I'm Your Girl (37 page)

“L
ook, Nina, she’s not going, and there’s nothing I can do about it.”
Don’t forget to pack extra boxers.

I won’t.

They tear so easily, and Diane has some seriously long nails
.

“Jackie, you’re not considering the big picture here,” Nina says.

And that cologne she likes
.

I’ll get it.

“If she doesn’t go, there will be no tour.”

This might be pushing it, but…a can of whipped cream?

They scan the luggage. They may think it’s a bomb.

Well, something will explode.

Ha-ha.

“Look, Nina,” I say, “you know I didn’t want to go on a tour in the first place, so I don’t care if they cancel it or not.”

What about…some chocolate syrup?

I could put some in a freezer bag.

Make sure it’s a Ziploc
.

Yeah.

“Your career may be hanging in the balance here, Jackie.”

What is she talking about?

I have no idea. Now where’s the sunscreen?

You’re not actually going to wear that stuff, are you?

What do you suggest?

Baby oil! And it has other uses as well….

Baby oil is good.

“What am I going to do with you, Jackie? This is the opportunity of a lifetime. Can’t you make Diane see that?”

I already have.

He already has
.

“Her mind is made up, and so is mine,” I say. “I don’t want my fiancée to be used as window dressing to sell more books.”

I would have said “eye candy.”

Yes, you would have.

She
is
going to be tasty
.

Hmm. Where’s my lip balm? I can’t be tasting her with chapped lips.

“It’s only for a week, for Christ’s sake!” Nina yells.

“No,” I say. “You’re wrong. It’s for a lifetime, Nina, and I prefer to say ‘for Jesus’ sake.’ Good-bye.”

I hang up.

How about throwing in a deck of cards?

What for?

So you two can play strip poker
.

I don’t intend to be clothed.

So, play for favors, you know, like—

I don’t think I’ll have to win any favors.

True
.

The phone rings. I check the Caller ID. It’s Diane…on her cell phone.

“Hello, beautiful.”

“Jack, I am going on your tour,” she says.

She never beats around the bush, does she?

I like that about her.

“Are you sure?” I ask.

“Positive.”

“It may get rough, you know.”

Ooh, kinky.

I’m thinking about us having to change planes so quickly.

Oh
.

“I don’t care, Jack. I am going with you. When are you picking me up?”

“Oh, in about…two hours.”

Silence.

“Diane?”

“Two hours? I thought your plane left tomorrow!”

There has been a change in plans.

Shh. That’s my line.

“There’s been a change in plans, Diane.”

“Oh.”

I close my suitcase. “Can you be ready in an hour?”

All at once, this life, this life.

I’m beginning to like the all-at-once-ness of this life.

All-at-once-ness?

Can you think of a better word?

Uh, no.

“I’ll, uh, try to be ready,” she says. “Will I need an extra suitcase?”

Hmm. She may be on to us. “Yes.”

“Should it be empty?”

She might be on to us. “Yes.”

“I’m so excited!”

So are we
.

“See you in an hour.”

“I’ll be ready.”

Click
.

Should I have told her to pack a swimsuit?

You devil, you! You forgot on purpose!

Maybe I did.

Do you think she has any idea of what’s about to happen?

You know, I don’t think she does.

“S
low down!” Mama shouts.

“He’ll be here in an hour!” I shout back, throwing more clothes into a suitcase while she packs up most of my dressing table in a carry-on bag.

“You’re so unorganized, Diane!”

“No, I’m not.”

She reaches into the suitcase I’ve been filling and starts counting. “Five, six, seven…
twelve
pairs of underwear for a week? And only one bra?”

For some reason, that sounds about right for a honeymoon!

“Slow down,” she says again. “You have time to do this right.”

I grab my iron, wrapping the cord around it quickly. “Put the spray starch in that bag, too.”

She puts the can of Niagra in the bag. “They have irons at hotels, Diane. And ironing boards, too.”

I put the iron back on the floor. “I’m not a world traveler like you, Mama.”

I throw open my closet door. What am I going to wear? It’s April, so it might be cold in New York, Boston, and Philadelphia at night. I take down several long-sleeved outfits and toss them near my hanging bag. I’m not even sure they fit anymore! I wish I had more time to choose!

“I suppose I should be telling you what a mother is supposed to be telling her daughter before her wedding night,” Mama says.

I stare her down.

“But I won’t.”

Shoes! Man, I can’t take an empty suitcase if I’m bringing all the shoes that match these outfits! I’ll need another carry-on.

“Mama, let me borrow one of your smaller suitcases to carry on the plane.”

