Cover Story (10 page)

For two weeks after the article on Dig Dog’s song came out, I didn’t have to think about gnomes or Los Alamos Court at all, besides the odd gnome joke from Matias and a few fantasies about Simon and those indigo boxer shorts—but that hardly counted.

Then we got a media pack from Grandpa Jack’s record company. They were going all out to whip up publicity before releasing the AG song. The launch was going to be an ExtravaGNOMEza at Santa Fe’s Bicentennial Park.

Had the whole planet lost sight of the fact that we were talking about a garden gnome? A piece of molded plaster? It was probably my fault for starting it—although to be fair,
Simon
started it—but this was getting ridiculous. I had a friend at a television station and he confirmed the news crew planned to cover it, and one of their lifestyle shows was even considering doing a feature on the ExtravaGNOMEza.

Unfortunately, in that time I did have to see my mother. Once a month she organized a luncheon with Grace and me. In our family, we didn’t meet for a plain old lunch; no, we had a
luncheon
; always at some fashionable place to be seen—a definite dress-up affair. Grace and Mom loved this sort of thing. I’d rather have my spleen hacked out with toothpicks.

“Tobi, dahlin’! We’re over here!” My mother liked to wave in restaurants, less to help me than to draw attention to herself. Not that it was necessary when she wore yellow frills and a jewelry shop full of bracelets and necklaces.

I tried to look inconspicuous as the waitress led me to the table where Mom and Grace had established themselves, surrounded by shopping bags.

“Sugah, we’ve had the most wonderful shopping trip, haven’t we, Grace?” She turned to me. “You remember I invited you but you were busy with … your little stories or something?”

I remembered no such thing, but was grateful for the escape anyway. “Yes, my little stories can be so time-consuming. That newspaper seems to think that because they pay me, I should write for them all day.”

The comment went straight over their heads. Mom and mini-Mom—I mean Grace—were far too wrapped up in crowing over their acquisitions. Grace had married and divorced twice—already on the road to equaling Mom’s record of five—and her husbands had been so well chosen that her divorce settlements gave her the lady-of-leisure lifestyle that she’d always aspired to.

I was an enigma to them both—choosing to work for a living.

“Dahlin’, have you seen your father lately?”

I knew this could only be aimed at me, she would have quizzed Grace much earlier. “No.”

“Of course you haven’t. Why would you?” She nodded, satisfied.

The waiter came and took our orders and I was already praying it was over. “Tobi, hon.” Grace winked at me. “I saw that photo of the young musician you interviewed over the gnome thing.” I was surprised Grace even read the newspaper. “He was yummy.”

“Lukas? He’s twenty-two years old.”

“Mmm hmm. That’s only five years younger than me. Do you think you could introduce us?”

“He hasn’t got any money.” I thought his poverty had been obvious, but still felt I should point it out.

Grace pouted her shiny pink lips. “That’s hurtful, Tobi.”

“Sorry. You’re not interested in his money—just his body.”

She perked up. “Yes.”

Mom touched a finger to the back of my hand. “Do what you can, Tobi. She’s only young once and she deserves a bit of fun. Goodness knows I had my share at her age.”

“Mom, at her age you were married to Dad.”

“Was I? Look, here’s the food.”

There was a limit to the information I was comfortable knowing about my mother—actually, there was a limit to the information I was comfortable knowing about
anyone
—so I ate my risotto with my head down, trying my hardest not to invite any more disclosures. It worked, as they barely noticed me.

After the plates were cleared and coffees ordered, Mom brought up the subject I’d been praying—without optimism—to avoid.

“Tobi, dahlin’, that editor of yours is a bit of fun.”

I closed my eyes and slumped my shoulders, wondering if it’d be a breach of etiquette to slip under the table.

“Mother, I think you’ve embarrassed Tobi. She probably doesn’t want to think of her mother and her boss sleeping together.”

Oh God, no. And that comment hadn’t helped.

“Nonsense, Grace, Tobi’s a woman of the world—she knows how these things work. I might even keep him a little while.”

The last of the blood drained from my head. “You mean you’d marry him?”

They both burst into brittle laughter, managing to turn several heads in the restaurant, which would have pleased them immensely.

