Shane And Carmen The Novelization Ch 22

Chapter 22 When It All Goes to Hell the First Time

It took Mattie Shepherd nearly two weeks to confer with Bernie McFadden, perform her due diligence research, draw up all the necessary paperwork, get Shane's signatures, and get a check cut for $50,000 out of Shane's trust fund. This suited Shane perfectly, because on the following Monday she went in to work a little early and asked John, her boss at

Lather

, if she could speak to him for a moment in private.

"Sure, Shane," he said, taking her into his small office and closing the door. "What's up?"

"Well, first off, I need to give you my two week's notice. The reason I'm leaving is because I've been offered an opportunity to open my own small one-person hair salon as part of a larger business thing, a skateboard park in Venice Beach. I'm buying into the business as a junior partner, so I get a piece of the overall business as well as my own share of my hairdressing work. Second, I just want to thank you for all your understanding and support, and thank you for putting up with me, especially during some of those years when I gave you a lot more shit than anyone should have to put up with."

John smiled. "Well, Shane, it sounds like a really good opportunity for you, and I hope it works out. You built up a loyal following of customers here."

"That's the next thing I wanted to tell you," Shane cut in. "I'm not gonna try to hijack any of your customers. If you want, I'm perfectly happy with neither you or me saying anything to them, and one day I'll just be gone. I don't like that kind of thing, when somebody runs out on you and steals your customers. I always thought that was shitty."

"Thanks, I appreciate that, Shane. But don't worry about it too much. That kind of thing happens all the time in this business. Customers follow particular hairdressers around from place to place, if they like them. But I appreciate your sentiment about it. Anyway, you'll be in Venice Beach, which is a fair distance across town, and not everyone will be willing to follow you that far north of town. I'm sure we'll keep some of your customers, and lose a few, too."

"Well, I didn't want there to be any hard feelings, because that's something else I wanted to mention to you. After I get set up in my new place, my business partner has plans to set up a line of boutique hair care products in my name, called

Shane for Wax

, that's going to be the name of my new salon, and I know we're going to ask you if you'd be interested in retailing them here. I talked it over with Chase, that's my partner, and we're willing to cut you the absolute best wholesale price, to get our foot in the door, and because you've been so good to me over the years. So we wanted you to be Retail Distributor No. 1 for

Shane for Wax

products."

"Well, I'll certainly think it over, Shane, and sure, keep me informed of your progress on getting the line set up."

They talked for a few minutes about the hair care products Chase and Shane were thinking about, and John had some good suggestions.

Meanwhile, Shane had called Chase late Friday afternoon to tell him she'd met with her lawyer, that she was good to go, and wanted to buy in with the $50,000 share, as they'd discussed.

"Hey, that's great!" Chase said. "I'll get started setting things up first thing Monday."

"Don't you want to wait until I get the check first?" Shane asked. "It may take a week or two."

"Nah. I'm not that kind of businessman," Chase said. "Your word is good enough for me. I operate on a handshake. I know that makes me a total anomaly in Los Angeles, but what the fuck, that's how I want to operate, and why I want to be my own boss. I don't want some corporate beancounter assholes telling me I gotta do this and do that. The whole point is to be able to seize opportunities and move fast, without a lot of overhead and procedures and shit. When you get some free time next week, come over and we'll start talking about what we're gonna do and when and how. We have to plan for your grand opening, among other things."

"Grand opening?"

"Fuck, yeah," Chase said. "We're going to put

Shane for Wax

on the map. We got to line up media, put out some advertising, do flyers, a whole ton of stuff. Guest list, entertainment, catering. We got to get your station set up and operational for the first customers. On opening day and for the first few weeks we want you to be booked solid, for as many hours as you can put in."

After work on Monday Shane and Carmen went over to

Wax

and conferred with Chase. They decided that after Shane did her two weeks at

Lather

she should then take a week off, during which she and Chase would work intensely to get everything ready to open at the end of that third week, with the big party that Saturday night. On the Tuesday or Wednesday of that week, Shane would set up her new work station to make sure she had everything she needed and felt comfortable in her new environment. They'd line up a handful of customers and do what Chase called a "soft opening," in essence a day or two of dress rehearsal. On Friday they would decorate the entire building to get it ready for Saturday's grand opening event. Then there would be the big party Saturday night.

