The Next Thing on My List (17 page)

‘ Spark? Come on, Phyllis, who are you kidding? He hires eye candy.’

‘ Is your friend Susan only eye candy? Am I? If you want the job, prove yourself. The braless stunt you pulled was brilliant.’  I felt myself go hot with embarrassment as she continued, oblivious that it hadn’ t been an intentional career move. ‘ That’ s enough to get noticed, but it won’ t close the deal. You’ ve got to deliver the goods.’

‘ Deliver the goods! I am not sleeping with Lou Bigwood!’

She tipped her chair forward so that she landed with a thud and gave me a hard stare. In that moment, I could picture her around the pool hall with the other Hell’ s Angels, talking trash and chugging cigarettes. I wondered if that was why Bigwood kept her around-because he was afraid of her. ‘ Do I strike you as a pimp? I thought you were bright, but you’ re not getting it. Do something. Make it big so it wows the pants off him. And do it soon before he finds a honey who’ s willing to wow him first.’

Chapter 14

M y dad was sitting on the front porch drinking a glass of wine and listening to Roy Orbison on a boom box when Deedee and I walked up carrying our overnight bags.

‘ Lawn’ s looking good, Dad,’  I said, and then I introduced him to Deedee.

He shook her hand hello. ‘ We’ re barbecuing steak for dinner-you like steak?’

‘ Sure. Love it.’

‘ I was afraid you might be one of those vegetarians.’  Then he turned to me, apparently out of small talk. ‘ Your mother’ s inside.’

It was Thursday evening, and the ride-along with Troy was the next morning. I was spending the night at my parents’  house since they lived only a few miles from the Van Nuys Airport. If I had to report in at four-thirty a.m., I was cutting the drive as short as I could. I’ d invited Deedee to join me-it wasn’ t as if Lizbeth needed the seat anymore, and I thought the girl could use a special treat. Even if I had a chance to talk on air, I knew it wouldn’ t be enough to wow Bigwood. But it might, I hoped, get his attention-not to mention cross two items off my list while I was at it.

‘ Honey, I’ m home!’  I shouted as Deedee and I made our way into the kitchen. My mom stood at the counter, chopping vegetables for a salad. Something spicy was cooking, and it smelled divine.

‘ Jeez, you look so much like your mom,’  Deedee said quietly, and I guess on first glance we did-same wild hair, only she wore hers short. And Doris is where I inherited all those curves. I got her chin, too, which is slightly pointed, but thank the Lord I didn’ t get the Delaney nose, which suits my mom but if you ask me is beaky on the rest of her family.

‘ So this is Deedee!’  Mom exclaimed. She set down her knife and marched past me to give Deedee a quick hug. ‘ I’ ve been looking forward to meeting you. June tells me she’ s been having so much fun with you.’

As we set our bags on the floor, my mom asked me, ‘ How was the drive out?’

‘ I took the 405,’  I said. ‘ It was how it always is-a mess.’

She shook her head and then said in a joking voice, ‘ I always say that traffic is like the weather. Everybody talks about it, but nobody does anything.’

‘ I try!’  I protested.

Ignoring me, Mom said to Deedee, ‘ Are you excited about your helicopter ride?’

They started to talk about the morning to come-a safe topic. I’ d primed my parents ahead of time. No talking about the baby. In fact, no talking about any babies or baby-related topics. As far as they were concerned, there was no baby. Deedee was six months along, and her belly was starting to pop. She was back in the oversize clothes, however, so you couldn’ t tell. She said she hadn’ t told anyone at school and, so far, nobody’ d guessed.

Deedee, my dad, and I helped carry the food out to the dining room table and took our seats. Dinner was soup, salad, ‘ Oprah’  oven fries, and steak from my dad’ s grill. My mom had set the table with tikithemed place mats and dishes. The cutlery had palm tree designs, and the water glasses were painted with hula girls.

Dinners at my parents’  house had gotten progressively more elaborate since my father retired. He’ d always been relegated to the grill, over which he is lord and master. But in the past couple of years, he’ s tried his hand at a bit of experimenting in the kitchen-a salad here, a pasta dish there. Mom must’ ve felt threatened, because suddenly she was adding sauces and trotting out new recipes the likes of which we’ d never seen before and saying things like ‘ Martin, this salad you made is delicious. Hey, did you guys know that a baboon can make a salad? They can! I saw it on the Discovery Channel!’  Dad was edging into what had always been my mother’ s domain, and enjoying a good meal as I do, I wasn’ t above fueling the competition.

‘ Dad, those steaks sure smell good!’  I effused as my mom carried in bowls of soup and set them in front of us. ‘ Mmm, and Mom, is this soup homemade?’

My dad poked at his bowl. ‘ What is this?’

‘ In honor of Deedee’ s Mexican heritage, I made taco soup.’  My mom gave Deedee a smile and said, ‘ Now I know it’ s not a traditional recipe, but I thought it would be silly of me to try to make a dish that you probably get at home every day, only better and more authentic. A friend of mine got the recipe at her Weight Watchers meeting, and& ‘

I have no idea what she said after that because my brain was buzzing as if bees had set up shop in there. Did she say taco soup? The taco soup?

