Chapter 9
Chapter
Nine
JAKE
January, 2013
I stood behind Shelby as Kendra was explaining how I came to be here, patiently waiting for my turn to greet her. I took the opportunity to admire her luscious curves in the body-hugging blue dress she wore, and I allowed Cave Man a moment since her back was turned. Are you sure we need steak? Cuz man, I could just gnaw on that ass for a good long while.
With her red platform heels and the retro seams running up the back of her stockings, Mad Man wondered once again about the real possibility of a garter, nearly salivating at the thought.
Evolved Man was enchanted by the fact that she was dressed to the nines for what she’d thought to be just a night out with her best friend.
Although it did make me wonder if she was looking to meet someone for a fun fling. Testing the waters to see if she was ready to get her legs out from under her, so to speak. The thought of this made me think maybe I didn’t need to be so precious with her, though I would still let her take the lead.
With her hands still in Kendra’s, she turned to look at me, and I finally got a glimpse of the face that so often had a starring role in my dreams. I nearly stumbled backwards. God, how could I have forgotten how fucking gorgeous she was?
Last July, when I’d gotten Kendra’s email telling me about Shelby’s husband, I sat frozen in shock for long minutes trying to absorb what she’d told me. I was immensely grateful that she had intercepted my message, and Shelby had not had to deal with my pathetic attempt at hitting on her, especially considering what had happened. I thought carefully about how to respond, and I hoped I wouldn’t sound too cheesy or trite.
Hi Kendra,
I am so very sorry to hear this news. I know first-hand how difficult a sudden loss like this can be.
I know it may sound strange considering I don’t know Shelby well, but honestly, if there’s anything I can do, please don’t hesitate to let me know.
Also, I’d like to offer my sincere apologies for the inappropriate nature of the second part of my last email…although…if I’m being honest, I’m not sorry. Shelby is an extremely compelling woman, and I felt I needed to take the chance—no matter how slight it may have been.
If you feel it’s appropriate, please extend my condolences.
Jake
It didn’t surprise me when I didn’t get an immediate reply. I’d crossed the line again, and I was sure they were all going about the business of moving on. I figured that’s just what needed to do and as usual, I threw myself into work.
Months later, in mid-December, I did get a reply.
Jake,
I won’t lie to you. I bristled at the little “chance” you tried to take with my best friend, particularly surrounding the circumstances (which of course you couldn’t possibly had known.) I am fiercely protective of Shelby—we have been best friends since we were nine years old.
But because we’ve been friends that long, I had a front row seat to her adolescent obsession with you. The posters covering her bedroom walls and how everything we did all summer always revolved around when “Salte St. Marie” was on. I was right there when she was bursting with excitement when she found out you’d be coming to film with her. And I was right there yesterday when we watched the show.
To watch her light up like that onscreen. Watch her be so confident, eloquent, and funny… let’s just say it had been a while since I’d seen that side of her. And you’d brought that out. The chemistry between the two of you was undeniable, and I had no doubt the little crush she’d had all those years ago resurfaced.
I know how extraordinary my best friend is and obviously you realized it, too.
I would love to do something special for Shelby, and if your offer still stands, I would like your help. Any chance you’d be up for meeting us in Las Vegas in the next month or so?
Kendra
Once again, Kendra had left me reeling.
My brain was compartmentalizing pieces of the email, knowing I would be scouring my calendar any minute for a break to make the trip to Vegas work. First, however,I had to try and wrap my head around Kendra’s revelations about Shelby’s fan crush. I had my suspicions when I was there with her that day, but to have confirmation like this was mind blowing. To think we’d each gone into the day, her excited to meet her favorite soap star, and me excited to meet my favorite video vixen.
Kendra and I emailed back and forth over the following few days. She told me she’d be happy to work around my schedule, that they could most likely be far more flexible. We exchanged numbers and texted details as the trip got closer. I decided to book a room in the same hotel for sheer convenience, hoping I didn’t seem presumptuous. I could only stay the night, I had to head out the next afternoon and meet up with the crew in Utah.