“Good gracious, no!” Mom spluttered as she retrieved her lace hanky from her bag to dab at her eyes. “There’s Mr. Right and Mr. Right
Now
, sugah.”

Grace bent her head so she was looking up through her lashes, obviously trying for seriousness. “And your dear boss, Tobi, is not Mr. Right material.”

Of course not. He had no money, was a similar age to my mother so was too old to be a toy boy, and he had no name to attract publicity.

Mom tucked her hanky away again and whispered loudly, “Oh, but he’ll do just
fine
for Mr. Right Now.” And they both burst into a fit of giggles again.

Not for the first time, I wondered how much DNA we actually shared.

*

I decided that the reason I’d had fantasies about Simon and his boxer shorts was that I needed to get out more. Maybe Mom and Grace were right about one thing: there should be more to life than work. Yep, I needed to get a life. Where exactly does one go to get one of those?

Mom and Grace weren’t an option—I’d rather make no changes at all than have their lives. Sofia and my work friends were really, well, work friends. Great for a lunchtime chat or to plan Kevin’s slow and painful death when he allocated us ridiculous stories, but I didn’t feel I wanted it to go further than that. I had a group of friends from college I still wrote birthday cards to, and met up with once a year or so. Most of them were married now and had their own lives to worry about.

So that left Cameron. Cameron, my ex, who, lucky for me, had no life to speak of either, so could be my regular movie date. He and I had never actually split up—we’d more drifted away from each other. It’d hardly been the love affair of the century and so there were no high passions at the end to prevent us staying friends. We had a lot in common—liked the same things, had similar goals in life. On paper it should have worked out beautifully.

Grace said we were too similar and so there was no spark. Personally, I think sparks are overrated. What Cameron and I had was just fine—a lack of spark also means a lack of mess. And Cameron and I both detested mess.

Grace also said we both had control issues.
I
thought I should never have encouraged Grace to take that correspondence subject in psychology after her first divorce.

I called him.

“Hey, Tobi. How are things?”

“I’m feeling a bit restless. Do you want to do something?”

“Like what?”

“I don’t know. Something we’ve never done before. Something wild and crazy.”

“Like eat at a hamburger chain?”

“Yes, but not that. I don’t want the indigestion.”

“Right, something wild and crazy that doesn’t give you indigestion.”

“Yes. Any ideas?”

“No, sorry.”

“Me either.”

“Want to come over and watch movies?”

“Sure. I’ll pick some up on the way over and be there in an hour.”

“How about I meet you at the DVD shop near here in thirty minutes? Maybe we could pick out a wild and crazy movie to watch.”

“Great, see you there.”

I pulled my hair back into a ponytail, changed my watch to the plain silver band, and drove over to the DVD rental shop. I was early so I started looking around. Were we wild and crazy enough to watch a horror movie? Probably not. I walked over to the new releases.

I heard Anna’s voice before I saw her.

“Daddy, I want the one with the animals on the front.”

I whipped my head around and saw Simon looking at me. I hadn’t seen him since the night—or was it morning?—he’d left my apartment, and I felt like an addict getting a fix, drinking in the sight of him. Actually, there was a vague similarity in his appearance to the night/morning in my apartment—it must have been his weekend look—slightly tousled and needing a shave. I had an almost irresistible urge to reach out and run my fingers over his chin to see what it felt like.

Anna followed his line of sight and saw me. “Tobi!” She launched herself across the carpeted expanse and hugged my legs tightly.

“Hi, Anna.” I was smiling and feeling a bit warm and fuzzy inside from the hug and watching Simon walking toward us.

“Hi, Tobi.” His lips curved into a smile and my breath hitched. “How are you?”

I tried to control my breathing so he didn’t think I’d taken too many drugs again. “I’m good, Simon. Here to get some movies.”

Anna arched her head back to see her dad. “Can Tobi come and watch movies at our place?”

Simon gave me a lazy look. “Tobi probably had something in mind that wasn’t animated.”

At that moment, I felt an arm around my shoulders and a kiss on my cheek.

“Cameron, you’re here.”

“Of course I’m here. This is where we arranged to meet.”

The thing about being ex-lovers is that the normal physical boundaries were crossed years ago and a casual kiss on the cheek can look more familiar to the observer than it really implies.

