If You Were Here (38 page)
Authors: Jen Lancaster
Tags: #Chicago, #Humorous, #Family Life, #General, #Suburbs, #Women Authors, #Illinois, #Fiction, #Remodeling, #Dwellings
I don’t want to say I went Swayze all over the Bernstein brother.
But I went Swayze all over the Bernstein brother.
In my ten minutes, I managed to not only convince him to dump Vienna, but also to assign a totally new producer and start the whole casting process from scratch. He even promised to call in a favor from Kevin Spacey to do a cameo as Amos’s father.
I’d like to say my powers of persuasion were top-notch and that I unleashed a little bit of my inner Ann Marie.
173
173
But the truth is, Mr. Bernstein’s daughters are huge fans, and they stopped talking to their dad the minute they found out Vienna had been cast.
You know what? A victory’s a victory, even if it comes from a forfeit.
The best part is, I get to do my own rewrites, and I don’t have to be on-site for the whole process. Mr. Bernstein is pulling a couple of producers who worked on the
Harry Potter
and
Twilight
films to head up
Buggies
, and I’m confident they’ll make it great.
Harry Potter
and
Twilight
films to head up
Buggies
, and I’m confident they’ll make it great.
Did I mention I got Vienna fired?
Yeah, that’s worth noting twice.
I finally feel like my baby’s in good hands. And now I can go home to begin the rest of my life.
Mac and I are picking up the last of the garbage from our housewarming party. Tonight was even more fun than our wedding reception, and
that
went on all night and well into brunch the next day.
that
went on all night and well into brunch the next day.
Everyone was here—all of our friends, my whole family, and even Ann Marie was able to make it out, although she’s presently passed out in my writing room. We offered her a regular guest room, but she said she wanted to sleep on the couch in “Jake Ryan’s bedroom.” I’m telling you, even though he was fictional, and despite the movie having come out twenty-seven years ago, you can’t negate the influence his character had on an entire generation of ladies.
At one point in the night, we all went outside and poured out a little bit of our drinks in John Hughes’s honor, and then we came in to dance to the
Pretty in Pink
sound track. I could not imagine having a better time. Lulu—no,
Amanda
even stopped by, and she and Ann Marie became instant besties.
Pretty in Pink
sound track. I could not imagine having a better time. Lulu—no,
Amanda
even stopped by, and she and Ann Marie became instant besties.
I fear what this depraved pairing might bring forth.
I’m just locking the front door when I see an odd flash of light outside. “Mac?” I call. “Come check this out.”
Mac flips off the porch light and we both peer into the darkness. In the distance we see a car idling at the end of our driveway.
“Mac, is that a . . . Bentley?”
Mac cranes his neck to get a better view. “How about that? It is. Did you invite any latecomers who drive a Bentley?”
I wave him off.“Pfft, I don’t know anyone who drives a Bentley. What, is Puffy going to show up at our housewarming? Kanye? A Kardashian? Be real. The only time I’ve ever even seen a Bentley is when Vienna used to—”
“Speak of the devil.” Mac and I have been heading quietly down the driveway in the shadows and now have a much better vantage point of what’s happening at the end of our drive.
“Is that her?”
“You don’t recognize the hair extensions?”
I’m not entirely surprised that Vienna’s showed up here. To say she was pissed about getting fired would be an understatement. Apparently she’d already gotten “Miriam” tattooed across the small of her back when she got the news. We’ve been expecting some kind of revenge but weren’t sure of the form it would take until now.
Vienna’s standing outside of her car with a Dom Pérignon bottle, and it would appear that she’s created a Molotov cocktail of her own. We quietly observe her sticking a strip of cloth in the bottle, and we step back into the brush line while she lights it. Then, with all her might, she hurls it in the direction of our house.
The problem is, we’ve got this big old black mailbox at the end of our driveway. Remember how our mailbox caused so much consternation in the neighborhood when we put up the beautiful red iron one? After we’d installed it, we shone an uplight on it so people could see it in the dark and they wouldn’t accidentally hit it with their cars on our winding street.
But everyone threw such a fit over our tacky
174
mailbox that in a fit of goodwill, we took it down and replaced it with the old, boring, big black box. Then we unplugged the light because it was causing everyone so much aesthetic distress.
174
mailbox that in a fit of goodwill, we took it down and replaced it with the old, boring, big black box. Then we unplugged the light because it was causing everyone so much aesthetic distress.
Vienna’s standing ten feet away from the mailbox, but because of its color and the late hour, it’s practically invisible. When she tosses her Molotov cocktail, she’s not, in fact, throwing it into all the dry brush surrounding the front of our house. Instead, what happens is that the bottle shatters when it hits the mailbox, and because she’s standing so close to it, she becomes covered in its flammable contents, which ignite when her lit cigarette falls out of her agape mouth.
And that’s when we’re all taught a little chemistry lesson, although it’s Vienna who really learns that polystyrene hair extensions work as an ad hoc wick, and her entire head goes up in flames.
Before Mac can jog back to the house to grab a hose,Vienna’s flunky immediately douses her with Diet Snapple and whacks her flaming do with the new Marc Jacobs hobo bag while Vienna sheds every inch of her flaming clothing. Then they both hop into her car and scream off into the night.
“Mac,” I say,“I’m pretty sure we haven’t heard the last of Vienna.”
“I suspect you’re right,” he agrees.
Then I lean back into his arms. “Do you care?”
“Right now? Not a bit.”
“Want to know what’s funny?” I ask.
“Hmm?”
