with blue and pink balloons. I tear it open.

It’s a greeting card. It looks as though it had a picture of a teddy bear on a horse on the front of it. But it’s been carefully blacked out. The whole image is black.

And inside is a folded-up piece of stationery. I unfold it. It’s a letter. In a hand I don’t know. I read:

To Whom It May Concern:

Or, to the Lady in His Bed:

You probably want to go on your merry way, live your merry life. Don’t assume that the bells aren’t tolling for you, or for him, for that matter.

My hands go cold. I can feel my expression fall.

“What is it?” Tessa looks at me.

“I don’t know yet. A letter. Let me finish it.”

Insinuation isn’t pretty. A vine, even a pretty flowering one, even a morning glory, is still a parasite, and when evening comes, closes its eye to the dark.

When the host is sucked dry, when you take his vitality and plant it elsewhere, who is left at the harvest?

Think about worth and worthiness. You cheapen something, you wash that value away. Temptation is then followed, and you destroy who you seek, who you want so very badly. So think on it: you reap what you sow. What you are, you turn him to. Gold turns to brass. All things float away, washed away in your cheap, ceaseless current.

Note it.

I sit still for a minute, and then I crumple up the letter.

“What the hell was it? Why do you look that way, Kelly?”

“It was a letter written by some crazy freak. And it’s not worth upsetting anyone over.” I toss it into the pile of shredded wrapping paper.

I’m surprised, because I would’ve predicted that I’d get a letter like this and be terrified.

No, I’m just pissed.

We’ve had a calm, enjoyable life out here. Three months of almost-normal existence. Sure, the boys aren’t in school, but Devon, the tutor, he’s been great. And I feel better, swimming every day. And Andrew’s shoulder is mostly healed. There hasn’t been the frenzy we felt in New York.

He’s busy, but life has been good.

Now this.

I stand up. “Let’s go in and say goodbye to the guests. I know some people are getting ready to leave.”

“Aren’t you going to do anything with that?” Tessa stoops over to pick up the card with the blacked out front, the folded letter.

“Leave it. It’s meaningless. I refuse to give it any power over me or my family.”

“What?” Andrew walks up from behind us.
Shit
. He’s going to freak out.

“A dumb anonymous letter. From someone who thinks they’re all literary and deep.”

Tessa does pick it up now, hands it to Andrew.

He scans it and looks up into my eyes.

I don’t waver. I refuse to panic. I won’t let someone do that to me again.

He nods. I think he can read me pretty loud and clear. “Okay. I’ll let Tucker see it.”

I speak up. My voice sounds loud, confident. Hearing it makes me feel stronger. “Tomorrow. Don’t give it any more weight than that. Fear is only fear when you allow it to be.”

He pulls me to him, kisses the top of my head. “I agree. For now, I have the rest of a doughnut pyramid to eat.”

Tessa shakes a finger at him. “Shirtless, tomorrow at eight am.”

“You two are such nags, I swear.”

She punches him on the arm.

And life returns to normal, at least for now.