Carmen took off from work the Friday before the opening so she could go with Shane to

Wax

to work on decorations for the opening. On the way, they stopped at

The Planet

for coffee and bagels. They were eating when Kit came over to their table.

"Would ya like to hear some good news, DJ Sugar?" Kit asked, her hand on Carmen's shoulder.

"I would. What is it?"

"I just got off the phone with Paul Jarrett," Kit said, "and he heard you DJ at our Vulva Las Vegas fundraiser a few weeks ago, and he wants you for his VIP After Party for Russell Simmons and his new band Black Butterfly."

"Holy shit! Are you kidding me?" Carmen almost spilled her coffee.

"No, no, I'm not kidding," Kit said.

"Oh, my god! Oh my god! Kit, come here!" Carmen jumped off her stool and hugged Kit, who laughed as Shane beamed. "This is huge, this is fantastic," Carmen gushed, almost beside herself. "When are we supposed to do this?"

"Tomorrow night, at the

Abbey

, at 9 o'clock."

Carmen's joy evaporated. "Tomorrow ... I can't. I can't do it." She turned to Shane "It's your opening."

"No, no, don't even--" Shane started to say.

Carmen turned back to Kit. "I am so sorry--"

"No, come on, girl, look, there's gonna be a lot of other parties," Kit said. "There'll be a lot of other parties."

"There's gonna be a lot of other parties ... in Los Angeles ... with Russell Simmons," Carmen said, knowing there wouldn't be, not for her.

"Sure, there will. Okay, you think about it, let me know. Call me, okay?" She gave Carmen a quick hug and patted Shane on the arm, and hurried off to the kitchen to deal with someone who was waving to her.

"Okay," Carmen said quietly to the empty place where Kit had been.

But Shane surprised her. "Come on, this is a huge thing, don't give it up for

Wax

."

"Oh, right," Carmen said. "Like I'm not gonna be at your opening."

"Well, think about it," Shane said.

***

It was after nine when they got home that evening. Carmen walked through the back door into the kitchen and stopped short. Shane, coming behind her but not paying attention, ran into her. She looked over Carmen's shoulder to see what had stopped her. The kitchen was a mess. Someone had been cooking spaghetti and there was a big pot of marinara still on the stove, with a trail of marinara sauce running down the front of the stove and onto the floor. A marinara-encrusted ladle sat on the stovetop between the burners. There was also a pot of what had once been boiling water, and there were now strands of cooled, hardened spaghetti hanging down its side. There were cooking spatters all over the stove, and on the counter there were crumbs from where someone had sliced a loaf of Italian bread.

Carmen muttered "Shit!" and seized a sponge from the sink, and began angrily cleaning up the marinara on the floor and the stove top.

"Honey, don't do this," Shane begged her. "It's not your mess."

"Well, ya know what? Someone's gotta do it," Carmen said through gritted teeth. "And the person who made this mess clearly has no intention of doing it."

Shane knew it was futile to argue with Carmen when she was in this mood, and Shane couldn't say that Carmen was wrong. While Carmen certainly wasn't obsessive, she was by nature a tidy and orderly person, and the mess in the kitchen offended every fiber of her work ethic. Carmen herself loved to cook, and like any cook would often make a mess in the kitchen herself, but she would always clean up promptly after dinner. Well, there were a couple of times she and Shane got frisky, and the dishes waited a few hours, and once until morning. Still ... .

Shane got a beer out of the refrigerator and sat down wearily at the table.

"And I don't suppose Moira has chipped in anything for rent," Carmen said, mostly to herself, and not expecting an answer, because she already knew the answer. "They've been here five weeks now. Or either of them contributing toward the groceries they seem to have no trouble eating." She dumped the big pot of water into the sink and began trying to chip off the hardened spaghetti from its side. "Or the utilities. Electricity. Water and sewer. Trash pickup. Cable TV. Beer. Pot. Anything."

