The Next Thing on My List (7 page)

Susan grinned at him. ‘ Then that chore is out of the way until Easter.’

‘ Ah, I’ ll wear you down before that. Besides’ -he grabbed his keys and pulled on the door-’ you’ re forgetting about Presidents’  Day.’

‘ Shut up with your boasting about your sex life!’  I cried as they waved good-bye to me and the boys.

Once they left, I warmed up pizza for myself and proceeded to do what I always did when watching C.J. and Joey: let them run wild. Allowed them to pull out toys and games and balls and never made them put the old toy away before bringing out something new. Eat whatever they wanted. It was okay, the way I figured it, since I didn’ t baby-sit that often. It has occurred to me that that may be the reason I don’ t baby-sit that often.

The only time I scolded them at all the entire evening was when I noticed they’ d left the door open to the cage of their guinea pig, Aunt June, named after yours truly. (Susan said it was proof of the boys’  affection for me; I suspect there may have been prompting on her part.)

‘ We always keep it open,’  C.J. explained when I showed him the unhooked latch.

‘ Doesn’ t she escape?’

‘ Nope.’

Joey then grabbed a sprig of parsley from the refrigerator to demonstrate. Even when he held the treat just outside her reach, she merely leaned on the base of the door and squealed. He tossed the parsley into the cage. ‘ We asked for a dog.’

It was a little after nine o’ clock when the boys finally passed out on the living room floor. I had to step over C.J., curled up at my feet, to get the box filled with yearbooks.

Wrenching as it was, I made myself thumb through every one in search of Buddy Fitch. But there wasn’ t a trace of him. No one named Fitch at all.

So he wasn’ t a high school classmate. Although it meant that the search continued, I felt a degree of relief. I’ d been weaned on teen movies where the basic principle is survival of the fittest, so I feared the worst. I’ d concocted all sorts of scenarios regarding who Buddy Fitch might be. Most involved him starring as a wealthy, popular jock-think Steff, the head ‘ richie’  in Pretty in Pink-a boy who would have gotten his jollies from abusing Marissa for being fat.

And she was, too. Fat, that is. Poor kid. Her yearbooks showed the progression as she started out chubby in junior high and got heavier and heavier over the years. As if that weren’ t tough enough, there were photos of her in the marching band, in the glee club, and as a member of the chess team. Why didn’ t she just have a ‘ Kick Me’  sign sewn permanently to her back?

Marissa had a pretty smile in her senior picture, though, and it seemed genuine. Maybe her thought bubble would read, Thank God I’ m almost out of here! Or-who knows?-maybe she enjoyed high school. After all, when I was in school, I thought I had a good time. It was only after I graduated and got out into the world that I realized how miserable I’ d actually been.

One thing was certain: I was going to have to do some serious legwork to find Buddy Fitch. I’ d need to know who he was and what he did before I could determine what sort of payback he had coming.

And I’ d better get a move on. A month had already ticked by, and I’ d completed only four of the tasks. (I’ d have claimed five, but when I mentioned to Brie about how I pitched my idea to Lizbeth at the staff meeting, she’ d exclaimed, ‘ You call that pitching?’  and I didn’ t dare cross it off.)

After setting aside the last yearbook, I pulled the list from my purse.

20 Things to Do by My 25th Birthday

1. Lose 100 pounds

2. Kiss a stranger

3. Change someone’ s life

4. Wear sexy shoes

5. Run a 5K

6. Dare to go braless

7. Make Buddy Fitch pay

8. Be the hottest girl at Oasis

9. Get on TV

10. Ride in a helicopter

11. Pitch an idea at work

12. Try boogie boarding

13. Eat ice cream in public

14. Go on a blind date

15. Take Mom and Grandma to see Wayne Newton

16. Get a massage

17. Throw away my bathroom scale

18. Watch a sunrise

19. Show my brother how grateful I am for him

20. Make a big donation to charity

I’ d made a start, I knew, but there was so much left to do. If I was going to succeed, I needed to hunker down and stay on track. Next Tuesday I’ d handle #6, Dare to go braless. Most of the staff would be off at a rideshare fair. I’ d be able to go the whole day without encountering many people.

Maybe that was the easy way out, but I was willing to take any break I could get.

AS I DRESSED for work Tuesday morning, I couldn’ t help but think how it wasn’ t fair. After all, Marissa was, to put it delicately& petite. As in flat-chested. A-cup at best, I’ d reckon. Not that I’ d spent a lot of time staring at her chest, but I have a distinct memory of her being quite unendowed. Therefore, the ceremonial relinquishing of her bra would have been a feeling akin to the tossing of her scale: freeing.

