Miss Adventure (12 page)

“Really?” she asked.

I’m not sure if I meant it for real when I first said it, but as soon as she bit on the offer, I figured, why the heck not? Going with a high school girl as an interior designer is a definite step up for me. After all, my current décor was decided by a bunch of drunken frat boys.

My shower curtain, for instance. As I lather up, I look around at the glossy bevy of mostly-naked women posing lewdly and throwing suggestive looks my way. The curtain came with the house.

I used to have this beautiful sepia shower curtain dusted with tea roses that reminded me of romantic photos from the 1920’s. But the dogs tore it apart first thing.

And I didn’t have time to get a new shower curtain due to the cataclysmic pace of my life in recent days. So, now I’ve got tacky babes in Day-Glo colors undressing for me. It’s like a porno version of
South Pacific
.

I squeeze shampoo into my hair and start singing. The dogs start barking, as if to tune me out, so I sing louder. I can sing as loudly as I want. After all, this is
my
house.

Duh-nuh-nuh-nuun. Duh-nuh-nuh-nuun.

My body jerks at the sudden, unrecognizable sound buzzing through to the bathroom. “Ahhh!” I slip. I gyrate. I scream again. I grab onto the shower curtain. I catch myself from falling. I settle, standing kind of tilted, one shoulder resting against the shower wall.

Leaning there with the curtain as my anchor, heart racing, I realize that the weird, robotic sound is my doorbell. A digitalized recording of Beethoven’s Fifth. Who would invent such a demented doorbell?

I try to pull myself into a straightened standing position so I can quickly rinse myself.

I hear a loud crash, a whine, a yelp.

Oh, no! Someone’s hurt. I jump out of the tub, right into the shower curtain, my weight yanking it down. More yelping, hissing and growling.

“Stop it!” I bolt out of the bathroom, visions of Pacquito ripping into one of the cats blasting through my mind in vivid red.

“Stop it! Stop it! Stop it!” I run into the hall, shower curtain stuck to my wet skin. “Stop it! Stop it! Stop it!” I jump over a knocked-down table as I head past the front door toward the living room. Fred and Ginger jump around barking, watching Pacquito wrestle one of the cats.

“Pacquito!”

Pacquito jerks his head wildly, trying to get one of the tabby cats off his face. He succeeds in sending her flying across the room, and I see that it’s Blanche. She lands safely on the floor, but then springs back onto his face.

I dive into the fray. “Pacquito! Blanche! Pacquito! Blanche!”

Aaron and Christian are going nuts in the backyard. Someone at the door is pounding and calling my name over and over. I just scream and scream. Blood smears off Pacquito and Blanche and onto me, but I don’t know who the blood belongs to! I yank Blanche off Pacquito, but she twists in my arms and springs onto my head.

“Aaaah!”

Pacquito jumps on me trying to get at her, shredding the shower curtain plastered to my body. Blanche jumps off me, racing to slide under the couch. Pacquito goes after her, but he’s not quick enough to catch her. When he slams his muzzle into the bottom of the couch, I know she’s safe. She left no trail of blood, but Pacquito leaves a crimson smear on the couch. The blood belongs to him. His muzzle is dotted with claw pricks but at least his eyes seem fine.

He forgets Blanche and rushes to the door to bark at it. “Will you shut up!” I shout at the door, “I’m fine!”

“Open this door!”

“Just hold on!” I adjust the shreds of the curtain as I work my way to the door.

I’m gonna punch him. His ringing, pounding, and shouting have already cost me another shower curtain, not to mention a hall table and a near-heart attack.

“Excuse me!” I shout at the dogs who are rioting in front of the door. “I said ‘’Scuze me!’” They still don’t listen. So, I start to shove my way through, grabbing scruffs and tails when I can. I really need to look into collars.

Fred, at least, backs away from the door, runs in a few circles, then leaps onto the couch and continues his barking from there. I make it to the door, but before I can look through the peep hole, Pacquito jumps on me, paws on my back, causing my forehead to thunk against the door. “Ow!”

