I call Radhika as soon as I pull into the drive at home. VM. VM again. Owen’s got his head under the hood of Black Panther. I’m surprised he even knows how to unlatch the hood, so I wander over.
“Do me a favor and turn over the ignition,” he says. He’s slipping the dipstick back in the slot and he’s got his hand on the distributor cap.
“Um, you might want to—”
“Just do it.”
The guy has a death wish. Sliding into the front seat, I twist the key and brace for sparks. There’s a thunk when Owen’s head slams against the open hood. He yells, “Shit!” He jumps around going, “Shit, shit, shit.”
The human hand is a mighty electrical conductor. He flaps his hand, folding and unfolding it.
I get out of the limo. “You okay?”
“Do I look okay?”
I don’t answer that. And I don’t hide my smirk.
Owen says, “It stalled on Pena Boulevard and I missed a fare into Denver from the airport.”
“I told you the carburetor in this limo needed work, did I not?” The last time he allowed me to park Black Panther in the garage, I could feel it running rough. I was surprised at the time that he even let me drive it ten feet.
“Yeah, I should’ve listened.” He unfurls his fingers. “So fix it.” He grabs his Coke off the ground and stalks into the house.
I smile. He hates that his queer bro is a gearhead. Because then, of course, that makes me the manly man around here.
I call Radhika three or four more times, and each time her line either is busy or goes straight to VM. Then I call Azure and her cell’s busy. Maybe she got through to Radhika. I’m dying to know what Radhika said to Connor. Dying, I tell you. On a whim, I check my e-mail and see that Mom sent me a message. She said she deposited a hundred dollars in my account. I already assumed that because she does it every other Friday. I guess she just wanted me to know she didn’t forget. I feel like a jackass getting an allowance at my age, but if Owen would let me drive or pay me for anything I do around here, I could contribute to expenses. Since he’s never asked for rent, I suspect Mom’s paying him directly.
Except he’d never take money from Mom and Dad. He’s spent too many years trying to prove his worth to them.
Mom wrote, “We’ll be Skyping you two on Wednesday at 4:00 PM your time. Please tell Owen to be home if he’s not working.”
If I tell Owen, he’ll be working.
I check my Facebook and Radhika’s not online. Because she’s talking to Azure, probably. It’s not fair. If they’re talking, why don’t they conference me in, the way we used to? I want to know what she’s going to tell Connor. If she hasn’t decided, I can make up a list of hideous offenses he’s committed. Something. Anything. I’m desperate here.
While I’m waiting to get through, I comment on all my friends’ comments on FB. We have a separate page for Closets Are for Mothballs, and a few members of the cast have written on the wall. “Cool script change,” Gabe wrote. Three people liked his comment. I have one message I don’t even have to read, since I know the gist. T.J., who plays my second BF in the play, wants a bigger role. More lines. A song. He’s such a play hog. I’ve already expanded our scenes together, even though I have most of the lines. But that’s only fitting; it’s my story. I reply to his message, “I’ll think about it.” Which I won’t.
I send a message to Ryan, thanking him for taking charge last week. I pause at his profile. He’s changed his picture. He’s got this Justin Bieber-ish hairdo, and his pic’s in black-and-white. Very arty. I check out his albums. He has one labeled “Who Am I?” and it’s full of artwork. Most of the pieces are abstract, disjointed, like he’s searching, exploring himself. Full of color, though, and mesmerizing.
I understand. I’ve been there.
My cell rings and I lunge for it. It’s Azure. “What’d Radhika say?”
“I thought you were talking to her.”
“I wasn’t. Every time I called it went to VM.” We’re both quiet for a minute.
Azure asks, “What do you know about her and Connor? I know you know something.”
“We saw him at Sonic a couple of weekends ago. Not working. Hanging with his friends. It was that Saturday I asked you to come to the movies with us….”
“Which I would have if you’d told me Radhika was going.”
Oops. My bad.
“Anyway, they talked. Sounded like they hadn’t seen each other in a while. She said they’d been friends since they were both in swaddling clothes. He said, ‘I’ll call you.’ ”
“Huh,” Azure says.
“Yeah. Huh.”
Azure hesitates. “Is that all?”
“Would I lie to you?”
She doesn’t reply. “There’s other stuff she’s not telling us,” she says. “I can feel it.”
“Why? Doesn’t she trust us? What’d we do?”
“I don’t know. I thought we told each other pretty much everything. Of course, some things are personal and private.”
“Like what?”
“Like, I don’t tell you everything I’m thinking and feeling. But it’s not because I don’t trust you. I just think some things are…”
“Personal and private.” I’m dying to tell her how I feel about Radhika, but if there’s stuff she’s not telling me…
Azure says, “Did I mention my dad is computer-dating?”
“OMG. No. Where? E-Harm-Me?”
“No, this other site. I’m not sure what it’s called, but he went out with a woman named Mercedes, a lawyer.”
“Ooh. Dish, girl.”
“I couldn’t get anything out of him, except that she talked a lot. And drank a lot. And I only got that much by hand gestures. You know, blah blah. Knock back a few?”
I picture it in my mind and giggle.
“Did he Taser her and cuff her to the bedposts?” I ask.
Azure puffs out a breath of disgust. “You’re talking about my dad. I’m sure he was a perfect gentleman. He has two more matches,” she adds. “Hopefully, one of them will work out.”
“Do you want your dad to get remarried?” I ask her.
“I don’t care. I just want him to be happy.”
“I hear you. We should all be happy.”
“Amen to that,” she says.