Fiction Friday: The Bandbox Hat

The Bandbox Hat

Previously: SarahJane goes outside by the pool to think about leaving the show. Amanda, her nemesis, comes out also. They exchange a few words then Amanda gets in the water while SarahJane lies on a lounge chair. When it gets too quiet, SarahJane calls Amanda’s name. Amanda doesn’t answer. She’s face down in the water. SarahJane jumps in and calls for help.

Chapter Thirty-Seven

I splashed my way to Amanda, still yelling. Where was everyone? Didn’t someone monitor the cameras?

“Help!” The water filled my sleep pants, dragging me down. I kicked them off and in another stride reached her. Her arms floated at her sides. I turned her over. Her eyes stared, glassy and large.

“Amanda!” I shook her but she didn’t blink.

“What’s going on?” A production assistant jogged to the pool edge.

“She’s not breathing!” All the CPR instructions tumbled through my head but I couldn’t sort them into any order. Pinch her nose? Or breathe into her mouth.

“The medics are coming. Pull her to me.” The man leaned over, reaching out.

Basic lifesaving skills I learned in high school returned to my foggy brain. Grasping under Amanda’s shoulders, I tugged her to the PA who hauled her onto the pool deck. Thundering footsteps sounded as I clambered out behind her.

Two medics appeared with bags of gear. They knelt next to Amanda, calling her name. They worked quickly, palpating and looking in her eyes and throat, pulling out tubing and fastening them to oxygen containers and to a plastic mask that covered her nose and mouth.

After an agonizingly long minute her eyelids fluttered and she raised a trembling hand to feel the mask.

I hovered over the medic. The PA stood, arms crossed over his chest. “What’s the verdict?” he asked.

“Looks like she choked on something,” one of the medics said. “We’ll take her to the hospital and have her checked out.”

“Great.” He didn’t sound like he thought it was great at all. More like irritated.

I glared at him. “What, will this interrupt your plans for tomorrow’s date? What is it? More beach volleyball? Or maybe tango lessons?”

He didn’t flinch as he met my gaze. “Bowling, and yes, it does change things. She’s out, you’re in.” He turned on his heel and strode away.

“Why, you—”

Amanda sat up and ripped off the mask. “No!” she called to his retreating back. “I’ll be okay. I can bowl!”

The medic closest to me pressed her back onto the ground with a hand to her shoulder. Her look at me could have cut diamonds. “This is all your fault.”

I pointed at my chest. “ME? You’re the one who almost drowned!”

“I would have come to in a minute.” Her voice sounded subdued under the mask, but I still got the venom.

“Whatever.” I turned and shuffled away. My sleeping pants were in the bottom of the pool and I realized I stood in my panties and a camisole, shivering in the cool night air.

“Here.” The production assistant had returned. He handed me a terrycloth robe.

“Thank you.” It felt warm and blessedly dry on my goose-pimpled arms. I had one more reflexive shiver before my muscles relaxed. “What’s your name?” I’d seen him around, but until then he’d just been part of the crew.

“Logan.”

“I’m SarahJane.” I stuck out my hand.

He smiled, and I found myself smiling back. He had warm brown eyes and when he grinned, they were framed by small crinkles. “Yes, I know. And I’m really sorry about your friend over there.”

“We’re not friends.” It was out before I could censor myself. “I mean, well, we’re not close, but I guess …”

He nodded. “I know. I’ve seen the footage. She hates you.”

I laughed. “I’m so glad you said that. I thought it was my imagination.”

“Nope, and sorry to say, you two have made for some of our best scenes.”

My mouth snapped shut for a moment. “So, I guess I’ll be seeing a lot of us on TV while someone says, ‘Next on Date My Son, Amanda and SarahJane battle it out for Austin’s heart. Does SarahJane break Amanda’s nose when they go after each other during an innocent game of beach volleyball? Stay tuned.’”

He chuckled. “Probably.”

I shivered again. “I should have known.”

