Sometimes It's Just Business

21 May

I couldn't fathom why Thom was home when I returned from a day spent swimming, relaxing and writing at Barton Spring's. It was already in the nineties, which was a foreboding sign of a very hot summer this year. The air conditioning in the car was a saving grace on the drive back, but the heat takes the life out of me and I couldn't wait to get in the house, undress and fall into bed for a little lie down before dinner. I had left before the real heat of the day and allowed for having that nap over and dinner started before Thom was due in and back to the house. That was why it was so odd. His itinerary and schedule, I was absolute in my convictions, had listed his flight being due in at three-thirty. Allowing for retrieving his luggage, getting to his car and driving home I didn't expect him until near five. So his being here at one forty-five was kind of a shock to the system. Don't be left with the impression that it was not a welcome sight, it was more the out of character nature that he hadn't let me know his change of plans. I would have stayed home. I could have set a blanket out in the back yard just as easily. I'd only decided this morning to go for the gusto and head downtown as a change of venue. I grabbed my writing tablet and keys and headed inside. All my other stuff could be retrieved from the car later.

"Hey, what the hell are you doing home now? You could have called you know?"

"Yes, well, left my cell phone in my suitcase."

"Why doesn't this surprise me? I don't know why you even bother to have one. It's always either off or not with you. Waste of money."

"I have to have the damn thing for work, otherwise I wouldn't have one at all, worthless piece of shit."

"Yea, you certainly don't want me calling you."

"That's not true."

"No? Then how come anytime, or should I emphasize every time I try to call you on it, you never have it on? I always get that damn voice mail. Might as well not have it."

"Diane, I'm not in the mood to argue with you over it. Christ, I've been gone nine days and this is the welcome home I get? Fuck."

"Sorry. I'm hot and I'm tired and I had planned to lie down for a little when I got back."

"So go lie down. This can wait. We'll talk later."

"This what can wait?"

"No. Not a big deal. Now how long? Did you want me to wake you?"

"Nah, I'll set my alarm for around four if that's ok. I had dinner planned."

I hung my keys in the kitchen and headed for the bedroom, stripped down and settled into the bed, forgetting the alarm. I had just gotten comfortable when Thom opened the door. He had a penchant for doing that. The hardest thing to do was to go to bed anytime before him or to attempt a nap if he wasn't settled or needed something in here. And I had long ago stopped asking him if he could be a little quieter when he puttered around. It was just an impossibility for him. I had learned to just grit my teeth, pull the cover up over my head, sigh a bit and hold back the inevitable scream of frustration until he was finished. Then he would go out closing the door, which he thought he did quietly, but it never was. He was being gracious, pulling it fully closed and tight to keep the cats out; but it was always loud. This time he was wandering from pillar to post and it was worse than normal. He kept it up until I couldn't stand it any more and had to sit up to ask him to let out whatever was on his mind or get the hell out.

"What is it?"

"You want to go out for dinner instead?"

"Jeezus, is that all? Ugh."

I flopped back down onto my pillow and pulled the covers up to my chin.

"Are you asking or did you already have it planned?"

"Planned. I made reservations."

"Did you?"

"Yeah."

"Fine, when and where? And when did you? Forget it, doesn't matter."

"Is seven okay? Ruth's Chris."

I sat back up and stared at him. Something was afoot. I could sense it. This was not a place one just went to dinner. It was a place you went for a special dinner.

"Ruth's Chris?"

"Yes."

"What day is this? Have I forgotten something?"

"Nope. Just. Let me go so you can rest. I'll wake you around four."

And he left it there; walking out of the room. Just like that. Which left my head spinning trying to figure out anything that he could have to tell me or why we'd be going there. Naturally this interfered with my nap, though I finally dozed off.