Shane said nothing because she'd had a sudden insight. This wasn't about money, and it wasn't about household clean-up. Well, it

was

a little bit about the mess in the kitchen, but mostly it was about something else entirely. It was about turf. It was about their home, their nest. Hers and Carmen's. Objectively, Carmen knew perfectly well that Jenny and Tim were the original renters of the house, going back to when they had first moved to California. Jenny's name was still on the lease even now. And Carmen would probably have been okay with Jenny moving back in after her six months' stay in Chicago ... maybe. But Carmen was not happy about a fourth person, and a stranger, and worse, a stranger she didn't especially like. But there was even more to it than that. What Carmen objected to was that over the past seven months, she and Shane had built a life together here. A relationship. This was now

their

home, never mind whose name was on the lease. Carmen had repainted her bedroom, and together they had repainted both Shane's room and the living and dining rooms, as well as the garage/studio. They had refurnished a lot of the place, adding a piece here or there. They had bought a new couch. They had bought a new flatscreen TV. Carmen had totally re-landscaped the front and back gardens and plantings, modest as they were. But this was about even more than paint and possessions and rose bushes. They had made love here, often, and in every room. They were used to walking around naked or half naked, and now they had to think about who else was in the house, whether Jenny or Moira had come in from their studio bedroom for something. They had to think about the sounds they made when they made love. And it wasn't as though either of them cared very much if Jenny or Moira happened to walk in on them if they were fooling around in this room or that. But still, it was ... inhibiting.

The fact was, Carmen was a nester. She had worked hard at making this a home for herself and for Shane, and for no one else. Carmen would have been perfectly happy having Jenny as a guest for a week or two. Hell, Alice stayed over all the time. Dana had crashed one night. Kit had. One night when Bette and Tina were squabbling Tina had spent the night in the spare bedroom. Both of Carmen's sisters had visited and stayed the night at one time or another. Carmen didn't mind guests at all; she liked them, and God knows, there was no friendlier, more hospitable person in the world than Carmen. But these two people had invaded

her

nest, and she didn't like it. Carmen wasn't even aware of this being at the root of her problem, Shane understood. But either way, Carmen would not say out loud what she felt: Jenny and Moira had overstayed their welcome. They had fouled Carmen's clean, neat, carefully built love nest, had inhibited her and Shane's vigorous, spontaneous and highly creative sex lives, seemed to have no awareness of any of it ... and had no intention of leaving. The money and the sloppiness were surface manifestations of the deeper things.

All this Shane suddenly came to understand, having been processing the problem for a week. There was nothing she could do about any of it, so far as she could see.

And then there was the problem of tomorrow night. Here Shane thought there might be a solution, one Don Quixote himself would be proud of. A noble sacrifice. Of course Shane wanted Carmen to be at the opening, but they were a two-career family, and Shane cared just as deeply for Carmen's career as her own, maybe more so. And the truth was, she knew tomorrow night's party would be a big blur and a gazillion people, and while it would be great if Carmen was there to share it with her, it was simply more important for Carmen to take the DJ gig.

"This is disgusting," Carmen muttered as she worked.

Shane took a pull on her Dos Equis. "I think you should DJ the Russell Simmons' party."

Carmen never missed a beat in her cleaning. "So, ah, it really doesn't matter to you at all if I'm not at your opening?"

"Honestly? It's not that big of a deal to me," Shane said.

"Um. Okay," Carmen said in a tone of voice that meant it wasn't okay.

"Uh, wait, Carmen. Don't take it that way," Shane said. "You know I want you to be there."

"Yeah," Carmen said, wiping fingerprints off the front of the refrigerator.

"I know your DJ career is something you've been working really hard at. Right?"

"Mmm-hmm," Carmen nodded, beginning to fill the sink with hot, soapy water.

"Okay, then," Shane said, as though it settled something.

"Thank you," Carmen said. Shane got up, came to the sink and kissed the back of Carmen's neck. Then she picked up a dish towel and dried the wet dishes as Carmen washed and rinsed them and handed them to her.

***

They did their Saturday morning shopping and errands, and went over to

Wax

shortly before noon to check on the final decorations and arrangements. Carmen's mind was preoccupied with her own schedule that night, going over set lists in her head, mentally rearranging songs. She'd bought two CDs that morning, and would have to integrate them into her system. She'd have to pack up her Jeep. Unpacking and setting up at the

Abbey

was no problem; Simmons' people would be there, and she could count on all the roadie help that would be dying to help out a

muy caliente

Latina chick. The party didn't start until nine, but she'd want to be there before eight to set up and do sound checks. Okay, now what about the costume... .

While Shane talked to Chase Carmen wandered aimlessly around the store, looking at clothes but not really seeing them. She found a jewelry case, and saw a necklace in it she liked. She held it up to show Shane, who was across the room talking with Chase.

"Hey, Carmen, that'd look really good on you," Shane called out when she saw the necklace.