“Let’s go inside. You really are going bowling tomorrow, so you should get to bed.” He moved to the French doors into the kitchen and held them open for me.

Once inside, he poured hot water from a kettle on the stove over a tea bag and handed me the cup. “Good thing I happened to be in production room and saw you yelling.”

“Isn’t someone watching all the time?” I asked. “I presumed everything is recorded.”

He nodded. “It is, but it’s not all watched at the same time. A couple of girls are having heart-to-hearts upstairs and that was more riveting than you two not speaking by the pool.”

I gestured with tea cup. “Well, thanks for this and the robe. Guess I better go look at what I have in the way of bowling clothes.”

“See you soon, SarahJane.”

I suddenly felt very warm and I had a feeling it had nothing to do with the terrycloth.

 

Technorati Tags: Fiction Friday,The bandbox Hat,SarahJane,reality television

Woe! It’s Wednesday: How Rude!

I’ve blogged before about how contemporary society has coarsened and become careless about simple courtesy, such as RSVPing, returning messages, and cussing in public.

I’ve been noticing another example of how we’re all getting ruder and louder and more selfish.

I had the opportunity recently to see Diana Krall in concert. She’s been one of our favorite musicians for quite a while. A few years ago when we were in the midst of some severe trials, her music buoyed us and helped us keep on. We’d get more bad news, look at each other, and say, “Time to go buy another CD.” Ms. Krall doesn’t tour often and gets to the west coast even less often, so we were thrilled that she was coming to a small historic theater an hour from home. We bought our tickets months ahead, as soon as we knew about it. We waited and anticipated a fun evening.

When we arrived, the ticket takers said, “If you have to leave the theatre, please wait until the end of the song to return to your seat.” They made eye contact while saying this. The lobby was lined with signs that said the same thing. The restroom mirrors had the signs. There was no way you could enter that concert without knowing the expected behavior.

Sure enough, during the first song, a couple with drinks in hand, scooched along the front row to take their seats. Not thirty seconds later they stood and scooched back to a different pair of seats.

Ms. Krall and her trio played a few more minutes, then paused to welcome the audience. She barely opened her mouth and people started yelling, “We love you, Diana!” and “Tell about Rio!” She sighed. Said, “I love you, too.” Every time she tried to talk, people yelled comments. “Where’s Elvis?” was next.

When did buying a concert ticket give us the right to badger and interrupt the performer? When did knowing and loving someone’s work become an illusion that we have a relationship? And when did it become okay to treat a theatre or club or concert hall like our living room? People in the front row at the Krall concert placed their drinks at the edge of the stage. Ms. Krall did say to the late arriving scoochers, “This isn’t a bar,” and soon the drinks were removed.

She responded with grace and courtesy to the boors who called themselves fans. Too bad they don’t give her the same honor and courtesy to perform for those of us who were there to listen to her music, not find out if Elvis had left the building.

Technorati Tags: Diana Krall,concert etiquette,rudeness,modern culture mores

Book Talk Tuesday: I Ate The Sheriff

I’m not into the horror genre at all. I’ve never watched any of the zombie movies or television series.

I read the first of K. Bennett’s legal zombie thrillers, Pay Me In Flesh, for review and because K. Bennett is the nom de plume of one my favorite writers and (mentors) James Scott Bell.

 

Mallory Caine is an LA lawyer, full of snappy retorts and an intense hunger for human brains. She was shot and killed and reanimated as a zombie. She’s in a Twelve Step program and trying to convince herself that cow brain is just as yummy as UCLA grads.

I was surprised by how much I enjoyed it. So I picked up the latest Mallory Caine book with less trepidation.

I missed the second book, The Year of Eating Dangerously, so my only concern with I Ate The Sheriff was if I’d be able to follow the story without knowing what exactly happened just before.

Mallory’s doing well with her Zombies Anonymous meetings. Her only relapses are serial killers, so it could be argued that she’s performing a public service when she eats them.

