Mean Season (6 page)

I knew that Joshua and I already had things in common. Like the fact that we'd both excelled in English in high school. And that we were both allergic to cats. And like me, he'd grown up in a small town, even farther from a big city than we were in Pinecob. Although he'd sure made it clear that he preferred city living.

In the parking lot, my keys fit in the car lock the same as usual. The steering wheel felt in my hands like it always did, as I spun it away from the municipal building. The road beneath the tires was smooth where I expected smooth, and the stoplight by the post office shone red, then green, as always. But back at my house, Joshua Reed was sleeping between the same sheets I sometimes slept between. How crazy was that? It felt like remembering a dream, the sense of everything just a step beyond belief. My house, but not my house. The feel of life, but not quite. Joshua Reed, movie star, was sleeping between my sheets.

I knew that a lot of women would have killed—or at least scratched and bit—for the chance to take my place. Back when I was sixteen or seventeen, I might have done the same. But at twenty-five, I wasn't holding on to the crazy fantasies I'd harbored in my teens. And besides, I knew that Joshua was dating Elise, the Belgian supermodel with aqua eyes.

I looked into the rearview mirror. My eyes were as brown as ever. And anyway, I've always been one to respect an existing relationship. I don't know what the feminine equivalent of chivalry is, but maybe you'd call it that. Sandy, on the other hand, would probably call it me not having the gumption to hold my hand out for what I wanted. But I knew what it felt like, someone moving in on your boyfriend when you're not around. The same thing had happened to me with Howard Malkin. I wasn't going to be like that.

It was around eight-thirty in the morning when I got back home, and Momma was making blueberry cottage cheese pancakes, which sounds weird, but they're the best pancakes ever. She almost never made them, so it must have been Joshua who brought out the act. She told me to get Beau Ray up and to offer Joshua more coffee.

“Judy said we shouldn't be catering to him,” I told her.

“Judy's not here,” Momma said. “And Judy don't make the rules in this house, so git.”

I'd bought a
Charles Town Register
on my way home, and I dropped it on the dining room table as I passed. Joshua looked up at me.

“Hey sleepyhead,” I said, at the door of Beau Ray's room. I was glad to see that Beau Ray, at least, had slept with his door wide open. His closet door was open, too, and a huge pile of clothes and books and sporting equipment spilled out onto his floor. “Momma's making pancakes,” I said. “You don't want to miss pancakes.”

Beau Ray turned over. “Pancakes?” he asked and started to sit up.

“Blueberry. Come soon,” I said.

Beau Ray followed me into the dining room. He took a seat across from Joshua and smiled at him. Joshua looked up from the paper.

“Morning, Beau Ray,” he said.

“Morning, cool man Joshua Reed,” Beau Ray said. “Fuck me.”

“Beau Ray!” I snapped.

Joshua seemed surprised, then amused.

“Beau Ray, you know we don't say that,” I said.

“Fuck me! Fuck me!” Beau Ray said. Joshua started laughing.

“It's not funny,” I told him, but Beau Ray looked so pleased with himself and with Joshua that I found myself fighting a grin.

“Shh,” Joshua said to Beau Ray. “We don't want your mother to hear.”

“Shh,” Beau Ray said back, nodding and winking.

Momma brought a plate of pancakes to the table. “Who's ready for the first round?” she asked. “Morning, angel,” she said to Beau Ray. She kissed him on the head.

Beau Ray was already poking at the pancakes with a fork. “Yum. Pancakes,” Beau Ray said. “Fuck me!”

Joshua and I went silent.

Momma turned to me. “Leanne,” she said, frowning.

I shrugged and turned to Joshua, who started to laugh.

Momma looked pissed. “It's not funny,” she said to him. “I don't know how you live your life out there in California, but here, in this house, we don't use bad language.”

“Fuck me,” Beau Ray said. “Cool man don't use bads.” He giggled.

“See what I mean?” I told Joshua, who was still laughing.

“It's not funny,” Momma said again, even angrier.

“I know,” Joshua said. But he wasn't doing a very good job of looking sorry. He cleared his throat. “I'm sorry. I didn't realize. It won't happen again.”

