Chapter Six

“Hey Joshie, it’s Mom again. It’s Saturday morning here. I called you yesterday and you haven’t called me back. Are you all right? I miss you. Love you. Call me.”

Nicole grunted and took another sip of her coffee. She was tempted to call Stephen just to make sure Josh was okay, but talking to Stephen was like spending the day at the DMV. You didn’t go there unless you absolutely had to. So she called her nana instead. Nana picked up on the eleventh ring.

“Hi, Nana, it’s me, Nicole.”

Nana was her maternal grandmother. Ninety-three years old, she lived alone in perfect-weather San Diego in a fifty-five-and-over community. Except for the usual kvetches of old age, Nana was in reasonably good health, which surprised the hell out of her entire family considering she was the worst cook imaginable. Everyone knew that when you went to eat at Nana’s, you also needed to bring along an edible side dish or else you’d wind up starving, or eating a week’s worth of calories in salted nuts.

“Well, well,” she said, “look who decided to call her old nana.”

It didn’t matter that Nicole had called her a mere three days before. If she didn’t call her every day, it wasn’t enough.

“How are you doing, Nana?”

“My neighbor two doors down just dropped dead of a heart attack, so I guess I can’t complain.”

“That’s awful!”

“Well, what can you do? When it’s your time to go…”

“Have you heard from Josh?” Nicole asked, abruptly steering the subject away from death.

“Feels like years since I’ve talked to my only great-grandson.”

“Didn’t he call you last week? He said he was going to call.”

“Bah! Who can remember back that far?”

Nicole smiled, picturing Nana in her kitchen, leaning against the white-tiled counter with a dish cloth in her hand, the ten-inch TV on in the background.

“How are your flowers doing? Is everything still in bloom?” What Nana lacked in cooking skills, she made up for with her green thumb.

“You should see it here. All the hibiscus and roses are in bloom. It’s like living in paradise.”

“I’d like to come and visit you next weekend. Is that all right?”

Nana snorted. “Don’t be ridiculous. You have to ask? How long can you stay?”

Nana always asked how long she could stay. Unfortunately, the answer was always the same. “Until Sunday.”

“So short a visit.”

“I don’t want you to go through any trouble preparing anything, so why don’t I bring some meals for us?” Nicole always said this, hoping…

“Nonsense! In fact, it’ll give me the chance to cook something new. There’s this recipe I’ve been meaning to try.”

Nicole’s mother phoned right after she got off with Nana.

“Josh called us about an hour ago,” she informed Nicole. “Your husband is giving him such a wonderful cultural experience.”

Stephen was never referred to by name. He was either your husband or Josh’s father. Getting her mother to acknowledge him as Nicole’s ex would force her to admit they were divorced, and the D-word didn’t exist in Nicole’s family, unless it signified death.

“Yes, Josh’s father is quite the gem,” she said, and then lied by telling her she had to go because the termite guy was knocking at the door.

There was a time when Nicole really did think Stephen was a gem, or else she never would have married him. Stephen was funny in a biting, sarcastic way, fiercely intelligent, and had a full head of hair. He also had a ruthless ambition that allowed him to put his career first, and his family second.

The analogy Nicole came up with to describe how she felt when Stephen left her was this: it was similar to a story she had read about what it was like to be hit by a freight train. One minute you’re trying to get around the gates at the railroad crossing because you’re running late as always, listening to the Best of the 80s on the radio and thinking about what you need to buy at the grocery store. Going through the motions like you always do.

Next thing you know you wake up three days later in a hospital with various punctures and ruptures and breaks. You’re told you lost so much blood in the ambulance, that by the time you reached the hospital, you were pronounced dead. But you didn’t die. You were in very bad shape, but you weren’t dead, and while rehabilitation was the hardest thing you ever had to do, slowly the body healed and became whole again.

While Nicole couldn’t say she was whole again, she was definitely better than she had been five years ago. Thanks to a little pill called Prozac, some prayer, and lots of time to lick the wounds.

****

Josh didn’t call her back until three hours later.

“Hey, Mamaroni, what’s up?”

Nicole cringed at the pet name, because Stephen used to call her Nicaroni. “Hey, buddy, where ya been?”

“You wouldn’t believe how busy I am. Dad made me a PA. You know, a production assistant?”

“I know what a PA is Josh.” She and Stephen used to joke that the letters stood for Piece-of-Ass-on-the-low-man-totem-pole. “Please tell me you’re not working too hard.”

“Of course I’m working too hard. That’s what production assistants do. Dad says it builds character.”

“How does fetching coffee for people build character?”

“I do more than fetch coffee, Mother,” Josh said, sounding insulted.