She leaves the room and comes back with a small soft-sided suitcase. “Don’t you think you’re overdoing it?”

“Mama, I am going to be in public in front of lots of people. There will likely be photographers….” I cram six pairs of shoes into the small suitcase. “And you wouldn’t want anyone to talk bad about me, would you?”

She sits on the bed. “No one will talk bad about you, Diane.”

“Did you pack all my make-up?”

“Yes.”

I pull out my top drawer, looking for the sexy, satiny Victoria’s Secret outfit that Jack’s gift certificate “bought” me for Valentine’s Day, find it, ball it up, and stuff it in a zippered pocket of my hanging bag.

“What was that?” Mama asks.

Shoot. “Um, some pajamas.”

“Uh-huh.” She unzips the pocket and takes out the top, a satin black tank top. She checks the label. “Size six?”

I know I’m blushing. “It fits, okay?” And it makes my girls seem
so
much bigger.

She pulls out the matching shorts, stretching them as wide as she can. “You’d need baby oil and a shoehorn to get into these.”

I snatch them from her and stuff them back in the pocket. “They fit, okay?”

She smiles. “Can you move in them?”

I ignore her and look for—Ah, the burgundy see-through teddy I’ve been saving. But how do I get it from the drawer to the bag without Mama seeing it?

“Mama, I think there’s some clean laundry in the dryer. Could you get it for me?”

She stands. “Sure.” She moves to the door. “And burgundy looks good on you, Diane.”

“Mama!” I pull out the teddy. “You went through my drawers!”

She winks. “Now
that one
will fit. Those others…”

I shoo her away with the teddy.

I check the clock. I have less than thirty minutes! I pull open every drawer and just start grabbing, stuffing, and hoping until Mama comes back with a single sock.

She waves it at me like a sock puppet. “Are you going to need this?”

I snatch it off her hand. “I might.”

Okay, okay, what else might I need? Money? No, it’s all supposed to be paid for. ID? Yes. What else? My camera! I’ll need film—

“Diane?”

I turn to Mama, who is sitting on the bed, pulling clothes from the other suitcase and folding them neatly. “What are you doing?”

“Helping.”

I check the clock again. “He’ll be here in twenty minutes!”

“You want this suitcase to close, don’t you?”

“Yes, but—”

“And I have yet to see you packing any deodorant, perfume, toothpaste, toothbrush—”

I rush to the bathroom, and scoop everything on the counter into a pile. “Mama, bring me that bag with the shoes!”

She brings it to me, and I push the pile into the bag.

“That’s going to be one big mess by the time—”

“I don’t have time, Mama!” I interrupt, carrying the bag to my bedroom. “Now…let’s close up everything and get it outside!”

“I’ll get your father,” she says, then leaves me alone with a small carry-on bag, a small suitcase I intend to carry on, a large suitcase, and a hanging bag, all of them stuffed to bursting.

I have become my mama in less than forty-five minutes!

Daddy comes in and whistles. “Good thing you’re only going for a week.” He smiles and hoists the big suitcase. “I thought you were supposed to take an empty one.”

“I can’t,” I say.

He shakes his head as he loads up. “You’re going to break poor Jack’s back.”

When Jack arrives early—and for the second time today!—I tell Mama, “You can just leave my car at the airport and lock my house key inside. I have a spare.”

“We’re taking a cab tomorrow,” Daddy says, taking the suitcases and bags outside.

“Oh. Well…lock up before you go.”

Mama pushes me toward the door. “We will.”

“And, uh, and leave the outside lights on.”

She sighs. “Diane, we know how to leave a house, so unless you want to get left, get a move on.”

I stop. “What about my mail?” Not that I get that much.

“Your mailbox is big enough,” Mama says. “Now go on.”

I kiss her cheek. “Bye, Mama.”

She hugs me. “Bye. Send us postcards.”

I look into her eyes. “I love you, Mama.”

She pushes a lock of hair out of my eyes. “I’m proud of you, Diane. I’ve always been proud of you.”

I hug her closely. “Thank you, Mama.”

She turns me to the door, where Daddy stands, holding it open. “Mr. Browning awaits your presence,” he says.

I hug Daddy, kiss his cheek, and run down the sidewalk into Jack’s arms.

He checks his watch. “We’re going to be late.”

“Listen to you,” I say, hugging him tightly. “And anyway, aren’t we really going to be early?”

He nods. “Good point.”

Y
ou’re driving too fast!

The streets are practically empty.

Slow down!

Just trying to keep up with my heart!