"You should take it," Chase called to her. Even Chase, who had only met Carmen two or three times and knew her hardly at all, could tell Carmen was walking around in a daze. "Is she all right?" he whispered to Shane.

"Carmen's really bummed," Shane said. "She can't come tonight. She got a really big gig DJing for Russell Simmons."

"Wow, that's cool. Well, you gotta have priorities. She's an entrepreneur, like me. I get that. It's business, man. There'll be other parties."

"I know, that's what I keep telling her."

"It'll mellow," Chase said.

Shane suddenly remembered something. "What time is it?"

Chase glanced at his watch. "It's, uh, like, one-thirty, quarter to two."

"It's what?"

"One-thirty."

"Fuck!" Shane hustled across the room. "Hey Carmen, Dana's game's on!" They both ran to Chase's office, where he had a chair and a big couch and a bigger widescreen TV. Dana was playing in the final round of the 2006 Mercedes Challenge Tennis Championship against Ludmilla Ivanova, the feisty young Russian, and the match had started at noon. The scoreboard showed Dana had lost the first set, 2-6, with Ludmilla breaking Dana's serve twice. Dana battled back in the second set, winning in a tiebreaker, 7-6. They were tied 5-5 in the third and final set.

They had followed Dana's progress through the tournament all week. Dana had been seeded 6th, and on Monday she had handily defeated a 27th seed in a little over an hour. On Tuesday she'd upset the number 2 seed, the amazing Czech veteran Alma Hrusnik, but Hrusnik had pulled a hamstring the day before, and it had hampered her game. Still, a win was a win, and Dana found herself in a grueling match with Billie Reynolds on Wednesday. On that same day on another court, Venus Williams had twisted her ankle and lost to Ludmilla Ivanova, a very good player but one who never expected to get past Williams. On Thursday in the semifinals, Dana had beaten Peaches Carpenter and Ivanova had defeated the French-Canadian upstart Marie-Claire Valjean easier than had been expected. So Dana and Ludmilla spent Friday resting up before their big final at noon on Saturday. And Carmen and Shane both were so preoccupied with their own troubles both had forgotten about Dana's match until it was almost too late.

"Come on, Dana, you can do it," Shane muttered at the TV screen as Chase came in and sat down in the chair next to them. Ivanova was serving, and at love-30 she foot-faulted. Both players were visibly tiring in the heat, and it was going to be a question of stamina, will, and making the fewest mistakes. It seemed Dana had used up all her mistakes in the first set, and had recovered to play flawlessly. Ivanova had just committed one such unforced error, giving away an unearned point and ad-out. Ludmilla served, taking a little off the ball, and Dana smashed a great return down the line. Ivanova got to it, what with her tremendous range and great legs, but Dana had rushed the net, anticipating which way Ludmilla would return the volley. Dana had guessed right, and she was there at the net, plunking down a soft dink cross-court that Ludmilla knew was futile, and had not even bothered to go after. She grinned weakly at Dana, acknowledging the nice shot, and turned away muttering in Czech. It was 6-5, and all Dana had to do was hold her own serve and the match was hers. It was the first time she'd broken Ludmilla all day.

"Whoo, she did it!" Shane exulted, clapping her hands over her head. Before they had all met Dana and brought her into the Circle of Friends, not one of them followed any professional sports of any kind, male or female. The lesbianism of Billie Jean King and then especially Martina Navratilova had made the news while most of the Friends were in elementary school or pre-school, and so they had no special affinity toward tennis over any other sport. Tina had played volleyball in high school, and Bette had played field hockey and basketball, but neither had ever pursued it beyond graduation. Like most people, they watched Olympic sports every other year, but like most people, their interest waned significantly the day after the Olympic torch was extinguished for that season. The only two women besides Dana in the Circle of Friends who knew anything at all about any sport were the newcomers Max, who had followed tennis for years, and Carmen, who liked pro football and had reasonable knowledge about other sports; she had also lettered in basketball and softball in high school, and knew how to play tennis herself. However, with Dana in their midst, they'd all become knowledgeable tennis fans, and Dana had even given Shane and Carmen tennis lessons, at Carmen's request. Not surprisingly, Carmen had an innate athleticism, good, well-muscled legs and competitive killer instinct. In another universe or another lifetime, she might have become a skilled gymnast or tennis player. She would have made anyone's cheerleading squad – high school, college or professional -- in a heartbeat. Who knows, she could even have been a cheerleader calendar girl.