Mr. 365 (6 page)

I kiss him again but extra slow as I wonder why seeing his bedroom is suddenly a priority in my mind. I’ve become a shameless hussy. I’m considering getting wild with a grown man who plays with trains. I gaze into his deep blue eyes, which might as well be quicksand for the way they pull me under his spell. “Yes, me alone. I’d like that.”

He grins. “Good, I’m glad we got that clarified. So how many hours is it until Saturday night?”

I quickly calculate in my head while he gently runs his fingertips up and down the bare skin of my arm.

“Sixty-one.”

“Ooo, you’re good,” he says as he kisses my cheek.

“And bad.” I tease.

“Just the way I like it.”

“Sophia, wait!” Steph yells as she hurries down the hall toward the reception area of True Blue Studios.

“Hey, Steph,” I say when she reaches me. I study her in a new light, realizing that there’s a family resemblance between her and Will in their coloring and build.

“How! How did you ever get Will to agree?” Steph practically yells.

“Agree?” I’m momentarily confused.

“Yeah,” Steph says. “To do the holiday show. He just kept telling me no whenever I asked!”

I fold my arms over my chest and jut my hip out to one side. “Really. That’s not what your notes said or what the studio told me.”

Steph looks sheepish. “Hey, can we go outside for a minute?”

“Okay.” I follow her out to the landing in front of the building. “Well?”

“Tell me what they said when they gave you the job.”

“That Will was on board. That he was happy to participate. But after meeting him and now talking to you, that assessment couldn’t have been further from the truth. Am I right?”

Steph holds up her arms in surrender. “Yeah, all right. Guilty as charged.”

“Why’d you do it? It put both Will and me in a really awkward position.”

“I was terrified I was about to get laid off. They kept telling me I wasn’t bringing in enough subjects. So I may have stretched the truth on a few of them.”

“And you actually used a relative to cover your ass. You knew he absolutely didn’t want to do it. That’s pretty low, Steph.”

Guilt floods her expression as he presses her hands over her face. “I know, I know. I hoped they’d never contact him. It was so wrong but I was desperate. I was about to get thrown out of my apartment for back rent, and if I lost my new job I was five steps away from turning tricks on Sunset Boulevard.”

“Oh, for God’s sake, could you be a little more dramatic?” I say, exasperated.

“Okay, maybe not quite that bad, but close. But you said he agreed so it’s okay after all. How’d you get him to do it?” Steph’s face brightens.

“Well, I think Will kind of likes me.” I can feel my cheeks heating up.

“So, you used that to your advantage?” Steph asks, trying to make the point that I manipulated him too.

“No, no! We talked about a lot of stuff but in the end he said he wanted to help me.”

“That’s so sweet. I swear Will can be the nicest guy. My Dad told me some stories about Will from when he was a teenager. I still have trouble believing them.”

“What kind of stories,” I ask, twisting a lock of hair between my fingers.

“I guess he was kind of wild and had anger issues. Even got into serious trouble and spent time in juvie.”

“He did? That seems so unlike him now.”

I think about the man I’ve spent time with, who loves Christmas and helps the homeless and underprivileged kids. I just can’t imagine he was ever that troubled and wild. “So how does a kid go from that kind of life to being Mr. Holiday?”

“It’s because of his grandparents. His grandpa Joe, my grandfather’s brother, took him in and straightened him out when he hit bottom.”

“Hit bottom?”

“That’s what I heard. He ended up living on the streets. His grandparents took him in and worked hard to get him straightened out.”

“Wow. He’s lucky he had them.”

“I’ll say, and his grandma Della loved Christmas. Joe would do the lighting and rig stuff up, but Della was the one who decorated. After Joe passed, Will stepped in and helped her.”

I’m tempted to ask more about Will’s family, but I’m not sure I should. Steph continues to talk about his house and how helping with the holiday setup every year has helped them grow closer.

Warmth floods my heart for both Will and his grandparents, who clearly saved him. The fact that Will has carried on their traditions makes the story that more poignant. I wonder if Paul would be interested in using this angle in the story. But I realize that it would be too personal for Will, so I push the idea out of my mind.

“Anyway,” Steph says, interrupting my thoughts. “I’m just so glad you two hit it off. This is weird to say about my second cousin, but isn’t he gorgeous?”

I grin. “Most definitely.”

“And you’re his type. He likes strong women that are feminine and kind… but also classy.”

“Really?”

“Yeah, probably everything he missed from his mom. Well listen, I’ve got to get back to work but I’m so glad we talked. It’s a big weight off my chest.”

“I’m glad we talked too. And although what you did was wrong, I’m glad you did it.”

“Right, ’cause if I hadn’t, you’d never have met him.” Steph’s grin is a little smug.

“Exactly,” I say as Steph opens the door to head back inside.

“Well, if things work out and there’s ever a wedding, I want an invite.” Steph teases and rushes off before I can assure her not to hold her breath.

E
arly Friday I get ready for our not-really-a-date date, taking my time with everything from putting on makeup to styling my hair in soft curls. As I slip on my dress I think about how much I’m looking forward to seeing Will again. Despite my reservations, the pull to get closer to him is overwhelming.

Will had mentioned taking me to a place on Robertson for dinner. My stomach’s so fluttery I really don’t care where we go. I probably won’t be able to eat much anyway. I’m so nervous because I’ve gone off track with my work ethics and I’m not sure I have the fortitude to get back on. This guy, as crazy as his world is, does something to me.

The buzzer for the main door downstairs goes off.

“Will?”

“You didn’t tell me you live in one of the coolest apartments in L.A.!”

I grin, not surprised that he loves the vintage art deco design and elegant lines of the old building. Judging from the love he puts into his house, he must appreciate classic architecture. “I’ll buzz you in—apartment 6D—so just come on up.”