I was about to ask what was in it when I tuned back in to hear my mom say, ‘ And truthfully, it’ s nothing but opening a bunch of cans.’

Deedee dug in. ‘ If weawwy goog,’  she said, her mouth full of hot soup.

‘ Gracias, señorita,’  my mom said, showing off that she had about as vast a command of the Spanish language as I do.

I regarded the soup as if it were a murder weapon, which it sort of was. Then I thought, What the hell, I’ m starving, and it smells delicious. I took a spoonful and blew on it before tasting it. Okay, it was pretty good. Weawwy goog, in fact, I thought, scooping up more. Why not? It wasn’ t as if the soup had been driving the car.

‘ Do you enjoy school?’  my mom asked Deedee.

‘ It’ s okay.’

‘ June tells me you’ re an honors student. Good for you! So, do you have a boyfriend at school?’

Deedee poured ketchup over her oven fries, looking as if she’ d like to crawl under the table. ‘ Not really.’

I shot my mom a look. What was she doing? Had I not made it clear there would be no talk of babies, and didn’ t the fact that Deedee was pregnant imply that there was, in fact, a boy in the picture, at least at one point?

My mom barreled ahead, pretending not to notice the daggers I was shooting at her. ‘ You will. You’ ll have lots of them, that’ s for certain. You’ re such a pretty girl.’

Deedee seemed increasingly uncomfortable, so in an effort to get my mom off whatever oddball track she was on, I said to Deedee, ‘ She’ s right, you are& but don’ t put too much stake on anything my mom says. She used to think that I was cute when I was your age, too.’

‘ You were cute!’  my mom insisted.

Dad gave a chortle. ‘ Didn’ t she have those braces? And the eye patch?’

‘ It’ s not my fault I had a lazy eye! And it was only for a few months!’

Deedee cheered instantly. ‘ An eye patch? Serious?!’  And she made an arrrgh noise like a pirate-as if I hadn’ t heard that every second of every day that I wore it. ‘ Got any pictures?’

‘ Sorry. There are no pictures of me because I was so ugly& and the second child. If you want to see my brother, however, we have about a million photos of him.’  Then I patted the back of my head to remind her of the neglect I’ d suffered.

‘ Don’ t you listen to her, Deedee,’  my mom said. ‘ She may have had an& awkward phase for a while there, but that’ s exactly my point. By the time she reached high school, she’ d blossomed. Truly, it’ s the best time of your life. I can’ t wait for you to get out there and experience it all. With your brains and beauty, I’ ll bet you have big things ahead of you.’

Ah. So that’ s what she was doing. I’ d been baffled at first, until I realized that this was Doris Parker’ s one-woman public service announcement to try to convince Deedee to give the baby up for adoption. Not so subtle, but an A for effort.

Deedee responded by putting her attention to sawing at her steak, to the point where my dad said, obviously annoyed, ‘ Hey now, you ought to be able to cut that with a fork.’

Dessert was rhubarb pie and ice cream served on the back patio to the sounds of the bug zapper killing flies and my father’ s complaints that the Bloomingdales next door recently landscaped with low-water plants-cactus and rock gardens-instead of grass. ‘ Can you believe it? What do they think this is, Death Valley? They ever hear of a water hose? Next thing you know, they’ re going to be installing one of those solar panels.’

‘ Your parents are a riot,’  Deedee said as I showed her to my brother’ s old room, where she’ d be sleeping. It was only nine o’ clock, but since the alarm would go off at three a.m. we were both eager for an early turn-in.

‘ They sure liked you,’  I said. ‘ I wouldn’ t be surprised if they’ re downstairs right now adding you to the will.’  Then I left to shower, not daring to leave it for the morning in case I overslept. It was quarter to ten by the time I’ d blown-dry my hair, and I’ d already done the finger-counting thing and realized the most sleep I could hope for was five hours. Ugh-how did Troy Jones do this every night? Before going to bed, I noticed a light on in Deedee’ s room. I gave a knock and went in. She was under the covers, still in her big shirt, reading one of my brother’ s old comic books. ‘ I can’ t fall asleep this early,’  she said.

‘ I can. I have a remarkable gift for slumber. It’ s waking up on time that I’ m worried about.’

‘ Me too. I set the alarm.’

‘ Good-between the both of us, one should manage to roll out of bed.’  I sat on the edge of her bed. ‘ You need a lullaby?’  I started to sing, ‘ Gitchy gitchy ya ya da da& ‘

She set down the comic. ‘ You told your mom that I’ m pregnant.’  I attempted to put on an innocent face, but she said, ‘ I’ m not stupid.’

‘ Sorry. She’ s my mom. I couldn’ t not tell her.’

‘ At least she was nice about it. My mom screams at me all the time. I’ ll bet yours never yells at you.’

