Extreme Bachelor (30 page)

“I’m here,” he said, and pushed open the
gate for her. “How was your day?”

“The usual. Lots of running around. How was
yours?”

“Boring. Empty. Tedious.”

Thankfully, Leah laughed a little.

“Maybe we could take a walk?” he
suggested.

“Ah . . .” Leah paused, shoved a paper bag
under her arm as she looked toward the parking lot, debating it.
“I’m not sure . . .”

This was beginning to feel so heavy. Just
like when he was a kid, a stupid little geek trying to get the cute
girl to look at him, almost to the point of begging. “No problem,”
he said instantly. “Just thought I’d ask.” He smiled and started
walking toward his car.

“Michael, wait,” Leah said.

He slowed down and turned around so that
Leah could catch up to him and walk beside him.

“I’ve been thinking,” she said
tentatively.

Thinking, dammit. Never a good sign.

“And I was thinking that maybe I should date
other people. I mean, while I’m dating you. You know, just sort of
date around and make sure . . .”

Her voice trailed off, and
Michael stopped cold, mid-stride, to stare at her in disbelief. How
had everything gone so far south so quickly? What the hell had he
done, other than push Nicole away and do his friend Jack a favor?
“Make sure of
what
?” he demanded.

“I don’t honestly know what,” she admitted
with a light shrug. “I just think maybe it will help me get my head
on straight.”

Now she was just pissing him off. “Get your
head on straight? I didn’t realize there was a problem with your
head.”

“Why are you taking such a tone with
me?”

“Why are you making such a big deal out of a
couple of women with more imagination than common sense?”

“Okay,” Leah said,
shifting her weight to one hip, waving her hand. “See, this is
exactly why I think I should date other people. You are getting
upset because I am not falling right into line with what
you
want, and the more I
think of it, the more I think you have always been like
that.”

“Don’t tell me what I’ve always been like,”
he snapped. “You didn’t even know who I really was until a few
weeks ago.”

Leah gasped. “And whose
fault was
that
?”

“So what—you, who claim to
be dateless and sadly single for the last few years, are suddenly
going to waltz out there and start dating?” he asked, throwing his
arm at the
out there.

“What the hell is that supposed to mean?
Yes, I may start dating. I just happen to have one lined up, as a
matter of fact.”

“Right,” he snorted. “Who is that? Brad?” he
asked, knowing full well it was a low blow and not caring.

Her expression assured him that it was
indeed a low blow. “What does it matter, anyway?” she snapped.

“It doesn’t, Leah. But I guess since you
know every woman I’ve ever dated or even thought about dating, it’s
only fair that I get to play that game, too.”

“You have no right to be
such an ass about this, Michael. You’re constantly making moon eyes
at some chick—for all I know, you’ve done
all
of them.”

He was getting seriously annoyed with the
conversation. “And you’ve been living in a convent?” he
snapped.

“No,” she said, her eyes narrowing.
“Frankly, I don’t owe you any explanation at all, but if you must
know, his name is Adolfo, and—”

“Adolfo
?” he all but shouted.

“Yes, Adolfo.”

Michael put his bag down. “Where is Adolfo
from?”

“What?” Leah exclaimed.

“Mexico?”

A shout of incredulous
laughter escaped her. “What—are you
prejudiced
?” she asked in disbelief.
“You know, you’re right, Michael—I
don’t
know you. I always thought you
were an enlightened kind of guy, and I never thought you’d be the
type—”

“Come on, Leah. Is he American?
Mexican-American? Mexican? Spanish, maybe?”

“I didn’t ask him, because it doesn’t
matter. He’s just a nice guy, and he’s been very nice to me, and I
may go out with him.”

Michael groaned, pushed his hands through
his hair, turned full circle, then faced Leah again, his hands on
his hips, his jaw clenched shut.

Leah stepped back.

“Okay. Do what you need to do,” he said
flippantly, and reached in his pocket, pulled out his keys, and
pushed the remote button to open his car.

“Oh-kay,” Leah said, sounding uncertain.
“Thanks. I will.”

