chewed. “Jenna, Jenna Shelby, and you are?”
“Wait a minute. THE Jenna Shelby from Night Watch?”
She spun around once with her hands in the air and finished with a well-composed flourish and a bow. “Tada!”
“B-B-Brian Rogers. How the hell did you end up here?”
“The guy with the Lambo was some rich foreigner I met at the club. Seemed nice at first – they all do – but he turned out to be a brute; watched too many episodes of Night Watch and stupidly thought I was the same as that bimbo Sharona. Wish I were half as tough as she is, though. It’s all choreographed.” Brian looked stupidly at her.
She hated the effect she had on men. It was as if their tongues suddenly became stapled to the roof of their mouth.
“You got a phone? I left my purse in Boris’ car.”
“His name was Boris? Really?”
“Nah, but it fit better than the one I couldn’t pronounce correctly. Perhaps that’s what pissed him off.”
Brian started to get up and wobbled, so Jenna pushed him gently back down by the shoulder. “Where is it?”
“Over there on the dinette.”
She laughed behind her hand.
“What’s so funny?”
“Dinette? Really? The last person I heard use that term was my grandma.” Jenna laughed again.
“I still don’t understand why you hit me.”
“I was standing by your door, fuming and getting ready to ring the bell and ask for help, when you stuck your head out. You were just at the wrong place at the wrong time.”
There it was again, her wholly inappropriate, ill-timed laugh; his nerves grated and she read it on his face.
“Boy, do you need to lighten up, Brian. You know what you need?” His eyebrows lifted his eyes open wide. “Not that! I swear!! All you men are pigs.”
“It’s how we’re made. Take it up with the Engineer.” Now he laughed. He’d set aside the fresh bag of peas and Jenna took a seat about a foot away on the couch. His phone dangled in her hand as she lost herself in thought. She started punching keys.
The ring in the earpiece scratched at the inside of his head. The throbbing was gone. Then Jenna started a loud but pleasant conversation with someone name Marv.
“Yeah, Marv, I’m okay and yes, I know I should check in, but you’re not my freakin’ mother, are you? Just grab my go-bag, the red one; make sure it’s not the white one and come to… hold on—”
“What’s your address, Brian?”
“4492 2nd Ave., Sacramento 95817.”
“Did you get that? Yeah, should take you thirty minutes or so from Granite Bay.”
Brian thought that of course Jenna would live in Granite Bay, but he could never figure why anyone famous would want to live here. Eddie Murphy had lived here once and that was weird enough.
She tossed his phone onto the cushion next to him, got up, and went to the kitchen. Brian heard the fridge pop open again. Before it went dark, he caught the time on his phone. 2:39 AM.
Brian hollered in after her, “Who’s Marv?”
“My assistant. Why? Jealous? You got any cheese, sweetie—never mind. There it is. Why the hell do you keep it with the celery?” Brian could tell by the tone that it was just commentary. Next thing he heard was the poof of flame on the stovetop, the rattle of iron pans and metal bowls. Eggs cracked in a bowl. “At least you got super fat and fatty bacon.” She let out a squeal of delight.
The sizzle of bacon and frying eggs filled the house with an aroma he never seemed to notice when it was just him alone. He propped his feet on the table, leaned his head back, looked to make sure she couldn’t see, and slapped himself to make sure he wasn’t dreaming. Jenna Shelby, the real one from Night Watch on TV was in his kitchen, cooking them breakfast.
Just as they finished eating, a knock came at the door. Brian opened it, and a very pretty, very short, no more than five-foot-tall blonde girl stood with an overflowing red Valentino tote in one hand and a Starbucks tray balanced in the other. Shiny blonde curls surrounded a smiling cherub face and her bare midriff showed over low-cut skinny jeans atop high-heeled leather clogs. She was way too cheery for 4:00 AM.
“Hi, Brian. I’m Marv. Are you going to let me in?”
Brian fought to break out of a tongue-lolling stupor. At the curb were two cars; a newer black Ford Mustang idling with a throaty rumble and a red convertible Ferrari, the top up against the cold. At the driver’s wheel of the Mustang was a grizzled, mid-fifties, tough-looking, Navy SEAL type guy watching the porch to make sure Marv was safe.
Before Marv walked in, she turned to give the guy a thumbs-up. Jenna was walking out of the kitchen, wiping her hands on a towel after cleaning up. Brian was still in a state of disbelief as the two women chatted and Jenna poked through the two-thousand-dollar bag to make sure everything she needed was there.