“Joshua Reed say sorry,” Beau Ray said.

“I am sorry,” Joshua said to my mother.

He had found his focus and was wearing his apologetic look. I guess Joshua Reed always played guys who messed up, because I swear I'd seen that same look in every one of his movies. His eyes were wide open and sad, and his chin was tilted down, so that he was looking up at Momma through his lashes. After he spoke, his lips stayed slightly open, and the effect was a much younger, more innocent Joshua Reed. I couldn't look away. It was a complete transformation. I don't know whether Momma bought it, but she shook her head and left the room. Once she was gone, Joshua's face returned to normal—or to the sour version of normal he'd worn from the moment he'd walked into our house. He took a bite of pancakes and turned back to the paper.

 

“I want to ask you,” Joshua said. Breakfast was over. Beau Ray had gone to take a shower, and Momma had left for work. “What's the deal with the TV?”

I didn't know what he was talking about. “Is there something wrong?”

“Well, I couldn't figure it out. Where's the cable box? How does it work?”

I cringed. I'd forgotten to mention it, because it had never been a big deal before. But I had a feeling that it was about to become one.

“We don't have cable,” I told him. “It hasn't come up the road yet.”

Joshua blinked at me. “You're kidding,” he finally said. “You're not kidding?”

I shook my head. “There's cable in Charles Town—but that doesn't help you,” I said.

“You can't get cable? Who can't get cable?” Joshua seemed confused. “Then what about satellite? You could get a dish. Satellite.”

I shrugged. Sandy's parents' new house in Charles Town had cable, so I'd always gone there if I wanted to watch something that didn't come in on one of our five stations.

“Maybe,” I told him. “Momma has this thing about TV. You'll have to ask her.” I left it at that.

“Jesus. You live in the absolute sticks,” Joshua said. He sounded amazed, but not in a good way.

“You act like someone told you Pinecob was a big city,” I said. “No one told you that. I know I didn't tell you that. Besides, you know what a small town is like. You grew up in Rackett, Texas. Population three thousand.” I knew this from his fan club biography.

“Don't talk to me about Rackett. I left that rat hole as soon as I could,” Joshua said.

I swallowed hard. “Some of us haven't had that luxury,” I said. I hated that I felt so shaky.

Joshua looked around the empty room, then calmly back at me. He didn't look at all ruffled.

“Apparently everyone else had the good sense to leave,” he said. “I'm going to call about getting satellite TV.” He left the room. Me, I left the house and didn't come back again until after dinner, if only because I could.

 

When I came back—I would have caught hell from Momma had I stayed out any later—Joshua was up in Vince's room, reading one of the ten scripts Lars had left with him. I walked down the hallway and saw Joshua glance at me before he kicked his door closed. Momma was in her bedroom, lining up square after square of calico cotton.

“We're not getting no satellite TV,” she told me, before I could say a thing.

“Okay,” I said.

“Joshua asked, but I just…” She paused. “I don't think it's a good idea. Even if he pays, you know television is addictive. I don't want Beau Ray watching more than he already does.”

“Okay,” I said. “It wasn't my idea. I don't care.”

“Okay, then,” Momma said. “Beau Ray said you were out all day. You told me you'd already cleaned things up at work.”

“I just had a few more things to do there,” I told her. It was a lie. I'd gone and watched the same movie twice at the Charles Town Cinema.

Momma nodded. “I'm going out Thursday night, so I'll be wanting you around here then,” she told me.

“You're going out? Who with?” I asked. Momma almost never went out. I tried to think of the last time she'd socialized and who it had been with. “The Williamses?” I guessed.

“No.”

“Church potluck?”

“I'm going out to dinner with Bill Weintraub,” she said. I didn't recognize the name at first, and then it hit me.

“
Judge
Weintraub?”

“He seems like a very nice man,” Momma said.

“You have a date with Judge Weintraub?” I asked. “Or is it some sort of meeting about Joshua?”

“I'm going out to dinner with him,” Momma said. “That's all.” And I could tell that she wasn't going to say anything more.

