Elena Undone (16 page)

Tyler looked at his dear friend and then back to Peyton. “She really had some chops—a genuine chemistry that really held the audience captive—but the moment ‘the mysterious Indian woman’ was off stage, she’d retreat —so quiet and graceful in her allure because she was so unaware of her own beauty.”

Peyton saw the genuine care and affection Tyler felt for Elena as she shoved him gently to stop. “Okay, that’s ent , thatnough, Tyler. Really!” He put his arm around her, gave her a quick squeeze.

“I second that,” Lily snorted. “Although, Elena, you know I totally agree!”

Nash, tired of his game, rolled over and scooted his way toward Tori, who was in deep concentration. But Nash couldn’t help himself, began to play with her hair, nuzzled her cheek and finally went in for a quick kiss.

“Checkmate!” Lily pounced “I win!”

“Ughhghg...”

“That, my dear,” Lily informed, sharp and incisive, “is what happens when you take your eyes off the ball.”

“Please, darling, don’t eviscerate the poor child.”

Tyler turned to Tori, hugged her with paternal affection. Peyton soon realized he was the father figure for all. How and where did Barry fit in?

“I’m fine...” Tori’s voice was small. “Just, you know, possibly damaged for life...” Then she snuggled deep into Tyler’s arms and glanced from Tyler to Peyton. “Hey Ty...tell Peyton the story.”

“Yeah,” Nash joined enthusiastically, “tell her the story.”

Peyton looked confused. Elena smiled. Tyler looked around, eager. Lily was in a great mood. After all, she’d just won.

“Tyler has all these soul mate stories that he’s been collecting for years,” Elena explained. “Even when we were in school together, he’d ask couples how they met. I think he kept this grand catalogue of every love story he’s ever heard.”

“I have indeed,” Tyler agreed proudly.

“And he does these wonderful webisodes with them on the Internet,” Tori piped in.

“As soon as I make enough money,” Lily joined in, “I’m going to buy him his own little network. Then we’re going to monetize this sucker. Soulemetry is not just his religion—I believe it could be very lucrative.”

“Sweetheart, you can run numbers and budgets all you like, but love is not for sale.”

“Go ahead, silk pie,” Lily purred, “...it’s one of my favorites too.”

“Okay then.” It was clear Tyler was as eager to tell the story as they were to hear him tell it. “So, this earnest young writer comes to Hollywood to make his mark—you know, all very Youngblood Hawk, and rather soon, he realizes real life is seldom the thing of novels. To wash away the grime of his day he drives up to the Mulholland overlook...”

Tyler paused dramatically, acting out the story with his own inimitable gesturing. itable ring. “It’s gorgeous...the view is stunning, but every single time he drives up to his special spot, he sees this ridiculously disenfranchised vehicle—an ancient VW—a real eyesore to his epic ambitions. Well, he thought it had been simply left in the dust for history to dispense with it, that’s how ugly it was.”

Elena turned to watch Peyton listen to the story, noticed the gentle smile in her eyes, how intense they were, and realized that was one of the things she so liked about Peyton. Her intensity.

“Fast forward ten years. He’s at a dinner party. Host is a good friend of his. By now he’s been married and divorced twice since his meditation days. Host introduces him to this woman who—get this—turns out to be the agent’s assistant that shoved the hero’s script through the slush pile.”

They’re all focused on him in rapt attention.

“He thanks her profusely, tells her he almost gave up. And would have if not for this great site on Mulholland that renewed him. But the one thing that ruined it for him was this clunker VW. The woman stops him in the middle of the story. Did he, by chance, drive a green Lexus?”

“No…” Peyton started to get the picture. “No. Don’t even say it.”

“Yes.” Tyler nodded. “The owner of the clunker VW was the very assistant who gave him his start. She used to drive to the overlook to get away from her overbearing boss.” He smacked his head. “They both drove up to the overlook as their only solace from this meat grinder of a city—and all these years later they meet, their fortunes already entwined. Five weeks later—”

“Married,” Elena said in unison with Tyler. They all laughed as they good-naturedly watched Peyton’s amazement at this favorite story.

