Shock Waves

Ellie had a feeling she knew why.

“Well, Phoebe,” said Bill, “nice meeting you—”

“If you ever need anything…” she said, her voice trailing off.

Like it was so hard to guess what that anything might be. To stop herself from saying something she might regret, Ellie stuffed a grape into her mouth.

Of course, women had always loved Bill, and he’d loved his share back. She had many memories watching him from her living room window while he laughed and flirted with the girls on the block. Even back then, he had that certain something that attracted the opposite sex in droves. Call it confidence, charm or being blessed with more than his share of pheromones, but the guy had it.

Bill glanced at Ellie, back to Phoebe. “Look, I’m taking a meeting here….”

Taking a meeting? This wasn’t a date? Ellie shoved another grape in her mouth.

Phoebe rolled back her shoulders, which made her breasts stick out even more, and plastered on a smile. “Well, Bill, see you around the set.”

She’d barely bounced away before a tall, preppie-looking guy sidled up to Bill. “Man, you should be bottled.”

“Behave.” Bill turned to Ellie. “This is my main man, Jimmie,” he said. “We met on our first day at NYU. I was the tough guy from East L.A. Jimmie was the class act from Connecticut. I decided to like him anyway.”

She smiled while swallowing the grape, which felt like a chunk of lead going down her throat. “Nice to meet you, Jimmie.”

“This is Ellie Belle,” said Bill. He slung his arm around his friend’s shoulders. “He taught me how to order wine, and I taught him how to siphon gas.”

But she was still back at Ellie Belle. Nobody had called her that in years. It had been her dad’s nickname for her, one her mom had occasionally used after her dad left, but nobody had used it since. Not even Matt. Had Bill overheard one of her parents and, all these years later, remembered?

Jimmie extended his hand, which she took. “And after that eloquent introduction, let me say it’s very nice to meet you.”

“Nice to meet you, too.” They shook hands.

“Heard you two were next-door neighbors years ago.”

“That’s right.”

“No offense, but you sure don’t look like someone from the hood.”

“Well, we don’t normally wear bikinis with fishnet cover-ups there.”

Jimmie looked surprised, then laughed. “I, uh, didn’t mean that.”

“Sorry, I knew what you meant.” She’d heard comments like that plenty of times, mostly from people who’d rarely, if ever, been to the hood. She used to take offense, then realized what mattered more than a person’s question was the intention behind it. Jimmie, despite his Brooks Brothers appearance and precise diction, had a sincere streak.

“Actually, when my mom and her mother moved there in the late fifties, there were families in that neighborhood straight out of Father Knows Best. The melting pot started getting stirred more during the seventies.” She’d skip over what everyone knew—that the area grew economically depressed, gangs arrived, street crime mushroomed and that’s when things could get dicey if you didn’t already have your friends and community in place, which the Rockwells did. “The hood’s changing for the better these days, though.”

Bill made a disgruntled noise.

“It’s true. Homes are being renovated, new businesses are moving in—”

“C’mon, Ellie, nobody really cares about our old stomping ground. The powers that be wrote off that part of L.A. a long time ago. I, for one, will never go back.”

“Can’t turn your back on your roots,” Jimmie said to Bill. “Don’t you still have family there?”

“Those who stayed deserved what they got.”

Ellie bit the inside of her lip. She didn’t like hearing his negativity, but she had to remember how Bill, like Matt, had taken on the role of man of the house at an early age. Except Bill had had four younger siblings, which hadn’t been easy.

Jimmie, obviously picking up on the heavy vibes, changed the subject. “Those are some shoes.” He nudged his head toward her feet.

“They’re retro sling back wedgies,” she said, tipping the toe of red-and-white polka-dot sandals this way, then that. “Got them at Sinister Shoes.”

Bill gave her a funny look. “Sinister Shoes?”

“I’ve heard of that place,” said Jimmie. “It’s down on Melrose. All the goths go there to shop.”

“Goths.” Bill shook his head. “Elvira’s cool, but I don’t get that whole vampire thing. They all seem depressed or something.”

Her insides shrank a little. Made her feel like a fake and a liar pretending not to be one of those into that whole vampire thing. It was really about loving the darkness, the mystery in life, but she didn’t want to explain.

All she wanted was this day, this experience with Bill, and for that she was willing to pretend she was somebody she wasn’t.

She angled her leg, showing off. “These shoes are really more of a retro pinup look,” she said a little too gaily. “Similar to what Betty Grable wore in those World War II posters.”

Bill and Jimmie stared at her.

“Betty Grable?” Bill finally said. “She was a movie star way before your time.”

“I’ve always loved the Golden Age of Hollywood, even as a little kid. I sometimes envision the stars like Audrey Hepburn, Veronica Lake, Betty Grable when I design some of my clothes.” When they looked at her black fishnet cover-up over her red bikini, she added drolly, “These aren’t my designs. I bought them at Target.”

A grin sauntered across Bill’s lips. “You did a lot of sewing as a kid, didn’t you? I think my mom said something about it once.”

She nodded, feeling a little giddy that he’d remembered something else about her as a child. Maybe she’d been more memorable than she’d given herself credit for.

“Hollywood’s Golden Era is one of my favorites,” he continued. “It spawned dozens of classic westerns, comedies and thrillers. Plus, it was the birthplace of film noir.”

“Watch out, Bill,” Jimmie teased, “your cine-matic-nerd side’s showing.” He glanced at his flashy gold watch. “Gotta split. Told Bev I’d take her to the festival, play some of those games. She’s hot about trying to win some grand prize cabin.”

“Beach bungalow,” corrected Ellie.

Jimmie nodded. “Yeah, that’s right. I guess the winner gets a free rental there for the next two years.”

“Ten,” she corrected again. She hadn’t realized she’d been so into it until this moment. Sure, she’d been willing to be Team Java Mammas with the girls, but she hadn’t been personally driven to win anything other than the audition until this moment. Had to be the thought of hanging out with Bill for the rest of the afternoon, doing fun, wild things in some of those hot games.

And, if all went well, even more wild things afterward.

What Happens in Malibu Stays in Malibu.

“Ten, eh?” Jimmie gave a low whistle. “Now I’m glad I gave in and said yes to Bev.” He snagged a cookie off the food table. “What time does the shoot start tomorrow?” he asked Bill.

“Five a.m. sharp. We need the rising sun in the background for that first shot.”