My eyes flicked quickly to Simon, but he was looking down at Anna, apparently not even noticing Cameron’s arrival.

“Cam, these are some friends of mine, Simon and Anna.”

That was the easy part. The hard part was deciding how to introduce Cameron. If I just said, “This is Cameron,” then Simon would assume he was a boyfriend, which I didn’t want him to assume for reasons I’d examine later. But if I specifically pointed out that Cameron was
only
a friend, then Simon would think I’d done that for his benefit, which it would be, but I didn’t want him to know that either. So, I could let Simon think I was interested in him, or that I was dating Cameron. I was sure there must be a third option, but I couldn’t find it in the three seconds I had available.

I opened my mouth, still not having decided, when I heard Simon and Cameron taking over the introductions from me and shaking hands. Anna put out her hand for Cameron to shake and I saw him hesitate. I wanted to whisper that she usually didn’t have gooey hands like other kids, but Simon would have heard and I didn’t think he’d understand. So I left Cameron to work it out on his own, mumbled my goodbyes and moved quickly over to another section.

*

Twenty minutes later, I walked up to Cameron’s front door—previously also my front door—and started to tense. I should’ve suggested we watch movies at my place. Actually, that would have also avoided the embarrassing scene at the DVD shop and been much better all round, for me, Simon, Cameron, and the cats.

I was under no illusions that Cameron’s five cats had any higher regard for me than I did for them, so I was sure they’d have preferred we’d gone to my place too.

Standing on the stoop, I tried to make the tension leave my shoulders. Cameron had gone in through the door in the garage. He opened the front door as I was about to use my old key. He’d told me to keep the key when I’d moved out, and that had seemed sensible, so I had. But still, was it was bad manners to use your own key in such a situation? It probably was. I hurriedly put it away and followed him down the hall to the kitchen.

“Tobi, there’s something I want to tell you and I was waiting until I saw you in person.”

That was never a good start. “What?”

“Pudding passed away on the weekend.”

Pudding. Sounded familiar. I thought for a moment, but he obviously mistook my silence for shock. I could tell, because he said, “I know, it’s a shock.”

“Pudding?” I raised my eyebrows, hoping for more information.

“I know! I couldn’t believe it either—he seemed so healthy.”

I was pretty sure we were talking about one of the cats so I looked at his legs and, sure enough, there were only four felines seeking his attention. Which one was Pudding? I could see the spotty one, the bow-legged one, the white one with evil eyes and the skinny one. That left the orange one.

“Yes, so healthy. And so orange.” It was the only thing I knew about the cat. I wasn’t even sure of the sex of any of them.

The white one with the evil eyes glared at me and arched its back and Cameron knelt to stroke it. I decided to give them a moment and excused myself to go to the bathroom.

When I came back, Cameron was setting up the DVD. “Gee, Tobi, you really did want to do something wild and crazy—an Adam Sandler movie? You never get them.”

In the end, I’d chosen so quickly I hadn’t paid much attention to the actual title. I smiled and pretended that I’d always intended to choose it and we sat down in our usual spots on the lounge to watch. However, I couldn’t find one thing to laugh at and Cameron—slapstick never having been his genre of choice—was wincing. Halfway through, I picked up the remote and stopped the movie.

“Cameron, why does everyone else like this and not us?”

“I don’t think they do. Comedy preferences are very personal.” He turned to face me. “What’s this all about? Why did you want to do something silly in the first place?”

I squirmed further into the chair, but knew I needed to talk to someone about this—even if only to say it aloud. And Cameron was probably the best person.

I shrugged. “I’ve been thinking that maybe my life is too … I don’t know, restrained. I don’t do things just for the fun of it and, it occurred to me that I might be missing something.”

He narrowed his eyes. “You’ve just had a luncheon with your mother and Grace, haven’t you?”

“Well, yes, but that’s not—”

“Tobi, don’t take advice from them—their lives are a mess. You, on the other hand, have a life you can be proud of.”

“Except the gnome articles.”

He nodded. “Okay, except the gnome articles. But you didn’t have a choice with them. When you do make decisions they’re always decisions you can hold your head up high about.”