Lara Reznik - The Girl From Long Guyland Read online

  Ivy took every opportunity to attack, but I managed to hold my own on most topics. My knowledge of music and politics was substantial, even if my Long Island upbringing was vulnerable. It was exhausting to be on guard all the time. Ben and Chris acted like they didn’t hear the barbs, but I believe they relished the ongoing chick combat.

  It was a relief to go back to Bodine Hall and hang out with people who didn’t intimidate me. Denise remained my closest confidant. One day she asked, “Are you in love with Chris?”

  She had no clue how complicated the question was for me. “I think so.”

  “Why just think? Isn’t he good in the sack?”

  I thought of Ben. He was amazing in the sack. My feelings were still all over the map about him, but I hadn’t shared any of that with Denise. “The sex with Chris is um, better now. In the beginning he was sick from dropping too much LSD.”

  “Joey could use a few lessons. I’ll give him an A for trying, but a D for actual performance. It’s like he’s running a marathon. A little of this, a little of that, and straight to the finish line.”

  I laughed.

  “It’s not funny. Anyhow, he’s in Queens taking care of his mother.”

  “What’s wrong with Mrs. Costello,” I asked.

  “Joey said she had the flu pretty bad. It’s strange though, I haven’t heard a word from him in days.”

  “Have you tried to call him at home?”

  “Why should I? Besides it gives me time to see what else is out there, if you get my drift.”

  Just then the door opened and Katie stuck her head inside. “You have a phone call, Laila.”

  I raced down the hall and grabbed the receiver from Mary Lou. “Hello,” said a male voice on the other end.

  “Chris?”

  “No, it’s me, Ben.”

  My heart raced. “Oh, ah, hi, Ben. What’s up?”

  “I need you to do me… us a big favor.”

  “What’s that?” Did he want me to go to the moon? No problem.

  “Fly to New Mexico. A guy will pick you up at the airport, then drive you to a place in the mountains. You’ll spend a night or two, and come home with a suitcase. Easy as pie.”

  “You want me to go by myself?”

  “Yes.”

  “I-I have to think about it. I’m on a scholarship and can’t miss that much school.”

  “It’s Thursday. If you catch the redeye from JFK tonight, we’ll have you home by Sunday. You’ll only miss one day of class.”

  “Tonight?” My shoulders tensed.

  “Do you know how much I’ve been thinking about you since that night?”

  “No, I-ah had no idea.”

  “Have you thought about me?”

  If he only knew how much. “I have some, yeah.”

  “I need this favor, honey. We’re in a tight spot.”

  I sucked in my breath. “I’m scared.”

  “There’s nothing to be afraid of. I’ve done it many times.”

  “You have?” I knew so little about Ben.

  He dragged on a cigarette. “Would you think I’d put my woman in danger?”

  I thought of Chris. “I’m not exactly your woman, Ben.”

  “Don’t you think I know that? It’s eating me alive.”

  My heart swelled. Ben did reciprocate my feelings. “I’ll get my clothes together.”

  “That’s my girl. Pack something warm. I’ll pick you up in an hour. And, Laila.”

  “Yes.”

  “I’ll be forever grateful.”

  I hung up the phone, dashed back to my room, and pulled out a green backpack from my closet.

  Denise raised her eyebrows. “Did Chris ask you to move in with him?”

  “No. I’m taking a trip. I can’t explain it right now.”

  “Where are you going?”

  “I-I probably shouldn’t say. Ben asked me—”

  “Who’s Ben?”

  “Chris’s friend. I slept with him.”

  “You what!”

  “It’s all so crazy. And Ben told Ivy he was grateful for her sleeping with that pig Paulie.”

  “What are you talking about, Laila?”

  I began throwing things in the backpack. A couple pair of white cotton panties, a peasant blouse, Mohair sweater, wool skirt, gloves, a scarf, my toothbrush and spray deodorant. “It’s a long story and I have to go. I promise to tell you everything when I get back. At least I’ve gotten on the pill so I don’t need to worry about having sex anymore.”

  “You realize it takes at least a month for it to work,” she said.

