My Sister's Keeper (4 page)

“
Yes. Ashleigh. A little wine would be nice—if you have any.” I opened the fridge and was relieved to discover an unopened bottle of Zinfandel that had been tucked in the back some time ago for just this type of occasion. I reached in for it as her eyes roamed around the room.

The house had been nice in its day. Built in the 1920s as a hunting lodge by a man that owned a railroad. It had high ceilings, wide crown molding, polished oak floors, and glass paneled doors separating the downstairs rooms. But the place had eventually fallen into the hands of heirs who couldn’t agree on whether to keep it or sell it. So for decades it remained unoccupied as the neighborhood grew around it. I got use of it from one of Martha’s doctors, a great-grandchild of the builder, who just gave me a key figuring it would be better to have someone in it for free than to simply let it continue to deteriorate. I did not pay rent, but I’d made a good many repairs and renovations to it, especially to the kitchen. It not only brought the house back from the dead, it kept my mind and hands occupied when I wasn’t working on a play or running Martha around town.

“
It’s nice in here,” she said brushing a strand of wet hair from the corner of her eye.

“
Thanks.” I uncorked the bottle then opened the dishwasher more out of habit than actual expectation and was surprised to find a clean stem of crystal. I poured the wine then circled the counter holding the glass out to her. “You said there were two things you needed, didn’t you?” As she took her drink, I noticed her hand trembling, so I stepped into the den to light the gas logs in the fireplace.

“
Yes. The other thing is…” She followed me and sat on the edge of the love seat nearest the fire holding her glass with both hands. “I’m trying for a part in a Brad Pitt movie they’re going to be shooting here…”

I waited to see if there was more as I crossed back to the kitchen for my drink. “And—”

“
I’ll need some photographs for that.”

I topped off my scotch. “Great. Seems simple enough.” The wind rose and there was a sharp crack and a loud thump on the deck outside. Ashleigh jumped to her feet as if expecting something to leap through the glass.

“
The regular head-shot for an agent?” I asked crossing back to the den.

She sat again slowly. “Actually… What I really need…”

I sat on the couch and waited.

“
What I really need…” She rolled the glass in her hands. “…is something a little more…” She took a sip of wine and cleared her throat. “…a little more…”

I’d seen this before. I knew what she couldn’t say. “Something sexy? Risqué?”

“
Well…”

Lightning struck nearby and thunder rattled the dishes. “If you can’t say it, Ashleigh, how do you expect to be able to do it?”

She walked to the window taking her glass. “Oh, I can do it,” she said, her voice sounding confident. But the color in her face suggested a different answer. “I have to do it.”

She kept her eyes off me, but I couldn’t keep mine off her. Her neck was long and her breasts just barely pushed the front of her shirt out. She was definitely intriguing. A flicker of lightning illuminated her face as she gazed out the window. “You need nude photographs to get a part in a movie these days?”

She cut her eyes toward me. “He wants them.”

“
I’m sure he does.” I inhaled deeply. “But, Ashleigh…if you walked into McDonald’s looking for a job and the manager asked if you had any nude photographs of yourself, you’d probably knock his block off and call the cops. So what makes this different?”

Her voice was quiet, almost dreamy. “Brad Pitt.”

“
Brad Pitt wants nude photographs of you?”

“
I get to do the nude scenes with him.” Ashleigh finished the wine in a single gulp, crossed back to the love seat, and flopped her petite figure onto it.

“
Don’t they use body doubles for that?”

She set the empty stem on the coffee table, sat back, dropped a loafer, and tucked her left foot up under her right thigh.

“
That’s the part I want.”

“
Why?”

She picked a painted fingernail at a spot on the seat cushion. “People tell me I look a lot like Julia Roberts. She’s the female lead. So, I think I have a good chance to get it. I heard you’re a photographer and since you’re right next door, I just thought…”

“
You’d do this just to be able to rub bellies with Brad Pitt on a movie set?”

