Chapter 10 ZACHERY PACKS THE SOAPS
Chapter 10
Z ACHERY P ACKS THE S OAPS
As I race back to my condo, my foot on the gas pedal has no interest in speed limits.
I never should have gone out so far on the seaboard. I’ll have to make up even more time now.
I text Kelsey at a stoplight to see if I can get any concrete information.
So where is your next stop?
I’m not surprised when I get all the way back to my condo without a reply. She’s likely driving, and even if she isn’t, the signal is notoriously bad in the desert.
When I make it inside, I consider my closet. I can dress fancy or plain. Casual or to impress.
Unable to choose a direction, I start cramming random outfits into suitcases. In the middle of my efforts, my housekeeper, Carmen, arrives.
“Mr. Carter, let me. You’re going on a trip?”
She pushes me aside to fold the clothes properly.
“Maybe.” I step back into the closet and pull shoes. Ferragamo, Gucci, Hermès, Dior.
Carmen takes them from me. “Don’t forget your toiletries.”
Right. I pick up a small case and throw everything in. Colognes. Hair products. My formulated soaps. They rattle around in there, so I stuff a towel on top.
Carmen has left my organized suitcases by the bedroom door. It’s a lot, like I’m headed overseas. I should cut back.
But catching up to Kelsey feels urgent.
I try calling Jester to let him know I’ll also be out of town, but I keep getting voicemail. Obviously one of our actors is keeping him on the line. The office is roughly on the way, so I decide to make a quick stop.
When I get there, Jester has the office phone to his ear, his cell phone in speaker mode on the desk, and he’s trying to mend a Charlie Brown mug with superglue. Obviously, he finished whatever he was typing earlier.
He looks up. “I’m on mute on both conversations.”
I push down my urgency to leave. I’m going to need him to cover should Desdemona call. “It turned into a two-phone kind of day?”
“It sure did. The big film festivals get everyone in their feelings.”
I walk up to the pieces of the mug. “Does Kelsey know Charlie bit the dust?”
Jester’s default smile inverts to a frown. “She ran out of here when I told her. I haven’t seen her since I broke it, and now she’s gone on this journey to the center of the earth.” He lets out a long sigh. “What if she never makes it back? What if some rootin’ tootin’ Wyoming ranch boy steals her heart?”
He’s taking this hard, his ruddy cheeks pinker than usual. The low squawking sound from his cell phone sounds a lot like the teacher in the Peanuts shows.
“I’ll look online for a replacement mug,” I tell him.
“I already did,” he says. “The set is discontinued.”
Kelsey loved this one. “Find something similar and buy it. If Desdemona balks, I’ll cover it.”
Jester sets down the mug pieces. “You’ll do anything for that girl.”
It’s true. “I’m going after her.”
Jester leaps from his chair. “Finally! Love will prevail! Do you have roses? Champagne? She likes—”
“Perrier-Jou?t Belle époque Brut.”
Jester claps. “Of course you know.”
“But no, I’m not doing any of that. I just want to keep her safe. She’s not thinking clearly.” When Jester raises an eyebrow, I add, “You know she’s not for me.”
Jester sits back down. “If you say so.” He fiddles with the piece of the mug that contains the whorl of Charlie Brown’s hair.
“I don’t want anyone taking advantage of her. So, if Desdemona calls—”
“I know. I’ll cover. But I don’t expect to hear a peep until after Cannes.”
I stand at the door. “Do all of us finish each other’s sentences here?”
The cell phone goes quiet, and Jester punches the mute button and says, “I agree with you, honey.” Then mutes it again. “Not Desdemona. She doesn’t care enough.”
He’s got that right. “I’ll be in touch,” I tell him. “Hold down the fort.”
Jester salutes me, then clicks a button on the office line. “I told you it would come to this.” The voice continues its monotonous drone.
I hop in my Jag and take off for whatever’s next.
I’m sitting in traffic on the interstate when Kelsey finally writes me back.
Kelsey: I stopped at the Pitchfork Lodge in Arizona. Had a meet-cute!
My stomach drops. Already.
The cars aren’t moving, so I write her back.
Me: A good prospect?
Kelsey. God, no. But good practice.
I unknot a little.
I pull up the map and search for Pitchfork. With traffic, it will take seven hours to get to this lodge. That will be eleven p.m. Not too bad.
Now for the next problem.
Do I tell her I’m coming or not?
My phone buzzes with a call from her. I tuck an earbud in my ear to minimize the traffic noise. Even so, she instantly knows.
“You’re in your car?”
“Stuck in traffic.”
“Going someplace fun? Do you have a Desdemona date tonight?”
“No.” Time to deflect. “I just left Jester. He was on two phone calls.”
“He does that. Mostly the actors want to hear their own voices.”
Funny how often Kelsey forgets I used to be one of them.
“Tell me about your meet-cute.”
Traffic moves forward, but I listen as Kelsey fills me in about a fallen beaver, a taxidermy tour, and the six-to-one ratio of men to her.
“I’m having dinner with Grant. I think he’s the least scary of them.”
Grant. So, it’s already happening.
“Someplace close to the lodge?” I open the map again.
“There’s a bar with burgers right here.”
My chest tightens. “Your date is at the hotel. Is he staying there, too?” That’s close proximity to beds.
“You know, I’m not sure he is. I get the impression that these locals hang out here.”
Traffic starts to loosen as we hit the suburbs. “You sure this guy is all right?”
“No, but I have a plan to extricate myself if I need to.”
“Tell it to me.”
“I went over the fire escape map, and it looks like there’s a hallway between the bar and the public bathrooms, and on the other end is a back staircase that I can use to return to my room.”
“So, you can say you need to visit the bathroom and then just escape.”
“Exactly.”
“He doesn’t know which room you’re in?”
“No, and I don’t plan to tell him.”
I suppress my sigh of relief. “Tell me what you’re going to wear.”
I follow Kelsey’s happy chatter about her dress and her ideas for hair and makeup all the way to the desert. By the time our reception gets spotty, she’s off to have dinner.
And I’m well on my way to reaching her.