“Wow...how amazing is that?” Peyton was blown away by the bizarre occurrences and coincidences in the story.

“He’s got a million more like it,” Elena offered.

“So, what do you think?” Peyton asked Elena, then quickly turned to Tyler.

“She just thinks I’m a big ol’ sap, given to romantic daydreaming. But I tell you, you cannot dream up coincidences like that one. Nope, when it’s meant to be...” he glanced at Lily, “...it’s meant to be.”

“A coincidence is when God performs a miracle and decides to remain anonymous,” Tori informed them all, breaking the silence.

“Actually it’s when we are given choices and choose the right one—that’s the miracle!”

Elena glanced at Peyton, and was unable to take her eyes off her. Peyton caught Elena’s gaze, and could not deny its sheer intensity. She felt the flush up her neck and was happy that dusk had fallen. She quickly glanced away.

*

That night when Peyton got home she felt deliciously tired. She had had so much fun with Elena and her family. She thought Nash and Tori were adorable and it was clear how much Tyler and Lily all belonged as a family unit. Maybe that’s why she felt so good. Just being with a family, having a sense of family. Of belonging.

She yawned, stretched then thought she might as well check her e-mails. There were sure to be some details she needed from her agent, but the second she saw the [email protected] she immediately opened it.

Hey Peyton… I just wanted to tell you how fun it was to have you meet my family. And to say…I feel so blessed to have met you. For the first time in a long time I feel I’m on the path I’m supposed to be on. I’m so thrilled to be taking pictures again!

Peyton felt a rush of warmth spread over her as she read Elena’s e-mail. Then, just as quickly she tried to ignore the quelling in her chest, the dampening of her spirits.
Don’t even go there…
Shook her head, and instead of responding to Elena’s e-mail, deleted it.

*

“What’s with you, ants-in-your-pants?” Wave walked across the street from her house with a baggie of coffee. “How in the hell did you of all people run out of coffee?”

“Didn’t quite make it to the store this morning.” But Wave wasn’t listening nor was she buying whatever Peyton was selling her as she took in Peyton’s appearance, the elegant and refined pants and silk shirt she was wearing. Peyton’s thick, naturally wavy hair, which she always wore loose and easy just past her shoulders, was put up in a loose chignon. With a quite attractive barrette, no less.

“Sooo, what’s with the Rachel Zoe makeover?”

Peyton shook her head. “I...you need to go. I have a business meeting.”

Wave cocked her head and asked in a more serious tone, “Business meeting? Here? On a Sunday?”

“Yes, now love you, mean it…GO!”

At that moment a red van pulled up and Elena emerged.

Wave glanced at Peyton then back to Elena.

“Hi. It’s Wave, isn’t it?” Elena extended her hand graciously.

“Yes, that would be me.” Wave peered at Elena, then, “Oh, so you must be the business…
meeting
… Got it.”

Elena looked a bit flustered as Peyt haered ason pushed Wave to go, then turned to Elena. “Why don’t you go in, make yourself at home.”

Elena nodded to Wave and uncertainly made her way into Peyton’s house. Before Peyton could move Wave put her hands on her shoulders and stopped her in her tracks. “When I said do stuff that feels good I didn’t mean do married straight stuff!”

“Don’t,” Peyton warned, nudging Wave to go already.

“Blimey Peyton.” Wave shook her head. “You are to call me the second she leaves!”

When Peyton entered the house she saw that Elena was glancing through her book,
Trust, Who Needs It?—An Agoraphobic’s Memoir.
Elena turned it over, studying the back cover author’s photo and reading the jacket copy.

Peyton walked up, politely but firmly nabbed the book from Elena’s hands.

“Is that you—I mean your story?”

Peyton cleared her throat, nodded. “Yes, that would be me.”

“Wow...I would never have imagined. After all this time we’ve spent together.”

