Ginny Blue's Boyfriends (14 page)

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Authors: Nancy Kelly

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“I’ve got something to take care of,” I said, glancing at the clock.
“No problemo.” Charlie grinned and he and Hog started digging through their Sav-On sacks.
I headed out the door, hoping my condo would still be standing when I returned and that my neighbor wouldn’t call the cops.
Chapter
9
L
iam Engleston’s restaurant was closed by the time I got there. It was nearly midnight. I guess I’d hoped the bar would at least still be open, but as the place was centered in the business district, everything was shut tight. Nobody hangs around this section of LA for late-night partying.
I was going to have to wait to confront Liam the next day, which was too bad, as I was spoiling for a fight tonight. I’d probably known this at some level but I was so infuriated with the rat that I’d run out of my condo like a madwoman. Anger still coursed through me. I wanted to spit and rant and throw myself at the door. General-usage swear words could not cover how I felt.
And I sure as hell didn’t want to go home to Charlie and Hog.
As I drove away from Liam’s restaurant, I castigated myself for listening to the crew about Liam and even meeting with the man in the first place. How
could
he send that bill?
Gnashing my teeth, I hit the gas and tore down the 10 back toward Santa Monica. I was not in a logical frame of mind, to say the least. This is my explanation and excuse for what happened next.
I veered off to see Sean.
I had not made the colossal mistake of stopping in at his place earlier, though I’d been invited. Nobody, but nobody, drops in on a guy as young as Sean. (Let’s just start with the decorating motif of most straight males under thirty, if you get my drift.) And then there’s the whole, “what does this mean?” thing. I did not want a sexual relationship with Sean, and with that in mind, I had decided early on that I didn’t want to get myself into any place/scene/abode that was “too comfortable.”
But here I was, parking the car, yanking on the brake, and walking up to Sean’s front door. It was no surprise he resided in a tired-looking apartment building south of Pico and on the eastern border of Santa Monica. I immediately realized my fears about getting too comfortable were unfounded. Nothing about his place could remotely get me in the mood for a sexual romp. Peeking through the windows I saw the front room was a place where pizza boxes came to die.
I would have turned right there, tiptoeing back to my car, but his door flew open and there he was—in boxer shorts and a blue cloud of marijuana smoke.
“Hey, Blue!” He was delighted to see me.
“Hey, yourself. Thought I’d stop by and say hello, but y’know, it wasn’t such a good idea. I’m beat. Maybe we can get together tomorrow.”
My words tumbled from my lips in rapid succession but Sean was deaf and heedless as he ushered me inside the tiny, messy room. “My roommate’s gone ’til Saturday. Death in the family. He lives in some place in Minnesota. Here, have a seat.” He swept pizza boxes and crusts out of the way and patted a worn-looking pad with his hand. Dust, or maybe flour—or, God forbid, dog dander—poofed upward. I struggled with my phobias and managed to perch on the edge.
“Do you have pets?” I asked.
“Nah ... hey, I haven’t seen you at all lately,” Sean said. “You’ve been in that office and on the shoot you were just ... whew ... really a bitch!” He laughed. “God. I thought you were like somebody new. Like a pod-person, or something, y’know. Like
Invasion of the Body Snatchers
.”
“I just had a job to do. Bettina brought in the rest of your petty cash receipts.”
“Ah, yeah ... kind of a mess, huh?” He rubbed a hand through his hair, yawned, then patted his bare stomach. The guy did have nice pecs and abs. He was young enough to have a firm body with minimal ritualistic workouts. I instantly imagined what it would be like to be naked with him, his taut body pressed against mine. But the pizza boxes stayed in my peripheral vision ...
“I shouldn’t have come over here this late.” I tried to rise, but he waved me back down, accidentally slapping my arm in the process. I lost my balance and fell, half sprawling onto the sofa. Instantly I thought of cooties. All kinds. With an effort I tried to crush these traitorous thoughts, but I suddenly felt itchy all over.
“Y’wanna smoke?” He searched through a pile of stuff on one of the end tables—matching scarred garage sale rejects.
