Girlfriends (Patrick Sanchez) (39 page)

She riffled through the nightstand for Annie’s phone number. She had come up with the idea a few days earlier but was hesitant to ask for Annie’s help again.

“Hello, Annie?”

“Gina? It’s seven o’clock in the morning,” Annie said, sounding dazed and tired.

“I’m sorry. Did I wake you?”

“As a matter of fact . . . Why are you calling so early?”

“I hate to do this, Annie, but can I ask for your help one last time?”

“Maybe. What is it?”

“I’ve heard you can use the Internet to find people, where they live, their phone number, stuff like that. I was wondering if you could help me locate someone.”

“That’s easy enough. Who do you want to find?”

“It’s such a long story, Annie. Can I meet you later today? We can talk about it then,” Gina said, trying to buy some time. She’d have to make up a good story to tell Annie. She wasn’t about to tell her the truth.

Feeling Like an Absolute Heel

“H
ave a seat and the doctor will be right with you,” the receptionist told Peter after handing him some forms to complete. He didn’t really think it was multiple sclerosis or a brain tumor, but he woke up a few days earlier with some numbness in his arm and just wanted to get it checked out. Never mind that his affected arm had been lying up above his body all night under the weight of his head. Peter was also considering talking to the doctor about his hair. Lately, it wasn’t behaving the way he thought it should. He was afraid it might be thinning. His father had a full head of hair, and both his grandfathers died with all their hair intact, but Peter wasn’t taking any chances. He wanted to get a prescription for Propecia or Rogaine to stop his hair from thinning, if, in fact, it was thinning. He had no intention of ever going bald.

As Peter scanned the waiting room for a seat, he noticed a familiar face. He tried to avoid eye contact so he wouldn’t have to acknowledge her, but it was too late. She had already seen him.

“Hi,” Cameron said to Peter, offering an awkward smile. She had probably wanted to avoid a conversation as much as he did.

Peter returned the greeting and gave Cameron a quick once-over. It was the first time Peter had seen her in several weeks. He heard through the rumor mill that she had taken some time off after the screen-saver incident. Cameron’s demeanor had changed since the last time he saw her. Peter couldn’t quite put his finger on it, but something was different. Her shoulders weren’t back as far, or her head wasn’t as high. Even the smile she gave him was missing the energy that annoyed Peter so much.

Peter felt obligated to sit next to her and lowered himself into an empty chair.

“How have you been?”

“I’m hanging in there,” Cameron said in a resigned tone. “It’s been a tough couple of weeks.”

“I can imagine. I’m so sorry. I heard what happened. It’s unbelievable.”

Cameron tried to smile at Peter in response to his sympathy but, instead, began to well up. “I don’t understand why someone would do that to me,” she said, trying to keep herself from crying. “How am I going to face anyone in the office?”

Peter looked at Cameron, and his heart dropped to the floor. He felt a sudden deep sense of regret for his actions. Feeling like an absolute heel, he lifted his hand and lightly touched her upper arm. Cameron looked down to the floor as tears started to drip from her eyes.

“Sometimes I feel like I’m losing my mind. I’ve been getting these hang-up calls at all hours of the night. I’m afraid to fall asleep because I don’t know what terrible thing awaits me the next day. I get all these phone calls from strange people—doctors I’ve never heard of, psychic healers, movers. Someone is just torturing me. I can’t stand it anymore. That’s why I’m here, Peter. I need some help—some sedatives or something.”

“It will be all right. People have already forgotten about the whole thing.”

“Yeah, right,” Cameron said sarcastically, wiping the tears from her eyes. As she tried to compose herself in the chair, the receptionist called her name and said the doctor was ready to see her.

“Cameron,” Peter called as she got up from the chair. “Wait.” He wanted to tell her it was him. That he was behind all the terrible things that had been happening to her. And, more important, that it was over. Strange things wouldn’t be happening to her anymore, and she could get on with her life. Yep, that’s what he
wanted
to tell her.

“Cameron, I don’t know who would do such terrible things to you,” Peter lied. “But I do know one thing.”

Cameron looked down at him. “What?”