Just then, the door gets kicked in, sending me flying back. I land hard, with my bare wet butt smacking the floor. I’d be laid out flat if my head hadn’t come to rest against the shredded padding at the bottom of the couch.

“Lisa? Jesus, are you okay?”

I look up.

“God damn it, Jack. This is all your fault.”

When I was a pre-teen dreamer, I had this soft-focus fantasy of someday finding a hero who would come to my rescue, protect me, and take care of me, no matter what. It took a long time, but I finally found him.

His name is Fred.

Fred leaps from his position on the couch and lands on my chest.

“Uh!” I say, but not on purpose—the air just comes jutting out of my body.

Then, as Ginger and Pacquito wriggle up to greet Jack, my hero Fred stands strong to defend me. He digs his paws into me as he barks and growls at my intruder.

“Lisa?” Jack steps toward me. He squares off against Fred, ignoring the other two dogs snuffling and writhing in a Mags-like play for attention.

“Jack,” I say, lifting one hand to stop him, like Diana Ross trying to stop him in the name of love. I use the other hand to stroke Fred and calm him down. The dog slides his feet off my body and stands straddling me.

I manage to get myself into a sitting position, so I take Fred in my arms, shushing him and crooning to him. I lift my eyes toward Jack. “It’s okay. They’re just not used to visitors.”

Not that you could tell from Pacquito and Ginger, who’re practically taking Jack’s coat and offering him prosciutto wrapped melon balls. Mr. Talks-to-the-Animals seems to notice them then, the wraith of a greyhound and the mutt in a cast.

He looks up with a bewildered expression befitting a man who just woke up on a different planet with a different haircut. His eyes drift over what he can see of my house, with its overturned table, torn curtains, lewd graffiti on the walls, and ripped living room furniture with the stuffing everywhere.

No sense cleaning it up until the pets’ve done their worst. Right?

Jack just stares down at me, moving his head and opening his mouth a few times like he’s going to say something. I’m thinking he doesn’t know where to begin in pronouncing judgment on my current situation—abode, attire, home furnishings, domestic companions. You name it, I’m sure I don’t measure up.

“You’re bleeding,” he finally says, crouching down in front of me. Fred sniffs at him, and then licks his face.

“It’s not my blood,” I say with a certain degree of truculence. The dogs already like Jack better than they like me. And I’m the one who upended my life for them!

“Listen,” he says, looking me up and down. At least, looking at what he can see of me through the three wriggling dogs.

“Why don’t you…finish showering, and I’ll clean up this guy’s face?”

He looks at Pacquito’s muzzle and says to him, “What do you think of that, Big Guy?”

Jack is already male bonding with MY dog.

“Fine.” I get up carefully, trying to keep what’s left of the shredded plastic between my body and Jack’s eyes. “There are paper towels in the kitchen next to the sink.”

“Nice shower curtain.”

“Screw you.” I turn and make my way back toward the bathroom.

“I can see your butt,” Jack calls after me.

I can hear the smirk in his voice. Man, he’s awfully fresh, seeing as how he’s caused so much trouble. I whip the strips of plastic off my skin and let the mangled curtain drop to the floor.

“If you run real fast and get in front of me,” I offer, “you can see the whole shebang.”

Just then I realize he
will
see the whole shebang, in profile, when I turn into the hallway. Ah, who cares? He’s in
my
house after all,
uninvited
. I can walk around naked and soapy if I want.

* * * * *

After my curtainless shower, I make my way to my bedroom and close myself inside. Taking a deep breath allows me to absorb the ambiance of the tiny room. I let the essence of my perfect sanctuary work its magic. I’ve made the bed with the homey quilt that reminds me of
Little House
. Curtains hung, wardrobe in place, dressing table set up. It’s pretty crowded, this tiny room of mine. Nevertheless, its quiet warmth seeps into my bones like elixir from the gods.

More than anything, I want to collapse across my bed. But I know I’ll fall asleep if I do. So instead, I dry my hair and get dressed in pajama pants and two T-shirts.

When I walk into the kitchen, Jack is sitting in the middle of the linoleum floor, surrounded by the boxes I haven’t unpacked yet. He’s petting Pacquito and Ginger, who sit in worshipful abeyance.