“If ORNESTEGA taught us anything, it was to wear a full set of drawers before trying to set someone’s house on fire. Also? I bet Vienna would kill for a pair of Spider-Man underpants right about now.”
Chapter Twenty-threeHAPPILY EVER AFTER
Now that our house is done and our neighbors’ hatred has morphed from active to dormant, I’m ready to enjoy every amenity this community has to offer.
Huh.
Somehow I thought there’d be more amenities.
Is it possible that twenty-plus years of John Hughes movies built unrealistic expectations?
Epilogue
“Hello, sir, it’s been a while, hasn’t it? Six months, to be exact. I know, I know; I meant to come, but I guess we’ve just been a little preoccupied. Mac’s been back at work for a while, and he got a big promotion, and the commute’s been making him crazy. Me? I’ve been busy working on a new book that I kind of love. It’s a departure in that I’m giving the Amish a little vacation for now and I’m writing more of what I know. This one takes place in a regular suburban high school.”
I fiddle with the package in my hand and shift from foot to foot to warm up. There’s a ton of snow on my usual bench, so I don’t sit down. “I guess the big news is . . . we bought a house back in the city. Turns out once our place was finished we realized how bored we are in Abington Cambs. Seriously, they roll the streets up at eight p.m. around here, and I’ve got zip in common with the Ladies Who Lunch or the Ladies Who Life Time (Fitness). This would be an amazing place to raise kids, but it’s just not for us.
“No, we’re not selling the place. My family plans to expand the business to the Midwest and they need a base of operations, so Babcia and Jessica and her family are going to stay in my house. So I’ll be around. Not as much, but I’ll stop by from time to time.
“Anyway, I brought you a little something different today. I hope you like it. And because I can’t say it enough, thanks for everything, sir.”
Then I place a copy of my new manuscript on the ground before I walk away.
I’m calling it
Sixteen Zombies
.
Sixteen Zombies
.
Acknowledgments
Before I get to the thanking part, I have to apologize to the owners of the house featured in
Sixteen Candles
. This home (the outside, at least—haven’t been peeking in anyone’s windows) (yet) is nothing short of spectacular, and I’m sure the neighbors are lovely. Should this book cause people to drive by the place, then I’m supersorry, but my guess is, if you bought Jake Ryan’s house, you probably expect a few rubberneckers, yes?
Sixteen Candles
. This home (the outside, at least—haven’t been peeking in anyone’s windows) (yet) is nothing short of spectacular, and I’m sure the neighbors are lovely. Should this book cause people to drive by the place, then I’m supersorry, but my guess is, if you bought Jake Ryan’s house, you probably expect a few rubberneckers, yes?
Anyway, a million thanks go out to my readers, who make everything possible! I hope you enjoyed reading my first foray into fiction as much as I did writing it.
To everyone at NAL, I couldn’t be more grateful, particularly to my editor, Danielle Perez, who totally got it when I pitched this idea . . . a month before an entirely different book was due. Thank you for trusting my instincts. Much gratitude also goes to Kara Welsh, Claire Zion, Craig Burke, Melissa Broder, sales and marketing, and especially the art department for creating my favorite cover ever. And, of course, thanks to Kate Garrick of DeFiore and Co., who’s been with me from day one. (Seriously, six books? How’d we get here?)
Big love to my own personal Breakfast Club—Stacey Ballis, Gina Barge, and Tracey Stone—and my Algonquin Round Table—Caprice Crane, Karyn Bosnak, Sarah Grace McCandless, Jolene Siana, and Amy Lamare—who inspired the teenage-Amishzombies-in-love bit. And to my Indian Wells Six-Feet-I’mPacing-It-Off Beach Buddies—Angie, Poppy, Blackbird, and Wendy—same time next year?
Of course, nothing’s possible without Fletch. I’m sorry for all the times I confused you with Mac and got mad when you’d attempt a home repair. (But seriously, never buy one of those stupid lightbulbs again.) For the record, Fletch is actually quite handy, and yes, I’m willing to put that in print.
The best part of writing this book was studying up on John Hughes and revisiting all his work. In particular, I found books by Susannah Gora, Jaime Clark and Ally Sheedy, and Thomas A. Christie to be not only full of insight but also fascinating. Also of note is the film
Don’t You Forget About Me
. These writers and filmmakers confirmed what I already suspected—that Hughes was truly a genius and his work will continue to influence generations to come. Thank you for not forgetting about him.
Don’t You Forget About Me
. These writers and filmmakers confirmed what I already suspected—that Hughes was truly a genius and his work will continue to influence generations to come. Thank you for not forgetting about him.
1
Né John Brian MacNamara.
2
He’s never anything but sweet to me, and I do my best to return the favor. He and I are like the Soviet Union and the United States during the Cold War: Whoever pushes the button pretty much sets our mutually assured destruction into motion. And like that nice pre–
Ferris Bueller
Matthew Broderick taught us in the movie
War Games
, the only way to win is not to play.
Ferris Bueller
Matthew Broderick taught us in the movie
War Games
, the only way to win is not to play.
3
Much like Jay and Silent Bob in
Dogma
, I didn’t learn that Shermer was a fictional place until years after I first saw the movies. However, it’s based on a real town, so I wasn’t too devastated.
Dogma
, I didn’t learn that Shermer was a fictional place until years after I first saw the movies. However, it’s based on a real town, so I wasn’t too devastated.
4
Ten points if you caught the
Jeffersons
reference.
Jeffersons
reference.
5
A Great North American Barkhound.
6
Seriously, no, thanks.
7
I don’t actually know if this is a real expression, but it sounds vaguely Canadian, much like Holmes is vaguely Canadian.
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