  “Oh sure,” I said, but my stomach was now in knots. Not only might I be pregnant, but the baby’s father could be either Chris or Ben.

  She hugged me. “Be careful, Laila. Sounds like you may be in over your head. On the other hand, I wish I was going with you.”

  Denise had no idea. I teetered on the brink of disaster while yearning for a sign of true love. Was I really consumed by forces beyond my control? Or was I colluding in some masochistic act of self-destruction? At least people could no longer say that Laila Levin was a poor pathetic virgin from Long Island who had come to Bridgeport afraid of her own shadow. I was now in the league of the cool and daring Katie Birnbaum.

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  The Split

  Austin, Texas, 2012

  After Juanita drives off, I still don’t know what to disclose to Ed. Now that she’s opened the can of worms, I risk losing him if I say nothing. But a full confession could implicate him as an accessory.

  Miraculously, Ed receives a call from a tenant who has locked herself out of the house. I normally would suggest he send a locksmith, but I’m thrilled at my reprieve.

  “We’ll continue this discussion when I get back,” he says with a stern look.

  I retreat to my study and contemplate what to say when he returns. How much of the pact is safe to reveal? Tomorrow I’ll look for an attorney. I turn on my iMac, login to my LBJ e-mail account. There’s a request for an appointment from Darlene in her office:

  Time: 7:30 a.m.

  Subject: New Job Duties

  I hate early meetings but accept the appointment and check a few other e-mails. Then I head to the kitchen to prepare some trout I had bought earlier. I take the fish and red peppers and onions out to the deck and turn on the gas grill. Willow preens herself at my feet as the vast expanse of Lake Travis shimmers with pink and silver lights reflected from sprawling homes across the shore.

  An hour later Ed’s truck squeals into the driveway. He appears in the kitchen with a Heineken in hand, smelling like he’s had a few.

  “Are you hungry?” I ask.

  He shakes his head. “Let’s not put this off any longer. I want the truth.”

  “We can eat and talk at the same time, right?” I fill our plates with food I made earlier and set them on the table.

  He pushes the plate aside. “Laila, let’s cut to the chase. What the hell did you do your freshman year in Connecticut?”

  “You’re acting weird.”

  “I just spent the last half hour with Juanita. You need to tell me everything right now so I can help you.”

  “That you’d even consider speaking to that woman again infuriates me. Why would you talk to her?”

  “Because I need to know what’s going on and you won’t tell me.”

  Still fuming, I pour a tall glass of Chardonnay and chug it down.

  Ed opens the fridge, grabs another Heineken, and plops into a chair at the table.

  Okay, so he’s got a right to be freaked out. If the roles were reversed, I’d be nuts not knowing why a P.I. was snooping around about his past. “I’ll answer all your questions, but I don’t want you talking to her anymore. Is that a deal?”

  “Whatever. Just stop the bullshit.”

  I pour myself another glass of wine and join him at the table. “Where should I start?”

  “How ‘bout why you never mentioned attending college in Connecticut
?”

  “I-I never thought it worth mentioning. Katie and I transferred to New Mexico together after freshman year like I told you.”

  “And this guy Chris?”

  “Let’s eat and then I’ll answer all your questions.” I’m hoping he will sober up a little and give me a chance to hear what Bonita-bitch said.

  He doesn’t touch his food but guzzles most of his beer. “This Joey guy disappeared, correct?”

  “Yes.” Goosebumps march up my arms.

  “Do you know what happened?”

  My stomach cries out for a bottle of Mylanta. If I tell Ed everything, would he become a fellow conspirator? What did Denise and Chris tell the bitch? Who else is feeding her information? Paying her salary?

  “Laila, hello. Are you with me?” His tone sounds cynical.

  My cell phone interrupts. A 520 number flashes on my iPhone screen. This time I know it’s not my sister. Time to finally speak to Chris and find out what he’s told Juanita. I tell Ed I need to take the call.

  If looks could kill, I’d be six feet under.

  I slide the icon on my phone as Ed’s Blackberry rings. “Hi Mama,” he says. “What are you doing up at this hour?” He heads back to the deck with his phone, leaving me free to talk in private.