“No, thanks.” I made myself sit back. Sean smoked another joint and babbled happily away about—oh, hell, I have no idea. I wasn’t there any longer. Not in spirit, anyway. I’d jumped back to my anger at Liam Engleston. What an asshole. I’d never hired him and he knew it. No contract had been signed. His ploy was just meant to infuriate me and it was working.
In an effort to stop roiling about it, I pulled my thoughts from Liam to Charlie and Hog. I wasn’t exactly horrified that they were at my condo, although that was pretty close. I was also bemused—no
astounded
—that I’d ever had anything in common with Charlie. High school is like this cult we live in for a few years then drift away from because— luckily—we graduate. The binding factor for members is merely locality, at least for public schools ... a proximity to each other on the planet.
And some people, like Charlie, seem to stay there, happily cocooned in the cult.
I inhaled, and definitely took in some secondhand smoke. Well, fine. I could probably use some self-medication. I grimaced. Who was I to judge Charlie, anyway? I’d found my way over to Sean’s tonight, hadn’t I? This wasn’t exactly something to be proud of.
“Sean ...”
“Shhh,” he said, a finger over his lips. “Y’hear that?”
“No.”
“Y’don’t?”
“No,” I reiterated.
“Oh. Yeah. It’s the washing machine. The coin-ops are directly beneath my unit. Sometimes I can hear ’em.”
“Romantic,” I said, and Sean nodded. He was not a man for sarcasm.
“Hey, I hear we might be going to Sedona,” he said with return of animation.
I was surprised. “Holly talked to you about it already?”
“Uh-huh. I’m driving a cube truck over.”
I had a sudden vision of Sean driving, weaving and sucking on a joint. I imagined a wrecked rental truck and the ensuing insurance woes and expense to the production company. Already it felt like my fault. I hadn’t frowned on his extracurricular activities. Hell, I’d been egging him on, buying dope off him, encouraging his behavior. Good god.
I fretted, wondering if I was going to have to get in the middle of this, too. If I’d just left Sean alone I wouldn’t be embroiled in this.
“Jesus,” I muttered, getting to my feet.
“Where ya goin’?”
“Home, Sean. I’ll talk to you later.” I patted him on the shoulder. He climbed onto a pair of wobbly legs, but couldn’t seem to find the energy to see me to the door. I practically ran outside and gulped clean, LA air—such as it is.
I drove home and into the bunker, parking in my spot. My feet were leaden as they approached my front door. I could hear music and loud conversation. Wincing, I put the key in the lock and entered.
Charlie and Hog were sitting on the two rickety bar stools, drinking and shouting at each other. Kristl stood to one side in silent disgust, clearly trying to figure out what to do. She turned to me. “My one night off where I can get some sleep and look.”
“Sorry,” I said.
“Blue, I’ve decided to move in with Brandon. I was going to tell you, but ...” She shrugged.
I shrugged right back. “You’re getting married anyway, right? It was just a matter of time.”
She clamped her lips shut. What more was there to say?
Our conversation was set against a loud backdrop of male voices as Charlie and Hog downed their brewskies. Luckily, they seemed to be pretty happy drunks. I told them they could sleep on the couch and/or the floor and mentioned the blankets in the entry closet. Whether they heard me I couldn’t say. I followed Kristl upstairs, aware that her back was inordinately stiff; she was pissed.
“What are you going to do with them?” she asked at the corner landing.
“Sleep on it.”
“Blue ...”
She was getting ready to blow. Kristl’s Irish temper is generally kept well under rein—a result of her Libra rising, she’d once told me—but my snappish remark about her upcoming nuptials had gotten to her. I could see the flush gather beneath her skin.
I cut her off at the pass. “I don’t know what I’m going to do with them. I’ll figure it out. And look, moving in with Brandon is okay.”
My capitulation took all the fight out of her. “We’re moving to Seattle,” she said. “I don’t want to go.”
I eyed her. The guys downstairs were bellowing with laughter. I hoped my walls were thicker than I believed. “Then don’t.”