“I know that you’re stronger than this. Not that I know you very well at all. But I’ve seen you around. I’ve seen you in action. Where is that feisty young lady that got me in trouble for surfing the Net? You’re bigger than this freak, Cameron. If you let him . . . or her know that they’re getting to you, it will just entice them to keep it up.”

“You’re probably right.”

“Come on, let’s see a Cameron smile.”

Cameron offered a reserved, almost shy smile, something Peter never would’ve guessed she was capable of.

“Well, that will have to do for now.”

Cameron’s smile brightened a little more. “Thank you, Peter. You’re very sweet.”

“Think you might have time for lunch after your appointment?”

“Sure. I guess so.”

“All right, wait for me when you’re done. Will you?”

“Okay. I could really use a friend today.”

“Then it’s a date,” Peter said with a grin as he watched her walk back to the doctor’s office.

Six Hundred a Month

S
hirley was just putting the finishing touches on her apartment. It was cleaner than it had been in years. She actually dusted with Pledge instead of just a damp cloth and borrowed a neighbor’s vacuum to clean the rug. The bed was made for the first time in months, and all the ashtrays in the house were empty and sparkling. Shirley was fluffing the lone pillow on the sofa, when there was a knock on the front door.

“Hello,” Shirley said to the mature, silver-haired woman at the door.

“Hi, I’m Dorothy from the agency.”

“Nice to meet you. Shirley Perry,” Shirley said, introducing herself as she gestured for the social worker to come inside. “Please sit down.”

“I’d love to, but how about I take a quick look at the apartment first. It’s important that I evaluate the apartment if you want to take in a foster child.”

“Sure. Well, this is the living room. I like to read the classics in here. That’s my reading light over there,” Shirley lied as she led Dorothy toward the vacant bedroom and opened the door. “This is where my foster child would stay. It’s a great room . . . lots of light.”

“There’s no furniture in here.”

“Yes. I’m getting some,” Shirley lied again.

“Really. When?”

“Ah . . . I thought the kid and me could pick it out together.”

“And what is
the kid
supposed to sleep on until you get this furniture?”

The floor? “He can have my bed. I’ll sleep on the sofa.”

“That will never do. You’ll have to get some furniture.”

Well, give me my money, bitch, and I’ll get some. “Sure, I can do that. No problem.”

“Do you smoke?” Dorothy asked. “It smells faintly of cigarettes in here.”

“No, no, that’s from my old roommate, ah . . . ah . . . Chester. He was a smoker. Nice old man, smoking was his only vice. I took him in after his wife passed away. He lived with me for years until he finally passed on,” Shirley said, impressed with herself for being able to make up a story so quickly.

“Really. What happened to his furniture?”

“Ah . . . well . . . you know . . . you know, his greedy kids . . . yeah, his greedy kids didn’t want to be bothered with him when he was alive, but the moment he died, they descended on this place like it was a yard sale. They took everything.”

“What a shame,” Dorothy said. “How about your room?”

“My room?”

“Yes, I’d like to see it.”

“Okay,” Shirley said, leading the way. She opened the door to her bedroom, and Dorothy followed behind her. Dorothy took a long look around before holding her gaze on the ceiling.

“Mirrors?” she asked Shirley.

“Oh, those. This is so funny,” Shirley said, stalling for time. “I . . . I . . . I do yoga at night. I do it on the bed and use the mirrors to make sure I’m doing it right.”

“Really,” Dorothy said in a questionable tone. “I practice yoga as well. Do you prefer Kundalini or Integral?”

“Ah, I like that condelingi kind myself.”

“The ashtray by the bed? Is that yours?”

“Oh, no, no. That’s Chester’s. It’s the only thing I have left of his, so I keep it by the bed.”

Following the bedroom tour, Shirley ushered Dorothy into the kitchen. After Dorothy perused the refrigerator filled with little more than beer, cold cuts, and a couple of sodas, Shirley realized it was probably over but agreed to sit in the living room with the social worker and fill out some paperwork. As they talked intermittently while Shirley completed the forms, someone knocked on the door.

“Who is it?” Shirley asked.

“It’s me, Shirley,” the voice called from the other side of the door.

Shirley recognized the voice immediately. But it couldn’t be him. She hadn’t heard a word from him in months.

“Excuse me,” she said to Dorothy and opened the door.