He walked to the trunk, punched the button
so it would pop open, and with no fanfare, he pulled out the gift
bag and held it out to Leah.

“What . . . what is that?” she asked
suspiciously.

“A gift for you, what else?” he said
petulantly. “You can take it or leave it, whatever you want.”

“Michael, please don’t be like this.”

He would be however he wanted to be. He was
tired of trying to persuade her. “So do you want it?” he asked,
shaking it impatiently at her.

Clearly exasperated, she thrust the sack she
held toward him. “Hold it, will you?” she asked, and took the bag
he held out.

Michael took the small sack in exchange. It
felt like it held a picture frame. “What’s this?” he asked, as she
untied the bow around the handles of his gift bag.

“It’s just a picture,” she muttered. Michael
opened the sack and took the picture out. “Hey!” Leah protested,
but he ignored her and stared down at a framed picture of her
smiling brilliantly, dressed in camouflage. It looked like some of
the still shots the studio had done one day when they were fitting
costumes.

“Where’d you get it?” he asked.

She snorted, yanked the handles of his gift
bag apart. “Not that it’s any of your business, but Adolfo gave it
to me.” She plunged her hand inside, pulled out the tissue-wrapped
engraved playbill, unwrapped it, and studied it for a minute. “Oh
my God,” she said, a smile lighting her face as she stood up. “Oh
dear God.” She looked up at him, her eyes glimmering. “How did you
get it?”

“I saw that play,” Michael grudgingly
admitted. “Before you even knew I was interested in you.”

“Michael . . .”

But he was stung at the picture this
Adolfo-character had taken, put in a very cheap and simple frame.
Next to that picture, his gift looked like something a Casanova
might come up with. Yet that’s what he was—a Casanova. A guy who
jumped from woman to woman, always surprised and delighted to be
adored once again, never settling in for the work a true
relationship required.

He suddenly felt like a fool. In
frustration, he thrust the picture at her. Leah took it awkwardly,
trying to hold it and the ridiculous engraved playbill. “Well,
looks like you’ve got your course mapped out, Leah. Let me know if
you ever figure out where I fit in.”

“Hey, come on, Michael.”

“Come on? You are the one who wants to date
around, who can’t trust me, who can’t go back to what we had. Not
me. I’m there. So the ball is in your court, baby,” he said, and
turned around, walked to the driver side of his car, and got
in.

As he drove out of the parking lot, he
caught a glimpse of Leah standing at her car, watching him. He
looked the other way, pulled out on the road, and hit the gas.

He was reaching the end of his rope.

He just hoped that whatever happened between
him and Leah, this Adolfo character was a decent guy and not
dangerous like Michael’s instincts were telling him.

Subject: 13 Months and Counting

From: Lucy Frederick

To: Leah Kleinschmidt

Time: 6:13 pm

Okay, at the risk of you causing my leap
from the Empire State Building here, I have attached a very sexy
halter dress in lavender. Surely you cannot have a problem with
lavender. And lavender accents would look stunning on me with my
dark hair. Don’t write me back if you don’t like it, because I do
not want to be disappointed for the hundredth time.

So what’s new with the Big Giant Loser
(BGL)?

Subject: Re: 13 Months and Counting

From: Leah Kleinschmidt

To: Lucy Frederick

Time: 7:32 pm

Lavender is cool, altho I think I’d go with
a softer pastel version instead of something that bold. But yeah, I
can definitely do lavender.

So do you think I should go out with Adolfo?
He brought me a picture of me in camouflage today, which I thought
was sweet, but in a weird kind of way—I mean, I didn’t know the
picture was taken, so it had a stalking-ish feel to it. But he’s
really sweet and nice. Only he doesn’t give me flutters in my
stomach like I get when I see Michael, who, BTW, gave me an
engraving of my first Broadway playbill. I didn’t even know he went
to that play.

Subject: Re: Re: 13 Months and Counting

From: Lucy Frederick

To: Leah Kleinschmidt

Time: 9:58 pm

You’re kidding, right? This is your big
cyber joke on me—give me grief about the bridesmaid’s dresses and
then tell me you’re going to date someone else? Please tell me you
are kidding, because if you aren’t, I’m not sure I can correspond
with you anymore. You’re driving me nuts.