For me, it was bordering on obscene.

It’ s not that I’ m huge-a C-cup usually, although depending on the bra occasionally a D. By Los Angeles standards, that’ s nothing. Problem is, unlike many of my contemporaries here in La-la-land, mine are real. Which is to say, they move. They bounce, they boing, they have minds of their own.

In an attempt to contain the potential damage, I searched my closet for my most conservative apparel and settled on a gray blouse over black slacks. Checking myself out in the mirror, I jumped up and down.

Good grief, I could put an eye out.

I took off the blouse, tugged on a black stretchy pullover, and then buttoned the blouse over the top of that. I jumped up and down again.

Better.

The office, as I’ d anticipated, was nearly empty when I got there. I spent the morning catching up on months of filing and was about to head to the break room to get the salad I’ d brought for lunch when my phone rang. It was Rose Morales from the Big Sister program.

‘ I have wonderful news,’  she gushed. ‘ We don’ t often have a match so quickly, but I’ ve found the perfect girl for you. I remember you said that you were eager to get started.’

‘ I am!’

‘ Her name is Deedee, and she’ s a real doll. I know you’ ll adore her. The reason I thought of you for Deedee is that she has dreams of being a writer when she grows up. Isn’ t that perfect? Let’ s see,’  she continued. ‘ What else can I tell you about her? She’ s Hispanic on the mother’ s side. The father’ s not been in the picture since she was little. She lives not far from you in the Mar Vista area, and she’ s a freshman at-’

‘ Freshman!’  I exclaimed. ‘ How old is she?’

‘ Fourteen.’

And with that my bubble burst. How was I going to mold and shape a teenager? As clay goes, they’ re already pretty hardened by that point. I couldn’ t hide my disappointment. ‘ I was hoping for someone& younger.’

Rose was silent for a moment and then said, ‘ She’ s still a girl. A good kid, too. Her mother is legally blind. Deedee helps take care of her and her little brother as well. We thought she deserved some fun time.’

‘ It’ s just that& fourteen? What do I do with a fourteen-year-old?’

‘ You could still take her to movies. Play with makeup. Do that Rollerblading you love so much,’  she said, and I cringed remembering that I’ d put that on my application. ‘ You may find you have more in common with an older girl than you would have with a younger one.’  When I didn’ t respond right away, she added, ‘ I’ m not trying to talk you into anything.’

‘ I know.’

‘ She’ s a sweet girl who could use a break.’

‘ Can I think about it?’

‘ Of course. If you’ re not comfortable with this, we can always find you another match, although to be honest, I don’ t know when that will be. We tend to be more stringent about matching younger girls within their ethnic culture. It could be months. But it’ s important that you feel you can bond with your Little, so it may be worth waiting.’

Months! I didn’ t have months! ‘ I’ d imagine it’ s tough having a mom who’ s legally blind,’  I ventured.

‘ Deedee shoulders much more responsibility than a fourteen-year-old should have to,’  Rose agreed. ‘ She’ s spunky, though.’  Then she asked, ‘ How old are you again?’

‘ Thirty-four.’

‘ Here’ s something else to consider. I’ m guessing you’ ll want to be starting a family soon.’  I tried not to snort into the phone as she continued, ‘

Would you be able to balance the needs of a Little with your new family? Sadly, that’ s when many girls get set aside. A teenager, on the other hand-she’ s only going to need a Big for a few years at the most.’

A few minutes later I hung up, having agreed to take the next step, which was to go with Rose Morales to meet Deedee and her mother at their home. We could check each other out, with absolutely no obligation to buy.

It was after one o’ clock when I returned from the lunchroom, kicking myself for putting Rollerblading on my application. They’ d had so many lines under ‘ Hobbies.’  I was embarrassed to leave them all blank.

Lost in thought, I didn’ t hear Bubba bound up.

Bubba was the CEO’ s black Labrador that he sometimes brought to the office. He immediately buried his nose in my crotch. Like owner, like dog.

Which meant, I realized with dread, that Lou Bigwood wasn’ t far behind.

‘ Hey, Bubba,’  I bleated, attempting to pull his face away in a gesture of friendly dog petting rather than the heavy petting that Bubba was aiming for.

