Winter Jacket: Finding Home (8 page)

My mind began to wander as I considered plot points for future episodes. I thought about the symbolic moment when Paige crossed that interspecies line to sit on the side of the classroom with the other mutants.

“Moving on!” a man with a long beard yelled out, jolting me from my thoughts.

The other writers and even Troian visibly relaxed at his words.

“What does that mean?” I whispered.

“It means we’re one scene closer to going home,” Troian noted. “Hey, do you want to come over for dinner tonight? Nik’s making stuff on the grill.”

“Do I have a choice?” I would never turn down a free meal, but I liked to give my friend a hard time.

“Nope. But I thought I’d pretend to be nice.”

“First time for everything,” I teased back.

At the end of the workday, Troian drove us to her apartment, which I had yet to see. The studio had originally hosted Troian and Nikole in a lavish, Beverly Hills mansion when they’d first made the move to California. They’d been able to live on the property rent free, courtesy of the studio, until they’d found something more permanent. I knew Troian had been hoping to buy a house and establish some real roots, but because of the uncertainty of the job, they’d opted for a rental property, also located in the same area as the production lot.

Even though our apartment complexes weren’t too far away from each other—only a few miles—they might as well have been worlds apart. Unlike my dated, worn apartment village, the high rise where Troian and Nikole lived was sleek and modern and clean.

A staff member in a crisp polo shirt welcomed us when we entered the ground-level lobby. “Welcome home, Ms. Smith,” he greeted with a pearly veneer smile.

“Thanks, Robert,” Troian returned.

I followed my friend deeper into the belly of the building. Warm sunshine poured unfiltered through the floor-to-ceiling glass, fighting with the central air conditioning for dominance, and a water feature trickled down one wall like a built-in waterfall.

“You basically live in a gated community,” I remarked as we made our way to a bank of elevators.

“It’s to keep riffraff like you out,” she fired back.

We stopped in front of the elevators and Troian pressed the up button. “So this funny metal box is called an elevator.” She spoke slowly as though to a child. “It transports you from one floor to another.”

I cocked an eyebrow. “Did you hit your head?”

“Based on that crack house you call an apartment, I assumed you’d forgotten about modern conveniences.”

“It’s not that bad,” I continued to defend even though I had no reason to. I hadn’t even been the one who’d picked out the apartment. I wondered whom I had to blame for that. “And it’s only three floors,” I added. “An elevator would be overkill.”

“Just say the word and I’ll get you out of there.”

“I don’t suppose you and Nik are in the market for a roommate?” I said, not really meaning it. Co-habitation would be the fastest way to ruin our friendship.

“You wish,” she snorted.

Troian’s apartment was on the ninth floor of the twenty-story complex. It was high enough to provide views of the valley and mountains, but low enough that rent wasn’t astronomical. Like the building itself, her apartment had a modern design covered in stainless steel, polished concrete countertops, and marble floors.

“Hey, babe?” Troian called out as we stood in the foyer.  She waited a moment, but no response came. “She must be on the balcony,” she thought aloud.

My nose was hit with the smoky sweet scent of grilled meat and barbeque sauce when Troian slid open a glass door in the kitchen that led out to a spacious balcony large enough for a patio table, four chairs, and a gas grill.

I saw Nikole from the backside first. Barefoot and dressed in a tank top and cut-off shorts, she swayed to a silent beat, probably the one coming from the headphones attached to her ears.

Her body jerked to attention and she tugged the earbuds out of her ears when I let loose a piercing wolf whistle.

“Damn, girl, you’re looking good,” I approved.

She turned on her heel and rewarded me with a mega-watt smile. “You’re not so bad yourself, Professor.”

Her long arms wrapped around me, and we shared a tight embrace. I hadn’t seen her in months, but the familiarity of the hug was soothing to my soul.

“You smell like meat and hard work,” I said. “I like it.”

I heard Troian clear her throat after our hug lasted a moment too long. “Okay, you two,” she grunted. “Hands where I can see them.”

I released Nikole from the hug and held up my hands, fingers wiggling. “Sorry, Boss. You know I have a hard time controlling myself around your lady.”

“Boss?” Nicole echoed. “Oh, no. I’m putting an end to that right now.”

“But I
am
her boss,” Troian said with a slight stomp of her foot. “And as my first official boss declaration, I’m making you come to a work party with me Saturday.”

“I didn’t really pack anything appropriate for a Hollywood party.” My typical work uniform had consisted of blouses and pencil skirts, but I’d left most of those at home; they would be too formal for the t-shirt and jeans lifestyle of a television writer.

“Did you bring a bathing suit?” she asked.

“Yes?” I said with hesitation, not liking where this was headed.

“Then you’re fine,” Troian assured me. “The party’s on a boat.”

“A yacht,” Nikole corrected. “It’s excessive,” she said waving her grilling tools. “You’ll hate it.”

“It belongs to the show’s creative consultant,” Troian added. “She’s loaded—or her husband’s family is, I think.”

“Jane?” I recalled the name from earlier in the day.

“Wow. You’re a quick study,” Troian remarked.

“Or else Gloria’s really gossipy,” I countered. “Do I have to go?”

“I wish you would; I have to make an appearance,” Troian sighed. “And I would rather not go alone.”

“So take Nik with you,” I said. “Isn’t that what fiancées are for?”