“Why are you here?” I ask.

He looks up, but I do not give him a chance to answer.

“And how did you find me?”

“Yesterday, I went by your place,” he explains, “but Raffi told me you bought a house on Wednesday and moved. Just like that. So I went on the net to look for houses in L.A. County that just sold, then I drove around to each one, looking for your car.”

“You’ve been looking for me since yesterday?”

“You didn’t answer your cell.”

“Pacquito ate it. I have to get a new one.”

“You couldn’t have gotten in touch with me and told me that?”

“I’ve been busy. And you said you had a billion things to keep you busy if I couldn’t test right away.”

Jack looks down at Pacquito’s silky ears and strokes them. The mutt’s eyes close, and he begins to hum a soft doggie grunt.

“Jack,” I say. “I need an animal wrangler. Do you want to move in with me? You can have the biggest bedroom. It has its own bathroom.”

He looks up at me. “You’d let the help sleep in the master bedroom?”

“
I’m
the master,” I say, “and I’m not in that room, so it’s
not
the master bedroom.”

“Why
aren’t
you in there?” he asks, suspicion darkening his brow. “What’s wrong with it? Haunted?”

“No. I don’t think. Nothing’s wrong with it. But I don’t want the animals in my bedroom, and since they need as much square footage as possible, I took the smallest room.”

“So your animals could get most of the house,” he says, getting clarification.

“Duh,” I say. “That’s why I bought it.”

He’s looks back down at Pacquito. “I bet Raffi wasn’t too thrilled when you came home one day with….” He looks around, noting the two dogs out back, as well as Dorothy and Sophia, sitting on the counter, “…seven animals.”

I open the fridge and grab myself a Coke, the only beverage in there. So far, I’ve moved in only the essentials.

“Twelve,” I correct. “There are still five cats you haven’t met. But I didn’t bring them all home at once. Some stayed at the vet longer than others.”

I look toward Jack, who’s looking at me now. I nod toward the line of red cans in a way of offering. He nods back, so I toss him one.

“But, I managed to barter myself enough time to find a place and move out.”

“Enough time?” He takes a pull from his Coke. “I last saw you–what? A week ago?”

Actually, not counting sightings of each other in class, it's been more than a week since he came to get the helmet, and I tried talking to him about his mother. “Do you want to meet the dogs out back?” I ask.

“The Rottweiler and the Mastiff?” He looks toward the kitchen door. “We introduced ourselves while you were in the shower.”

“Jack, why are you even here when I’m in the shower? What’s so important that you had to kick my door in?”

“I kicked your door in because I heard you screaming.”

“Oh. That was nice of you.” I rub the bump he gave me on my forehead when he kicked the door right into me.

“Can you test Thursday, all day?”

“All day?”

Jack extricates himself from the dogs and stands up. “Can you do it?”

I swallow. “Yes.”

He walks to the front door. “I’ll pick you up at 6 a.m.”

I let out a wail. “In the morning?”

Jack doesn’t even turn his head as he lopes down the porch steps. “Just be ready.”

* * * * *

“Do you know what you have to do?”

I turn to look at Jack, but don’t say anything. I just breathe. In and out. In and out. But for how much longer?

“Lisa?”

“I pull the Goddamned parachute cord when the altimeter reads 4,000 feet.”

That’s right. He’s making me jump out of a plane. Bad enough that he made me get
on
the plane in the first place. Now he’s making me jump out.

JUMP OUT!

Of a PLANE. That’s FLYING!

“Or?”

“When you tell me to.”

“Then?”

“Jack!” My bark is sharp enough to make the pilot glance back. “You made me get up at no-o’clock in the morning just so I could listen to EIGHT HOURS of instruction. I passed all the stupid tests. Now just let me jump in peace.”

“Answer my questions, or you’re not jumping anywhere.”

“Is that supposed to be a threat?”

Jack pulls in a deep breath. I see his nostrils flare when he does it. He looks at me then, and even through his goggles, his stare makes my skin go cold.

