Lara Reznik - The Girl From Long Guyland (23 page)

Bob Englewood

CEO
–
LBJ
Electric Corp

I want to cry but the tears won’t come. Seconds later, as I discover I’ve lost access to my Outlook account, my iPhone rings.

EDUARDO
flashes on the screen.

CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT

Angel Dust

Bridgeport, Connecticut, May 3, 1970

After speaking with Chris on the phone, I decided not to go over there to see him even though Ben had returned from his fling in Westport. It was time for me to take control of my life again. Call my own shots. Ef you, Chris Reynolds and Ben Franklin Jones. This power you have over me must end. Time to remove your broken record from my jukebox.

I headed to the library to study for finals. They were only three weeks away and I needed to catch up on my classes, especially Biology. It was Saturday night and other than work-study students and a few nerds, the place was empty. While I tried to focus on the activities of chromosomes, centrioles, and microtubules in the cell cycle, my mind kept drifting back to Chris and Ben and transferring to the University of New Mexico.

Now Katie complicated the equation by joining us on the journey to the Land of
Mañana
. Ultimately, she and Ben would end up together. If only I could end my fixation of him. Was there a microtubule in the cell cycle to rid one of obsessions?

After a few hours in the library, I returned to Bodine and joined some of my dorm-mates watching television on the big Philco console in the recreation area. The girls were all dressed in pajamas or
U.B. T
-shirts, and fuzzy slippers. Someone had made a big bowl of popcorn.

Hanging out with them felt safe and cozy. Mary Lou waddled from the vinyl couch to the
TV
and turned the channel knob until she found a show everyone wanted to watch.
Casablanca
was playing on channel nine’s Million Dollar Movie. Of all the movies in the world, why did it have to be about a woman choosing between two men? Everyone agreed we would have picked Humphrey Bogart, but Ingrid Bergman made the ultimate sacrifice and flew off with her war hero husband, Victor. The right thing to do. Was I capable of that?

By the time we went to sleep it was after
2:00
a.m. I awoke late Sunday and spent the afternoon doing my laundry in the coin machines in Bodine’s basement. As always, I gathered up Denise’s dirty clothes from the bottom of her closet and washed them along with mine.

Denise and Joey arrived back at the dorm around six. When she saw all her clean clothes in neat folded piles, she gave me a hug. Joey joked about me doing his laundry, too. Then he invited me to join them for dinner at the cafeteria. We took the elevator downstairs. Denise and I strolled down the street while Joey hobbled on crutches beside us.

“Life is truly beautiful,” Joey said, as kids waved and gave him the peace sign. The hero rumor had not gone away. “After everything I’ve been through, I really appreciate this place.”

Denise wrinkled her nose and looked up at the sky. Factory smokestacks erupted clouds of noxious gases above us. “Bridgeport’s fucking dismal if you ask me.”

“Yeah, but I got you and Laila, and Jack and Hal,” Joey said. “The love of my life, and real friends. I’m gonna turn over a new leaf. If I study hard enough, maybe I can ace my finals and salvage the semester. I want to graduate and find me a good job. Make Mama proud.”

Denise jerked backward as though he had thrown water in her face. “What’s happened to Joey, the Hash King?”

“I’m done with that scene,” Joey said.

“You and me both,” I said.

Denise had a far away look in her eyes. If she had met people like Angel and gone through what Joey and I experienced in New Mexico, she’d understand.

When we arrived at the cafeteria, more students patted Joey on the back or gave him a high-five. We filled our plates with meatloaf, mashed potatoes, peas, and cherry pie. Denise reprimanded Joey after he went back to get a third piece of pie. She pulled his plate away from him. “You’ll get fat.”

Joey squeezed his love handles with his fingers. “More of me to love.”

“You already look like a tub,” she said. There was an undertone of disgust in her voice.

I grabbed her arm. “Denise, that’s cruel. If you knew what—”

Joey turned to me with a bruised look in his brown eyes. “It’s okay. I get it. Everyone thinks I’m hip except her. Let’s go over to your boyfriend’s house and get this misunderstanding cleared up.”

