Comedy of Erinn (20 page)

T
he wrap party was going to be held at the Black Sheep. Erinn tried to stay relaxed—after all, she had paid good money for that massage. But every time she thought of Jude, she could feel herself tense. She tried to write the script for the party, but her mind seized. There were too many possible subplots to even contemplate.

A month ago, she was happy, living in her solitary world.

Well,
happy
might be too strong a word.

But she had had nothing to worry about but the bills. Now, she was reeling from the complications of juggling two men—if only for this evening.

And I have to worry about the bills all over again.
She thought sadly about the abrupt cancellation. Massimo was still her tenant and his rent check would help until the next production job came along.
What if the next production job doesn't come along?
she wondered.

She told herself that now was not the time to complicate the situation on the home front.

During the afternoon, instead of dozing after the massage, she'd hit the town. She took in a few historic sites, but couldn't keep her mind on anything the docents had to say, so she threw in the towel and went to Macy's. While Erinn was not one for shopping, she excused herself because this Macy's was a historic landmark.

Founded in 1866, John Wanamaker pioneered a shopping concept that would morph into our present-day idea of a “department store.” In 1911, he opened Wanamaker's in downtown Philadelphia to huge success. Throughout the decades, the store had seen some rough days. It used to break Erinn's heart in the eighties, on excursions from New York, to see such a grand building in decline, but Macy's had swooped in several years ago and the structure now shined.

Erinn was flooded with nostalgia as she ran her hand over the huge bronze statue of an eagle that was the centerpiece of the Grand Court. This famous feature, which John Wanamaker had purchased at the St. Louis World's Fair in 1904, had become an immediate meeting spot for the locals. Generations of Philadelphians rendezvoused in Center City with the saying, “Meet me at the Eagle.” Erinn was glad to see the eagle had weathered the storm, and while she had no one to “meet at the Eagle,” she thought fondly back to the days when she had.

Erinn looked through racks of clothes, having no idea what she was looking for. It took her a while just to figure out what size she was. Where was Suzanna when she needed her? She pulled out a black turtleneck in a size ten and held it up to her body. She was contemplating the fabric, when a slim young woman, clearly another shopper, stood beside her.

“That's really cool,” the young woman said. “Do you think they have it in a size zero?”

“That-a-way,” Erinn pointed to the other end of the rack.

Size zero? Erinn couldn't imagine such a thing. In her day, size five was considered about as small as a woman could be and still stand upright.

Her cell phone rang. Erinn put on her half-moons and looked at the phone—it was Mimi.

“Hello?” Erinn said.

“Hey, sweetie. Just checking in. You doing OK with the cancellation?”

Erinn caught a glimpse of herself with her recently toned body from weeks of camera work. She was wearing her new Victoria's Secret bra and boy-cut panties under her clothes and knew, just like the mythic Victoria, she was looking good!

“Holding up magnificently, if I do say so myself.”

“You OK? This doesn't sound like you.”

“Gotta go, Mimi,” Erinn said. “I'm going to a party and I'm not ready.”

“What? All right, who is this, and what have you done with my client?”

Erinn laughed and snapped the phone shut. Mimi—and the world—would just have to get used to the “new” Erinn. Or the return of the “old” Erinn from long ago. It depended on how you looked at it.

 

Erinn couldn't remember when she'd spent so much time preparing for a party. She couldn't remember the last time she had even
attended
a party! She pulled the black turtleneck out of its Macy's bag, wiggled into her jeans, and added her new heeled shoes and some dangling earrings. She knew not to go overboard with the makeup. She gathered the nice clothes were already going to come as a shock to her co-workers. Better not to go nuts. She fluffed her hair and added the lipstick that Suzanna had bought her.

She studied herself. She looked pretty good for forty-three. But she didn't look twenty-three or even thirty-three. She was no Giselle—she knew that. Now that she was back in the world, Erinn wondered if this insecurity came with the territory. She grabbed her coat and keys and headed down to the Black Sheep.

Carlos and Gilroi were already in the bar. Erinn let out her breath—she realized she had been holding it in anticipation of seeing either Massimo or Jude. The boys made appreciative noises at the change in Erinn's appearance, but not to the point that she felt self-conscious. Erinn spotted a familiar-looking woman buying a glass of white wine at the bar and tried to place her. Then she realized who it was.

Cary!

Cary caught Erinn's eye and threaded her way toward the group.

“Surprise!” Cary said.

The boys had already seen her, and they laughed that extra-hearty laugh underlings dredge up when their superior is around.

“What are you doing here?” Erinn asked.

“Well, I just felt so bad that we got canceled. So I flew in to be with my team on the last day.”

“I guess that means the company is going to pay for the wrap party,” Gilroi said.

“Have you met us?” Cary said. “The party is Dutch—as usual.”

“Whatever,” Carlos said. “They can take away our show, but they can't take away our wrap party.”

Gilroi jumped up, pulling Erinn to her feet. She found herself dancing cheek to cheek with Gilroi while he crooned along to the Gershwin tune “They Can't Take That Away from Me.”

The music abruptly changed to “El Pollo de Lamontitos,” an easy salsa number, and Carlos cut in. It only took Erinn a minute to remember the steps and even throw in a dance embellishment here and there, much to everyone's delight.

Erinn thought back to an evening a little over a year ago. Before Eric had finally announced his feelings for Suzanna, her sister had decided to take salsa lessons, in a desperate bid for independence; fifteen years of holding still, longing for Eric, was enough. She had developed a monstrous crush on her dance instructor and threw herself—in Erinn's opinion—shamelessly at him. Suzanna thought nobody was the wiser, but Erinn's sisterly intuition was in high gear and she knew something was up. And she knew in her bones that the dance instructor had no real interest in her sister.