She looked at me as if she thought every woman would. “Well, yeah.”

“
You know there will be about twenty-five other people standing around watching, don’t you?”

She flipped a thread of hair off her face and stretched her right arm over the back of the love seat. “That’s okay.”

What is it with young people these days? They don’t have time to do groundwork, build a foundation, or climb anything. They want to jump right into a world of fame, fortune, and adventure and don’t mind mortgaging their morals to get it. That’s nothing, the way they see it.

Thunder rumbled in the distance. I stood and lifted my glass. “Look, I don’t mean to throw cold water on your dreams. Anything’s possible. Why don’t we go take a look at your fuse box? Would you like some wine to take with you?” I waited for her to respond. When she didn’t, I moved into the kitchen, pulled another bottle of scotch from a cabinet, and cracked the seal.

“
You don’t think I’d get the part do you?” she said. I could tell her feelings were hurt, but I refilled my glass and drank from it without answering. “Seriously, you don’t think I’d get it, do you?”

I turned to face her. “Well, how would I know, Ashleigh? I don’t know you. I don’t know them. I don’t even know what the movie’s about.”

“
You’re a man, aren’t you? You’re about his age aren’t you?” Lightning lit the room.

“
Brad Pitt?” I sighed. “He’s

a little older, I think.” As I took a gulp, she stood and began unbuttoning her shirt while I choked back the scotch.

“
Wh-o-o-o-a! Hey! Hold on there. Wait just a minute.”

She ignored me, jerked the shirttail out of her jeans, and worked the rest of the buttons free.

5

“
S
TOP!” I SHOUTED. Ashleigh looked up, her hands frozen on the last button. “I’m sorry, Ashleigh,” I said. “Call me drunk. Call me stupid. Call me whatever you want. I’m as red-blooded as any male and you’re the best looking woman I’ve had in this house
ever!
But you just don’t need to be doing that. Please, just call the studio in the morning and make an appointment.” Her gaze remained locked on me even as another heavy branch fell on the deck. Her shirt lay open exposing her bra. It was tempting.
God, was it tempting!
I turned away. “Please, Ashleigh.” The telephone rang and broke the impasse. I reached for it immediately. “Hello?”

It was Mom. “Richie, can you run over and help your dad move Martha’s bed?”

I closed my eyes and drew a slow breath. “Move it where, Mom?”

“
Is something wrong?”

“
No, nothing’s wrong. Move it where?”

“
Just turn it so she can see the street out the window.”

“
Okay. Sure. I’ll stop by in the morning on my way to work.”

“
Thank you, Baby.”

“
You’re welcome, Mom.”

“
Did you get something to eat?”

Thunder rattled the house. “I’ve got to go, Mom.”

She paused. “Is something wrong, Richie?”

“
No. I’ll call you later.”

There was a short pause. “Is someone there?”

“
See you in the morning, Mom. Bye-bye.”

I set the phone back on its cradle and looked up at Ashleigh. She reminded me of the way my dad often looked at me.
Arrogant and pompous.
I spoke gently. “Think about what you’re doing, Ashleigh. You’re extremely beautiful, sexy as hell, and certainly don’t need me to tell you that.” She remained motionless. “Just call the studio tomorrow. Okay?”

She flipped her hair back, exhaled sharply, and began fastening the buttons. “Yeah, sure.”

“
And we’ll go see what we can do about your lights.” I tossed down the rest of my drink, found a pad of paper, and made a note to remind me to stop by Mom’s in the morning. As I propped it by the coffee pot, Ashleigh drifted toward me jamming her shirttail back into her jeans. Her eyes were downcast and her shoulders slumped. I lifted her raincoat off the cabinet knob and held it open for her. She slipped her arms into it, pulled the collar high, and buttoned it. She kept her eyes low and said nothing.