“I’m sure you do, honey. Dad’s right,” she said, gritting her teeth. “This is a good opportunity for you to learn to become more responsible.”

“How’s Sammy?”

“Still a snake,” Nicole said, suddenly realizing she hadn’t checked on him in days.

“I gotta go, Mom, they need me on set.”

He sounded so much like a miniature Stephen in the making, it frightened her. “Oh, okay. Don’t forget to call your nana. I love you.”

“Me too. ’Bye.”

Me too? She didn’t even get a full-fledged I love you. She got a half-assed Me too. Her son was slipping away from her. Worse, he was morphing into her ex-husband. Now she was thoroughly depressed. Might as well check on the snake and make her day complete.

Nicole went into Josh’s room, up to the tank. “Hello, Sammy,” she said, sounding as excited as Jerry seeing Newman on Seinfeld.

Sammy remained motionless, which really wasn’t anything new, except as she looked closer at him, she noticed his eyes were a milky bluish-white color, and his skin looked dark and dull.

“He’s dead!”

As Nicole kneeled down in front of the tank wondering what she would tell Josh, Sammy weakly flicked his tongue out at her. “Son of a—!” she yelled, startled. She peered closer. “Maybe you’re in the process of dying. What am I supposed to do with you now?”

Wil. She had to call Wil. He’d know what to do. Nicole fished for his cell phone number in her purse, dialed it, and waited. His voice mail picked up. She hung up without leaving a message. Five seconds later, her phone rang.

“I knew you couldn’t go too long without talking to me,” Wil said, his voice husky and raw from sleep.

“Did I wake you?” She looked at the clock. It was past noon.

He yawned. “Mmm-hmm. I had a late night.”

Instantly, her defenses went up. “Did you have a hot date or something?”

He let out a throaty chuckle that sounded so sexy it made her insides turn over. “Would you be jealous if I had?”

Yes. “No.” Nicole wondered how he looked at that moment, what he was wearing, or wasn’t wearing in bed. “Listen, I think Sammy’s sick.”

It took Wil a moment to register who Sammy was. “The snake? Why do you think that?”

“Because he’s not moving and his eyes look like they have cataracts on them and his skin—”

“Calm down. He’s okay. I’m pretty sure he’s getting ready to shed.”

“To shed?”

“His skin. They do that every couple of months.”

“Oh,” she said, relieved.

“But I should come over just to make sure.”

“Okay. Just to make sure.”

****

Wil was at her house thirty minutes later, his hair still damp from the shower. He had on shorts and a tank top, and his reddish-brown skin glowed like he’d been out in the sun.

“Show me the patient,” Wil said. Nicole led him into Josh’s room and after seeing Sammy, he confirmed it. “Yeah, he’s about to shed. How long have his eyes been clouded over?” She admitted she had no idea. “Well, it should happen soon and if you’re lucky, maybe he’ll shed in one piece.”

“That will make my day,” she said, her voice dripping with sarcasm.

“Come on, admit it. You were worried about Sammy. I think he’s growing on you.”

“No, I just don’t want him dying on me.”

“Well, after he sheds he’ll be nice and hungry.”

“Oh good. I guess I’d better take a nice roast out of the freezer. I mean, mouse out of the freezer.”

Wil laughed. “I guess so.”

There was an awkward silence, and then Wil said, “Well…”

Nicole didn’t want him to leave. Suddenly the whole day stretched out before her, with nothing on the agenda except going to the garden center. And scraping the mildew-ridden grout from the shower.

“Why don’t you stay for a bit and we can throw around some ideas? It’ll give me a head start on things.”

He hesitated. “I don’t usually do my best work in the morning. I haven’t even had coffee yet.”

She didn’t mention the fact that it was no longer morning, but rather, going on two in the afternoon. “I have coffee, and I’ll even make you a breakfast fit for a king.”

A slow grin spread across his face revealing a dimple in his right cheek that she hadn’t noticed before. And here she thought he couldn’t get any sexier.

“I’ll take the smile as a yes. Sit down while I make some fresh coffee.”

Wil followed her into the kitchen. “You’re going to conduct business with me on a Saturday outside of the office? I don’t believe it.”

“Should I be worried?” Nicole asked, her eyes focused on measuring out coffee grounds.

“Only if you’re attracted to me.”

She looked up at him. “I already told you I don’t mix business with pleasure.”

“Is this the part where I fire you so you’ll go out with me?” He must have seen the look of panic on her face, because he quickly said, “I’m kidding. That’s not how I operate.”

She let out a deep breath, flipped the switch that brewed the coffee, and then rummaged around the fridge for breakfast fixings. “How about green eggs and ham?”