On Suzanna's birthday, a group of her closest friends were going to have a surprise party for her. Erinn knew that Suzanna was going dancing before the party. While Erinn was brushing her teeth, she conjured up various scenarios for the evening—a habit many writers shared. In one vivid scenario, Suzanna and the dance instructor wound up looking for a place to carry out their passion. Erinn stopped brushing her teeth mid-stroke.

Erinn made sure the guesthouse was locked before she left for the party. She couldn't be sure it had made any difference, but it didn't matter now—Suzanna was with the love of her life.

As the song ended, Carlos dipped Erinn dramatically to the floor and back. Suzanna looked around the room for Jude, secretly hoping he'd seen her great dance moves. He was nowhere to be found, but Erinn was extremely optimistic about the future. She hoped he showed up in time to dance.

Breathless, Erinn returned to the table, and Cary handed her the hard cider that had magically appeared.

“You really seem to have come into your own,” Cary said. “The crew loves you.”

Erinn nodded. “It's been a great experience. I'm sorry it's over.”

“Well . . . we have something coming up in about a month—” Cary started, but was interrupted by Massimo.

Cary and Massimo exchanged a European double-cheek kiss, which surprised Erinn. She hadn't realized the two of them had met. But Cary had been reviewing the footage, and she probably now felt she knew Massimo. He had been a fantastic General Washington! Massimo turned to Erinn.

“May I have this dance?” he asked.

Erinn listened. They were playing “Innamorata,” sung by Dean Martin. Erinn looked at Cary, who shrugged.

“I'm not going anyplace,” Cary said. “Go dance. We'll talk later.”

Massimo led Erinn to the dance floor. He was wearing a beautifully cut new suit and wore it well. He pulled Erinn close. She quickly looked toward the door. If Jude came in now, she'd be hard pressed to convince him that she wasn't with the Italian poser dude. She tried to relax into the dance, but as they swayed, she caught Gilroi's eye. He wiggled his eyebrows lasciviously. She pointed to him accusingly and mouthed
Not helping.
Gilroi laughed.

“Bella mia,”
Massimo breathed into her ear. “This is good, yes?”

“
Sì
. . . yes,” Erinn said, distracted.

“I will tell you the truth, Erinn,” Massimo said, pulling her closer. “I owe you my life. George Washington was my greatest role.”

“Oh, well, a simple thank-you would do.”

Massimo stopped dancing.

“No! My life!”

Erinn got their feet going again. She was actually glad Massimo had presented this opening.

“Well, when I get another job, I'll try to get you another great role. But in the meantime, I'll go back to . . . well, something . . . and you'll go back to the restaurant . . . and the guesthouse.”

“
Cara mia,
it breaks my heart to tell you this, but I must. To be George Washington, I . . .
come si dice?
. . . I leave the restaurant.”

“You left the restaurant? You mean, you have no job?”

“I did this for you!”

Erinn could see the hurt in his eyes. And she realized that if he had asked if he should quit, she would have supported the decision. After all, she had needed a General Washington.

“OK. It's OK . . . we'll work it out,” she said.

“And I will stay in the house with you and we can rent the guesthouse to someone new, yes?”

Erinn was having a hard time focusing. If there was no Jude, she might just say yes to this. But there was Jude. She shot another look at the door. Or was there?

The song ended, and Massimo escorted Erinn graciously back to the table. He bowed to Erinn, then to Cary, and then melted into the crowd.

“Damn, he's hot,” Cary said, toasting Erinn. “You seem to have all the boys at your feet.”

Erinn flushed. It wasn't true, she knew, but as Mimi always said, façade was everything, so she demurred. Erinn was anxious to get back to Cary's conversation. She took a sip of cider.

“You mentioned you might have a new show coming up?”

“Yes,” Cary said. “It's really exciting—and something very different for the History Network. It's a challenge show. And it takes place . . . drum roll please . . . in a lighthouse.”

Erinn froze. All sound and movement stopped.

“Like
Survivor
?” she whispered.

“Just like
Survivor
!” Cary said. “Isn't it divine?”

“Extremely divine,” Erinn said, trying to control the tremor in her hand. “Where did you find such a . . . divine . . . concept?”

“Well, I can't say—confidentiality and all that crap.” Cary winked at Erinn. “But I can tell you we got the idea from someone we all know and love.”

Erinn pushed the cider away. Jude was the only one who knew about the lighthouse. The room started to spin. There had to be some reasonable explanation.

“I . . . need to talk to Jude,” Erinn said suddenly.

“Well, good luck—I haven't seen him in the last hour.”

“He was here?”

“Before you arrived, yes. As a matter of fact, we were talking about the lighthouse idea. Wink, wink, nudge, nudge.”

The room started folding in on Erinn. Cary looked alarmed.

“Erinn? Are you OK?”

“I will be,” Erinn said. “I'm just feeling a little light-headed. I must have had too much to drink.”

“You've had half a cider.”

“I'm going to go back to the hotel. I'll be fine.”

She started toward the door, but Massimo stopped her.

“Erinn!” he said. “I will walk with you, no?”

“No,” Erinn said. “I . . . Massimo, I need you to go back to Los Angeles with the team. Take care of Caro.”

“Where will you be?”

“I'll be . . . I'm taking a vacation. Please go back and take care of the cat.”

Erinn staggered out of the pub and gulped the night air. She commanded herself not to cry.
How could I be so foolish?
she asked herself as she made her way blindly toward the hotel.
He was just trying to charm me so he could steal my idea.

All the way home, Erinn tried to think of possibilities that would leave Jude in the clear.

As she entered her room, she stepped on the speedy checkout notice, which had been slid under the door. She picked it up to put it on the desk, when she noticed another, smaller piece of paper underneath.