Caller
:
‘Hi, Marie? Or any of your guests today, I know we’re all supposed to be doing xeriscapic gardens these days but do you ever find that your yucca tree, well . . . disappoints?’
Marie
:
‘Oh, chop it down, darling. And eat its roots for dinner.’
Scott heard the caller’s astonished gasp as he glanced in his rearview mirror to change lanes. The small white car behind him indicated at the same time and Scott accelerated to get in front. The studio guests were chiming in.
Andrew
:
‘I’d recommend dry white wine to go with yucca, however you cook it.’
Jess
:
‘The main thing to remember with xeriscapic gardens is that once they’re established,
don’t
water them. I take it you’ve been watering your yucca?’
Caller
:
‘Well . . . yes. You see, it’s right next to the azalea, which just
loves
water, so it’s hard to integrate the, um, Mexican yucca.’
Marie
:
‘Listeners, we must all remember that it’s
xeriscapic
, not xenophobic, that we’re aiming for in these troubled times. And that goes for the Rose Garden as well.’
Theme music and a voice advising that this episode of ‘Weekends with Prentis’ had been a repeat drowned out any other comments Marie might have had, leaving Scott trying to picture a woman who would tread so close to the political edge on a show that was ostensibly about food and plants. But Jayne had told him that her mother’s ability to cast a spell over people had, so far, kept her out of trouble. Apparently, the spell wasn’t just due to her looks, which Jayne had described as ‘like Catherine Deneuve, but browner.’ Scott remembered how Jayne’s voice had sounded on the phone when she’d said that; rueful humor laced with a wistfulness that betrayed how unaware Jayne was that she could have been describing her own looks.
Realizing he’d almost missed his turn, Scott hung a quick right on to Spring and continued down to the light at 2nd Street. He noticed the white car was still behind him and making the same right turn. Now it was pulling over to the curb and two Skid Row residents were approaching it. Scott’s traffic light clicked to green, so he pulled left, made his way to his building and turned into the underground parking lot, the gate lifting and then closing behind him.
As he went up the elevator to the fifth floor, his thoughts picked up where they’d left off: how good it had been to see Jayne in the flesh, not just hear her voice coming down the phone line. The physical attraction mattered and it had produced the same pull he’d experienced the night they’d first met in Quantico’s noisy basement bar, to the point that he’d almost forgotten he was at a crime scene with Eric and a convoy of Critters. Eric. Scott smirked as he got out of the elevator. His partner had picked up on something right away, though he’d held off raising it until Scott had been on the verge of leaving to meet Jayne for lunch.
Scott unlocked the door to his apartment and went in, activating down-lights as he walked into the kitchen. He stepped around the packing boxes on the floor so he could pull out lasagna from the freezer and turn on the oven. Then he leaned against the counter, remembering how Eric had tried to arrange his face into an appropriate expression after he’d overheard Scott ask Jayne to lunch.
Eric had opened with: ‘So. How long has this been going on?’
Scott had tried to sound blank. ‘Nothing’s going on.’
‘Then it’s been a whole lotta nothing.’ Eric paused. ‘Was it going on while you were with Mindy?’
‘Mad Mindy?’
‘Was she that one?’
‘Yes, she was.’
‘OK, Callista then. Or whoever you brought to Angie’s fortieth. Was it going on then?’
When Scott didn’t answer, Eric burst into laughter and slapped his thigh. ‘I don’t believe it! Jayne’s been the one this whole time? Y’know, I always wondered why you dated such lightweights. It was weird, man. Angie and I used to talk about it – oh shit, Angie! I can’t wait to tell her!’
Scott pointed at him. ‘Don’t tell Angie anything. Plus, Mindy and Callista – and Helen for that matter, who was a rebound thing and you know it – were not lightweights when it came to my wallet.’
‘That’s because you kept giving them consolation prizes every time you missed barbecues or bowling or whatever those kind of chicks plan.’
‘Tapas . . . for couples.’
‘Spare me. Anyway, it’s not your wallet that’s in danger with Jayne.’
‘What’s that supposed to mean?’
Eric shook his head. ‘I’ve never seen you look at someone the way you looked at her this morning. And I’ve seen you look at a lot of people.’
Scott frowned. ‘How did I look at her?’
‘It was a little . . . wolfish.’
Scott grimaced. ‘That can’t be good.’
‘Yeah, you might want to work on that.’
A CHP officer had walked in their direction just then and Scott had levered himself into the driver’s seat of the Suburban. Eric leaned on the door so Scott couldn’t close it and lowered his voice to a confidential tone. ‘So why haven’t you been seeing her this whole time? And why didn’t you tell me about her?’
‘Precisely so we wouldn’t have this conversation.’
‘Man, you need this conversation if you haven’t made a move on her yet. Five years? Really? You’re lucky she’s still around – and available.’
Scott’s face must have betrayed him because Eric asked, with incredulity, ‘You don’t even know if she’s single?’
Scott covered looking away by putting the keys in the ignition. The car sounded a warning.
Eric shook his head. ‘You really need this conversation.’
‘I’m handling it.’ Scott made to close the door.
Eric stepped away and said, ‘Just try not to screw up lunch. We’ve got a case riding on this.’
Scott pulled a bottle of water from the under-counter fridge in his kitchen, grabbed a fork from a box, then used a dishtowel to take the now hot lasagna in its foil pan over to the leather armchair, turned to get a view of the Los Angeles Times building through the wall of west-facing windows. He put his feet up on the footrest and ate from the pan.
He took in a mouthful of cold water and let it rest against the roof of his mouth where he’d scalded it earlier. He really was glad that the reunion with Jayne had been over this freeway case. If he’d seen her any sooner after transferring to LA or met her over dinner, he would have been over-eager, pushing for an answer to the question on his mind ever since his transfer notice: what kind of relationship would they have after several years of long-distance companionship, flirtation, and restrained intimacy? He swallowed and then looked at the Times building. It was a confirmation: he was finally in LA. And if the case slowed things down with Jayne and kept him from acting ‘wolfish’, then maybe that was a good thing.
Jayne pulled her truck close to the top of the driveway fronting the redwood two-story building that housed her apartment. She climbed the concrete staircase on the left side of the building, rising above a neat lawn that held its own under an ancient fir tree. The only neighbor was downstairs and his front door was on the other side so Jayne enjoyed the sense of privacy and ownership she felt every time she ascended to her door, which was why she’d finally bought some terracotta pots for the landing and filled them with plants.