Just a Man with a Plan
WHILE WE’VE BEEN AWAY, I’VE been texting with Don, which is an adventure. He said Betsy is doing well but that she seems off. He said he made her some avocado toast in her toaster oven and she only ate half. Now, this isn’t necessarily alarming, but Don is good at making avocado toast so maybe she’s so despondent she can’t eat. He’s mostly no help though, just telling me what she’s wearing that day, or about the “bougie” drapes she picked for the living room and that she spends a lot of time in her room listening to those darn oldies.
We get home from Sonoma Monday morning. I decide to stay home and work on some bid proposals and paperwork Marisol has been bugging me to go over and sign. It’s a lot of work and since I’m trying Andrew’s angle, I tell her just to take me off the Carter project for now. Most of the important decisions have been made, it’s just a matter of doing the work and I have a talented team I pay to be able to handle it all without me. Looking over our earnings from the time I was away, it seems they can more than handle it. It was our best quarter in a while. A few years ago, I’d feel insecure about that. Now I feel relieved. Relieved that I can play more music, leave town here and there and not have to worry.
I spend the week just working and playing music. We are going to Eugene and then on to Portland this weekend. There’s no place I love more than the Pacific Northwest. Jack and I have taken many camping trips up the coast and it’s the most beautiful scenery I’ve experienced. Eugene is a quaint college town with a crunchy granola feel and Portland is like a mini version of what San Francisco used to look like when I was young.
We leave Friday so even though I’ve been avoiding Betsy, she’s sent a few texts and tried to call me. I’m going to go to her show on Thursday but other than that I’ve got her on ignore. I text with Jeannette to make sure she’s okay and to see if she wants to meet for lunch so I can pump her for information.
Me: Hi Jeannette, how’s my Betsy doing?
J-dog: I feel like her light has dimmed a bit. It’s sad to see.
Me: Listen, I want to get her fully turned on again, will you help me?
J-dog: Fuck yes, I will.
Me: Can you meet me for lunch at Bernal Star noon on Thursday?
J-dog: You bet your ass I can.
Me: Thanks, Jeannette. My friend Lia is coming too. Can you do me one more favor?
J-dog: Anything.
Me: Can you make her smile this week?
J-dog: On it.
Me: You’re the best. See you Thursday.
I meet Jeannette and Lia Thursday and they help me with my idea for convincing Betsy she can trust me and that being with me is the best thing for her. I know what I want to say, I know what I want to convey, I’m just trying to figure out how to go about it. I want it to be special.
“What if you did something at work? Like bring your guitar and play something panty dropping,” Lia suggests while we are munching on fried artichoke hearts and pizza.
“At her boring software job?” I ask.
“Women always love a good serenade,” Jeannette adds.
“I’m not the best singer and I’m not sure about surprising her there, it seems kind of buttoned up,” I say, nibbling on a slice of pizza.
Lia slams her hand on the table, startling us all. “No! You don’t surprise her there, you surprise her at her other job.”
We stare at her and her sort of maniacal smile. “At Lady Marmalade?” Jeannette asks her and she nods. “Now that’s a fantastic idea, dear.”
“I know!” she says jumping in her seat now. “We beg them to let us play and let you do burlesque.” She points at me.
I throw my head back and laugh. “I want to get her back, not scar her for life.”
“No, listen. One of the best moments of my life’s when you all got on that stage and sang Birthday to me for my 30th. I’ve never felt so cherished and a part of a family.”
“So how will dancing and taking my clothes off make Betsy feel that feeling?” I ask, still doubtful.
“We will all do it! We will get the band, Jack, Jeannette here, some of her friends from her software job and of course the cast at the show. You will be the centerpiece of course, but we will show her she has a community here and we support and love her.” It’s a really good idea actually.
“You are kind of an evil genius, Lia,” Jeannette says, eying her with awe and respect. See, everyone falls for Lia, it’s inevitable.
“Thanks, Jeannette. I love your style, it’s so effortless and chic,” Lia says with a genuine smile.
Jeannette looks to me questioning and I shake my head. “Sorry, she’s married and knocked up.”
Lia puts her hand on Jeannette’s. “If I wasn’t, I’d be open to all possibilities. You’re a hottie.”
I think I see a tiny blush on Jeannette’s pale cheeks, but I may be imaging it. “Your husband is a lucky man.”
“He really is.” Lia sighs. “I’m lucky too, though. Javier has award-winning forearms and these beautiful eyes that look directly into your soul.”
“I’m pretty sure Paul’s Tumblr page dedicated to Javi’s forearms doesn’t count as an award, “I say, chuckling and she opens her mouth to object. “Neither does your former professor’s Instagram page dedicated to your husband’s rolled up sleeves.”
“Yeah, she had to take it down because we sent a cease and desist. Long story,” she tells Jeannette.
“I can’t wait to hear it.” Jeannette smiles and pops an artichoke in her mouth.
We order dessert and make plans. I don’t tell them my own plan to go see her show tonight because I feel like they’ll try to talk me out of it. Lia tells me she’ll set up the details with the theater. She knows one of the owners.
“Jeannette, you know your job,” I say.
“Joe, don’t insult me. I’ve been making that bitch smile way before you came along.”
* * *
I arrive at the theater and my requested table is not available so I take one on the floor in the corner. Not the best view, but I’ll be hidden at least. Our plane leaves early tomorrow so I only plan on staying for the first half. That’s until the emcee lets us know that their star performer, Betty LaFleur (that’s B’s stage name) has a special new performance tonight after the intermission. Well, now I’m staying as long as it takes to see that.
She is luminous as usual but I can tell she’s lost s bit of her spark. I only notice because I know her so well. After my one drink, I switch to water so I can fully experience her. Just having her twenty feet in front of me makes me realize how strong of a pull I have toward her. Also, I just miss the crap out of her. I went from spending every spare minute with her for weeks to nothing. There have been several times when I wanted to tell her something, send her a picture I thought was funny, or tell her about Jack getting an A on his calculus test she helped him study for.
God, I hope this works. I’ll be devastated if I can’t have her in my life. I know I’d get over her, but it would take a long time. I take a long sip of water as the lights go down after the intermission. The jangly piano of Elton John’s I Guess That’s Why They Call it the Blues starts and the curtain goes up. There are a few dancers lined up, sitting in chairs all in black. They all have black feathered hats that look like ravens. They are all swaying back and forth in unison until the two in the middle part and Betsy, in a head to toe pink feathered bodysuit, struts in. Her hair is pink as well and I feel a pang of regret because I’m not privy to info like that anymore. I laugh out loud and quickly stifle it when she starts dancing. It’s a relatively upbeat song for being kind of sad. The ‘ravens’ don’t do very much except provide a stark background to her delightfully pink form and then there are parts where they lift her or catch her mid-flight.
My flamingo, surrounded by darkness. It’s a pretty genius concept that is probably lost on 99% of the people here. I love her so completely in that moment it takes my breath away. When the dance finishes, she gets a standing ovation from everyone, including me. I know when she sees me because she tenses up. I smile at her and hold my drink up in salute. She nods and then is whisked off stage.
I get out of there, sure in my resolve to win her back, sure that this plan will work.