Elena looked at Peyton, assessing her. She looked so lovely with her hair up, and it was interesting that Elena was quite suddenly aware that Peyton was a woman. She seemed so—not masculine—but so not overtly girlish, that it took a moment for Elena to get used to this new look, get her bearings. She also wondered how she could have been around Peyton all this time and not known something to be so inherently part of her makeup.

Peyton shifted uncomfortably, feeling like she was under inspection, then angry at herself for overdressing. She had just wanted to feel professional, and capable, when she woke, earlier, and realized Elena would be meeting her later that morning. But now she felt a bit foolish. She cleared her throat and Elena walked closer.

“I guess I’ve always thought of an agoraphobic like somebody in
Grey Gardens
—you know—huddled up in a dark room with a bunch of cats.”

“Yeah, well.” Peyton’s voice was deprecating. “All the new meds make us far more acceptable.”

“So...” Elena peered at Peyton as if trying to figure it all out and add this new piece into the mix. “How does it affect you?”

“Trust me, you don’t want to know.”

“I do though. It’s fascinating.”

“Not so much.” But Peyton could see that Elena was not going to accept her response. “Okay…I’m a little OCD, a little germ phobic, toss in a couple of other things...but mostly I need to do rituals to feel comfortable...uhmm—not like satanic stuff, or anything—I...uhmm...” Peyton found herself completely self-conscious.

Elena moved closer yet, put a gentle hand to Peyton’s forearm. “Really I would never have known. Clearly!” Elena smiled, as evidence that she didn’t know.

Peyton smiled bleakly. Dead silence. They both became uncomfortable. Then Elena smiled again, considering her. “Can I make a suggestion? You need a new author’s photo. That,” Elena gestured to the one on the book, “does you no justice.”

“It’s not what I look like in my line of work. It’s my words.”

“Nonsense. I’m going to do a new author’s photo for you. My gift.”

Peyton grinned.
Okay…I’m game
. Elena smiled back, fully.

“Uhmm, why don’t we get to work. I have all the research right in these files.”

Several hours later, while they were deep into a stack of articles and photos, they were both surprised by a sharp knock at the door. Before Peyton could get up to answer it, Margaret breezed through the front door with Chinese takeout in hand. Peyton could see that she had dressed for this impromptu visit in very snug jeans, and a soft and extremely low-cut forest green blouse which accentuated her blond hair and blue eyes.

“Sorry I’m late, traffic was a nightmare—” She broke off as she saw Elena and Peyton sitting closely together on the floor. “I’m sorry. Am I interrupting?”

Peyton looked stunned. Elena glanced from her to Margaret, noting the familiarity with which this woman entered, that she was quite attractive, and like Peyton, nothing like the women she was used to dealing with. Suddenly Elena felt like a small child in a world of grownups. She wasn’t certain what the protocol was here and the silence had become deafening. Elena stood, eager to meet another of Peyton’s friends. “Hi. I’m Elena.”

“Margaret.”

Elena’s face fell momentarily, then she recovered nicely, reverted to her role as pastor’s wife and shook Margaret’s hand as if she were one of the faceless congregants. “Oh, Margaret. So nice to meet you.”

Margaret turned to Peyton. “And this is Peyton I presume?” The tone was light, but with an edge.

“What are you doing here?” Peyton could not hide the irritation in her voice as she got up, grabbing some of the files with her.

“I know how crazy you’ve been and on deadline, so I brought you dinner.”

Elena began to gather her things. “I...I’ve got to get going anyway.”

“Oh, don’t let me bother you two. I’ll hang in the bedroom,” Margaret said with faux graciousness, “until you’re done. Take your time. I brought a book.” And then looking at Elena she conspiratori gaconspirly added, “She’s always working…so I’ve learned how to entertain myself until she comes out of her writer’s cloud.”

“Oh, I thought we were...” Peyton’s voice was thin as she questioned Elena, who was scheduled to be there until seven.

“No. I mean Nash will be home soon, so, well...” Elena put a stack of papers into her briefcase, gathered her purse and with a brief glance to Margaret, said, “Nice to meet you. Peyton, I’ll call you.”