‘ In defense of your mom, I’ m a bit old for that.’

‘ But when you were a kid, I’ ll bet your parents didn’ t yell.’

I thought about it. ‘ Probably not much. We Parkers aren’ t big yellers, but that doesn’ t mean they didn’ t come down on me if I deserved it.’

She snorted. ‘ Yeah, right. What’ d you ever do wrong?’

‘ Plenty.’

‘ Forget it. You’ re too goody-goody. I bet you never did anything bad your whole life.’

‘ Sure I have!’

‘ Like what? What’ s the worst thing you ever did?’

Maybe it was the taco soup or the thought that I’ d be seeing Troy Jones in mere hours, but Marissa was on my mind, and before I even thought about it, I said, ‘ I killed someone.’

‘ I mean serious.’

I’ d regretted it as soon as I said it, so I tried instead to come up with some other crime I’ d committed to appease her. Unfortunately, sneaking into the spiked punch and puking at Kathy Berz’ s graduation party was the best I could do, and it seemed downright charming compared with killing someone. I sputtered and stammered until Deedee said, ‘ Shit, you did kill somebody!’

‘ Nah, I was-’

‘ Bullcrap-don’ t take it back now. You did.’

I sighed. ‘ You’ re right, I did. It was an accident.’  I turned my attention to picking a loose thread from the comforter. ‘ Only it was my fault, so I don’ t know if ‘ accident’  is the right word.’  I told her about giving Marissa a ride and the car crash. At Deedee’ s urging, I went into the details: from the dresser toppling off the truck, to how I’ d veered, to my first ride in an ambulance. Of course, I didn’ t mention that Marissa was Troy’ s sister or anything about the list. The last thing I wanted was for Deedee to suspect she was part of it.

‘ So how did she die?’  Deedee asked when I’ d finished. I gave her a blank stare, and she said, ‘ I know it was a car crash, and the dresser falling, but what exactly killed her?’  She said it without a shred of pity or empathy. She wasn’ t being ghoulish, either. It was simply information she wanted that I hadn’ t adequately provided.

‘ She wasn’ t wearing a seat belt, so when the car rolled, she got tossed.’

‘ Like through the window?’

And here was the strange thing: I felt as if I could finally say it. The details of that night that I’ d kept from Susan, my boyfriend Robert, my parents& everyone. It had always been my fear of their kindness. That their sympathy would have been more than I could bear. All I’ d admitted to them was that Marissa died when the car rolled-as far as they knew, that was it. ‘ The windshield,’  I told Deedee matter-of-factly. ‘ She crashed through the windshield.’

‘ She got cut to death?’

‘ No. As I understand it, she died because my car& ‘  I took a breath before continuing, ‘ It landed on her.’

‘ On what part of her?’

‘ I don’ t know-all of her, I suppose.’

‘ Gross. What’ d you do?’

‘ Nothing,’  I answered, yanking the last of the stray thread from the comforter. ‘ I did nothing.’

Granted, I’ d been pinned by the air bag with a banged head and no clue about where Marissa was. But really, all I’ d done was hang there. Twiddling my thumbs. Singing la-de-da. Waiting to be rescued while the entire time I crushed Marissa Jones to death. The worst part: At no point did the police or hospital staff comfort me with ‘ She died quickly.’  They always say that, and in its absence, I was left to assume that the opposite must be true.

I stood to leave. ‘ Well, it’ s late, I’ m going to sleep,’  I said as I clicked off the light, and out of habit I repeated what my mom said to me every night even when I’ d been too old for her to tuck me in. ‘ Sweet dreams.’

THE ALARM SOUNDED, and I smacked it off. Ugh. I felt nauseated from sleepiness. Three a.m. Why didn’ t I pull an all-nighter? At least I’ d already be up instead of having to wake up.

After dragging myself out of bed, I dressed in the jeans and long-sleeved T-shirt that I’ d left out. I yanked my hair into a ponytail, then went to check on Deedee, who sat on the edge of her bed looking as if she’ d been pulled from the dustbin and set there. ‘ It’ s the middle of the friggin’  night,’  she groaned. She wore the same clothes she’ d slept in and-after throwing on her tennis shoes-pronounced herself ready. Then she crawled under the covers and told me to wake her up again when it was time to go.

Pride forced me to make at least a cursory attempt at makeup. My eyes were slits, so I tried as best I could with mascara and eye shadow. Later, when the puffiness receded, I’ d get to see if my aim was on the mark or if I wound up resembling Bette Davis in All About Eve. Whatever. If Troy was hoping for foxy ride-along companions, he needed to switch to the afternoon drive-time shift.

The Van Nuys Airport was small and catered to commuter planes and helicopters. Deedee and I made it there a few minutes early and easily found Troy’ s hangar. He was there already, dressed in jeans and a hooded sweatshirt, drinking coffee and looking over some papers. Outside the hangar we passed a bright yellow helicopter with ‘ K-JAM-Getting L.A. Jammin’ ‘  emblazoned on its side.