Kendra finally led her shocked best friend over to me, and I could see Shelby’s eyes were a little glassy and the tip of her nose ever so slightly pink. She was clearly emotional at the lengths Kendra had gone to make this night happen. It warmed my heart to know that Shelby had someone like that in her life. Everyone should be so lucky.
“Take good care of my girl, Jake,” Kendra said.
“Of course I will.” I smiled and resisted the urge to hug her. She’d done me an enormous favor too, after all. “Thanks for this.”
Kendra looked a little taken aback, then smiled. I think it made her feel good that I wanted to be here just as much, if not more, than Shelby.
Shelby turned her attention back and forth between Kendra and me several times. I could imagine her wheels furiously turning, wondering how much communication had gone on between us and curious to know the details of how this had all transpired. Kendra turned to Shelby, “I’ve got a poker game starting in fifteen minutes, but if you need anything, don’t hesitate to text.” She put her arms around Shelby and gave her a squeeze.
“I think I’ll be fine,” Shelby said. They let go of one another, and Shelby turned to me and smiled. I became acutely aware of my heart’s frenetic rhythm. She may have been reeling a bit at this surprise, but having known about it in advance was doing little to quell my nerves. I offered her my arm and she took it immediately, gliding her hand around my bicep and sending a shiver through my spine.
The Maitre’d led us to a corner booth like I’d requested; I wanted to be able to sit next to her rather than across from her at a regular table. The steakhouse was 50’s style Rat Pack themed, and my stunning pinup date fit right in. I noticed the attention we were getting as we crossed the room, and I didn’t assume any of it was for me.
After we’d settled into our booth, I wanted to get the awkward part out of the way. I put my hand on hers, “I just need to tell you how very sorry I am for your loss.”
“Thank you,” she said, as she offered a shy smile. This was a people pleasing gesture I knew well. It can be unnerving talking about death so even the bereaved sometimes feel compelled to make their well-wishers feel more comfortable.
I looked down at my lap and cleared my throat. “I know how devastating a sudden death can be. My brother passed suddenly of an undiagnosed heart condition when he was sixteen.”
“Oh, Jake. I’m so sorry. How old were you?”
“Nineteen. My mom and I were at his baseball game, and he collapsed while running the bases. One second, he was there, the unstoppable superstar athlete he was, and the next, he was just gone.”
“How awful.” Shelby put her hand on top of mine on top of hers. “What was his name?’
I felt myself stiffen reflexively. “Trevor.” I hadn’t spoken his name in years. Shelby and I shared a somber smile while I stayed quiet, gently ending the subject of my brother. I also wanted to give her space to talk about her husband if she wanted to. Out of the corner of my eye I saw the waiter approaching and Shelby withdrew her hands.
He greeted us, gave us his spiel, took our drink order, and with that, the page was turned on the whole conversation. I realized how much I missed the warmth of Shelby’s hands.
She smiled, let out a little breathy laugh through her nostrils, and shook her head. “I still can’t believe you’re here. That this is actually happening.”
“I’m having a little bit of a hard time with it myself. I really never thought I’d see you again.” The waiter came back with our drinks, and I was grateful for something to do with my hands. My nerves were still threatening to get the better of me.
I ran my finger around the rim of my glass of scotch before picking it up and taking a healthy swig. “What did you think of the show?”
“It was amazing. I won’t lie, though, the other two segments were way better than mine.”
“Not better, just different.” I gently corrected her. “All of the things you talked about were valid and important. And just because we were waxing, and things got silly here and there didn’t mean it still didn’t land. I mean, I was having a serious conversation with a crown on my head at the daycare.” I smiled.
“A tiara, actually.”
“What’s the difference?” I asked her.
“I think it has to do with it not being a full circle? In any case, it was definitely way too dainty to have been a crown.” She laughed. I was relieved we were both beginning to relax. “And when the baby was born? Holy cats. I was bawling.”
“That was probably one of the best moments of my professional career.” I took another drink. “Hell, probably one of my best moments, period. To be there to witness a couple become a family, this brand new little being coming into the world…,” I held out my hands as if it’d been me who’d caught her. “If not for the show, I never would have experienced that. Kids just weren’t in the cards for me.”
