Page 74 of Truth or More Truth
Kelli continues, “And you can be a jerk when you’re trying to get a deal for your clients. But you’re not a jerktoyour clients, at least not that I’ve overheard. I mean, Uncle Diego loves you like a brother. And Jimmie Zane is an idiot, but he trusts you with his life. You really do treat him like he’s your kid. You ran off to Chicago to straighten him out two days after Christmas when you could’ve just let him continue to screw up his career and leave all the mess to his PR people to clean up. I repeat, it’s like he’s your kid and you’re trying to get him on the right path. Of course, you’re old enough he could be your kid,” she teases.
“Haha. You’re so funny. But no agent is going to let their client run wild without trying to rein them in.” Plus, Leslie is his PR rep and there was no way I was letting her deal with Jimmie drama the week before her wedding.
“Maybe so. But I don’t think other agents do it like you do. I know that horrible Wayne McCormack doesn’t.” She shivers dramatically, and I laugh. My nemesis truly is a terrible person. “You really care about those guys, even if you don’t say it. You show it by the way you treat them and help them be better people.”
Maybe she’s right, but what she didn’t point out is I left town to go be a pseudo-father to a grown man when I should’ve been right here with my actual teenage daughter a couple weeks ago. I got an earful about it at the time, but she seems to have moved on. I’m not sure I want her to move on from something like that, though.
“Ba—” I catch myself before fully calling her baby again. “I’m sorry I left you to go clean up Jimmie’s mess. I should’ve left him to deal with it on his own.”
“I know you’re sorry. You’ve said it twenty times. But you can’t help it. You want to help those idiots. But it would be nice if you were here more to help this idiot.” She points her thumb at herself.
“You’re not an idiot.”
“I know. I was just making a point.”
“It was well made. Sounds like I might need to be saving up money for law school.”
“I’d kick some butt in a courtroom,” she declares.
“You would indeed.”
thirty-one
. . .
“Told you he’s a good guy.” Wendy smirks at me and then takes a giant bite of her disgusting-looking ice cream float—chocolate ice cream with orange soda and strawberry syrup.
She and Randall are sitting across a booth from me in Pat’s Diner. I wanted to talk to Wendy last night after I talked to Bobby, but it was 10:00, and I decided not to bother her. When I called her this morning, she said she could meet me for lunch after church. I didn’t think about the fact that would also include Randall, but I really don’t mind. He knows Bobby better than Wendy does, so it’ll likely be helpful for me talk to him anyway.
“Lunch” for Wendy apparently means her nasty float and mustard-covered fries. Randall is downing a double bacon cheeseburger like he hasn’t eaten in a week. I’m only picking at my club sandwich and chips. I don’t really feel like eating.
“Yes,” I tap a chip on my plate, “I already knew he was a good guy, but thanks for reiterating.”
Wendy narrows her eyes. “There’s no need to get snippy with me.”
“She’s not being snippy,” Randall chides. “She’s confused. Give her a break. Imagine if I sprang a thirteen-year-old daughter and a backyard ex-wife on you after knowing you for eight months.”
“All right. I get your point.” Wendy then eyes me as sheshovels in more of her float and I almost gag. “How do you feel about all of this?”
“I think I’m more attracted to him now than I was before. Who knew I was into single dads? But there’s a lot at stake, most notably when it comes to Kelli. What if she gets attached to me, and then we break up? And then there’s his ex. He says there’s nothing between them anymore, but how do I know that? How can I trust what he says? The last man I trusted betrayed me in the worst way.”
“I’ve seen them together,” Randall says, “when I was in L.A. for my bachelor party. Nanette and Kelli joined us for lunch, and I’ll admit I was watching her carefully to see if what Bobby had said was true—that they’re just friends, because I was skeptical—and I saw nothing to make me think otherwise. They interacted like …,” he tapped his chin as he thought, “well, to compare them to people we know, like me and Leslie. We’re completely ourselves with each other, and we love each other, but as friends and now siblings, not anything else.”
“That’s reassuring,” I say, a bit relieved by his assessment of that situation, though not completely. “But that aside, with his life being centered in California, and mine being here, it’s difficult to see how we could be together long-term.”
“You’re set on staying in Chicago, then?” Wendy asks.
I shrug. “I don’t know. I mean, I was. If you’d asked me ten days ago if I’d move across the country for a man, I’d have given you a resounding no. It’s still a half-resounding no. I can’t make that kind of decision after spending a handful of days with someone. Ultimately, I guess I’m open to moving if I’m in love and can imagine myself marrying the guy, but I’m not at that point with Bobby. And I’m not going to rush into anything, especially considering my last relationship.”
“He’s not Jeremy,” Wendy states. “I can’t see Bobby being a cheater—not with Nanette or anyone else. And you knew Jeremy for a long time, anyway, so that argument doesn’t hold much water.”
“I know, but that situation has made me a bit wary when it comes to men.”
“Men can be total pigs.” This comes from the man at the table just before he takes a giant bite of his burger and a dollop of ketchup drops onto his light-blue oxford shirt.
Wendy and I both burst into laughter.
“What?” Randall says after he swallows. “It’s true. We all have the ability. Some of us have just learned to mostly bury that tendency.”
