Chapter 4
Chapter
Four
JAKE
May, 2012
Her answer was so immediate, it completely caught me off guard.
Although, if I’m being honest, pretty much everything about Shelby Ristow caught me off guard. Even before we met. It had taken every ounce of discipline and professionalism to stay in the game today, and not just get all caught up in the wonder of her.
“What?” I asked, still laughing.
“Yes,” she said with a stone straight face. “Don’t judge. I have a deep, abiding, and unapologetic love for that song, and I don’t tend to trust people who don’t appreciate its genius.”
“It’s a good song, I’ll give you that. But it’s certainly not on any of my playlists. What is it about that song that you connect with so much?” I was genuinely curious.
“It’s the rhythm. It takes me back to playing on my grandmother’s organ she had in her living room. You could press a button and choose a samba or bossa nova beat to be in the background as you played, and then you immediately sounded like you knew what you were doing. I loved spending time at their house. I think that’s why I love the song so much.”
“I totally get that.” While she was explaining, a memory triggered for me too. The song was still on heavy radio rotation throughout the early eighties and in May of 1984, I remember my mother singing along to it as we drove to my little brother’s last baseball game of the season. Actually, his last game, period.
I don’t let myself think about that day much at all.
After lunch all the equipment was brought up to the front for us to shoot our “intro” spots outside and at the front desk. When we finished, Darius and company kept asking if we needed any help packing or loading or if we’d like coffees for the road. I couldn’t help thinking that this had been one of the best days of shooting we’d had in long time, everyone was so accommodating, so likable. And they’d fed us. I knew we’d all be talking about it on the ride to Chicago, along with them giving me plenty of shit for my inappropriate proximity to Shelby.
Once the gear was all loaded into the SUVs, Rita began the goodbyes. “Shelby, do you want me to take a picture of you and Jake? Do you have your phone on you?”
Shelby looked visibly rattled. “What? Oh, I…”
Darius came out from behind the front desk where he had been making an Americano for me, phone in hand. “Here. Use mine. Shelby’s camera is crap.”
Shelby looked up at him and smiled gratefully, an inside thing between the two of them that I couldn’t decipher. Rita took Darius’s phone, and I went to stand next to Shelby. I gingerly put my arm around her shoulder. She paused, then her arm was around my waist. She was trembling a little and my heart tugged slightly out of concern for her. Rita got a shot of Darius and me, then gathered everyone for a few group shots. I regretted not giving her my phone for another picture of Shelby and me, but how would I have explained why I’d wanted it?
“Well, I guess we’re off. This has been amazing. Honestly, this has been one of the best experiences I’ve—” I gestured to my team, “we’ve ever had.” I turned to Shelby. “You should be so proud of yourself.”
I don’t know what made me say that, and I sincerely hoped I didn’t sound condescending. “You spoke so thoughtfully, so articulately. It was a serious subject, but you still managed to wrap it in something lighter, even managing to have a little fun. That’s a hard balance to strike. All in all, perfect TV. If you ever need a job, let me know.” I laughed a little to take the heaviness out. She looked like she was getting a little emotional.
“Thank you for saying that. It means…it means a lot.” This woman who had been so confident in her videos and during the shoot was now having a hard time accepting compliments and it was making me upset. Like no amount of convincing on my part would make her believe that she had done something so amazing. At the same time, I was completely drawn to to her complexity. The juxtaposition of self-assuredness and self-doubt.
I felt compelled to open a door. “Would you want us to reach out and let you know when the episode will air? We have your email--”
“Oh! That would be great. I’ll have everyone over for a watch party.” She was smiling again.
The truth was, we never did this. And the look that Rita gave me was proof. She knew I’d be the one reaching out and not her, which went against the “one point of contact” rule that we had. I had no idea what I was doing anyway—she was married. I was in a relationship. I felt the need, however, to maintain this connection with her for as long as I could.
In that moment she was smiling at me with those bright eyes of hers, containing nearly every shade of blue imaginable, like swirling galaxies full of secrets I would never learn. I decided to be brave knowing this would earn me another dirty look from Rita.
“May I have a hug?”
Shelby paused and grabbed onto her left thumb with her right hand fisted, knuckles turning white. I immediately regretted the ask until she stepped forward reaching her arms around my neck. I wrapped my arms around her and splayed my fingers to cover as much surface area as possible. I tried to be as subtle as I could while I inhaled the scent of her. Then she stepped in once more, until we were fully breasts to chest, pelvis to pelvis. I had to have an emergency meeting with Cave Man—no other body part was invited to this party. I let her be the first to break contact; even then, it seemed longer than a typical friendly hug.
