The Sportin' Life (20 page)

Week by week the time passed. Liana
’
s gallery was a fixture in
Beverly Hills
and she even started considering other locations as possible branch galleries. I became busier and busier, and so I built a room onto the back of my house to contain a fully equipped gym so that clients who didn
’
t have their own exercise rooms could come to me. Liana suggesting offering sessions for couples or groups at reduced rates so that I could enlarge my clientele and could help more people and I took her suggestion and she and I both made more money than ever.

No women I wanted to date came along, not since Tawny, but it didn
’
t matter because I had Liana for good company and fun outings. It was amusing to watch Liana fling herself into dating in
Los Angeles
, and I kept warning her about the rules here for dating and mating, but she was as incredulous as I had been. She kept meeting these bozos and it distressed me deeply every time she would recount one of her romantic experiences. I couldn
’
t stand it to think of her being with these jerks who were coming on to her, and every conversation began and ended with one word,
condoms
. Liana promised me that she would be a safe sex practitioner, but that wasn
’
t the half of it.

What was she doing with these semi-literate guys who could hardly hold a pencil let alone a conversation? I thought she was selling herself short and kept trying to point out that she belonged with a better grade of partner. She just laughed at me, but I know that it was eating at her as well. I suspected there was someone in her past who had done a job on her, and once she mentioned a guy who
’
d broken her heart, but she didn
’
t want to talk about it, so I couldn
’
t press her to confide in me. All I said was that any guy who didn
’
t want her was a fool, and she should consider herself lucky to be rid of him rather than deprived and disappointed. She would smile and hug me when I said things like that, but the flicker of pain that crossed her beautiful face each time we discussed it made it clear to me that she was burdened with some heartache that never cleared away, and there was noting I could do to make it better.

There we were together, brother and sister, best friends, locked into our warm relationship and happy, responsible, successful members of society, but neither of us could find personal happiness or a loving mate. Why was that? We laughed over our mutual spouseless status all the time, and laughing made us each feel better, but it did little to solve the problem.

By then it was fall and Violet was with us and we were a happy family in my little house in
Rancho
Park
. Liana had been in
Los Angeles
for more than a year and she seemed to fit in comfortably. Violet was settling into her new school and enthusiastically arranging play dates for the weekends. Carmen, a wonderful housekeeper who loved Violet and seemed to think she was related to us all, came to work every day so that our household could run smoothly and Violet would have someone there after school while Liana was at work and I was busy with clients.

It had been more than a year since last I saw Tawny when we bumped into each other in Hobson
’
s on
Melrose
. I was taking Violet for an ice cream cone and showing her all the weird looking people with blue stripes in their hair who liked to frequent the area. We
’
d been into a number of shops specializing in toys and knickknacks of all kinds and she had been having a great time. At Hobson
’
s we had ordered a super-duper sundae with all sorts of candies blended into the ice cream and lots of gooey sauces on top. As we watched the kid build our treat, Violet instructed him on what to add when, like the Julia Child of the ice cream world.

Tawny was at the other counter buying a truffle, and as we turned to sit on the bench in the window, we came face to face. She looked at me and blushed and looked at Violet and blushed again. I imagined she thought that I had gotten married and this was my stepdaughter. For a moment I considered letting her think that, letting her believe that I was happy and in love and settled down, so soon after our breakup and much improved despite it.

But then she smiled her friendly
California
girl smile, her blue eyes twinkled happily and she beamed at Violet, saying,
“
I bet you
’
re Violet! You
’
re much cuter than the picture I saw of you a while back. I didn
’
t realize that you were a teenager
—
what are you, fourteen?
”

Of course
—
I had shown her family pictures. I
’
d forgotten about that, and Tawny obviously knew the score and was in no way worried over the possibility that I had married or was happy without her. She wasn
’
t even thinking about that. Naturally.

“
Thanks,
”
said Violet, smiling and friendly and won over by Tawny
’
s golden charm and the idea that someone thought she was a teenager when in fact she was only twelve.
“
Want to have some ice cream with us? We have enough for a lot of people, and we planned to wedge on it ourselves, but you can have some too if you want.
”

Wedge on it? Where did kids pick up the slang they use? I shook my head and laughed, and so did Tawny, apparently for the same reason. I expected her to use good manners and leave the store so that we wouldn
’
t have to be together any longer, but she surprised me by answering,
“
Wow, really! I
’
d love some of that sundae. I bet it
’
s the best sundae I
’
ve ever seen. What all did you have them put in it?
”

As we walked to the window seat and Violet and Tawny chatted over various ingredients, the virtues of chips on top, Reeses pieces inside, marshmallow versus whipped cream, my heart pounded unreasonably. I was still attracted to her, and she looked as beautiful as ever. It didn
’
t matter that I knew that she had screwed me, I still had feelings for her.