Evil is infecting Los Angeles and much of the malevolence seems targeted at Mallory. The sheriff threatens her and tells her to leave town. She’s busy with her father’s upcoming trial and a custody case for a werewolf client.

Then the sheriff pays her a late night visit and insists she leave. He shoots her which only enrages her. When she wakes up, she’s wanted for a double homicide.

Even though the premise of a zombie lawyer in an LA full of demons, ghosts, vampires, and werewolves is over the top, the stories themselves have heart and humor. Bennett’s writing is sure and deftly shows that there is a real battle in the world today between good and evil. And like Edmund Burke said, “The only thing necessary for the triumph of evil is for good men to do nothing.” Mallory Caine may be a zombie but she’s a good person and she proves it.

The ending is a satisfying resolution without being smarmy or cloying.

I highly recommend these books, especially to someone who loves the zombie entertainment but wants some hope as well.

Technorati Tags: Book Reviews,I ate the Sheriff,K. Bennett,James Scott Bell

Fiction Friday: The Bandbox Hat

 

The Bandbox Hat

Previously: After taking April home to Rosedale, SarahJane returns to the reality show Date My Son. She and one of the production assistants Liam share a moment. SarahJane wonders how she’ll be able to handle watching women on the show come on to her brother Nathan. She wonders if she can get Linda, the original bachelor’s mother, to get rid of her on the show.

Chapter Thirty-Six

I stared at the ceiling for more than an hour before creeping out of bed. Cassie’s comment about the only way out of here was for Linda to want me to go whirled through my head like peaches in a blender. Only instead of a yummy smoothie, all I had was more confusion.

Downstairs, a couple of girls huddled together on the sofa. They stopped whispering when my footsteps echoed in the tile hallway. I sketched a wave and moved on to the kitchen. After getting a glass of water, I just stood at the sink and stared out at the night.

The pool, surrounded by quintessential California palm trees, shimmered in the moonlight. Even though there were no camera operators following me around, I knew the house was equipped with other cameras hidden in corners or lights or something. Liam had made a point to tell me on the very first day that this was a 24/7 venture. So while I might think I was alone, I knew I wasn’t. As much as I yearned to curl up on a chaise outside and sob my woes out, I didn’t want to be end up on a promotional video with a deep voice asking, “Stay tuned to see SarahJane’s emotional meltdown after these messages,” before a Viagra commercial.

I had to smile at myself. Always seeing the worst possible outcome was the part of me that I most wanted to change.

I stood up straight.

So why not?

Why not change from a pessimist to an optimist?

Why not look on the bright side?

Why not be spontaneous, in spite of what might happen?

I pushed through the French doors and onto the pool deck, then stretched out on the wide chaise longue. The palms swayed and bent, bowing to the moon. I stretched my hands over my head, then curled onto my side, hands under my cheek.

How could I stay on this show and watch these girls as they schemed and maneuvered to get close to Nathan? It had been hard enough to watch when it was Austin and Linda being played. But my own brother?

On the other hand, I signed a contract. And this was supposed to be part of the adventure of living my own life away from my family and their long shadows. Perhaps most surprising—even as I admitted it to myself, I couldn’t believe it was true—I really did like Austin and his mom. They were genuine people. Or Oscar worthy actors, and that didn’t seem possible. Linda treated me with warmth and grace. Austin was a gentleman. In fact, according to some of the girls, too much of a gentleman to follow up on their invitations to kiss them.

The French doors opened with a soft click. I didn’t move. I didn’t want to deal with anyone right now.

Footsteps made their way to the pool edge. Then … a sob?

I sat up and strained to see who invaded my quiet with their crisis.

A tall woman stood near the pool, blonde hair cascading down her back.

“Amanda?” I asked.

She started and whirled toward me. “I didn’t see you there! What are you doing there, spying on me?”

I sighed and rolled back to my side. “I was here first. You’re spying on me.”

Silence. Which suited me fine.

After a moment, footsteps sounded again. She must be walking around the pool. Then a faint splash. Ah. She’d probably invited Austin to meet her here for a midnight swim and I messed up her plans for an intimate encounter.