When I open the door, he pauses for a moment and stares. Finally he steps forward and kisses my cheek.

“Hi, beautiful.” He’s clean-shaven and wearing a sport jacket with his jeans. He definitely looks good… too good.

“Hi, handsome.” I pull the door open wider. “Would you like to come in?”

“Just for a minute so we can make our reservation.” He walks into the living room.

“So how did you know my building? Have you been here before?”

“A year or so before my grandmother died, I brought her here to visit her old friend May. She’d been a wardrobe person for years on the Warner Brothers lot. Even in her old age she had so much style. Her whole apartment was vintage deco furniture.”

“Wow. I’m not sure she still lives here.”

“Probably not, she was pretty old back then. But I’ll never forget her or her place. Yours is pretty great too.” He steps over to the large windows. “Look at your view.”

“Thanks, but my place and view can’t compare to your amazing house.”

“But what about all the Christmas stuff? You really don’t mind it?”

“No I don’t.” It’s not really a fib since I do enjoy it. I just don’t mention that the fact that he devotes so much time to orchestrate all of it makes me worry about him personally.

“You’re not just saying that?”

“No I’m not just saying that because of the shoot. I’m just happy when I’m in your house. I get that excited hopeful feeling I had when I was a kid.” I
am
happy in his house, but I wouldn’t feel the same if it was someone else. It’s Will who makes me happy when I’m there.

He looks really pleased with my answer. He turns to peruse some of my framed art. “I like these pen and ink sketches. I used to do those when I was younger.”

“Really? I imagine they require a lot of patience.”

“Which is why I think I did them. It forced me to slow down and focus, not just be angry at the world all the time.”

“Sounds rough. Were you really like that?”

“Yeah, when I was a teen. Now I draw schematics for the holiday stuff.” He laughs softly. “It’s a little more upbeat.” He glances down at his watch. “But hey, we better get going.”

I like that he has a sense of humor about himself. “Sure, let’s go.”

During the ride down the elevator there’s an awkward silence between us. He drums his fingers against the elevator wall.

“What?” I ask.

He smiles. “I guess I’m nervous. I’ve really been looking forward to this.”

If he only knew.
I step closer and nudge shoulders with him. “Me too.”

He smiles and squeezes my hand just as the door opens.

When we arrive at Chaya Brassiere I realize that Will must have wanted to make a good impression. I’ve heard great things about this place, but even with the wonderful ambience, his face is the only thing I can focus on.

After our food arrives Will asks me about my work. “So did you ever think you’d end up in reality TV when you went to school?”

“Hardly. I wanted to do documentaries. I had this fantasy of working for someone like Joe Berlinger or Bruce Sinosky and working on films like their great
Paradise Lost.
I guess I was a big dreamer. In the end I just couldn’t figure out how to make documentaries and pay my rent and student loans.”

“From what I know, it seems like documentaries would be much more meaningful work to you, but I understand having to pay the bills. And this is an expensive city to live in.”

“It sure is. Unfortunately I couldn’t stay in Portland with my family and work in the film business the way I wanted to. At least I’m learning a lot about production. And I’ve made some connections. So hopefully one day…” I pause, feeling determined as I think about my goals.

“You’ll get there,” he says confidently, offering me a bite of his tiramisu.

I lean forward as he brushes the overflowing spoon against my lips. When I part my lips he eases the spoon inside my mouth. I roll my eyes and sigh before responding.

“So how can you be so sure I’ll get what I want?”

“I just have a feeling that you’re not the kind of woman who settles for less.”

I fold my arms across my chest and tilt my head as I appraise him. I wonder if he sees the fire in my eyes. “I never settle.”

On the drive back to my place, and while stopped at a red light we notice several homeless people gathered at the front of a public park. It reminds me of our recent conversation involving the homeless man he wants me to meet.

When the light turns green and he continues driving, I turn to Will. “Will you tell me more about Hank?”

He nods. “I’ve known him a few years. It’s tenuous at times. He can disappear for weeks at a time, and like anyone on the street he has a hard time trusting people, but there’s something about him. I’d like to think of him as a friend, as much as you can, considering the circumstances. He reminds me in many ways of a middle-aged version of my grandfather.”

“With being homeless, where does he sleep at night?”

“The last I knew it was in a park not too far from my house. There’s heavy tree cover and shrubs along part of the perimeter. A small group of homeless people have set up camp in the section near the freeway, where people can’t see them from the park or street.”

We both remain silent all the way back to my apartment. I stare out my window and remember how one of my classmates had made a short film about an older woman who was homeless. She was friends with a group of runaways who lived on the street, too. It was artfully done and very moving.

Finally Will breaks the silence. “You got quiet. What are you thinking about?”

“I’m just remembering a film about a homeless woman a classmate of mind had made. It’s heartbreaking to wonder what kind of life that must be.”

Stopped at another light, he studies me. “It’s a rough one. Believe me.”

“You sound like you—”

“Yeah, I’ve lived on the street. It wasn’t that long—about nine months when I was a teen—but it was long enough. Believe me. No one should have to suffer the indignity that comes along with that. It messed up my head for a long time.”

I sit stunned. Coming from Will it sounds even darker than Steph’s explanation of his past. He lived on the streets for months? Will’s childhood is sounding worse and worse.
Can I handle knowing exactly how bad it was?

Will shakes his head and looks upset. “I shouldn’t have told you about that.”

I press my hands together. “Don’t say that. Please don’t regret it. I want to know all about you.”

“I feel the same about you,” he says quietly.

Will’s mood remains serious, but when I reach out to hold his hand, his expression softens. I continue to stare out the window as he drives. I can barely sort out the crazy array of emotions surging through me.