We sat eating, and finally Tawny looked me in the eye and asked shyly, almost regretfully, it seemed, although maybe I imagined it,
“
How have you been, Ace?
”

“
Very well, and very busy. How about you?
”

“
Well,
”
Tawny sighed,
“
I
’
ve been kind of lonely. I
’
ve missed you a lot. I thought about calling you just yesterday, in fact.
”

“
Really?
”
I tried to sound casual and disinterested and hoped that it came out that way.
“
Still acting?
”

“
I
’
m still trying to act. Right now I
’
m doing temp work, sales, promotions, all sorts of stuff. Have to make money, unfortunately.
”

Our conversation went on like that for a while, but eventually Violet grew tired of her ice cream and reentered the chatter so that we couldn
’
t really talk. I wasn
’
t sure that I wanted to. When it was time to leave, we rose, and I put my arm around Violet to guide her out the door.

“
Ace, could I call you sometime? Just to talk, I mean or to invite you to dinner?
”

Tawny seemed so sincere and so genuinely lonely that I decided to say yes. Maybe she was sorry for how she
’
d acted, and maybe she wasn
’
t as bad as I had thought. So I reached into my wallet and pulled out one of my cards,
“
Here, Tawn, I have a new number.
”

She accepted the card with a smile, tucking it into her expensive handbag. We walked out together, Violet and I getting into my Porsche and Tawny heading in the opposite direction after waving and calling out,
“
Super wheels!
”
As we drove west on
Melrose
, I realized that I had bought that car to impress her and I felt a little disgusted with myself. Her rejection of me had affected me and I obviously wanted to flaunt my success a little more that I had before as result of that rebuff. Finally I growled to myself, so what, it
’
s the local custom. When in
L.A.
, and all that stuff.

Violet let out a huge burp then, and I laughed at the sound of such an emission exiting her usually proper preteen mouth. She smiled happily at me, and I tried to do an even bigger burp, a game we used to play when she was five.

Tawny did call me for dinner the next evening, and we made a date for the following night, something that filled me both with happy anticipation and agonizing dread. She was the fire that had burned me, the big wave that had nearly drowned me, and I was afraid to get too close. Yet in some part of me, I knew that I had to go, not because I wanted to be with her or to sleep with her again, both of which I did, but because I had to see just what effect she had on me. I had to test my mettle.

Our dinner seemed casual and friendly and almost boring, and it might have been that we were two old friends meeting briefly to recapture the past, but for the fact that I was scrutinizing my own heart for signs of treachery. Could Tawny make me fall in love with her all over again? I hoped not. I scrutinized her even more thoroughly than I did myself, trying to find the flaws that I could catalogue as evidence to use against her. I wanted to see that she was nothing more than a dumb, blond bimbo, out to sell her charms to the highest bidder. It just didn
’
t work. Tawny is not dumb and she
’
s no bimbo. She
’
s sweet, friendly and charming, and I couldn
’
t help liking her, despite what I knew about her values and the way she was raised to believe that a man should become her ticket to whatever she wants because she is all the things she is.

I asked her what happened between us, why she cooled off so completely, wondering if after all this time she were willing to provide me with the satisfaction of an honest answer. Once again she passed the test by opening up to me with a sigh,
“
I met another guy, Ace, a guy kind of like my father, only not nearly so nice, and I guess he swept me off my feet a little.
”

I felt curious and hurt at the same time, and wanting to hold out my arms for her to use as a safe haven. I decided instead to harden my resolve and pursue the matter.
“
Tell me about it.
”

“
Well he was this rich doctor, and he kept promising me all sorts of things, like marriage and a home, and you know how I feel
—
I
’
m twenty-six now and my mother was married by twenty-three.
”

“
Truthfully, Tawn, I wasn
’
t aware that you were so worried about getting married again.
”

“
Every girl is worried about that Ace, even the ones who say they aren
’
t, sometimes especially the ones who say they aren
’
t.
”

“
So
—
why didn
’
t you marry him?
”

“
I don
’
t know. He dumped me in a really mean way, and I never knew why. I thought we were really close and were having a good time.
”

“
I know how you feel.
”
I let my own pain reveal itself then and I wondered if she would pick up on it, and she did, reaching her hand out to cover mine in a gesture that was filled with sorrow and frustration about the poor choices we all make that rechart the courses of our lives. I looked into her blue eyes and saw there an equal degree of pain to match my own. I saw regret and compassion and I let my own gaze rest on hers steadily for a long moment and in that exchange I was healed. She hadn
’
t screwed me like the callous, money-grubbing cunt I had thought her to be. She had simply done what she thought was best in the only way she knew how, and because of that we both became victims of her faulty decision making. She chose the wrong guy. She threw away what she really wanted because she didn
’
t see clearly enough that it was more available with me than with the next guy, the one who didn
’
t come through for her.