“Well, you seemed to be a natural with them at the daycare. Especially that little girl.”
“Shit.” I sighed and drew my eyes upward. “She had me wrapped all the way around her tiny finger and she knew it.” I smiled as I thought of little Maddie and her dimples.
“You know, I wouldn’t be surprised if the episode is nominated for something.”
“Shhhh! You’re not supposed to say it! You’ll jinx it.” I jokingly admonished her. We were starting to hear rumblings from the network, but we didn’t want to get our hopes up.
“Darius made a bunch of ‘as seen on TV’ social media posts. He’s been loving the attention.”
“I’ll bet! I still can’t believe I ran into him like that. I love how small the world can be sometimes.”
The waiter came back to take our order. We hadn’t even opened our menus, but wesnatched them up off the table in an attempt to make a last-minute decision. I’m easy, give me a mid-rare ribeye smothered in bleu cheese and a baked potato and I’m a happy man. I wanted to draw out this dinner as much as I could, so I ordered a couple of appetizers for us to share, too.
As Shelby was looking at the menu, I caught the waiter looking down at her cleavage as if he was getting ready to dive in head-first. I smiled and shook my head. I couldn’t blame him, but the dude needed to teach his Cave Man some manners. Another woman’s date, or likely the woman herself, might not be as understanding and he’d wind up with a fist to the jaw.
After he’d gone, Shelby put her elbow on the table and turned to face me squarely. “Is Jake Ford your real name?’
“No.”
“What is it then?”
“Jacob Ford.”
She tilted her head back and giggled. I laughed too. I knew where she was going with this. Not only is it a fake sounding “Hollywood name,” but evidence of my Latino heritage is obvious enough for those who choose to pay attention.
“My father, Geoffrey Ford, is Australian, but he went to medical school in Venezuela where he met my mom, Daniela. He got a fellowship at the Oregon Science and Heath University in Portland, so they got married and emigrated. My brother and I were born here in the US.”
“So, when you said that if you’d grown up in Europe or South America you wouldn’t think body hair on women would be a big deal…both of your parents are from cultures like that. And they are also cultures that don’t…” she trailed off, slightly embarrassed.
I smiled remembering how this conversation had gone, and how it had so tragically ended up on the cutting room floor. I raised an eyebrow at her. “Shelby, are you about to ask me if I’m circumcised?”
She giggled and blushed. “Maybe.”
“Well, because I was born here, and it was becoming the norm by the mid 60s, it’s likely my mother’s OB cautioned my parents against having their son look different than the other boys in the locker room. Does that answer your question?” I shifted in my seat. Someone knew I was talking about him, in front of Shelby no less, and I needed him to calm down.
She pinched her eyebrows as if she thought I was upset about my parents’ decision. “It does.” She cleared her throat and changed the subject. “Do your parents still live in Portland?”
“My mom does. My dad was the cliché doctor who had an affair with a nurse and got her pregnant. He left us when I was five and Trev was two. Just picked himself up and plugged himself into a whole new family. He moved to New York after his baby was born, but he lives in Hawaii now, retired.” I felt my spine stiffen. I hadn’t picked at that old scab in quite some time, and it was a little surprising how sore it still was.
“Ugh, I’m sorry. That sucks.” Shelby’s eyes were filled with empathy and deeply fixed on me. Once again, she reached out and put her hand on mine.
This time, I turned my hand right side up and interlaced my fingers with hers. The energy shift was palpable. I took a slow, deep inhale in a feeble attempt to replace the air that Shelby kept knocking out of my lungs. We were locked in a stare, each searching for something undefinable in the other’s eyes with a desperate kind of curiosity.
She broke first, smiling and looking down at the table. But she didn’t let go of my hand.
I wanted more of these little moments of magic, so I continued the conversation. “How about you? What’s your family like?”
“I’m an only child. My parents are very religious, so I grew up going to church, Sunday school, bible camp, and Christian school all the way through twelfth grade,” she said.
I couldn’t help but smirk as I looked her up and down, realizing that the image she’s cultivated for herself, her vivacious self-expression, video persona included, is proof of her rebelling against her upbringing. It was beyond obvious, and it was captivating me even more. “So, suffice to say, you’ve broken away from the church?”