We stopped at Bodine to retrieve Katie’s Saab from the parking lot and drove it the three blocks to Main Street. Joey struggled to climb the stairs on his crutches.

When we entered the apartment, Chris and Ben seemed friendly enough. Ben patted him on the back. “We’re willing to let bygones be bygones.”

“There ain’t no bygones,” Joey said. “I didn’t do nothing wrong. Your friend Angel forced me to take that suitcase to Taos. I didn’t steal it.”

Ben rolled his eyes at Chris.

“It’s true,” I said. “Angel’s friend Paulie put a gun to his head.”

Chris placed his hands over his ears. “We’ve heard enough.”

Joey nodded. “Fine by me.”

“Let’s forget about it and get stoned,” Ben said. He pulled out the bong and handed it to Chris. “Ivy left some rice and veggies in the kitchen if anyone’s hungry.”

“Where is Ivy?” I asked. I certainly didn’t miss having her around.

“Her grannie died,” Chris said. “She went upstate to attend the funeral.”

We all sat on the floor in a circle and they passed the pipe around. The pungent odor smelled more like garlic and oregano than weed. The water in the pipe gurgled each time someone took a hit. When the pipe came to me, I held up my palm. “I need to pick my friend Katie up at Bradley International airport. Better not get shit-faced.”

Chris placed one hand on each of my cheeks and pressed his forehead against mine. “Take a hit. This shit is amazing.”

“I’ll try some when I return.” I grabbed my peacoat.

Chris gave me a peck on the lips while I glanced at Ben on the couch. Denise and Joey looked glassy-eyed. They waved at me as I headed to the door.

KATIE’S PLANE WAS OVER
an hour late. She finally sauntered down the escalator to baggage claim dressed in a baby-blue pants suit. I’d never seen her wear something so
1950
s conservative. As she got closer, I noticed dark circles under her eyes.

She waved at me and yawned. “I’ve barely slept since I left Bridgeport.” She pulled at the lapel of her jacket. “Don’t make fun. Mother made me wear this thing to the brunch this morning.”

We stood watching the bags go around on the carousel until a black garment bag shot out. She grabbed it along with a small black valise. “Her wedding was so straight. White dress, veil, bridesmaids in ugly pink chiffon dresses.”

“I’ll never have a wedding like that,” I said.

Katie clenched her teeth. “I’m never getting married. Why bother when you can just live together.”

“Never say never,” I said. “What about when you have kids?”

“Who needs them? The population of the world is already exploding.”

She asked me to drive since she was so exhausted. I assumed I’d drop her back at Bodine Hall. But when we reached Bridgeport, she insisted on going to see Ben.

“Did he say anything about me? You did see him, right?” she asked.

“Well, yes. I brought Joey and Denise over there.” Ben hadn’t said a word about Katie. Best to keep that to myself.

Her eyes lit up. “Wow. Then it’s a party, right? No reason for us not to stop by.”

When we pulled up to the family house on Main Street, I saw a Harley zoom off. A cloud of smoke flew across the Saab’s windshield. Was that Doc? Too bad he didn’t stop to say hello. He was the only one in the family that made me feel welcomed and valued.

“Laila,” Katie began, “I’ve changed my mind. I want to go to Bodine and change out of this ugly outfit first. You go inside. Tell them I’ll be over soon.”

I looked at the clock on the dash. “It’s
12:30
already. Why not just wait until tomorrow?”

“Put the car in park and get out. I’ll see you in like fifteen minutes.”

I stepped out of the car and Katie slid into the driver’s seat. She sped off in the direction of the dormitory in search of a sexy outfit to seduce Ben with.

When I entered the apartment, I found Chris sitting alone on the couch rolling a joint. His lip was bleeding and there were purple bruises on his face. His hands shook so badly that flakes of weed were spilling all over the coffee table. He looked at me with crazy eyes. Something was very wrong.

“Chris, my God, what happened?”

“Get the hell outta here, Laila.”

“I don’t understand. Katie’s on her way.”

He dropped the half-rolled joint. “Don’t let her come,” he said in a hoarse whisper. “Something terrible happened while you were gone.”