The worst part of all this was not having to actually dress up for a dinner out in Austin - a lost art in this city - it was finding a place to park anywhere downtown. This was something that was totally forgotten when anything is, or was, built. The few accommodating parking garages are off limits to just about everyone in the world during the week and most were unavailable on weekends too. This, to my great consternation, never failed to bring on the cursing a blue streak from Thom. Tonight had been no different, so as we entered the restaurants lounge he was still trying to recover from the agitation and I was trying to not be totally pissed at him. You would think I would learn, or that he would have - after living here some twenty odd years - that this was going to happen.

We sat around the lounge with drinks for forty-five minutes. Even with reservations you could bet money - and win - on having to wait for your table. It was okay most times, but tonight I wanted to know why we were here. I knew the wheels were turning. Something was up and from his more than normal quietness I wasn't so sure I was going to like it. I'd been down this road before. The last time he had skived off to China when we were supposed to go to Italy. Before that was when we were supposed to go to London, Wales and Germany - six years ago - and he had to beg off there too. Though, right now, I had no extraneous happenings in the works.... at all. If he was going somewhere for a lengthy stay, I was going too. Adele would take the cats in, so there would be no need to worry about leaving the house idol.

We sat down and immediately ordered aperitifs. I let Thom order my New York Strip - well done - and accessories, then sat back. Whatever it was, he had to come to me. So I waited, through appetizers and the meal and bloody innocuous small talk abut his trip and my writing; and being bored out of my mind. I sat and played with my cheese cake until I couldn't stand it anymore and mashed my dessert with my fork.

"Are you going to tell me now or what?"

"You've wrecked your chee...."

"Fuck the cheese cake, what aren't you telling me? You think I don't know why we're here?"

"Couldn't you just let it go as me wanting to take you out someplace special?"

"Not on your life. I'm not an idiot."

"I've never called you an idiot."

"Yes you have, but I'm not even going to go there."

I slammed my fork on the table and sat back making a futile attempt to hold my temper. I wasn't into this game.

"I was just waiting."

"For what?"

"The right time, I guess. Probably isn't one."

"I had thought this was. It's why we're here, isn't it?"

He reached in his jacket pocket and pulled out an envelope. It was unmistakable what the envelope was and what it contained. He set it down on the table and shoved it across to me. I snatched it up and ripped it open.

"London? June? Oh Christ. Why the hell do we want to go to London....again?"

"Your movie."

"My movie? There is no damn movie."

"There still can be."

"No, absolutely not. Besides, nobody will want to take it. It's just stupid Thom."

"What about going independent?"

"I don't know anybody. It was a nice thought, but I've tried to tell you I don't want to do it."

He sat back in his chair possibly getting for the first time in a month or more that I was steadfast in my conviction that I could live my life without having a screenplay to do or a movie to be made from one of my books, ever again. Then he pulled out more stuff and opened up a paper he wasn't willing to share at the moment.

"I....hmm.......I've been talking with Colin."
"You what? Oh..my...fucking...God."

I think, in that instant, every internal organ in my body flipped over. I wanted to scream and stomp and punch him square in the face, but all I could do was sit there in mind numbing disbelief.

"Got his number off your cell. We've figured a few things out."

He adjusted his posture, hesitated momentarily; then continued.

"He's looking into setting up a production, legalities, formalities, that type stuff."

I know he continued talking, but I was missing a great deal of it. I was too traumatized to hear much of anything. I think he mentioned Hilly and something about Eastbourne and we could stay in Knightsbridge again if I liked. And perhaps there was a mention of meetings lined up already. Dates and times and places and it was all muddled. I did recall the waiter bringing the bill and urging the guy on to get it back to us so Thom could sign the receipt and we could leave. When he had, I didn't wait. I grabbed my purse and practically stormed out of the place. I didn't speak to him until he stopped me right before we'd gotten back to the car. I just glared right through him.

"How could you do this to me? Not just you. The both of you. Is this some kind of freakish game you're trying to play on me or with me?"

"No, it's not a damn game. You want this, I know you do. So does Colin. If you don't see it for yourself or want to admit to it, fine, be an ass about it. But I know you Diane. You want to see this one come to life. As far as anything to do with me and Colin collaborating or scheming or whatever the hell you want to call it...it's just business."