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“Could I ask a personal question?”
“I might not answer it.”
“Fair enough,” I said. “If you’ve been divorced for a year, why are you still living there?”
“Well,” she said, “that’s another long story.” Her hand rested on mine. “I still want to thank you. For being there, you know? Because Baxter can swim, but he could’ve been in trouble. I didn’t want to make a big deal about it in front of Anita, so I have something else to thank you for – not saying anything.”
“No problem.”
“What do you do for a living?” she said.
“This and that. I have some investments.”
“Ooh,” she said. “That sounds rich. I bet you’re not as rich as Tony.”
“No argument there.”
Her hand trailed up my arm, tickled my chest, touched my lips, withdrew.
“Why am I still living there,” she said. “Well… after the divorce, I had my own place. Up in Los Feliz hills, a really cool place. Tony got it for me because of the gates and the security – it was a real safe place. Or at least we thought so. Tony wanted the best for me.”
“Sounds like a friendly divorce.”
“He was sweet… Anyway, me and the kids were in this great old house in Los Feliz – lots of land, all these fancy details, this gigantic bathroom with a view of the hills. And close to Hollywood, so one day I took the kids to the Egyptian Theatre to see A Bug’s Life – it was cool, they had this whole sideshow next door about bugs and stuff, computer games, toys, Bax and Sage went crazy. Afterwards we went out for di
“Oh boy,” I said.
“I freaked, Alex. If the kids hadn’ta been with me, I would’ve screamed. Baxter runs over to shake Bingles, but I could tell from the way her tongue was sticking out that she was gone and I’m screaming at him not to touch her and then Sagey wakes up and starts crying and then I smell it. This horrible gas smell. I got us all out of there fast, called Anita. She sent a driver for us, brought us out here, sent some specialists to Los Feliz. Turns out there was this massive gas leak – the house was old and the pipes weren’t great and somehow the main flue got clogged or something. They said it was lucky we left when we did because all the windows were closed because it was a cold night. They said we could’ve died in our sleep. Or if I’da lit a match, the whole place could’ve gone up. They fixed the problem, but we’ve been here ever since. Eventually, I’ll get another place – but closer to Tony because… he is their dad.”
“Scary,” I said.
“Close call. Just like today.” She rubbed my thumb with two of her fingers, and the gems in her rings glinted. “There must be an angel looking down on me, or something.”
She finished the rest of the bagel. “Anyway, that’s how Hollywood Me became Malibu Me again.”
“You never did say how you got from Vegas to Malibu.”
“Oh, that,” she said, wiping crumbs from her lips. “After they wouldn’t make me a headliner, I got bored and decided to see what I could find in L.A., figured I’d try modeling or acting or something. I had some money saved up, got myself a neat apartment in the Marina, hit the agencies. But they didn’t want full-figured girls, and I didn’t want to do sleazy stuff, you know?”
I nodded.
“Nudies, hard-core – I mean the body’s beautiful, but you have to keep standards… Anyway, I checked out a few agents for commercials, but they were all losers. I’d started thinking about taking a boring job or something. Then one day I saw this ad in the paper offering good money for being in a psychology experiment. And I said, Girl, if there’s one thing you know, it’s psychology. ’Cause back when I danced, it was all psychology. Fix your eyes on certain guys in the audience and play for them, pretend you know them and they know you. It set the tone – so you could be… realistic, you know? It made it more real, and that pleases the audience, and when the audience is happy, everyone’s happy.”
“Co
“Exactly.” She rolled my thumb some more. “So I figured, what the hey, it might be fun doing some psychology. So I checked out the ad, and the guy ru
“That’s it?”
“He – the psychologist – was measuring reactions to what he called stimuli. For commercials, ads, whatever. I guess he figured I was pretty stimulating. Another good thing, it was down in Newport Beach, so during lunchtime I got to sit on the sand and chill. I’ve always loved the ocean; there isn’t much of that in Phoenix.”
“All you had to do was sit there and he paid you?”
“That was it,” she said. “Like modeling, but better. ’Cause there was no photographer making me twist in weird positions. And Ben – the psychologist – was a sweet, sweet guy, never made a move on me. Which, for me, is a twist, you know?” Squeezing my thumb.
I said, “I’ll bet,” and she gri
“At first, I figured he was just waiting for the right time, but then I could see he just wasn’t into it, so I started to think he was gay. Which was fine, I like gay guys – I mean I wasn’t disappointed or anything like that. I am not like that.”
Suddenly her voice hardened, as if I’d accused her of something. Her nail dug into my thumb, and I lifted it gently.
I said, “Men come on to you even though you don’t encourage it.”
“Exactly. You listen, don’t you? I mean really listen.”
“On good days.”
“He’s like that, too – Ben. A good listener. Anyway, I did this experiment for a month or so, and finally he did ask me out. But not like a come-on. More like father-daughter, being friendly, wanting to know how I enjoyed the job. He took me to the Ivy at the Shore. He was a perfect gentleman, wanting to know me as a person, we had a real good time even though I didn’t feel any – you know: sparks. And then – and this is the karma part – we’re leaving to get into his car, waiting for the valets to bring it up, and this other car drives up. This gorgeous maroon Bentley Azure, and another guy gets out – older, really well-dressed, really well-groomed – but mostly I’m looking at the car, ’cause how many of those do you see – chauffeur, chrome wheels, a million coats of lacquer. But Ben is staring at the guy who gets out. He knows him. And the other guy knows him, too – the two of them start hugging and kissing and I’m thinking I was right, he is gay. Then Ben says, Cheryl, this is my father, Tony, and the other guy bows and kisses my hand and says, ‘Enchanted, Cheryl. I’m Marc Anthony Duke’ – which shocked me. Because once I heard the name, of course I co
She paused to catch her breath. Licked her lips, threw back her shoulders, and thrust out her chest. “Anyway, that’s how I met Tony and I must’ve made an impression, because the next day, he called me. Said he’d gotten Ben’s permission – which was a twist, right? So cute. He asked me out, and the next thing I know, we’re flying to Acapulco, and the rest, as they say, is history. Basically, he swept me off my feet.”
“Whoa,” I said.
“Whoa, Nelly,” she said. “Now you tell me something, and be honest, okay?”