  “Laila?” The male voice has a crisp New England accent. “Are you there?”

  “Chris?”

  “It’s Ben.”

  “Oh, I-ah, thought—”

  His throaty laugh still catches me off guard. “Always mistaking me for Chris, eh? I can’t believe how hot you still are.”

  My face burns. “Please stop. What exactly did Chris say to that P.I. bitch? She knows we drove to New Mexico.”

  “Shhh. The phones may be tapped.”

  I head into my study, followed by Willow, who darts under my desk.

  “Damn it, Ben. Chris broke the pact.”

  “He didn’t tell her anything damaging,” Ben insists.

  “Except Joey and Denise were my friends.”

  “Laila. There’s a part of me that thinks I’m still in love with you.”

  My heartbeat revs up like a cigarette-boat on the lake. “When were you ever in love with me?”

  “Since that night. Forever after.”

  “I don’t believe you.”

  “Do you love me at all?”

  “I-I guess a part of me has always loved you, too.” Did I just say that? Too much vino and drama tonight.

  No sooner have the words left my mouth Willow bolts out from under the desk. I roll my chair around to see where she’s headed.

  Ed’s standing in the doorway.

  I click the phone off.

  “Ellen moved out of the other Frontier property. I’ll stay there.”

  “Don’t be crazy.” My voice sounds like a sick cow. Ed has never left me in twenty-five years, not for a day. “What you heard just now doesn’t mean anything. He was just a dumb crush from the seventies. I’ve had too much wine. For crissakes, Ed.”

  “Don’t be so dramatic. You need some space so you can sort out your past. I’m giving you that.” He throws clothes in a suitcase.

  I follow him to the bathroom where he grabs his shaving kit and toothbrush. “You can’t leave me. Not now. I have an early meeting with Darlene, everything is messed up.”

  “When you’re ready to tell me the truth… the whole truth, that is, call me. You know my number.” He races down the stairs and out the garage door.

  The whirr of his truck motor, then the screech of tires on the pavement makes me shudder. This really can’t be happening. Not to me. Not now. As tears fill my eyes, my iPhone sings “Yesterday.” Thank, God. Ed has come to his senses. I glance at the 520 area code and feel immensely disappointed. I’ve had enough of Ben Franklin Jones for a lifetime. I click the phone on. “I don’t want to talk to you, Ben. You have no idea—”

  “Laila, it’s Chris. I’m in Austin and I need to speak with you as soon as possible.”

  I’m furious at Chris. How dare he tell Juanita that Joey and Denise were my friends? Not to mention what he did to Katie and me years ago. Should I even meet with the son of a bitch? I’m about to give him a piece of my mind but take a minute to reconsider.

  “Laila, are you still there?” he says.

  “Yes, hello, Chris. I was just surprised to finally hear your voice. I can meet you for lunch tomorrow.”

  “What did Ben tell you anyway?” he asks. “Don’t believe a word he said.”

  “We’ll talk about it tomorrow,” I say.

  There’s too much at stake for me not to find out everything Chris told Juanita. I must outsmart Ben and him. Listen and learn from their deceptions.

  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  The Land of Enchantment

  New York-New Mexico, 1970

  Ben veered the Pinto onto the Merritt Parkway as we headed on the long drive to JFK. I had such mixed feelings about making this trip to New Mexico. The wind howled through the windows and I shivered in the back seat while Ben and Chris shouted at each other in the front. Chris lit up a joint, inhaled, and passed it back to me.

  My hands shook so badly I dropped it on the seat. The car stunk from burning upholstery before I could locate it again. I took comfort in the fact the seat was already torn up.

  Ben punched Chris in the shoulder. “Are you an imbecile? She’s gonna stink of weed when she gets on the plane.”

  Chris just shrugged.

  For some reason, Ben pulled into the parking lot of a Macy’s department store and parked. “What size dress and shoes do you wear, Laila?”

  “Huh?”

  “Just tell me. We don’t have much time.”

  “Five dress, seven shoes.”

