The Story of You and Me (18 page)

Huh.
 

A knock on my door broke my thoughts. “Hurry up!” Cole hollered. “We do not want to keep this beautiful Bel-Air family waiting. I bet their BBQ is catered.”

I grabbed my sweater and purse. Kissed Napoleon goodbye on his gorgeous, fuzzy face and exited my front door. “Who the hell has their BBQ catered?” I asked.

“Practically everyone who lives on Copa de Oro in Bel-Air.” Cole rubbed his hands together as we walked toward his immaculate Prius parked at the curb. “The appetizers will be to die for. Unless Alejandro’s family is vegan, the hamburgers will be made with Kobe ground beef. I can’t wait to get the grand tour. I sincerely hope they give a grand tour. What if no one offers the grand tour?” He aimed his keychain at the car and pressed a button. A beep sounded followed by clicking sounds as the doors unlocked.
 

“Calm down. He probably lives in a tract house like the majority of us grew up in.” I got in his car and belted up. “Okay. Make that a tri-level tract house. With…” I thought about it. “…lemon trees.”

Cole laughed and closed the passenger door. “Have you ever seen photos of Bel-Air?”

“Nope.”

He laughed again. “You’re in for a surprise.”

Chapter Sixteen

Alejandro Maxwell Levine’s last minute family BBQ was not catered. I determined that after we were buzzed in at the security entrance. I ascertained that during our excursion through the automatic Spanish styled security gates, down the driveway that was approximately half the length of a football field and parked on the left side of the house next to Alex’s black Jeep. I figured it out when a short man wearing a sombrero waved at us and said, “As much as Mr. Levine would love to greet you at the front door, he is currently grilling. Follow me, please.”
 

We did. The man wearing the festive hat led us though a small side gate, past a dozen wooden vegetable planters filled with a cornucopia of green and red vegetables and fruits. We entered a massive back yard that stretched behind an incredibly large Spanish-styled two-story house.
 

My eyes swept over the house. I suddenly wondered if there’d been a mistake with the sombrero man. Perhaps we’d ended up at a small museum.

Cole hacked and clutched his chest with one hand. “Are you okay?” I hissed.

“I think I might have swallowed my tongue.”

The grassy lawn sloped down toward a pool at the bottom of the estate. A couple of kids goofed around in the water, splashing each other, diving and dunking. There was a pool house adjacent to the tall black wrought iron fence that protected the property’s edge. Families, couples and single folks of all ages chitchatted around casual picnic tables and lawn chairs. An ancient fat Shih Tzu mix dog with a fancy sequined collar waddled from person to person, sniffing the ground next to their feet, nibbling crumbs.

A middle-aged man who resembled a shorter, weathered version of Alejandro wore a full-length chef’s apron and flipped burgers on a fancy grill. “Alida!” he yelled. “Where are the vegetables?”

“They’re in the ground,” a woman said.

“What are they doing there?”
 

“They’re still growing. We planted too late.” A stunning, middle-aged, curvy woman with dark black hair that swirled to her waist walked up to the man. She carried a turquoise platter covered in Saran Wrap.

“Why’d we do that, Alida?” He smiled, leaned down and smooched her on the lips.

“Because, Jacob. You couldn’t make up your mind what kind of tomatoes you wanted. Or if you wanted to grow zucchini, or corn, or both.”

“I’m a piece of work and you still put up with me.”

“Yes you are and yes I do. For you, Señor Levine. Fresh vegetables from the farmer’s market.”

Cole clutched my arm. “Oh my God!” he whispered as he swiveled and gazed at the large Spanish styled house. “I’ve seen pictures of this house before.”

“Oh my God!” I said. “I love that Alex’s parents seem so cool.”

“Whatev. I could swear this used to be Gary Cooper’s house.”

“The movie star Gary Cooper?” I whispered.

“No, the guy who invented Mini-Coopers,” Cole said. “Of course the movie star Gary Cooper.”

“Bonita!” Alejandro popped out of the pool house and strode toward us. He took my hands in his and squeezed them. He eyed me up and down and smiled. “You look so pretty.” He leaned in and kissed me on the cheek, his lips lingering just a little too long. “Am I forgiven?” he whispered into my ear. “I have a great explanation I plan on sharing with you very soon.”

“That depends on the awesomeness of your explanation,” I said, “as well as how great this BBQ is.”