I extended my hand to Darius. He took it and pulled me in for a hug as well. “I’m so glad I got to see you again, Jake. We both did a lot of growing up in these years, didn’t we?”
“We sure did. God, I love how small the world is sometimes. Seeing you brought back a lot of memories.” I looked down at the floor. “Some regrets too.”
“That’s how it usually goes. But we don’t need to spend too much time on those regrets. Especially when we’ve learned from our mistakes. They’ve helped make us who we are.” He turned and looked at Randall with such love and admiration. I was so happy for him finding this quiet, beautiful life outside of Hollywood.
As I walked out, I turned toward the salon one last time. Shelby was standing by the front desk but facing the door. Looking at me.
I put my hand up. One more goodbye.
We began the ride to O’Hare. The rest of the team were flying out in a few hours back to San Francisco, but I was spending the night in Chicago. The woman I had been seeing for the last seven months was hosting a fundraiser downtown and the timing with a shoot in a city so close worked out perfectly for me to be able to go.
Holly worked for Built To Sustain Inc., a large green architecture firm with offices in San Francisco and Chicago. They held fundraisers several times a year to make it possible for non-profits, low-income families, and housing projects to get extra funding for green construction. We’d met when I’d had a shoot at a company that recycles glass for high efficiency windows the same day she was there trying to finalize a new contract.
I was going to have time to check in to my hotel, shower and make sure my suit was presentable with no major wrinkling before meeting her at the event. I was staying at Swissotel which was always my choice when in Chicago. It was not too big, but modern and a little bit quirky. A great location, too. I liked to walk around in cities and explore, finding used bookshops, little art galleries, cafes and dive bars no-one but the locals know about. I wouldn’t have time to do this on this trip, Holly and I were heading back to San Francisco the next day early in the afternoon, but I’d have time to go to my favorite cafe in the morning, at least.
I finally got myself settled in my room and decided I had time for a disco nap. I figured I’d be up late and the last thing I’d want to happen would be to crash and burn when Holly needed me the most. I set a timer on my phone, pulled the duvet cover down, and took off my clothes.
No sooner had my head hit the pillow when a picture of a cartoon face with creamy skin, red lipstick and bright blue eyes floated in front and center. The rest of her body came into view, and she turned to walk away from me, beckoning me to follow her. We walked into the room in the salon where we filmed, and she sat on the table. She grabbed my hand, “Jake. I want you,” she said. I held her face firmly in my hands and kissed her. She clawed at my back and pulled me to her. Just as things were getting more interesting, my timer went off. I woke up rock hard and bound out of bed to take care of the little problem in the shower. Picturing Shelby the whole time.
I made myself presentable and drove to The School House, an event space about fifteen minutes away. Traffic was on my side, and it was only five o’clock when I walked in. Guest arrival wasn’t to begin until five thirty, and I anticipated Holly would be getting stressed with last minute details. I was more than happy to provide a friendly face and moral support.
My mouth dropped when I walked in the room. It was like a wonderland—a starry night theme, everything glowing purple and twinkle lights everywhere. Lavender, black, gray, and white flower arrangements as big as I was, elegant place settings, calligraphy name cards. Anything and everything that people with all the money love to see at these things. Holly was originally from a wealthy Chicago suburb, and she was able to enlist her parents’ social connections to pad the guest list.
I spotted her across the room. She gave me a bright, beaming smile and that’s when I first noticed the shift.
By then I’d come to know how she was at go time, flitting around like a madwoman. A million last minute list items to be double and triple checked. Nervously smoothing her dress or second guessing her wardrobe choice altogether, finding a mirror every few minutes to check for lipstick on her teeth or a hair out of place.
But this. This was an entirely different Holly. She was breezy and relaxed. Smiles that came easy and naturally as she looked through the menus on each of the place settings while speaking to the head cater waiter. One of her assistants came rushing up to her and whispered something in her ear. I thought this is it. This is where it all falls apart. She merely spoke two sentences of instruction. The assistant satisfied, rushed off.
“Hi! You made it.”
“Hi! Wow, Hol. This looks phenomenal.” I kissed her on the cheek. “I got here early to see if I could help, but it looks like you have everything under control. And you look absolutely stunning.” She was wearing a metallic pewter silk dress with a halter top slit down to the waist. Holly and I were the same height barefoot, she now in five-inch heels towered over me, but I didn’t mind one bit. Her honey blond hair was pinned up on one side with soft waves down her back.
