“I have a bunch of stuff to do today,” he says.
I’m burning to ask him about last night, but I keep my question to myself. He seems to be in such a stable mood. A good mood. He gets up and pours me a cup of coffee before I can get to it myself.
“Gotta talk to you,” he says.
My stomach bottoms out. This isn’t good. But I sit and he sits and we stare at each other a bit.
“I’m goin’ away for a while,” he begins.
My mind goes into hyper-drive. It starts running numbers: how much is in my checking, my savings, my pockets. Rent. I need a car. I never should have come out here. I never should have left Ohio.
“About a week, I think,” he continues. “Goin’ to Vegas, play some golf. Hang out at the casinos. You ever been to Vegas?”
“No,” I say. One of the few places I haven’t been to. I realize I had stopped breathing for a moment and take a deep one.
“It’s cool. I like it there. Was gonna move there a coupla years ago. Anyway, I just wanted to let you know that I’m, like, leaving tomorrow and I’ll be back next Friday and you can pretty much chill while I’m gone.”
“Chill?”
“You don’t have to do anything while I’m gone. There won’t be anything to do, ya know?” He’s laughing at me. “So you can chill. Hang out. Relax.”
“Chill. Is this something that I’m supposed to be ‘down with’?” I ask him. I’ve heard that term. I’ve heard chill, too, but I’m so pumped up from fear that I’m babbling, and I know that I’m babbling. If Alex asked me to walk to Santa Monica and back, I’m sure I could make it in record time. I’m going to need to move furniture to get rid of the excess adrenaline in my system.
Alex cackles.
“Yeah, you can be down with it,” he says.
“Do you need me to help you pack?” I’m thinking ‘yes’, because if he didn’t know what to wear last night, he’s not going to know what to take with him. I’m thinking of insisting, because it’s something that will keep me busy.
“I dunno, probably not. I need a lot of golf stuff, and shit, my clubs, something to... hell, yeah, I guess so,” he says.
“Then I’ll start laying things out after breakfast.”
I’m a bit excited with the prospect of ‘free time’. I’ve never had a lot of it, and a week seems obscene. A week with almost nothing to do. The thought almost puts me in a panic.
“Are you okay? Your eyes look like they’re gonna fall outta yer head or somethin’,” he says.
“Yeah, I’m fine. Fine,” I say. What I am is relieved. “Breakfast? How about some breakfast?”
“Yeah, sure.”
“Anything special?” As if I have to ask. I don’t even know why I bother, this kid has a French toast fetish. “Never mind.” I get up and move around getting eggs, pan and bowl. In the midst of my preparations, Juliette walks in.
“Good morning, you two. You’re both up bright and early,” she says.
“So’re you,” Alex says, and he kicks a chair out from under the table. I know that something happened between the two of them, and that whatever it was has been resolved, but that little kick speaks to me, and says that Alex is not letting EVERYTHING go, or is perhaps, again, annoyed with Juliette.
“I just felt like hitting the books early. Literally,” she says, and she settles her briefcase and bag on the floor near her designated chair. Then she helps herself to a cup of coffee and I offer her some breakfast, which she accepts.
“I need for you to get me a reservation today for six days in Vegas,” Alex tells her.
“Nice way to give me some notice.”
“I need a coupla suites, and tee times every day. For four,” he adds.
“That’s all?”
“A car. A limo to and from the airport, you know the usual shit.”
“Yes, the usual shit. And where would you like to stay?”
“MGM.”
“No problem.” I expected sarcasm, and note the Juliette isn’t being sarcastic at all. Apparently, from her ultimate reaction, none of this is any problem at all. “Who do you want me to reserve under?”
“Marc. Shit, I gotta call him, too.”
“You mean that you don’t even know who’s going?”
“I sorta decided last night, then I fell asleep and forgot to call. Lemme just... I’ll be right back,” and Alex gets up and leaves with his cell phone plastered to his ear.
“Impulsive, isn’t he?” I offer.