“Thanks Marv! As usual, you’re marvelous! Ryan there to take you back?” Marv nodded, turned, and left.
The whole scene played out like some fairytale. Sadly, Brian had no one in his life he could think of to tell over a beer the next day.
Jenna took her bag and stepped into the hall bathroom. Brian could hear the shower come on and tried to keep his mind on something else besides Jenna Shelby in his shower. Despite her sucker punch and the obvious difference in their social strata, he was growing very attached to her after only a few hours together. It was not lust or romance, but something else he couldn't yet pinpoint.
A different woman exited the steamy bathroom, pulling on a pink hoody. This version of Jenna Shelby had on a modest top – loose linen emblazoned with an artsy pencil drawing of a Cheshire cat. Her hair was pulled back into a ponytail. The jeans were still tight – Brian was glad of that – and she wore white cork clogs.
“Your turn, big boy. Get freshened up.” She glanced at the huge but not gaudy watch on her wrist. “We gotta go! It’s going to take us an hour to get there.” She caught the pained look on his face. “Don’t worry. You wanted something different, didn’t you?” Brian couldn't recall telling her that he wanted something new, but nodded anyway, like the bobble-headed dog in the rear window of Grandma’s car.
“It’s called FATE, big boy; me being here is yours and only a little bit mine.” She stopped, gave it a little thought, and said, “Mostly yours, though.”
“You look like a nice boy—” Which felt like a broomstick jabbed in his ribs.
“Please don’t say that.”
“Sorry. Hit a sore spot…?”
He really was ready for a change, no matter what, why, or how much it cost, so he dove into his room, showered, and was ready to go fifteen minutes later.
He had never ridden in a Ferrari or anything like it. It was a big upgrade from his beat-up Camaro.
“You still haven’t told me where we’re going…” She looked at him and smiled but said nothing. A jazz station played low on the radio as she headed west on I-80. Making himself a part of the leather seat, he could die now and go happy. Fifteen minutes on the freeway, and the rumble of the car combined with the soft jazz, had lulled him to sleep. He woke up once, recognized Richmond as it went by, and asked if they were going into the city, what the locals called San Francisco. She nodded and he nodded back out.
As they passed through Berkeley, she nudged him awake so he could see the bridge in this light. The sky was lightening behind them, but the sun had not yet peeked over the horizon.
They dropped off the freeway onto Harrison Street and she stopped at All Star Donuts. The big Asian man behind the counter lit up when he saw Jenna come through the doors.
“Hi, Miss Jenna. It’s great to see you again.” He came around from behind the big glass display cases and wiped his hands on a greasy apron. His arms reached around her in a big-squeeze hug, which didn’t seem to surprise her at all.
“Hi, Harry! How in heaven’s name are you and Chloe? Did your little boy ever get over his nasty cold?”
This was Brian's second
surprise at her familiarity to common folks. She introduced Brian and asked Harry for another coffee to go as they all walked to the short leg of the L-shaped store. Stacked on a table were ten pink boxes of fresh warm donuts, twenty baker’s dozens, 260 donuts. The smell made Brian’s mouth water and his stomach grumbled.
“Brian, take those donuts out to the car, would you, sweetie?” As he ferried the boxes out, he wasn’t sure they would fit, but knew she knew what she was doing. He slipped into the passenger seat just as he saw her leave the shop with Harry; he gave her another hug and a peck on the cheek.
Jenna passed a coffee to Brian as she got in.
“Thanks for the help.”
“Sure,” was all he could say and sipped his coffee as he wondered where fate would lead him.
She drove down Harrison Street and, the farther she drove, the worse the landscape got. A single-minded horde of homeless people, like some great herd, were headed all in the same direction. She pulled the Ferrari up alongside the Salvation Army Harbor Light Center; people, dogs, and shopping carts made the place look like a beehive. As soon as she stepped out of the car, a man with skin blackened from exposure and lack of hygiene waved to her.
“Hi, Jenna!” Brian was stunned. It wasn’t, Hey that’s Jenna Shelby! LOOK! It was just plain Hi, Jenna.
“Hi, Jack! What’s up?”
“Coming to get a meal and fresh socks. We all love it when you are here.”
Brian couldn’t resist asking, “So, they don’t know who you really are—that’s it, right?”