Well, I was here first and I wasn’t moving.

We coexisted in our own cocoons of thought for a while. Me, curled up on the chaise, watching the moon move through the sky. Amanda floating in the water with an occasional splash as she turned or kicked.

The sounds of water and wind in the trees combined with the quiet eventually unknotted my muscles and I stretched out. My eyes grew heavy. In spite of the breeze, the night was warm and I had no urge to go back to our stuffy room on the second floor.

After what seemed like a half an hour I noticed the stillness. “Amanda?” I whispered. I hadn’t heard a splash for several minutes.

She didn’t respond.

I sat up and peered at the pool. She still floated, hair spreading behind her like a peacock fan. “Amanda?” I said it more loudly.

Still no response.

I stood and made my way to the pool edge. She came into focus and I could see what I’d missed in the darkness. She was face down in the water.

“Amanda!” I jumped in and paddled to her. “Are you okay?”

Her only movement was bobbing on top of the waves I generated as I flailed my way to her.

“Help! I need help!”

Technorati Tags: Fiction Friday,The Bandbox Hat

Woe! It’s Wednesday

Coffee Cup Wisdom

I bought myself this mug a little over a year ago.

Its meaning is twofold.

Yes, I enjoy wine and a bottle is always a welcome gift.

But the bigger sentiment is about who we connect with. Some of the most meaningful gifts are the simplest. It’s the bag of Cabernet taffy from the friend who knows you enjoy wine. It’s a gently used purse from someone who knows your taste. It’s a decorative tree with leaves made from the cover of your newest book. It’s memories preserved as jewelry or framed photographs.

The dearest gifts declare that you were thought about and you are loved.

Gifts have been a challenge in our marriage. Whether because of being raised with different parenting styles or gift-giving philosophies, we’ve had a few tense conversations. I finally told my dear husband not to give me a gift if he wasn’t going to put at least a little thought into it and I’d rather have a card and a kiss than something I was going to have to return because he didn’t pay attention. That talk came after he gave me some handheld dumb-bell weights when I’d specifically said I wanted wrist weights. I opened the dumb-bells and graciously said thank you even though I was sighing and thinking about when I could exchange them. He then said, with perfect sincerity, “I was going to get you wrist weights because I thought it made more sense for walking, but you said you wanted dumb-bells.”

That was the last thoughtless gift I received and we’re all the happier for it.

We just celebrated our 35th anniversary and he got me the perfect gift. He listened and thought about it.

I have a story idea set in Portland, even though I’ve never been to Portland. I’ve tried to move the story to somewhere I’m familiar with but it won’t leave. I’ve mentioned several times that I want to go to Portland. I periodically look at airfares. I’m saving miles on a credit card. But wasn’t getting any closer. For our anniversary, he gave me a gift certificate that said a week in February, which was a bit cryptic. And a gift bag of Portland guidebooks.

As much as I love the thought of going to Portland, the real gift is he listened to me.

Technorati Tags: Woe! It's Wednesday,Coffee Cup Wisdom,Gifts and Giving

Book Talk Tuesday: Smart Women Know When to Say No

 

Smart Women Know When to Say No by Dr. Kevin Leman was a free or low cost Kindle book a few months ago. I’ve read several other of Dr. Leman’s books and I appreciate his commonsense and faith-based approach to life issues. So I downloaded it and recently finished it.

When I started the book, I was feeling frazzled and overworked and stressed and I wanted help to learn how to pare down my life and my schedule. I constantly feel like I pour too much attention and time into things that aren’t going to have any lasting value. I know dishes and laundry have to be done but do I neglect those in order to have coffee with a friend for mutual edification. And how many friends do I spend regular time with for fellowship and encouragement? Is there a magic number for how many is enough but not too many?

This book is for women who have super controlling husbands or other highly dysfunctional relationships and need help learning how to assert themselves.

That doesn’t quite describe what I needed. I think it would be great for its intended audience.

I, on the other hand, still need help discerning the good choices from the best.