“It really came together well. I think having a few of these under my belt now is finally paying off. It doesn’t make sense to sweat the details that guests wouldn’t notice anyway.”
When we had literally bumped into each other that first day at the glass recycling company, she had her portfolio in her arms with paperwork spilling out onto the floor. Her outfit was rumpled, and she was more than a little flustered. Her meeting had not gone well, and she looked as though she was about to cry.
She didn’t know me from my soap days, but she recognized me from “ Dare Me to Do It, ” her dad’s favorite show. She was a beautiful mess, and I couldn’t help but think of all the ways I wanted to try and help her. I asked her on the spot if she’d like to have dinner with me, and she stared at me for nearly a full minute as if I were speaking a different language.
What I would learn over the next few weeks was that she was thirty-five and the youngest of four daughters, her older sisters far ahead of her in all things career and family. Things that came easily to them throughout their lives had been elusive to her, but that didn’t stop the unceasing pressure from her parents. She’d spent her whole life trying to play catch up and measure up and it never seemed to be enough.
But I loved taking care of her.
We took classes together in things that sparked her interest, and she learned she could excel at things if she was passionate enough.
I was enamored with the way she looked and with her body, encouraging her to feel the same way. Over the next few months, I could see her beginning to feel better in her skin. This new-found confidence in herself began to spill over into her career, too. She was more assertive with vendors and contractors, more communicative with clients, and her bosses began to take notice. She got a promotion and was given the responsibility of organizing the fundraisers.
That night, all of it culminated in a poised, beautifully radiant, successful woman running a high-profile event like it was a Saturday afternoon errand.
I used to have to rescue the conversation if she felt awkward, but I clearly didn’t need to stand by her side this time. So once guests started arriving, I wandered around with my cocktail in hand. I was still representing her, so I put on an affable grin as if I was just content as all get out to be there. It usually wouldn’t take long for someone to recognize me and strike up a conversation. I never wanted it to be all about me all the time, so I’d redirect and let people tell me about themselves. For the most part, these people were all pretty much the same, more than happy to talk about their high profile, high earning jobs, their kids at Ivy League schools, or their lavish trips to Europe.
But every now and then, I’d get a snapshot into an interesting life—an innovative start up business, or someone giving up soul sucking corporate law to pursue human rights pro bono work. It was like spending hours at the beach with a metal detector and finally finding treasure.
The evening was a smashing success. I always loved the spectacle of the live auction, where they manufacture so much drama. ‘We have to beat what we raised last year so let’s up the ante here, people!’ Last minute “unbelievable” opportunities, whipping everyone into a wild, money flinging frenzy.
Holly was responsible for speaking at the beginning and the end of the auction and she was articulate, funny, and effortlessly charming. I would love to be able to say I was entranced, but I was coming up short.
She didn’t need me anymore and it was taking the wind out of my sails.
When most of the guests had gone, Holly made sure everything would be taken care of in her absence and we headed out to the car. I was in my head, and I hoped I wouldn’t kill her post event high with my newfound melancholy. I knew she was expecting me to fuck the living daylights out of her in celebration of a successful night. She’d let herself have a few drinks after her speaking responsibilities were over, and she was getting handsy with me. I wanted to make her night complete, I wanted to give her that, but I felt so very distracted and disjointed. My day had been an absolute whirlwind, and I was exhausted.
I thought maybe once we got to the hotel, and I settled into the familiarity of her I would be okay.
I started the car, making my way out of the parking structure to head back to the hotel.The SUV’s radio was tuned to some contemporary hit station and an overplayed Train song came on. I watched out of the corner of my eye as Holly, registering that she didn’t like the song, reached toward the radio to change it but didn’t know quite how it worked in the unfamiliar car. The hey-ey’s rang out followed by lyrics bemoaning lipstick stains on left side brains.
Thoughts of Shelby flooded my mind. Her face. Her eyes. I tried to push them away. I had to focus on Holly. Just get through tonight .
She finally managed to change the station. A familiar rhythmic thumping. A samba/bossa nova beat and Darryl Hall’s voice filled the car.
Fuck. Me.
I can’t go for that either, Darryl.
I’d never been a person who believed in fate or what the “universe was trying to tell me,”but, until now, I’d never liked the message quite as much.