“Ahem,” Cole said.

“Oh, hey Cole.” Alex shook Cole’s hand. “Thanks for hanging out with us and chaperoning my girl here.” He wrapped his arm around my waist and pulled me tight into his side. I spotted Alida watching us. Like a hawk.

“I can’t believe you live in Gary Cooper’s house. I need the tour,” Cole hissed.

“Rumors,” Alex said. “For the tour you need to ask the lady of the house.”
 

Alida took a few steps toward us. “Where are your manners, Alejandro? Introductions,
por favor
.”

“This is my mom, Alida Hernandez Levine.”

Alida nodded at Cole and me. “I’m pleased to meet any of Alejandro’s friends.”

“Mom, I’d like you to meet Cole…”

Cole stuck his hand out, “Cole Frederick. Thank you so much for sharing a meal as well as your beautiful home with us, Mrs. Levine.”

She shook his hand. “You’re welcome, Cole.” Alida smiled at him then turned to me.
 

“Mom, this is Sophie Marie Priebe. I told you about her.”

“So nice to meet you, Mrs. Levine.” I stuck out my hand.
 

She took my hand but then pulled me to her and gave me a quick, warm hug. Then pushed me away for a second, looked me square in my eyes and smiled. “Call me Alida. You’re exactly how Alex described you. Come with me for a few of minutes, yes, Sophie? I’ll give you the tour.”

“But…” Cole entreated.

“Later.” Alex slapped him on the back. “Let me get you something to drink and introduce you to some folks. Dad’s making burgers, brats and veggies.”

“Organic?”

“Hell if I know.”

“I really wanted the tour. Gary Cooper… Oh. My God.” He pointed. “Is that who I think it is? Is that Johnny De—”

Alejandro put his hand on Cole’s shoulder and spun him around. “It’s like being at the zoo, Cole. Don’t disturb the celebs. And definitely don’t feed them. I hear they have special diets.” He steered him toward the kitchen away from Johnny, who munched on his burger.

* * *

I followed Alida from the dining room through an archway that led into a cavernous but casually decorated living room. It smelled of rich leather that covered the large comfy couches, as well as jasmine and sage. The wood floors were dark, distressed planks. A large old fireplace was built into the front wall. Hand-painted Spanish tiles in brilliant, jewel colors comprised its hearth. The back of the living room was filled with windows and wide doors that opened onto the deep informal back yard.

“Alejandro doesn’t bring a lot of girls home,” Alida said. “The last one was several years ago when he was just out of high school. She was older than him. It lasted for a couple of months until she left him and hooked up with a producer who got her onto a show on the CW.”

I nodded.
No wonder he was worried about the CW.

She nodded. “Alejandro’s been sharing bits and pieces of your adventures with me. You went to Chinatown together?”

“Yes.”

“He wasn’t all that thrilled about the acupuncturist.”

“I know. But he was the one who found the two for one advertisement in the Chinese newspaper.”
 

She laughed. “I taught him well! Follow me.” She walked toward a hallway at the opposite end of the room.

I gazed out the windows into the back yard and spotted Alejandro staring at me as helped his dad at their gigantic BBQ. He raised his eyebrows and shot me a questioning look.

I shrugged my shoulders. I thought things between his mom and I were going okay. I really couldn’t be sure because I hadn’t met that many moms since I was diagnosed. Honestly? I hadn’t met any.

The wind picked up, swerved and carried the BBQ’s smoke right into Alex and his dad’s faces. They turned away and coughed. His dad dropped the lid down on the grill. “Another ungodly hot, dry summer. Don’t want to be starting a fire.”

“Highly unlikely that would happen in lower Bel Air, Mr. Levine.” Cole was upwind and untouched by the smoke. He held a colorful plate filled with food and munched like his life depended on it. “It’s much worse in canyon country and the mountains.”

“Do you want to see the rest of the house, Sophie?” Alida asked.

“Yes!” I ripped my eyes off Alejandro and turned toward her. She was already in the hallway while I was still in the living room staring at her son like some groupie with a crush on a young pop star. “Absolutely.” I strode toward her.

* * *

We climbed a tall staircase with large, square, rose terra cotta Spanish paver tiles on the steps and a black wrought iron railing lining the sides. “Alejandro says you are from Wisconsin. Must be pretty different than our strange city. Are you enjoying your time in L.A.?”