 

Technorati Tags: Book Talk Tuesday,Book reviews,Dr. Kevin Leman,Smart Women Know When to Say No

Fiction Friday: The Bandbox Hat

 

The Bandbox Hat

Previously: SarahJane takes April home. Jake meets her in the driveway. He tells her Rachael, her long lost sister, has been calling and communicating with him. SarahJane leaves to return to Los Angeles and the reality show, Date My Son, with her brother Nathan now on as a new bachelor in competition for the women on the show.

Chapter Thirty-Five

I barely nodded off when we exited the freeway and drove through streetlight dappled roads that twisted up. When Justin pulled into the mansion driveway I pulled my hair away from my face and patted my cheeks.

“Is everyone back from the beach?” I asked. There were fewer than usual vans lining the drive and hardly any camera equipment littering the walkway.

“Not yet.”

Maybe I could shower and crawl into bed without seeing anyone or having it documented. I slammed the front door and took the stairs two at a time.

“SarahJane!”

So close. My shoulders drooped at the sound of Liam’s voice. I turned and dragged back to the ground floor and into the kitchen. “Hey, Liam.”

He leaned against the refrigerator. “How was the trip?”

“April is home. I’m here. I guess it went according to plan.”

His eyes narrowed as his gaze searched me. “What’s wrong?”

I opened the fridge door, blocking his view of me. “Is there any ginger ale? I don’t feel so good.”

His fingers appeared on the side of the door followed by his forehead then his eyes. Funny, I never noticed how clear blue they were. Like one of Mom’s prized Wedgewood serving bowls. “I’ll call catering for you,” he said, then murmured something into his walkie.

I let the door waft close and sighed. “When does every get back?”

“About twenty minutes.”

“Is Nathan staying with Austin?”

Liam shook his head. “I was against this, just so you know.”

A tiny seedling of respect rooted in my heart. “Thanks, Liam.”

He nodded once. “Nathan’s going to stay in the pool house here. We’re adding talks between Austin and Nathan, with and without Linda, to discuss which women they’re going to invite on which dates. We’ll be doing several of those tomorrow and making new date plans, so tomorrow will be a slow day for you all.”

The prospect of a whole day with no one yelling for me to hurry up or stand here or walk there again made my eyes fill. I wiped my eyes before the tears could fall and betray my precarious emotional condition.

Liam seemed to understand. He gripped my elbow and leaned close.

An assistant stumbled around the corner, recovered, and set a fizzing glass on the island. “Ginger ale?”

“Thanks, Mindy.” Liam’s lips tightened and he exhaled heavily before speaking. “Drink up and I’ll see you tomorrow, SarahJane.” He turned and followed Mindy out of the room. The front door made a loud thunk as it closed behind them.

The glass sputtered in my hand as I carried it up to my room. I’d just sat on my bed and sipped when I heard doors slamming, high voices of excitement, and footsteps hurrying up the stairs and along the halls.

The bedroom door opened a cracked. Cassie’s head appeared first.

“Oh, good, you’re back.” She stepped in.

“Just.” I lifted my glass of ginger ale in a toast. “How was the rest of the beach day?”

She flopped back on her bed, her hair fanning behind her in a perfect soft-as-flannel pillow. “Very fun. You missed the excitement of watching so many girls change their sights from Austin to Nathan. And the ones who couldn’t decide are still playing to both of them. This is going to be fun.” She rolled to one side, rested her elbow on the bed, and placed her head on her hand.

I groaned. “I’ve seen enough girls throwing themselves at my brothers for more than one lifetime. Is there any way I can get out of this?”

“Only if Linda kicks you off and I don’t see that happening. She likes you.”

Regret coursed through my veins even as an idea rooted. “I like her, too.”

The question, of course: did I like her enough to stay around and watch these women rub up against Nathan? And if I didn’t, could I get her to dislike me enough to vote me out and release me?

 

Technorati Tags: Fiction Friday,Carrie Padgett,The Bandbox Hat