“Starting in high school, I started to question it. My parents never encouraged me to go to college thinking I would just become a good Christian wife and stay at home mom. When I told them I wanted to go to college they threw a bunch of brochures at me for Christian universities, but that didn’t interest me at all. In my first English class at UW Milwaukee, I had to write a paper on the exploitation of women’s sexuality in advertising, and that was when I pretty much shut my Bible for good,” she explained.
“What’s your relationship like with them now?” I was also curious about her husband and having had her son so young, but I thought those subjects may have been too sensitive to broach.
“It depends. When they don’t make passive aggressive comments to me about getting back to church or quoting scripture during everyday conversation, it’s okay. But we’ve never been particularly close. They weren’t touchy-feely parents, and they are both fairly socially awkward. When I would have problems, even when I was little, they wouldn’t console me in the way that most parents would. They would just encourage me to pray about it or ‘give it to God.’”
I shook my head. “That’s a shame. I mean, we don’t need to get into a whole thing about religion, but some of the worst people I’ve ever met have proclaimed to be Christian. They espouse their faith and virtue in one breath and then spew the most vile, judgmental, racist, sexist, or homophobic garbage you’ve ever heard in the next.” I gave her a gentle smile. “No offense to your parents.”
“You’re right. And my parents have their moments, believe me. Good old Bob and Eileen Baker. Judging people from dawn til dusk and heaven bent on a mission to save the world one soul at a time.”
I couldn’t help but laugh at the elevator pitch she had for her parents, even though I could only imagine her struggles reconciling all of that through the years. I was grateful my experience with religion hadn’t been nearly as traumatic. “My mom grew up a devout Catholic. My brother and I were baptized, and she took us to mass every Sunday, but when my father left, so did her faith. Then, after Trevor died, she found her way back. Now her faith gives her peace, and her church gives her community. It’s beautiful, really. But she doesn’t feel like it’s her job to save everyone or to judge anyone. It’s so interesting how religion can mean different things to different people,” I said.
Shelby sat up straighter, her gestures becoming more animated, her energy positively effervescent. “My parents, especially my dad, believe that their existence as white, Christian, Americans is the baseline. Everyone who doesn’t look like them is “other” and everyone who doesn’t agree with their beliefs is wrong and destined for hell. I know so many people who grew up like this. And are still like this. Never actively meeting and engaging with people who are different from them, never traveling outside the country… hell, never even opening a book after high school. Other than the Bible that is. And they mostly use that to quantify sin and justify their bigotry.”
I’d only had one drink, but damn if this woman didn’t already have me spinning. I wished that I could just wander around inside her beautiful brain for a few days.
I became painfully aware when our two-and-a-half-hour dinner was coming to an end, and I was not at all ready to let Shelby go. I thought about what we might be able to do after this. The casino floor or a loud club was not the answer, and me suggesting taking the evening to one of our respective rooms was too presumptuous. Or, at the very least, premature.
I thought there must be a place, maybe a cocktail bar where we could hole up in a quiet corner. Where I could sit close to her and hold her hand. Tuck a stray strand of hair behind her ear, and feign the inability to hear her when she spoke, so she’d have to lean closely into mine.
I tried to ignore Mad Man and Cave Man chiming in.
Put our hand on her knee gliding up slowly to find the garter clasp.
Those full, red lips tightly wrapped around our c–
Fellas, calm the fuck down, Evolved Man interjected. She’s a widow.
But Cave Man made his point with an image included and I had to slightly, hopefully subtly, readjust my pants. She’s a widow. She’s a widow. She’s a widow.
I decided to sneak off to the front desk and ask the concierge for some suggestions. I pulled out my phone and glanced at it. “Hey, I’m so sorry to do this,” I told Shelby. “I need to make a call real quick. It’s a work thing. I’ll be right back, I promise.” I leaned over and gently kissed her on the cheek. I hadn’t thought about whether I should or shouldn’t have. It felt instinctual, and like the most natural thing in the world.
She blushed. “Of course. I’ll be right here.”
I walked as quickly as I could through the casino to the front desk.