“Yes.”

“He said you’re in summer session. But that he’s helping to drive you to different healers in the city. Some project you’re working on with your grandmother?”

“Oh yes. He’s been great. I’m not sure I could have done this without him. This city’s so overwhelming. It’s huge, and unless you’ve got a photographic memory for numbers, who can remember and navigate all the freeways let alone the side streets?”

She smiled. “I remember when I first came to L.A. I felt like I landed in Oz.”

“Exactly!” I said. “I keep wondering where the man behind the curtain is. But knowing me, I’d get lost on my way to the Emerald City and never find the curtain, let alone the man.”

“I have a feeling you’ve found the man,” she said.

My face turned hot and I sincerely hoped it was only pink and not bright red.

We walked down a long hallway with thick wooden doors that were all closed. “Bedrooms, bathrooms, you’re not missing anything. I grew up in Mexico. Didn’t come here until I was around your age.”

“What brought you to L.A.?” I asked.

She eyed me.

“I mean, if that’s okay for me to ask? You don’t have to tell me.”
 

“
Está bien
, Sophie.” Alida opened a door to a large modern office filled with a three-part desk unit and state of the art computers, printers and phones. The desk was filled with paperwork, a few headshots and stacks of scripts, as well as books. Movie and TV posters hung on the walls. There was a sweet view of the USCLA campus in the near distance. “This is Mr. Levine’s office.”

“It’s nice.” I realized I didn’t know what Alex’s parents did for a living. I’d been out of the dating scene for so long, that I didn’t know if that was normal or not. Technically, Alex and I weren’t dating.
 
We’d only shared one kiss. He was just my Driver.
 

“Alejandro’s dad is an Entertainment Manager. He guides the careers for screenwriters, a few novelists, showrunners and directors.”

“Oh.” Sounded kind of like an agent of sorts to me.

“Jacob works very hard. He’s down to earth and honest. His clients love him. Producers and studios trust him.” She beckoned. “Come with me.”

We left the room and continued down the hallway. I noticed the framed photographs that hung on the walls. They all had a similar tone, a feel. Like they were taken by the same photographer. Someone who wasn’t scared to dive into a subject’s head. Root around, find the emotion and capture the real picture.

“You have a beautiful home, Mrs. Levine.”

“Thank you. Call me Alida.” She opened the door at the end of the hallway. “Nothing exciting. Just my studio.”

I followed her inside a jewel of a room. French doors opened onto a small balcony that overlooked the back yard. Dozens of framed photos hung on the walls. A large, dark, wooden Mission desk was located in the center of one wall under the photos.

I leaned in and examined a few. A photo of an orphanage in Mexico. A small weathered woman wearing a nun’s habit gazed directly into the camera, a patient look on her worn face. Around her, kids made faces, barely holding their energy inside for the second it took for the photographer to snap the picture. The signature at the bottom of the photo read:
Alida Hernandez Levine.
She was the photographer who wasn’t scared to show someone’s beauty or another’s pain.

“These are all yours?” I asked.

“Yes.”

“They’re amazing. When did you start taking pictures?”

“When I was a kid in Mexico City. My mother was Spanish and a teacher. My father was American and a salesman. I had one older sister and one younger. My parents separated when I was seven years old. We girls stayed with my mother and visited my father once a year in the States. The first trip I begged my dad for a camera so I could remember all our moments. Every piece of our stories.”

“That must have been tough,” I said.

She shrugged. “It was the only reality we knew. When I was fifteen, my mother remarried. Señor Perez was a nice enough man. A diplomat, of sorts. My mother offered her daughters a choice: Travel the world, which meant changing schools once a year. Or go live with our father.”

“What did you do?” I hadn’t seen or even head from my dad in thirteen years. I couldn’t even imagine making a crazy decision like that at such a young age.

“Have you ever been to Nebraska in the winter?” she asked.

“No.”

“They have minus forty wind-chill and very large steaks.”

“I’m used to minus forty. But I’d really like those steaks.”

She cracked a smile. “My sisters stayed with my mama and explored the world. I chose my dad and traveled America. I learned not only about Nebraskan steaks, but Iowa corn, river rafting in Utah and picking blueberries in Michigan. When I was eighteen my dad got a job in L.A. There were beaches and mountains. Fall colors, skiing and deserts. And then I ran into the best part of Los Angeles.”