I heard muffled voices in the attic. A girl crying.

“Who’s up there?”

He spread his hands over his face. “It happened so fast.”

I looked around the room. “What are you talking about? Where are Joey and Denise?”

A pitiful wailing sound now resonated from the attic. I raced up the steps and found Denise moaning on the bed. She sat cross-legged holding her knees. Why was she only wearing a bra and panties?

I sat down next to her. She peered at me with vacant eyes.

“Denise, are you okay?”

She acted like I wasn’t there.

I yelled, “Denise,” then shook her shoulders.

Still no response.

Vapor seeped into the room. I could barely breathe. Ben stood at the broken window staring outside. A gust of wind blew papers, clothing, toiletries off the shelves into the air.

“Ben. Can you tell me what’s going on?” I said.

He turned to me. His Adam’s apple bulged as he swallowed. His eyes were watery.

I stepped next to him and looked out the broken window. A couple dozen stars and the eye of a yellow moon pierced light through the sky filled with smog. I followed his gaze to the view on the ground below us.

Crumpled in the weeds was a lifeless body with wild eyes, a bushy mustache, and sweet smile. I stared at the body until I recognized the half-hidden face, visible from the left side.

Down below us was Joey.

CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE

A Woman Scorned

Austin, Texas, 2012

The news of getting fired has barely sunk in when Eduardo’s name flashes on my iPhone. I slide the
ANSWER
key but an obstruction in the channel of iPhone technology prevents me from speaking with my husband. Not only is Ed
not
on the other end, but I make three calls to his Blackberry and get no response. Did he call to tell me our marriage is over?

After hours of mindlessly channel surfing through hundreds of shows on
TV
, I head to bed. Even with the help of a Xanax, I can’t escape into the solace of sleep. I lay awake thinking about how much I love Eduardo. If only he would come home to me. I reflect on all the missed opportunities of our marriage. Had I really been there for him when he lost his job? Taken the time to understand how devastating that was for him? The reality check of my losing my job seems so secondary to everything else. Finally at
2:04
a.m. I take another Xanax.

The next morning doorbell chimes awaken me. Pulsating temples remind me of a college hangover although I’ve had nothing to drink, not even my usual glass of Sauvignon Blanc before retiring last night. Then I remember the Xanax.

The clock says
7:10
a.m. Who’s at the door this early? I throw on a robe and head to the deck where I can view the front porch below. A muscular man in navy shorts and a matching shirt is standing there with an envelope in his hand. A
F
ed
Ex
truck idles in the cul-de-sac.

I trot downstairs and sign for the delivery, then tear open the envelope. It’s addressed from the
U.S. D
istrict Attorney’s office, Austin,
TX.
A bunch of legalese later, I assess it’s a subpoena for me to appear for a statement related to Joey Costello’s 1970 missing person’s case.

I’ve never been involved in a legal proceeding in my life, and now two in one week. If this one goes as poorly as the last, I’ll be behind bars in no time. I grab my iPhone and start to call Katie to see if she received one too, but change my mind when I realize it’s only
5:00
a.m. in
L.A
.

Just then my phone rings and
EDUARDO
flashes on the screen.

“I’m back in Austin, honey,” he says casually as if returning from a trip to Disneyland.

“When did you get here?”

“Last night. I called you right before I boarded a flight in Albuquerque,” he says.
“You flew?” That explains why he didn’t answer my three calls. “Why not drive back with Ms. Bonita?”

“It’s a long story. Do you mind if I come up to the house?”

Would I mind winning two hundred million dollars in the Texas lottery?
“Of course not.”

“Are you leaving for work?”

“No worries about that. I got fired yesterday,” I say.

“Steve told me what happened at mediation, although he didn’t mention you got canned. Said you gave a good deposition.”

I snort. “Yeah, the one that got me riffed. I received the e-mail shortly after the meeting.”

“How ya holding up?”

I press my temples. “I’ve had better days.”

“I’m proud of you, Laila.”

“You are?”

“You told the truth. That’s what counts,” he says.