I snared my windbreaker, pulled it on, and retrieved a flashlight from a drawer next to the back door. “Please don’t take this personally—”

A clap of thunder rocked the house and the lights went out. Ashleigh screamed and threw her arms around me. The scent of her shampoo and the heat of her breath on my neck brought back long-forgotten feelings. I should have pushed her away. Instead, my arms folded around her and my lips brushed her forehead. “Shhh. It’s just thunder,” I whispered. For a long moment we held each other and, for that moment, she was all mine and I ached for more.

As the lights flickered back on and the microwave beeped, she raised her face, closed her eyes, and puckered her lips. I hesitated, then as my lips touched hers, my heart stopped and I relived my entire life—falling in love all over again and making love a hundred times—before releasing her and turning away.

“
I’m sorry,” she whispered.

I cleared my throat, gripped the doorknob, and wiped a tear from my eye. “Don’t be. There are things in this world that frighten me too.” I drew a breath. “You ready?” She nodded and I opened the door holding it for her to step back out into the storm. I felt like a fool—like a failure.
Coward!

It was a short walk to her front porch. I held the light while she unlocked the door then followed her into the darkness panning the light about the room. The place smelled of perfume and potpourri and reminded me of a weekend cottage with a breakfast bar separating the living room and the kitchen. She took my arm and led me across the room saying, “The fuse box is over here.”

Luckily the “fuse box” turned out to be a circuit breaker panel. I shined the light on the switches as Ashleigh stood closely behind peeking over my shoulder.

“
See anything?” she whispered into my ear.

The main breaker was off. Not tripped, but switched off. I flipped it on and the room filled with light and the hum of appliances. A second later, an ancient console television fizzled to life showing an old black and white Greta Garbo movie. Ashleigh leaned on the counter next to me and planted a hand on her hip. “Well, if I’d known it was that simple, I wouldn’t have bothered you.”

“
Oh, it’s no bother,” I said scanning the rest of the switches.

“
Can you stay a few minutes? I’d like to talk about the photos.”

“
Well, I…” The rain pounding the roof caused me to hesitate.

“
Please? I have some scotch,” she said. “Would you like a drink?”

I closed the panel box and turned off the flashlight. “I—think I’d better go.”

“
Couldn’t you at least have one drink so I could show you the pose I had in mind? Please?” Ashleigh lifted a tumbler she had waiting, opened the freezer door, and dropped a few ice cubes into it. “I promise I won’t keep you long.” She broke the seal on the bottle of scotch, screwed the cap off, and held it poised over the ice. “Please?” Her smile was soft. Her eyes had that sparkle children get when they’re excited and as she moved, the beads in her hair clinked against one another. She was much more relaxed here than she’d been in my house and I really didn’t have any reason to rush home.

“
Well, okay. Just one.”

She poured the liquor, placed the glass on a small square napkin, and handed it to me. “Just make yourself comfortable and let me get set up.”

“
Thanks.” I sipped the whiskey and couldn’t help but smile as she scurried through the living room into the bedroom. There was a time when I, too, had wild dreams and unrealistic expectations.

Some of the furniture reminded me of my grandmother’s and the rest had a Pier One look. I lifted a framed 5x7 photograph off a buffet behind the front door and studied it. It was a portrait of a teenaged Ashleigh with a woman, a man, and a boy—probably her family.

Over the couch hung a large portrait of her and a cat. It wasn’t bad, but I would have done it differently. As I stepped closer to the portrait, a longhaired tan and black cat stood up on the couch and stretched. It had blended so well with the pillows I hadn’t even noticed it, but when I reached out to stroke it, it vaulted to the floor. I didn’t mind. Normally, I wouldn’t have even offered. It looked back at me and I noticed it had one blue eye and one brown one. As far as cats go, this was a pretty one.

I drifted to the closed door Ashleigh had vanished through, leaned against the doorframe, and could hear her fiddling around behind it.

“
Ashleigh?” I called.

“
Not yet. Just a second.”

I felt like a teenager playing some kind of childish game. It was delightful, even sensual. I chuckled and sipped the scotch.