“Collin,” she said.

“Hi, honey. Can we talk?”

“I have nothing to say to you.”

“Shirley, please, may I come in?” Collin asked, stepping into the living room without letting Shirley answer. “I’m sorry. I never should’ve let you go. Screw my wife. I don’t care about her. I just want to be with you,” Collin said in a full voice, not noticing Dorothy on the sofa until it was too late.

“This is obviously a private moment,” Dorothy said, gathering her paperwork. “I’ll come back later.”

“Great, Collin, just chase my guest away, not to mention six hundred bucks a month,” Shirley said to Collin after Dorothy walked out the door.

“I don’t care about your guest. I just care about you. What do you say, Shirley? Can we try again?”

“Hmmm . . . let me think . . . ah . . . FUCK NO, YOU FUCKING BASTARD! Does that answer your question?”

“Shirley, just hear me out.”

“I don’t have time for this, Collin. I’m a career girl now.”

“A career girl?”

“Yes, I have my own business,” she said, pulling out a business card and handing it to Collin. She grabbed a couple of leashes from the hook next to the door and stepped into the hallway with Collin following. “I’ve got dogs to walk.”

“That’s great, Shirley, having your own business and all.”

“Yeah, it is,” Shirley said, shutting the door to her apartment and heading toward the stairwell, leaving Collin behind.

“Shirley?” Collin called behind her.

She didn’t answer.

Settling the Score

“S
o your flight went well, Sophia?” Cheryl asked the elderly woman. She and Gina just picked Sophia up from the airport, and they were seated at a table at the Palm, a pricey steak house where beautiful people dined and power deals were brokered over large cuts of beef and jumbo lobsters. Gina and Cheryl had spared no expense. They flew Sophia in from Cleveland first class, put her up at the luxurious Hotel Washington, and were currently treating her to dinner at one of the more upscale restaurants in D.C. What did they care. After all, they had no intention of paying for any of it.

“Oh, yes, dear. It was quite comfortable. I don’t get to fly very often,” she replied with just a hint of an Italian accent.

“I’m so glad we were able to bring you here, so you could be involved in the festivities,” Gina said. “It’s so exciting.”

“Yes, it is. I’m very happy to be here. When you reach my age, you don’t know how many more visits to the nation’s capital there will be.”

“Oh, please,” Cheryl said. “You look healthy as a horse.”

“I guess I can’t complain,” Sophia said before a waiter briefly interrupted their conversation.

“Are you ladies ready to order?”

“We’re waiting for one more person,” Gina said.

“Okay, take your time. I’ll check back in a few minutes.”

“Thank you. Actually, I think I might go check the lobby and see if he’s here,” Gina said, about to excuse herself from the table when she saw Griffin walk into the dining room. It wasn’t easy getting Griffin to agree to meet them. Gina first told him she had a business proposal for him, without offering any details. She figured curiosity would be enough to lure him to the restaurant, but he sharply rebuffed her invitation and reiterated that she wasn’t getting the films. After his refusal, she decided to sweeten the bait and contact him again. She explained that if she couldn’t get the films back, and if she and Cheryl were going to be the porn world’s latest darlings with or without their consent, then they might as well consider making a career of it. She expressed an interest in possibly shooting a real live adult film with him. She pictured him drooling as she proposed her and Cheryl’s lesbian sex scene. The mere thought of even being near Griffin again made her crazy, but she was determined to get him to the restaurant.

Gina, who was facing the entrance, waved Griffin over to the table where Cheryl and Sophia had their backs to the door. Griffin glided over to the table and offered Gina a big smile—a smile that quickly turned into a perplexed look of surprise.

“Griffin! It’s so good to see you,” Sophia said, standing up to hug him.

“Mom! What are you doing here?” Griffin responded.

“These lovely girls flew me in from Cleveland to surprise you, dear,” Sophia said to Griffin.

“Oh, they did, did they? How did they find you?”

“The Internet is full of information, Griffin. You of all people should know that,” Gina replied. “We called your mother a few days ago and told her all about your budding career.”

“My career?” Griffin said, seeming slightly panicked.

“Yes, we told her all about it, Griffin,” Cheryl said. “We wanted to bring her to town to celebrate your latest production.”