And things might have stayed normal if one of my clients hadn’t decided that he just had to take a second look at a house he was interested in and the only time he could possibly do it was at 4:30 P.M. on January 18, the day of the annual Southern California Association of Realtors dinner which I couldn’t miss.
I’ve always been struck by the way small events like that can have such far-reaching consequences.
This is how it all played out.
The studio had been receiving repeated requests from both Soap Opera World and Soap Opera Digest for photographs of Zach with his parents. Bart and Leslie had firmly resisted them until they finally gave in for one photo session to mark his six-month birthday in January.
But they insisted it had to be on their terms. They wouldn’t bring Zach to the studio: it had to be done at the house, and they would have final say on which photographs were used as well as the poses in which they would allow Zach to be placed. Dorie, of course, would be present.
Because they wanted the shoot at the house, it had to be done on a Saturday, and the morning of January 18 was decided on. It turned out to be the date of the Realtors’ dinner, but that was no problem since only I would be attending.
But around ten that morning, my client called me and insisted on the 4:30 showing that day. With all I had coming up, there would be no way I could get home after showing him the house to change for the dinner, so I decided to run home in the morning, pick up my clothes and whatever else I’d need, and bring it all back to the office so I could change there and then head directly to the dinner after showing the house.
I knew about the photo session, but I didn’t think I’d be in the way. As Leslie would have said, “Little did I know…”
When I walked in the door, they were still setting up cameras and lights. Apparently the front hall at the bottom of one of the curving staircases had been chosen for the location. Leslie was sitting on the third step, and Bart was playing with Zach on a blanket at the foot of the stairs.
“Hey, guys. You still at it?” I asked as I closed the front door behind me.
“We’ve barely started,” replied Leslie. “What brings you home?”
“I’ve got to show a house late this afternoon, so I came to pick up my tux and stuff. I’ll get dressed at the office,” I said as I walked over to Leslie, kissed her without even thinking about it, and turned to Bart who blocked any attempt I might have made to kiss him in front of everyone by handing me Zach to kiss and hold instead.
“Marc,” said Bart rather loudly, “this is Dorie Johnson from the studio. You’ve heard me talk about her and how helpful she’s been to me with all the interviews.”
Shifting Zach to my left arm, I shook her hand.
“And this is Lynette Robinson from Soap Opera Digest, Ellis, the photographer, and his assistant Eddie—I’m sorry I didn’t get your last names. This is my manager and friend, Marc Gruber.” Handshaking all around.
Lynette was an older woman, an almost grandmotherly type, who looked more like a stereotypical soap opera viewer than a reporter. Well, she was covering a baby shoot, so maybe that fit. I couldn’t have known how wrong I was although her first comment to me should have put me on my guard.
“So this is the mysterious Marc,” said Lynette.
“Mysterious?” I repeated. “I don’t think anyone’s ever described me as that.”
“No, Marc is one of the least mysterious people I know,” said Bart. “Of course we’ve known each other a long time.”
“Ever since you were in college, I heard. That’s about ten years now, isn’t it?” said Lynette who had obviously been thorough in her background research on Bart.
“I guess so.” said Bart, glancing at me with a question in his eyes.
“Marc,” Lynette asked, “if you don’t mind the question, how did you and Bart meet?”
That was an easy one for which we were both well-prepared. We’d been asked the same thing many times over the years, and we’d developed a sanitized version of our meeting which didn’t begin with my asking him if he was horny.
“A friend of mine taught Bart’s English lit class in college. Bart had asked him some questions about possibly teaching high-school English, and he suggested that Bart call me to get the scoop on what it was really like since I’d done that before I became a real estate agent. We spent something like two hours talking on the phone and found that, despite our age difference, we had lots in common, so eventually we met. I started out kind of as his mentor, and over time we became friends as well.”
A little fact, a little fiction, but it seemed to satisfy most people, even—we thought—Lynette. We both underestimated her.
At that moment, Zach began to whimper a bit, and Leslie said, “Marc, give him to me. He’s probably hungry, and I don’t think you’ll be of any help there.”
“Ellis, do you have things nearly ready here?” asked Dorie, obviously trying to create a diversion.
“Just a few more minutes, Dorie,” he replied.
“Well, I’d better go get my stuff,” I said, and began to walk to the other staircase.
“So you live here?” asked Lynette.
Bart and Dorie closed in.
“Marc’s my best friend,” said Bart, in a casual voice, “and for some personal reasons, he’s living here now.” He chose his words carefully, and Dorie nodded in approval.
“I’m sorry,” said Lynette quickly, “if I seem to be prying. I guess it’s just my reporter’s habit of asking questions. I apologize.”
“No offense taken,” I said, as I moved quickly and determinedly to the staircase, took the steps two at a time, and got the hell out of there.
I retrieved what I needed and thought seriously about taking the elevator down, exiting through the kitchen, and walking around to my car which was parked in the front driveway. But I was afraid that would look much too suspicious and cause even more problems. So back down I went with my tux on a hanger and everything else in a small overnight bag.
“See you later, guys,” I called as I moved quickly toward and out the front door.
After I left, everything went well from what they told me. When we saw the shots, we were all delighted. Zach mugged for the camera like a professional, and his parents were both gorgeous, so what was not to like?
Our delight diminished about three weeks later, when a couple of days before Leslie’s birthday, the other shoe dropped.