“Sorry I brought so much,” Diane says, gripping the door handle and steadying herself with a hand on the dashboard.

“It’s okay,” I say, turning in to long-term parking and getting a ticket from the machine.

“Did, um, did Noël travel as heavy?”

“Heavier,” I say.

Two pairs of shoes for every day of the week.

I park, pop the trunk, somehow manage to carry all six bags—

Watch your step!

And we run to the terminal.

You’re not exactly running
.

Shh.

“How late are we?” Diane asks.

I check my watch again. “I’m sure they’re boarding already.” I dump the luggage at the counter, telling the woman behind the counter, “Tickets for Browning.”

“Oh, yes,” she says, finding a little folder and placing it in my hand. “You’ll have to hurry, but I think you’ll make it. Gate three.”

I take the two carry-on bags, and we race to the escalator.

You’re in pretty good shape for an old man. Save some of your energy for later.

I’m sure I’ll be able to muster up something.

After a few minutes waiting for security to give us evil looks, we get to the gate, both of us out of breath, and I hand the folder to the attendant. “Just made it,” he says, and he waves us through.

“Um, Jack,” Diane says, “this flight is going to Charlotte.”

I smile. “Another change in plans.”

“We have to fly south to go north?” she asks as we stow the carry-on bags.

We squeeze into two tiny seats. “Crazy, isn’t it?”

And after that, I can’t think of a single thing to say but “We’re here.”

“We’re here,” Diane echoes. She takes my hand. “Whoo. I didn’t think we’d make it.”

You might have a little trouble making that next flight. You’d better tell her to get some rest
.

But that would spoil the surprise.

Trust me. Tell her to get some rest
.

“Um, you’d better rest while you can,” I say.

She squeezes my hand. “Don’t you worry about me, Jack. I am primed and ready.”

But she’s thinking about—

Aren’t you?

I smile.

“What are you smiling about?” Diane asks as the plane pulls away from the terminal.

I lean close to her ear. “The night and the morning to come.”

“Mmm,” she says.

We like the sound of that.

Yes, we do.

The flight to Charlotte is uneventful and actually arrives a few minutes early. When we head through the tube into the terminal, Diane slows almost to a stop. “It feels so good to stretch my legs.”

I try to picture the map of the airport in my head. The international terminal is…“We’ll just, um, go this way.”

You have less than twenty minutes, Jack. Tell her!

I take her hand. “Um, I know a shortcut.”

“To where?” she asks.

I would have asked the same thing. Tell her!

“Diane, do you have your license with you?”

“Yes. What, are we renting a car?”

I shake my head. “No.”

Tell her!

“What’s going on, Jack?”

I drop the carry-on bags and take both of her hands.

So she doesn’t try to run away
.

Shh.

“Diane, there’s been another change in plans. There is no tour.”

“What?”

“Well, actually there
is
a tour, only it doesn’t involve books.”

Except for
The Kama Sutra.

Oh yeah. Except for that.

Diane shakes her head and blinks repeatedly. “What are you telling me, Jack?”

“The only tour we’re going on is the grand tour called marriage, and if we don’t hurry, we’ll miss our flight to Jamaica.”

Her mouth drops open.

I turn her gently. “We need to run that way as fast as we can, okay?”

She nods.

“Ready?”

She nods again, and then we…run—

Haul ass, book, bolt, jet
—

To the international terminal, where we hear “Last call…” as we near the counter. I slap our boarding passes on the counter, the attendant checks our IDs, and we run through the tube into the plane. Diane turns right in to the coach section, but I pull her back.

“Um, I got us first-class seats,” I say.

Her mouth drops open a lot more than I remember, Jack.

She’s so fun to surprise!

After we sit in the most comfortable seats and gulp two glasses of some really fine champagne, she finally finds her voice.

“Are there going to be any more surprises?”

I nod.

She looks at her empty glass. “I’m going to need another one of these.”

Don’t let her get drunk.

This statement, from
you?

You want her completely sober for—

I know, I know.

I ask for another glass of champagne once the plane levels off, and Diane sips this one, smiling and…giggling?

She’s drunk
.

She’s happy.

Okay, she’s a happy drunk.

“I can’t believe we’re doing this,” she says. “Where are we going anyway?”

“Jamaica,” I say.

Diane growls. “
Where
in Jamaica?”

“Some place…Jamaican?”

She squeezes my leg. “Tell me.”

We like her squeezing our leg. Don’t tell her.

I don’t intend to.

“It’s a surprise,” I say.

She giggles again! “All this has been a surprise.”

And there are more surprises to come….

Yup
.