“Did Steve tell you it was all for naught. That Darlene capitulated to her ridiculous fantasy of her and Bob E. getting together in the future?”

“He did. It was still the right thing to do.”

“I need that job,” I say.

“We’ll manage, I promise.”

I gulp, “We will? I wasn’t sure there was a
we
.”

“I’ll be home in an hour. We’ll talk about it then.”

MY HEART SKIPS A FEW BEATS
when my handsome husband ascends the stairs to the living room. He wraps his arms around me and we kiss like two teenagers.
When was the last time we smooched like that?

“What happened with Juanita?” I ask.

“The night after her mother’s funeral she stayed at Mama’s place. Let’s just say she got very drunk and—”

“And what?”

“Somewhat flirtatious.”

I force a smile. “I’m sure you hated that.”

He grabs my wrist. “Truthfully, I found it a turnoff. Especially when she said something about wanting a view of a lake.”

I laugh. “She’s pinning her hopes I’ll go to prison so she can move in here with you. I tried to tell you the day I found her in the house.”

He lowers his eyes. “I was so mad at you for lying about your past, I didn’t hear you.”

“But you hear me now. That’s all that counts.”

“Juanita’s driving back for the inquiry. Have you been served yet?”


I hand him the paperwork. “Is she going to stay in Austin?”

“I have no idea what her plans are when that’s done. Her
FBI
friend thinks he has enough evidence for a grand jury to reopen the case,” Ed says.

“Those people will perjure themselves to get off the hook,” I say.

Ed shakes his head. “Steve will be there for you. He feels terrible about what happened at
LBJ
. And of course, I’ll be there too.”

“Then nothing else matters,” I say.

Once again we kiss. And then we spend the rest of the day in our bedroom.


THAT NIGHT I SLEEP
like a baby for the first time in months. When I awake, there’s a cappuccino waiting on the nightstand. The aroma of pancakes and eggs drifts in from the kitchen. I change into a pair of sweats and join Ed who is turning his famous raspberry-cornbread pancakes in the frying pan. The newspaper sits on the kitchen table.

“Ready for a pancake?”

“Do you have to ask?” I squeeze his arm, take a seat at the table, and pull the
Austin American Statesman
from its plastic wrap.

LBJ CEO, BOB ENGLEWOOD, RESIGNS AFTER SEX SCANDAL

I turn on the TV and click the remote to the local news channel. “In a surprising turn of events,” says the local newscaster, “
LBJ
head turns his resignation into the board. We go live now with Jennifer Simms in Westlake.”

A crowd of journalists with long camera lenses, iPads, and smart phones are perched on the lawn of an elegant home with walls of glass.

The camera zooms in on a cute blonde reporter holding a microphone. “I’m standing in front of the home of Bob Englewood,
CEO
of one of the largest electric co-ops in central Texas. According to the
Austin American Statesman
, his wife, Trudy, has made a statement claiming her husband confessed he’d been having an affair with Corporate Vice President, Darlene McIntire. She believes her husband is now involved sexually with board member, Ivy Foreman. Mrs. Englewood will be giving an exclusive interview in the next few days. There’s talk it may be with Stone Phillips on Dateline.”

The story breaks back to the newsroom studio where the announcer clears his throat. “
KVUE
has just received news that Ivy Foreman, wife to
U.S. C
ongressman Ted Foreman, of the Williamson County, has just resigned from
LBJ’s
board of directors. Mrs. Foreman adamantly denies having a sexual relationship with former
LBJ CEO
, Bob Englewood, but says she believes it’s in the best interest of
LBJ
to step down at this time.”

My iPhone rings as I’m clearing the breakfast dishes
. LBJ
flashes on my
LCD
.

I click it on. “Hello, Laila, this is Victor.”

“Guess you’ve seen the news,” I say.

“Everyone around here thinks Englewood got what he deserves. They’re bringing back John Bell temporarily while they search for a new
CEO,
” Victor says.

I shake my head. “Karma is certainly the law of consequence and action.”

“Speaking of karma, Laila, I still haven’t filled your old position. Now that Bob E. is gone, would you like your old job back?”

“Can I start tomorrow?”