Behind the Scenes(34)
His palm slides along the steering wheel, and I can’t take my eyes off his long fingers and thick wrist. His hand looks so strong and his skin so soft.
“You’re smart,” he says. “And you stand your ground. You don’t back down.”
“Why would I?”
He glances at me, his face that always puzzling enigma. “Because of how I treat you.”
“That’s an extra incentive for me to not back down.”
He looks over at me again, and a blue sedan from the other lane cuts in front of him.
“Look out!” I shriek.
Just in time, he slows down. I clutch at the seat, trying to get my breath back as the car passes a truck and speeds away.
“Damn,” he mutters, then rubs his face. “I didn’t sleep well.”
“I can tell. Why?”
He runs his free hand through his hair. “A lot on my mind.” He pauses. “You ever been down to the riverbed when its dry?”
“Only in the movies.”
He smiles — honestly smiles — like he’s happy or finds what I’ve said funny.
“I thought it hardly ever got fully dry,” I continue.
“Sometimes there are parts of it where it’s a low flow.”
I try to imagine Mr. Mulroney going down to the concrete inlaid Los Angeles River, sitting down in his suit, and casting a fishing pole into the water, shooting the shit with the old Hispanic men in their overalls and baseball caps.
“How bout that Dow Jones?” Mr. Mulroney would say. Or, “Man, this new tax on the one percent is really killing me. I have to sell one of my yachts.”
I’ve got a good imagination, but that one is really stretching it.
Traffic is slowing down. We’re still a good amount of time away from rush hour, but the road is threatening to congest. Mr. Mulroney takes a right and veers off onto a side street. The little car twists and turns, weaving its way through a neighborhood of two story houses packed together like sardines.
I sneak a glance over at him. It’s hard to not enjoy just sitting here in the silence. I’m painfully aware of every tiny movement he makes, from each blink of his eyes to each thrum of his fingers on the wheel.
We come out of the neighborhood and climb up a slight hill. I don’t ask where we’re going. I no longer care. I’ve been kidnapped by my boss and I’m not going to fight it.
After all, this rendezvous is way more enjoyable than sitting back at the office licking envelopes. And I can partake in it relatively guilt free, seeing as it’s been cleared by my paycheck signer.
Sorry, Chuck. I think about the hockey game he’s going to miss.
Mr. Mulroney takes another turn. It’s obvious now where we’re going, but I still don’t say anything. Instead, I just wonder why we’re headed for Griffith Park. He already apologized to me. Doesn’t that mean it’s time to go back to the lot now?
My pulse speeds up as he pulls the car into the parking lot. Wordlessly, we both get out. He takes off his suit jacket and tosses it back in the car. Unbuttoning his white sleeves, he rolls them up. I stand there and glance around while I wait, wondering if any of the people milling around might think the man I’m with is my boyfriend.
It’s criminal, that’s what it is. This is the dangerous territory I swore I would steer clear of.
One afternoon can’t hurt.
It’s one afternoon of escape. One afternoon of pretend. No one even knows we’re here, standing in the middle of this park. Dana probably thinks we’re stuck in LAX traffic.
If I give myself up to this short little escape, no one will ever know. I can pretend everything I want is right in front of me and it will never matter. Soon, Mr. Mulroney and I will be back at the office. He can go on being his distant self and I can continue watering plants, doing everything I can to pretend he doesn’t exist.
“Do you like Star Trek?” he asks from over the top of the car. The sunlight glints off the rooftop, making it hard to look directly at him.
It might be the weirdest question he’s ever asked me, and that includes the “Did you like what you saw?” one.
“Uh… it’s okay. I used to watch it whenever I stayed home sick from school.”
He starts walking, and I follow. The trail he picks is a familiar one. It leads to Bronson Caves. I’ve visited them a couple times, although the first time I was severely hung over.
“Do you like Star Trek?” I ask him.
He slows down and matches his pace to mine so we’re side by side. “I love it.”
I laugh a little. What do you know? Simon Mulroney is a real person with real interests. Semi-geeky interests, at that.
“They filmed a lot at the caves here,” he continues.