Bubba clearly hadn’ t seen HR’ s sexual harassment video that talked about inappropriate touching. My attempts to push him away only excited him further. He lunged for me, sending me reeling back-stumbling and bouncing and boinging and grabbing for the wall to catch my balance.

‘ Bubba!’  It was Lou Bigwood. ‘ Come back here, boy.’

In all the time I’ d worked at L.A. Rideshare, I’ d seen Bigwood only from a distance at staff meetings. I was far too lowly for direct interaction. Bigwood was in his late fifties, I’ d guess-graying at the temples, but hearty and hale. He could as easily be captaining a ship at sea as leading a traffic agency.

‘ Hi, Mr. Bigwood.’

He held Bubba by the collar, squinting at me. ‘ It’ s June, right?’

‘ Yes.’

‘ How are things going in& publications, right?’

‘ That’ s right. Great, thanks.’

I thought about saying ‘ Have a nice day’  and making a run for it, but he was staring at me curiously, stroking his chin in that way people do to show how very deep in thought they are. ‘ There’ s something different about you,’  he said. ‘ What is it?’

‘ Pardon me?’

‘ Is it your hair? Did you change your hair? I’ ve got three daughters, I’ m usually good at figuring out this sort of thing.’

I shook my head noncommittally and he said, ‘ Nice work on the annual report, by the way.’

Stunned that he had noticed my work, I could only say, ‘ Thank you.’

He kept me standing there in the hall, chatting about ideas for future brochures. No one came by. It occurred to me he must be talking to me out of boredom, but he seemed genuinely interested in what I had to say. I wondered if he could see my nipples through my shirt. The hallway was a tad chilly-the sort of thing that tends to bring out the high beams. I used my mental powers to will my nipples to stay put.

Bubba bumped into me again, sending me bouncing.

Bigwood snapped his fingers. ‘ I’ ve got it! You’ re wearing flat shoes. So you look shorter.’

Since I was, as always, wearing flats, I nodded.

‘ See,’  he boasted, ‘ I told you I’ m good at figuring this sort of thing out.’

Bigwood’ s gaze then shifted to something behind me, and he suddenly looked alarmed. ‘ Is that clock right?’

I turned around. One-fifteen. ‘ Maybe a minute or two fast,’  I said.

‘ June, I need your help,’  he said urgently. ‘ I’ m due at a meeting in Long Beach in thirty minutes. I can’ t be late. I need you to come with me so I can use the carpool lane.’  He turned without giving me a chance to reply and nearly sprinted down the hall. Bubba barreled after him. ‘ At the elevators in two minutes!’

Talk about being wanted for your body.

The meeting, he explained as we climbed into his convertible, was at S.C. Electric, whom he hoped to bring on as a corporate funder. ‘ It’ s a long shot-those cheap bastards. But I’ ll do what I can to squeeze a few bucks out of them.’

I held a notebook I’ d grabbed off my desk clutched to my chest-why hadn’ t I brought a backup bra? This would surely qualify as an undergarment emergency. I could’ ve tried another day for my task.

We cruised along in the carpool lane at speeds reaching a hundred miles per hour. ‘ Look at that!’  Bigwood exclaimed, tipping his head toward the regular freeway lanes. Even in the middle of the day, they were packed with traffic. ‘ This is why we do the good work we do!’

I’ d sort of taken it as a sign that we weren’ t doing such good work.

We arrived in one piece and parked. Bigwood led me into the offices of S.C. Electric with seconds to spare. I expected him to deposit me in the lobby to wait, but instead he insisted I join him. ‘ This is how you learn,’  he said in a tone that I suspected he often used with his daughters.

Two women and two men already sat at a conference table. Bigwood introduced me as his associate in charge of marketing-a lovely, albeit temporary, promotion to Lizbeth’ s job-and went on to bluntly explain why S.C. Electric should give us money.

The proposition, for all its snappy delivery, went down in flames from the beginning.

And then, surprisingly, came my moment.

Even looking back, I couldn’ t say if it was Bigwood wanting to give me an opportunity to prove myself or him deciding, as long as he was leaping from the plane, that he’ d grab me to cushion the fall.

The S.C. Electric people had responded plainly that they couldn’ t fund us because they had limited dollars. Bigwood thanked them, and I expected we were going to leave. But then he turned to me and said, ‘ June, do you have anything to add?’

In real life-that is, my old life, in which I wouldn’ t even be here because I wouldn’ t have been jiggling down the hall and attracting Bigwood’ s notice-I would have made a benign remark such as ‘ I’ m good to go.’