P.S. The LAVENDER I picked out is the exact
shade of LAVENDER I want. So I guess that means you don’t like
LAVENDER either.

Subject: Re: Re: Re: 13 Months and
Counting

From: Leah Kleinschmidt

To: Lucy Frederick

Time: 7:04 pm

I’m leaving this week for Washington. Maybe
we should have this conversation when I get back. I know you are
really excited about your wedding, but its starting to get to you
and you’re getting a little cranky, Luce. Whatever color you decide
is okay with me, I keep telling you that. So just chill out, and
I’ll talk to you in a few weeks.

THE soccer moms, all bright-eyed and
bushy-tailed, departed the next morning at the ungodly hour of
crack-of-dawn-thirty—or at least an hour Leah previously had only
seen sliding into from a party the night before—on a plane bound
for Bellingham, Washington. In Bellingham, there was a big touring
bus waiting to whisk them off to the tiny hamlet in the middle of
the Cascade National Forest, where they would be camping for the
next couple of days. After a couple of days of rafting, they would
move back to Bellingham to begin filming.

The camping site, on the banks of a
swift-running river, was absolutely beautiful. They were surrounded
by mountains and towering pines and spruce. Carpets of green
stretched along the side of the road, spotted with yellow, white,
and purple wildflowers. Up the road from their campsite was a small
hamlet with a grocery store and a couple of restaurants (Trudy said
Mexican and Italian, although how she could possibly know that,
Leah could not say), along with a place to rent area cabins and a
river supply store.

Their campsite included four small cabins.
In the area between the cabins, another dozen camping tents had
been pitched. Between every couple of tents were big red Igloo
coolers and camp chairs, and three fire rings spaced throughout the
site.

As the bus unloaded, they were instructed to
take their bags and select a tent—two women to a tent. “Ohmigod,
this is absolutely gorgeous,” Trudy gushed, dragging her incredibly
large duffel bag along. “Who knew this was here?”

Anyone with an inkling of U.S. geography,
Leah figured.

“Let’s choose one close by,” Trudy wisely
suggested, after watching Tamara Contreras, who, predictably, shot
ahead of everyone else to select the best tent.

Trudy squatted down in front of one and
pulled the flap back, peering inside. “Not bad, not bad,” she said.
“There are two Sleep Number beds, a private bath, and a Jacuzzi . .
. reminds me of the place I lost my virginity.”

“Oh no,” Leah said with a groan. “Please
promise me you won’t share that story.”

“Don’t be so squeamish,” Trudy said
cheerfully. “It happened when I was sixteen,” she said, and crawled
inside the tent, wiggling her butt as she tried to drag the giant
duffel along with her, talking gaily about the time she lost her
virginity in a voice loud enough for the entire campsite to
hear.

As Yin and Yang settled
into their tent for the weekend, a steady stream of people began to
arrive. A camera crew showed up, and the rumor that spread like
fire through the little camp was that the crew was filming a
reality TV show—
The Making of a
Movie
. Needless to say, it didn’t matter
who the cameras belonged to—there was a lot of preening for them
regardless, and in fact, according to Jamie, there was a little
scuffle near the mess tent, when a couple of the Starlets tried to
get the same close-up.

In addition to camera men (“You mean they
are going to film us rafting?” Leah asked, horrified at the thought
of anyone filming her drowning), there were various caterers, men
with rafts and oars, and other official-looking persons who showed
up, too. As the day slid into late afternoon, a party atmosphere
had definitely invaded the campsite.

Fortunately for the soccer moms, a couple of
the Starlets had discovered a booze locker near the cabin where
rumor had it the T.A. guys would be sleeping. Apparently they’d
dipped into it with a supersized ladle, judging by the shrieks of
laughter coming from the banks of the river. Leah, who had taken it
upon herself to do a reconnaissance mission for Trudy, Michele, and
Jamie, detected a familiar scent in the air and traced it back to
the tent of a couple of Serious Actresses.