Wil looked at her strangely.

“It’s a thing Josh and I say. Never mind. Okay, ham, eggs, toast, OJ. Sound good?”

Wil nodded. “So how’s your son doing in the big city?”

“Great. In fact, he’s doing much better than I am without him. Three eggs or four?” she asked, cracking brown eggs into a bowl.

“Four. I’m still growing.”

She handed him a full mug of steaming coffee. “Do you take anything in it?”

“Nope. I like my coffee black and strong.”

Wil sat down at the dining room table, while Nicole went to work scrambling the eggs, frying ham, and toasting bread, aware of his eyes on her the whole time. After much internal debate over whether to have another cup of coffee, her third of the day, she decided her stomach was already in knots and didn’t need to be pushed over the edge.

There was Wil sitting at her table, sipping coffee with his long legs stretched out in front of him—like a new lover who had just spent the night and here she was, cooking breakfast after hours of rapturous lovemaking.

The memory of having had that once long ago rushed through her and brought with it a powerful sense of longing.

But I don’t want that, she told herself. I have no need for it. Brings nothing but trouble. So just forget it.

Nicole reminded herself to focus on Wil’s account, instead of Wil’s biceps and triceps, and how other parts of his anatomy might look lying in her bed. How was she going to keep this relationship strictly professional when every time she was around Wil, images of them together turned horizontal?

This account was a big one for McGraw Advertising. She couldn’t do anything to mess it up. Certainly not for a quick romp in the hay. She had gone without sex this long. What was another few years?

****

He could definitely get used to this. Granted, he should be having breakfast after working up an appetite from making love to Nicole, but Wil would take what he could get right now. Still, he couldn’t help but wonder whether she enjoyed sex slow and deep, or fast and hard. Did she like to take control of things, given her take-charge attitude, or give up control and let someone else hold the reins?

Nicole brought him a heaping mound of food on a plate. “Here you go.”

He fought the urge to pull her onto his lap and cover her mouth with his. She’d probably throw him out. He dug into his breakfast with gusto instead. “Mmm, this is great. You wouldn’t happen to have any chiles, would you?”

“Can’t say that I have any around.”

“Hot sauce?”

She searched her kitchen cabinets. “How about Tabasco?”

“It’ll have to do,” he said, and proceeded to liberally douse his food with the orangy-red liquid.

Nicole gave him a few minutes to eat. His head cleared and his mind became focused.

“So, boy wonder, how does a high school student with just seven T-shirts and a can of spray paint evolve into Phoenix Enterprises?”

Wil wiped his mouth with a napkin. “I’ll tell you what I tell everyone else who interviews me: a little blood, a lot of sweat, a few tears, and some dumb luck along the way.”

“In addition to your little clothing empire, your company also publishes a monthly urban culture magazine, right?”

Wil merely nodded and continued eating. He always had a hard time discussing his accomplishments.

“You also work with underprivileged youth in LA. In fact, you created a mentoring program to teach them marketable skills in the workplace. You’re also working on having a percentage of each sale from an item of clothing go to provide funding for a Mexican orphanage for abused children. Have I left anything out?”

“Young Entrepreneur of the Year Award in March,” he answered, slightly embarrassed.

Nicole leaned back in her chair. “I have to say, Mr. Blanco, I am impressed.”

That was music to his ears. She was finally beginning to see past his age. “How impressed?”

“Very impressed.”

Wil’s cell phone rang. He checked the number and silenced the ringing.

“What are you working on now?” she asked.

“You.”

“Wil…”

“A woman like you, I mean. Same age range, economic status, with a sense of style. A woman who is mature, but still wants to look cool. I’ve designed a collection for that woman.”

“Is that what you see when you look at me?”

He let out a low whistle. “And then some. When I look at you I see one hot mama.”

“You can’t be serious. When I look in the mirror I only see the mama part: the padded hips, sleep-deprived eyes, and less-than-perky breasts.”

A few seconds passed before he answered her. He chose his words carefully. “I see a confident, sexy woman who turns me on more than anyone ever has.”

He could easily have said “I’m running away with a female contortionist and joining Cirque du Soleil,” and the expression on her face would have been just as incredulous.

“We’re in Southern California, Wil, with cute twenty-something hard-bodies everywhere you look.”

“That’s not what I want.”

“Hell, I want a twenty-something hard-body. Why don’t you?”

Wil shrugged as his cell went off again. “Can anyone ever explain why they’re attracted to another person?”

“Aren’t you going to answer your phone?” she asked.

He slowly shook his head. “They can wait. I’m in a business meeting.”