“No, they know.”
A man sitting on the sidewalk nearby looked up from nursing his paper sack.
“It’s so good to see you. Everyone’s still talking about Christmas Day.”
“Thanks, Skilly.” Then she pulled a twenty-dollar bill from her jeans, like she had it planned, and asked Skilly to make sure no one messed with the Ferrari.
“My pleasure, ma’am,” and she gave him a kindly lecture, one he’d heard before, on how he should just call her Jen or Jenna.
Brian asked, “So, you always come here on Christmas and New Years?”
“No, not as a rule. As a rule, I come here on Thursdays and Sundays. Now grab those donuts.”
Brian worried that the homeless might accost him for the donuts but said nothing, and no one lifted a finger to help. Later, Jenna told him, they knew the rules. Once inside, he spread the boxes on tables as instructed and Jenna gave him a kitchen apron and plastic gloves. There was a steam table full of breakfast foods, and a large woman with a thick Irish accent told him to stand there and wait for the crowd. He could hear Jenna in the kitchen greeting everyone and being greeted.
In the serving line, he was the youngest by far; there was one Mexican guy in his fifties and he spoke maybe six words of English. Besides Hector, there was May Bell, a large, gregarious black lady in her eighties who looked forty. She never stopped her jovial banter and pinched Brian on the cheeks like he was a toddler. The other man was a guy who looked fresh off the streets. Harv lived at the mission full time and was a caretaker. Indeed, he had done his time – in prison, on the streets and in this place.
Brian was about as comfortable being there as a nun in a brothel.
When the line had thinned and everyone was seated and eating, he asked Jenna what he should do now, and she told him to have a seat.
“Where?”
She looked narrowly back at him like he still wasn’t getting it, “Where everyone else is Sweetie.”
Unfortunately, up to this point, Brian saw street people only as a news item, not people you rubbed elbows with. So, he took a shot at change and sat down with Dan to his right, an obvious wino by the smell. Dan mumbled unintelligible words nonstop. On Brian's left was Ray, a man who glared at him the whole time like he wanted to kill him.
When Jenna came and sat on the other side of the table, both Dan and Ray lit up and greeted her lucidly and by name.
It was high noon, and after much scrubbing and cleaning, they were ready to pack it in. Brian locked into a friendly conversation with Jim Butler, who ran the place. Jim mentioned how their bookkeeper suddenly died three months ago and they had found no one to replace him and had no money to hire a replacement.
Jenna stuck her head around the kitchen door. “Brian’s an accountant.”
“No one ever accused you of being quiet and shy, did they?”
“That’s why I’m the movie star.” Jenna gave an exaggerated pose.
Brian asked, “Jim, can you get me a copy of your QuickBooks file and send it to my email?”
“You’re kidding, right? I haven’t a clue even where to begin.” He led Brian back to his office and showed him an ancient PC still running XP and a shoebox full of invoices and receipts.
“I’ve managed to keep the bigger bills paid, but I feel it’s getting way behind.”
Brian plugged his keychain thumb drive into the computer, pulled the file he needed, and scooped the box of paperwork up under his arm.
“Jim, I’ll have this back to you next week. Is that okay?” Jim nodded and followed him to the car, heaping exuberant praise on him all the way.
Everyone shook hands, hugged, and slapped backs before they got back in the Ferrari. Skilly was still on guard as promised. Jenna dug into her jeans and slipped him another twenty.
“Now for a real man-treat, Brian,” Jenna’s grin piqued his curiosity.
Back across the Bay Bridge, Jenna took a side street that eventually turned into a guarded gate entrance. Huge container ships and massive machines rumbled around them like dinosaurs, and massive cranes shuffled containers from and onto ships and trucks that hurriedly came and went. Eventually, Jenna pulled up at the base of one of the fourteen-story cranes. Out came her bright red enamel-shelled iPhone.
“Hey, little bro, I have a friend with me. Mind if we come up?” To Brian, she said, “My little brother is up there. He has one of the coolest jobs known to man. Ready?”
It was a short walk to the elevator. A guard with a clipboard instantly recognized Jenna as Bro’s big sister. He clicked a walkie-talkie, “Hey, Jimbo, I’m sending up your sis and a friend, Okay?”
A crackled “Make sure the new guy gets a bucket.”
The guard handed Brian a small pail along with a hardhat. Brian inspected the bucket and asked, “What’s this for?”