“What do you do next?
”

“Steer myself. With the toggle. Follow you. When I see the big X, head towards it. As I get closer to the big X, I use the cords to help steer.”

“Remember, I’ll be holding on to your harness the whole time. And you have the reserve chute.”

“I know. I know. It’s going to be fine. So, just leave me alone.”

Jack reaches out and grabs me by the lapels of my jumpsuit. “No, Lisa,” he says sternly. “It’s not going to be fine.” But then his face breaks into a smile. “It’s going to be
awesome
.”

Some guy called Mattie gets out of his seat next to the pilot and steps into the back of the plane. “Ready?” he bellows.

I suck in my breath as he rolls open the door to the sky. At least Jack promised to take care of the animals if anything happens to me.

Jack takes my hand.

“Let’s go,” I say, trying to pretend none of it is real.

He leads me to the gaping door of the plane. We wedge ourselves into the opening. He lets go of my hand and I feel him grab hold of the harness on my back. “One, two—”

“Three!” I shout.

Together, we jump.

“AAAAAAAAAAHHH—”

The air catches me. The falling sensation disappears. I’m floating. Flying. Flying! Flying! FLYING!

My body stretches out. I spread my arms wide.

“Wooooooooh-aaaaaah!”

Jack has spiraled away from me, but we’re still connected. He mimics looking at his wrist. I look at my altimeter. 8,000 feet. I give Jack a thumbs up. Our eyes catch for a sec, and we smile.

“Wooooooooh-aaaaaaah!” I scream again, looking at the world all around me.

ALL AROUND ME! All around me. All around me.

I check the altimeter again, and release the chute.

I spin far away from Jack, the air jerking me up. I look across the sky. His chute opens.

I grasp onto the toggle, twist around to float in Jack’s wake, take it all in. All of it. All of it. EVERYTHING.

The ground below comes into focus as more than a beige-on-beige patchwork quilt. I see the big white X. I’ve drifted out of Jack’s wake, but I can see the X. That’s all that matters.

Suddenly, the ground is coming up fast. Faster and faster.

“Jaaaack!” I twist around and see him off to my left, but he doesn’t seem at all concerned that I'm barreling toward earth with the velocity of a meteor.

Jack is landing. He’s landing. He’s touching dow—

“Hwaah-“ My feet touch earth. I run to keep up with myself and fall right on my face into the dirt.

I’m on the ground. The ground. I did it.

Rolling over, I press my back against every scrap of earth my body can cover. I take off my helmet, so even my scalp can press into the glorious ground. I fling off my goggles to better see the amazing sky which is now safely above me.

Arms flung wide, I curl my fingers into the grass, gripping on with all my might. I’m down. I’m safe. My body is held together in one wonderful, miraculous piece!

I DID IT.

“Lisa?” I can hear Jack call from some short distance.

But I’m too psyched about breathing in and out, in and out. Oh, the wonder of it!

“Lisa? Lisa!”

He runs to me, and stops just before trampling my invincible body. “Lisa?”

I look up at him and notice he’s flung off his goggles and helmet too, leaving his hair messed. And he looks so concerned. About me. Damn, that Jack is a sexy guy.

He throws himself onto his knees right next to me, leans over me. “Lisa?!” He puts his hands near my face as if he wants to grab my jaw and shake it, but he doesn’t touch me.

It occurs to me that maybe he thinks I’ve broken my back. Or my neck.

“Lisa, are you okay? Answer me!”

“I’m wonderful!” I shout on a geyser of laughter erupting from my way-alive body.

Jack exhales, smiles, relaxes.

I grab him. With both hands, I take fistfuls of the front of his suit. I yank him down onto me and kiss the daylights out of him.

Man, it feels good! I’m just so alive that I want to suck every drop of life out of him. He gets on top of me, mauling me right back. Next thing I know, he’s peeled my suit, leggings, and panties down to my ankles and—

Now he’s—

WOW! We get enough clothes off to slam into each other so hard my pelvic bone throbs. Wow wow wow! I just want more and more and harder and harder and faster and faster and FASTER. Yes, yes, yes, YES!!!!