“I’m afraid to disappoint you. You have a much better opinion of me than I do of myself.”

Wil’s cell rang again, and this time when he checked to see who the caller was, he said, “I’m sorry. I have to take this one.”

Nicole began clearing the table.

When Wil ended his call, he stood up. “I have some other business to take care of right now. Are you going to be around later?”

Nicole nodded without hesitation. “Sure.”

“I’ll come by and we can go for a swim.”

She opened her mouth, but no words came out.

“Thanks for breakfast,” Wil said, giving her a peck on the cheek. “I’ll see you later.”

****

He was out the door—his agile body, smelling of soap and possibilities, his exuberant energy—leaving behind an indescribable void and a craving for intimacy that Nicole hadn’t felt for many years.

What was she going to do with herself for the rest of the day? Wil had thrown her off what little routine she had established for herself. She was supposed to have been at the garden center an hour ago picking out some drought-tolerant plants. How was she supposed to choose plants when all she kept imagining was how Wil was going to look without a shirt on?

Nicole decided she needed to water the plants she already had outside. She pulled open the sliding-glass door to step out to her postage-stamp sized backyard and was instantly assaulted by hot air. After close inspection of the four new plants she had put into the ground the week before, she determined that all of them, except for the cactus, were dead. How could her mother and grandmother have such amazing green thumbs and she be cursed with a black one? Nicole watered them anyway with the hope that they might somehow rejuvenate themselves, and then sprinted back inside her air-conditioned haven.

Her haven acted as a jail cell right now as she paced restlessly around her living room. She knew she needed to get out of the house for a while, preferably to another air-conditioned retreat, so she dialed Annie’s number.

“I’m coming over,” she informed Annie the second she answered.

Annie lived a mere seven minutes away, in a spacious four-bedroom, three-bath, two-story house. It was the kind of home meant for dinner parties and lots of kids running around due to its wide-open floor plan and lack of carpeting. Annie had the dinner party part down. She was still working on the kids part of the equation.

Annie opened her door wearing a plum-colored silk robe, her hair wrapped up in a towel.

“Are you on your way out?” Nicole asked.

“I have a date with the lawyer, remember?”

“That’s right. I won’t stay long. I just needed to get out of my house.”

Annie sat down on the couch and curled her feet under her. “What’s up?”

“Nothing.” Nicole sighed, plopping down in an oversized chair in front of Annie.

Annie cocked an eyebrow at her. “Heard anything from Wil lately?”

Nicole’s head fell back as she stared up at the ceiling. “He came over this afternoon to help me with Sammy and I ended up cooking him breakfast. He’s supposed to come by later so we can go for a swim.”

“Hold on. First, who’s Sammy?”

“Sammy is a snake.”

“Care to elaborate?”

She looked at Annie and smiled. “My son, who I love more than anyone on this earth, decided to give me a premonition of what it might be like to have a small heart attack. I discovered this snake in his room as I was cleaning up—”

Annie stopped her with a horrified look on her face. “Please tell me this snake was in something.”

“It’s in a tank and I’m taking care of it until Josh gets home. Do you want to know what I have to feed it?”

“Not really, no. Next question: What did you do after cooking Wil breakfast?”

“We discussed business, and that’s all. I have to say, everything Wil has accomplished is quite impressive.”

“Sounds like you might have a small crush on the man.”

“Don’t be ridiculous. I work for him now.”

Annie cocked her head. “Then why are you meeting him for a swim?”

“So we can discuss more business.”

Annie shook her head. “Try again.”

“So I can see him in a bathing suit,” Nicole mumbled.

“Mmmm. Can you take pictures?” Annie laughed.

Nicole jumped up from the chair, suddenly panicked, and headed for the front door. “God help me, I have to get my body into a bathing suit!”

“Don’t forget to shave and moisturize in all the hidden places,” Annie called out after her.

****

There are certain universal things in this world that every woman dislikes: cellulite, yeast infections, getting a mammogram. Also lumped in that category: trying on bathing suits. It had been a while since Nicole had taken the time to scrutinize herself in a full-length mirror, without any clothes on. Before Josh, her body was like a firm pumpkin. It now resembled a jack-o-lantern left out in the sun, flesh mushy and beginning to sag.

Gone were her string bikini days, or rather, the hope of ever wearing one, anyway. Black one-piece Speedo it was going to have to be. Nicole reminded herself she wasn’t dressing to impress. It was only a business meeting. Sort of. She recited this like a mantra while she was shaving her legs. And underarms and bikini area. And again while she was painting her toenails Berry Bad. And moisturizing, moisturizing, moisturizing.