“I have to. I’m getting married.”
“Why, Kristl?”
I hadn’t meant to sound so imploring, but my words had the effect of straightening her spine once more. “Because I love him,” she said.
I turned toward my bedroom.
Yeah. Sure.
 
 
I was a lot more clear-headed with the dawn. I got up, did a quick jog up to Bundy and around, showered, and was actually taking the time to blow my hair dry rather than let it dry naturally when I heard a light tapping on my bedroom door. I opened it cautiously, afraid of confronting either Charlie or Hog, though it was probably way too early in the morning for either of them.
It was Kristl. “I packed my stuff last night,” she said. “I’ll probably be out of here by this afternoon.”
“Okay.”
She seemed to want me to say something more. I couldn’t think of what that might be, so I simply folded her into my arms for a quick good-bye hug. When I released her, she stepped back quickly. I could swear she had tears in her eyes, but truthfully, I wasn’t feeling the same sentiment. Though I wanted her to know there were no hard feelings, I definitely felt impatient with her and her need—compulsion, really—to be married. Everybody has a certain amount of weirdness, and I guess this is hers.
I realized I was going to be living totally alone very soon, which momentarily made me feel sad ... and worried. Rent was going to be a factor. I needed a roommate to help with the bills.
I reached the lower floor and smelled the beery, stale scent of Charlie and Hog’s “good time.” Hog was asleep on the couch; a beached whale in a white T-shirt and red boxers. Charlie was snoozing on the carpet, lying on his back, mouth open, face clear of worry and concern. I flashed back to the 50-yard line and involuntarily shuddered.
“So, what do you guys do for a living?” I asked as an opening salvo into their alcohol-fueled, coma-like slumber.
Hog, who’d been softly snoring, jerked awake. “Huh?”
“When you’re not on vacation?” I asked. I, myself, was mentally preparing for my upcoming conversation with Liam Engleston. Now that my ire had cooled somewhat, I was even beginning to think the telephone might be a better instrument than a face-to-face encounter.
“We’re going to Tijuana,” Hog said, herding his bulk into a sitting position. He pronounced Tijuana in a “tee-yuh-wahn-ah” drawl.
That information I already possessed. “But what do you do for a living?”
“Oh.” He rubbed the half-inch stubble on his head. “Yeah. We do computers.”
Charlie lifted his head at this last and said, “Fix hardware.”
I was pleased and a little surprised that they were actually employed. “You always were a fat brain,” I told Charlie.
He grinned. “Yeah?”
“Got bad grades on purpose.”
“Just didn’t give a shit, Ginny.”
“I know.” We smiled at each other. Feeling a bit more comradery than I’d expected, I asked, “What would you like for breakfast? I could whip up some scrambled eggs. I think I have some bread that hasn’t turned to penicillin yet.” I turned to Charlie’s heavyset friend and delicately asked, “Hog?” as he didn’t appear to be paying attention to me.
Hog said, “Fuck, I think I left my wallet at Sav-On.”
Immediately they both scrambled into their pants and shoes before I could even turn toward the refrigerator and crack an egg. The front door slammed behind them. I was still frozen in space, undecided, when the door reopened.
“Blue?”
It was Jill’s voice. “Come on in,” I called.
She appeared, still looking back over her shoulder as if viewing a tag-along ghost. “Who were those guys?”
“Ex-File Number One and his sidekick, Hog.”
“Oh,” she said, seating herself at one of the bar stools. Then, “Oh, God,” more sympathetically, as I guess she realized I’d lost my virginity to the leaner of the scruffy twosome. I started cooking eggs, figuring we would eat them if Charlie and Hog failed to return in a timely fashion. While I cooked, I told her about Liam Engleston.
“I’m going with you,” she declared. “The rat bastard! You didn’t book him. He can’t charge you!”
“I was thinking of phoning him. I made a trip out there last night.”
“No way.” She shook her head determinedly. “We’re going to make him face us. I’m a caterer. I’ve been shut out by the best of them. Until you get the contract signed, it’s not a done deal. I want to tell him so myself!”

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