The guard barked back, “Just hang on to it or the next one will be bigger and come with a mop!” Jenna looked at Brian as if to approve the order.
The elevator shot them up 140 feet like a rocket. Brian looked into the bucket, clutched it for dear life, and now had an idea what it was for. At the top of the world, or so it seemed, Jimbo was in a swiveled command seat of a clear cockpit, which shuttled back and forth 200 feet along a boom hanging out over NOTHING, it seemed. Brian stared into the pail and hoped he wouldn’t have to use it. Jimbo grinned slyly at his sister as he deftly maneuvered the cockpit.
Brian was in awe, and again wished he had more friends to tell when he got back to the real world.
Back on the ground, he handed the bucket back to Bubba the guard, who peered into it and gave him a thumbs-up.
Back again in the Ferrari and headed for home, thoughts of his Real World stabbed at his mind. Nevertheless, Brian’s eyes were open wide as dinner plates and his skin prickled.
“I don’t know how to thank you.”
“The crane is pretty cool, huh? My brother’s the best.”
“For sure, but this whole thing is kind of like a dream. My heart is getting a real work out; I think it’s got a cramp.”
Jenna pulled the Ferrari to the curb at his home.
“Well, this is it, sweetie. It’s been nice, and you’re a cool guy.” She leaned over and gave him a sisterly kiss on the cheek and his face flushed. He was fairly sure he wouldn't see her again.
“Thanks, Jenna; you are so much bigger than I would have imagined.”
She shrugged; she'd heard it all
before. “The things people think they want are all make-believe, but reality is what they need. The big question for all of us is how to live well in our own reality with its pleasure, pain, and disappointment.”
The sweet sound of the Ferrari faded into the distance as Brian stood on the curb.
Crap! I left the box of receipts in her car. Hopefully, she’ll see them and turn around. If not, I hope it’s a good enough excuse to see her again.
For another fifteen minutes, he stood there, looking forlorn. It knocked him back to reality when John, his neighbor, dressed in a plain plaid bathrobe with its ever torn pocket, waved and asked about the girl in the Ferrari.
“Jenna Shelby? No sh..! You’re one lucky guy.”
Brian nodded. “You’re telling me.” He was exhausted and waved him feebly away as he walked weakly up the steps. Inside, he fell on the couch and slept like the dead.
A winter’s sharp sunlight glared through the window and woke him. The memories of Jenna, the mission, and the trip up the crane stood fresh in his mind. A hint of bacon and eggs hung in the air. The half empty Southern Comfort bottle and two-liter bottle of warm Coke sat alone on the dinette.
He made coffee out of habit, even though he felt wide awake and more refreshed than ever. He slugged down a big glass of OJ.
Yesterday’s events trickled through his mind and he smiled, something he hadn’t done enough of lately.
He set huge bowl of LIFE cereal and a mug of coffee at the dinette. The booze went back in the cabinet and he went outside and cursed the paperboy as he retrieved the newspaper from the bushes. For some reason, those simple joys – cereal and the paper – drove all his girlfriends crazy. He glossed over the headlines of the half-folded paper, flipped it to read the lower half, and choked; milk and LIFE cereal sprayed across the table.
There was a picture of Jenna Shelby and an article along the bottom. It was an obituary. Brian began to cry, and big heaving sobs overtook him. When he recovered, he read the article. It included a quote by her brother Jim. "The coolest person ever to walk the earth, even if she hadn’t been a star." Included were her movie and TV credits and also another quote by Jim Butler, the operator of Salvation Army Harbor Light Center. “The homeless people of San Francisco are brokenhearted today but forever grateful for her presence, love, and care.”
What finally caught Brian’s eye twisted his soul in knots:
Jenna Shelby 9/12/1974 – 12/31/2014
He had never once watched her show, Night Watch, but what American male didn’t know her as the most beautiful woman in the world?
Brian sat at the dinette, and recalled how she had playfully teased him. Dinette? Really? The last person I heard use that was my grandma. He recalled that enchanted laugh just as when she'd made it, but sat on the edge of a cliff bordering depression. One sudden move and he would fall into the abyss of deep despair. The rest of the day was spent unmoving, the wretched news opened on the table in front of him. But, as the sun went down, his spirits rose.
She had given him a chance at a great new year. What was it she had said? “It’s called Fate and it's mostly yours…” He