 

On Wednesday, day three of the ninety, there was a knock at our front door. I was doing dishes in the kitchen, so I pulled off my gloves and went to answer. A tall, skinny woman was waiting outside. She wore sunglasses even though our porch was shady and it looked like a storm was about to blow in. Behind her, in the driveway, a big black car sat idling.

“Is Joshua here?” she asked. She took off her sunglasses then and blinked. “I mean,” she continued, “I know he's here. Can I see him?”

I stepped aside and let her into the house. “I think he's sleeping,” I told her. “Come on up. You're his girlfriend, right?” I asked.

I knew who she was. She was the model for All-American Cosmetics, among other things. I'd seen her in magazines. Her name was Elise.

“And you are?” Elise asked, following me up the stairs.

“I'm Leanne,” I said. “I live here.”

Elise nodded. “Oh right. I heard about you,” she said. “The fan.”

“Fan
club,
” I said. “Here's his room.” I knocked lightly. Elise stood beside me and knocked hard.

“What?” Joshua snapped from behind the door. He opened it then, looked at me, then at Elise. He smiled when he saw Elise. “Hey, baby!” he said.

Elise stepped into Vince's old room, and Joshua closed the door. I stood in the hallway for a moment, feeling even more stupid when I realized I still had a dish sponge in my hand. Then I walked back downstairs and sat at the kitchen table.

They were in his room for about an hour. After that, I heard the door open and the stairs creak as they came back down.

“You want some lemonade?” I heard him ask. She must have nodded because he called out, “Leanne, bring us some lemonade, would you? We'll be on the front porch.”

I went to the refrigerator, then stopped. I didn't open it. Instead, I walked to the kitchen window and listened. Joshua hadn't been in our house long enough to realize that where I stood was perfect for overhearing any porch conversation. I'd discovered that in high school—my mother would listen to all my dates as they were ending, so I'd learned to give kisses in the car, beforehand.

“Are you kidding me?” I heard Joshua say. “You're just telling me this now?”

“Sorry,” Elise said. But she didn't sound sorry. I heard her sigh.

“I can't believe I'm hearing this, Leesie,” Joshua said. “I thought you of all people would stick around. We talked about this!”

“It's clear that you have some work to do on yourself right now,” Elise said. “And I need to focus on my career. I'm the All-American spokesmodel. I've got a responsibility there.”

“You're not even American,” Joshua said.

“That's not the point,” she said. “I'm sorry, Josh. It was good to see you, but I have to get going.”

“You kept the car running?” Joshua said.

“Of course. It's hot out here,” she said. “Oh, don't pout. It's not like you and I were going anywhere long-term,” Elise said. “And you
can't
go anywhere short-term.”

From the kitchen, I could hear a car door close, then the crunch of tires on the driveway. I could hear Joshua's footsteps, back and forth across the porch. I went to the refrigerator and got out the pitcher.

He was sitting on the porch, staring out toward the street. I handed him a glass of lemonade and he took it, absentmindedly. He didn't say anything.

 

The next day was Thursday. In the evening, Momma got to go out to dinner with Judge Weintraub, Beau Ray got to go to “Life Skills Training” at the Charles Town Community Center and I got to drive Joshua to his first AA meeting. He didn't talk to me on the way there, and when I asked if he knew where to go and what room it was in, he handed me a piece of paper: Room 220.

“I'll walk you there,” I offered.

“Suit yourself,” he said.

Room 220 was where I'd taken French in eleventh grade. It looked like it was still being used for language study—on the walls were posters of L'Arc de Triomphe in Paris and Los Rambles in Barcelona. There weren't any other
languages offered at Potomac Springs Senior High. When I was in ninth grade, you could take German, but by my sophomore year, the teacher had left and hadn't ever been replaced.

Chairs were arranged in a circle, with the student desks pushed back against the chalkboard. There were a few other people in the room when we got there. Joshua walked in ahead of me and dropped into a chair close to the door.

“So how does this work?” I asked him. It was seven twenty-five, and all I knew was that the meeting would last from seven-thirty until nine.