  Ben left the car and disappeared inside the store. He returned fifteen minutes later with three Macy’s bags and handed them to me. The first contained a dress and pantyhose, the second had a shoebox with black pumps inside. “Put these on for the flight and make sure you wear them on the return trip home.” The third package held a pink patent leather overnight bag that looked like something I might have received for my sweet sixteen. “Take your clothes from the backpack and put them in this.”

  I caught Ben’s eye in the rearview mirror as I exchanged my sweater and jeans for the white wool dress, pantyhose, and pumps. I felt ridiculous. It was an outfit my mother might wear.

  Ben and Chris continued arguing the next two hours, talking about me like I was invisible. Tiny bumps swarmed down my neck to my chest. I imagined Denise and Katie sitting around in their pajamas in my dorm room. At least Katie would think I was one far out chick when she heard about the trip. But Denise’s words rang in my ears. “You’re in over your head.” Would Chris and Ben be pissed if I changed my mind?

  “A couple of things to remember.” Ben said as he followed the freeway signs to the airport. “Take deep breaths when you get scared coming through with the suitcase. Stay cool. Think of this trip as an adventure.”

  Chris handed me a plastic card. “It’s a fake phone card. Only call if it’s extremely important.”

  Too late to back out now. Everything was copasetic, right? I would prove to everyone once and for all that Laila Levin was one hip chick.

  “Remember, you’re not outta the woods when you board the plane,” Ben continued. “More folks get busted at the carousel picking the shit up.”

  I gulped. “Won’t you be there at baggage claim when I arrive?”

  “Of course we will, baby,” Chris said.

  A few minutes later, we pulled up to the curbside TWA baggage check area. Ben leaped out of the driver’s side and pushed the seat forward for me to climb out from the back. “We’re counting on you, Laila. A guy named Rojo will be at the gate to meet you. He’s got red hair and will be wearing a green flannel shirt.”

  Ben kissed my cheek.

  Chris bolted from the passenger side, shoved Ben away, and kissed me on the lips. Then he reached in his pocket and pulled out a small envelope and hand
ed it to me. “Open it.”

  I tore open the envelope and found two keys inside.

  “The keys to our house and my heart.”

  Ben sneered at him. “Aw.”

  Chris elbowed him in the ribs. “You’re an asshole.”

  “Why don’t you tell her, man?”

  “You fucking tell her,” Chris said.

  An airport security cop stepped up to the Pinto. “You gotta move the car, right now.” He pulled out a pad from his pocket and clicked his pen.

  Chris whacked my behind, and he and Ben jumped into the Pinto and sped off before the cop finished writing the ticket.

  “You can’t leave without telling me!” I shrieked into a trail of smoke.

  The cop shrugged and moseyed up to a Chevy Impala.

  I stared at the headlights of cars zipping around the departure area for a few stunned moments. Finally, I adjusted the straps of the ridiculous pink overnight bag and headed into the terminal.

  THE REDEYE FLIGHT TO ALBUQUERQUE felt blissful compared to the turbulent drive to the airport. The plane was barely half-full. I stretched out in my seat and tried to relax. The last time I had flown was on a family trip to Florida over a year ago. My sister Amby and I had played gin rummy and hangman, and I hoped to return to Long Island with a cool tan. How trivial that all seemed now. Yet a part of me wished I was on my way to Miami instead of flying to somewhere, New Mexico, to pick up a suitcase that could land me in prison.

  Unable to sleep, I pulled out a paperback Chris had lent me and snapped on the overhead reading light. On The Road by Jack Kerouac was a cult favorite. From the first page, the story resonated and made me feel better about my adventure. It captured the ideology of the “beat generation” as enlightened and bold. I felt connected to Sal, the protagonist, an innocent writer who gets liberated from his humdrum life by a crazy dude named Dean Moriarty as they journeyed across the country. An amazing correlation to my liberation from a boring Long Island existence.

  I read on through the night, fascinated with the story and its characters. The restless Dean had numerous sexual liaisons and the women willingly complied. It didn’t take a brain surgeon to surmise that Dean Moriarty was Ben Franklin Jones. A rebel without a cause, a rogue before his time. Bad boy, but oh so charming. For years I’d waited to ride off into the sunset with my Prince Charming. Why did I get two mules instead of a horse?