“Yes, well, he hasn’t been in a while, but this used to be pretty typical behavior.” Juliette smiles at me before she whips open her own cell phone and dials information for the MGM Grand in Las Vegas. I listen to her, it’s hard not to, and she is very efficient at booking two suites for the week. She’s even an efficient arguer, when I understand her to be arguing with whomever is on the line with her. But she seems to meet little resistance to her requests, and when she repeats a price quote out loud I understand that the old adage is true: money talks. He’s got to be dropping an easy twenty thousand, if not more, on this week of ‘golfing’.
The toast is ready before Alex is back, and I slip his plate into a warm oven. Juliette digs into her single piece, she never has more than one, while still on the phone. Alex returns, gives her a thumbs up, and then looks over her shoulder at the notes she’s been making.
“La Femme, too. Standing reservations every night,” Alex hisses at her. Juliette complies with the request, then mouths the word ‘comp’ to Alex. ‘Comp’. Complimentary. I suspect that when one is spending what Alex is spending, many things are ‘free’. I find it appalling and absurd all at the same time.
“All set,” Juliette says, closing her phone. “A limo will be here to pick you up at ten o’clock tomorrow morning. Private jet. You’ve got a three PM tee time for the back nine at Primm Valley Desert. You’ll alternate courses at Primm every day: Desert, then Lakes. All the entertainment is comp-ed; you have standing tables at La Femme and Tabu every night. VIP all the way. Meals are up to you. Enjoy.”
“You’re a doll,” Alex says.
“Don’t touch the plate, it’s hot,” I tell him, setting it down on the mat in front of him.
“You’re a doll, too,” he tells me.
“I’m sure.” I raise my eyebrow to him.
“You’ll miss me, ya know,” he says. “You won’t have anyone to be sarcastic to.”
“I’ll save it up until you’re back,” I tell him.
“Speaking of saving,” Juliette says, “you could save me two trips out here next week if we do double work today, and I’ll pay Siobhan in advance.” She lifts her cup in salute. “Vacation for everyone.”
“Good idea,” Alex says.
I’m not about to argue this point. In fact, I’m thinking of a splurge. Clothes. I’ve been in the area long enough to get an idea of what’s acceptable and what’s not. I need a change from jeans and T-shirts. They’re okay for around the house on cleaning days, but I can sense that they stand out a bit when I’m shopping in town. And I don’t want to stand out, I want to fit in.
“Are you going to go away, too?” Juliette asks me, and I laugh.
“No, Tish has school. I’ll probably just... I don’t know what I’ll do,” I say. “I’ve never had that much time to myself, to tell the truth. Maybe I’ll go down to the beach, do a little shopping... I don’t know.” And I shrug.
“Oh, let her blow it off and take her somewhere,” Alex says. He’s serious. So am I.
“That wouldn’t be good for her. I’m sure I can fill my free time with all sorts of things. I have books to read. There’s the pool....”
“That’s so boring,” Alex says, his mouth full of food.
“Not for me it’s not.” And then I have an idea, and wonder if I can press my point. I leave the pans and sit at the table with Mr. M. “Although, there IS something I wouldn’t mind doing, come to think of it. But it’s up to you?”
“What?” he asks, all smiles. He’s happy. It’s evident in everything about him. He’s thrilled to be going on a golf trip, he’s ecstatic that Juliette was able to book his plans without complications. He’s jazzed about his French toast.
“I want to redecorate your house.”
“Say what?”
“All right. Not all of it, but a few rooms. If you like it, I’ll move on from there.”
“You’re kidding, right?”
“No, I’m serious. It would be fun, spending your money and everything,” I tease. He likes that, too, I can see. “Besides, we’ve already done a little of that around here. I think you can trust me not to foul it up too much.” I’m warming up to this project already. I like a project, and this one is ideal to me. “Better yet, why don’t I work up a ‘proposal’ of what I’d like to do, and I’ll hunt around for some pieces and put them on hold, and when you get back, you can have the final decision. How about that?”
“I think you have a really fucked up idea on what a vacation is about, but sure, I’m cool with it,” he says with a laugh and a shake of his head.
I could says something about spending twenty grand to do something he can do any day from home for considerably less, but I DO know when to keep my mouth shut.
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© 2003 Chandrah, Inc.
© 2003 (*> Baby Bird Productions, Inc.