Nikole snorted and returned to the grill. I could hear the meat sizzling over the open flames, and my stomach nearly growled in response.

“She hates that kind of stuff,” Troian noted. “She might look like an angel, but it’s all a front. That girl can only wear a fake smile for so long before she starts knocking heads together.”

Nikole smiled and shrugged because Troian spoke the truth. She’d always been better with plants than with people. She had tolerance for weeds and misplaced flowers, but not so much for stupid people.

“So you expect me to not only make small talk with strangers, but to do that in my bikini?” I deadpanned.

“I said nothing about bikinis,” Troian retorted. “You’re the one so eager to take off your clothes. Geez, Bookie,” she said with mock disapproval. “What would Hunter stay?”

“Speaking of Hunter,” I said, ignoring Troian’s attempt to be funny, “I should probably call her and check in before she goes to work.”

Troian made a noise like a whip cracking, but I was used to her antics. I excused myself and went back inside for privacy. I didn’t venture far though and called Hunter from the kitchen. When she answered the phone, I could hear the sounds of traffic in the background.

“Hey, babe,” she answered cheerfully. “How was your first day at work?”

“Overwhelming,” I admitted, “but I’ll get the hang of it in time.”

“That’s a good attitude,” she remarked.

“I don’t think I have a choice in that.” I leaned against the kitchen countertop. “It’s either sink or swim out here.”

“Do you really think Troian would fire you if you don’t do a good job?”

“Her neck is on the line, too. She’s on a talent contract with the studio, so if this show tanks, she’ll still have a job. But nobody likes to fail even if they have a safety net.”

I was in the same boat; if script writing didn’t work out for me, my job at the university was waiting for me, along with my girlfriend and my unaffectionate cat. But I wanted to return to my old life knowing I had succeeded at something else, not go back because of failure and necessity. 

“That’s true,” Hunter mused. “Listen, babe, I really wish I could talk more, but I’m just driving up to work right now.”

“I figured that,” I frowned.

It was two hours later in Minnesota, but because of her unorthodox hours at the hospital she was usually on her way to work just as my day was ending. It hadn’t been a challenge to see each other over the summer because of the flexibility of my schedule, but with me in California, we would have to make a concerted effort to find time to talk if she continued to work second or third shift.

“I’ll call you when I get a break though,” she promised. “I want to hear all about your exciting first day. Every boring detail.”

“Sounds like a plan. I’ll be sure to be extra boring.”

“I can’t wait.” I heard her car turn off and the chime of keys still in the ignition. “I’m glad to hear it went well though. I’m proud of you.”

When I returned out to the balcony, Nikole continued to tend to dinner on the grill and Troian was at the patio table, with her phone inches from her nose. I handed Nikole a bottle of beer that I’d found in the refrigerator.

“You’re an angel,” she smiled. We clicked bottles together.

“How’s Hunter?” Troian asked. “Still wanting to punch me?”

I wrinkled my nose and took a pull from my beer. “You’re not going to let that drop, are you?”

“Nope,” she said, not looking away from her phone.

Ignored by Troian, I returned my attention to Nikole. “How is wedding planning going? I got the save the date right before I left Minnesota.”

“Slow,” she frowned. “It would be easier if we were having the wedding back in Minnesota because I’d be more familiar with the vendors. But I’ve been informed that we have to have a California wedding because Troi can’t take the time off.”

“Well, if you need help with anything, let me know,” I offered. “I am the Best Woman, after all.”

“Still not a thing,” Troian announced from the table.

I waved a dismissive hand. “You just go back to your phone,” I said. “But speaking of Best Woman duties, do you guys want a joint bachelorette party or do you want your debauchery separate from each other?”

“I do not have time for any of that foolishness,” Troian said stiffly.

Nikole frowned and shook her grilling tongs at her partner. “You need to take a break, babe. You’re gonna burn yourself out.”

But Troian was too distracted by the text on her phone to respond.

“She’s completely freaking out,” Nikole said, lowering her voice. “She thinks the show will tank if she takes a moment to enjoy life.”

“So I’ve noticed,” I said with a frown. “Which is why I won’t even suggest we fly home for a weekend and have a bachelorette party at Peggy’s.”

“Thank God for small miracles,” Nikole said with a visible shudder. “I love Peggy’s, but I don’t even want to think about who you’d get as strippers from the local talent.”

“Strippers, huh?” I raised my eyebrows.

“You did say it was a bachelorette party, right?” Nik pointed out.

“Duly noted,” I chuckled. I lowered my voice and leaned conspiratorially toward Nikole. “So how are we going to convince Troian to take a night off for a little mischief?”

A slow smile spread across Nikole’s face. It almost made me feel sorry for Troian. “You leave that part to me.”

Chapter FOUR

The day was hot and the sun was at its highest point in the sky, which was the only reason I was happy to be wearing a bikini. Troian similarly wore a bikini top, but she’d paired her swimwear with board shorts in contrast to the long skirt I had wrapped tightly around my waist. I could feel the heat of the pavement through the thin soles of my sandals as we crossed the parking lot and made our way down to the docks. I’d grown up on the Great Lakes, but I’d never seen a harbor like this. Massive boats—bona fide yachts—more expensive than any house I’d ever live in, bobbed up and down on the horizon. The smell of barbeque was in the air, reminding me of a tailgating party.

“Am I ready for this?” I worried aloud, nervously adjusting the knot of the sarong tied snug around my waist.