The California Club Part 38

Chapter 29.

My first instinct is to call the police.

'You can't!' Sasha stops me. 'He'd get in so much trouble with Carrie.'

'But-'

'And what if word got out? The fundraiser is in three days. Who'd come to a place where there's a madman on the loose?'

'This is America,' I remind Sasha. 'Anyone who's ever been in the studio audience for Jerry Springer would be here like a shot!' I pause for a moment. 'Maybe that's the hook you've been looking for we could put Ty in one of the cages.'

'He's just drunk,' Sasha defends him. 'It'll pa.s.s.'

'So you're just going to stay locked in a room until he sobers up?'

Sasha nods.

'What if I called Helen?'

'What can she do?'

'I'm sure The California Club must have some SWAT team that deal with emergencies like this.'

'Let's just wait,' Sasha pleads. 'Nina you know, the volunteer girl? she should be back later, I'm sure she can reason with him.'

'I haven't got that long, and besides I need a wee. I'm going to have to go out there.'

'No!' Sasha pulls me back.

Outside we hear shuffling-staggering down the corridor.

I sigh. There is one person I would like to consult with but it would mean asking Elise for help. I really do need to use the restroom so I dial her. She gets Martha straight away. I give her a whispered update on Ty-gate (with Sasha's sleeping bag over my head for extra soundproofing) and in return she tells me what she thinks the best plan of action would be. Starting with persuading him to drink a large mug of coffee.

Checking that the coast is clear, we make a dash for the kitchen, clinging on to each other for dear life. Frankly I'd rather let Freddie chew on my femur than face Ty in this state but it has to be done. I fill a mug with steaming caffeine and try and calm my hammering heart.

'I'll come with you.' Sasha moves to join me but I block her. Martha has convinced me that Sasha is the reason for Ty's drinking so it would only aggravate things.

'You stay here. Unless you hear him coming, in which case go back to the bedroom.'

'But what should I do?' Sasha looks forlorn.

'Make another pot of coffee,' I instruct her.

As I creak down the corridor towards Ty's room I dip my finger in the brew to a.s.sess it's scald-potential, just in case it gets thrown back in my face. (Second degree burns, I predict.) He's not in his hammock so I proceed to the back porch. There he sits, scrunched and rocking. I fear he could lash out at any time so I keep a safe distance as I announce my presence: 'Ty?'

He flicks around, ready to attack. 'What are you doing here?'

I've definitely got the element of surprise on my side.

'I brought you some coffee.' I try to sound casual, as if I've just returned from a two-day outing to Starbucks.

'I don't need it, I got this,' he wavers a bottle of Jack Daniels in my direction. 'Want some?'

'Okay!' I say, deciding it's better off in my hands than glugging down his throat. I sit down beside him but not too close, unscrew the bottle top and drag out the simple process of taking a sip. I want to say, 'Are you okay?' but clearly he's not, so instead, heart pounding, I try what Martha told me and dive in with: 'Why are you so angry at yourself for finding Sasha attractive?'

His head jerks round and his eyes bore through me like a drill. Though I'm trembling inside I hold his gaze.

'If I did, which I don't, it would just make me as superficial as everyone else, which I'm not.'

I think for a moment. I am Dr Phil, I can do this. 'This dread of appearing superficial-'

'A pretty healthy trait, don't you think?' he says, defensively.

'Yes but I'm wondering if you're taking it a bit far,' I venture.

'What?' he snaps.

'Well, isn't it possible that you could be responding to something else in her, other than her looks?'

'I'm a man, aren't I?' he sneers, adding sourly. 'Besides, what else is there?'

'You seemed to be getting on pretty well with her on the first night we were here,' I remind him.

'That was before I saw her,' he grumbles.

'What a ridiculous thing to say!' In my annoyance I forget my nerves. 'Why do you let how she looks wipe out all the good stuff you were responding to that's just so short-sighted!'

'Listen,' he slurs. 'I was in the movie business for twelve years, you think I don't know about these skinny-perfect-pouty girls, what they can do to you?'

There's anguish in his last words. I try and soften my voice.

'I think you may have had one bad experience too many-'

'd.a.m.n right!'

'But it's not Sasha's fault that you feel this way. What has she ever done to you?'

Ty rubs his furrowed brow. All at once I see someone terrified of getting hurt again, punishing himself for having feelings for 'the enemy'.

'I'm not going to let her-' He stops himself.

'Let her what? Mess you up? Reject you? Is that why you're rejecting her first?'

'You don't know!' His voice cracks.

'No, I don't. Do you want to tell me?'

'No.'

'Okay.' I take a moment for us both to simmer down.

Ty takes a sip of coffee, I take a sip of JD.

'I'll tell you something: I'm not leaving here unless you guarantee you can be at least civil to her. If you can't, then I'm taking her with me.'

Suddenly all the fight seems to have gone out of Ty. 'I just wish she didn't look the way she does.'

'You and her both,' I mutter.

'Oh come on!' he snorts.

'Really, she thinks her looks are a curse so you've already got something in common.'

'And she likes motorbikes,' he mumbles.

I smile. That is so sweet. He noticed. Underneath the hostile exterior there's a p.u.s.s.ycat waiting to get out. Unfortunately, now the anger has subsided the self-pity is setting in.

'I just hate being like every other dumb schmuck who takes one look at her and falls at her feet. I don't want to be a cliche. I don't want a beautiful girlfriend.'

I raise an eyebrow. 'In case people think you're superficial? Are we back on that again?'

'I want to be with someone real.'

'She is real!' I cry, exasperated. 'Tell you what, why don't you wait fifty years until she's lost her looks and then make a play for her. That seems sensible. I mean, what's wasting fifty years of your life because you're worried about what other people will think.'

Ty scuffs his shoe on the boulder at his feet. 'It's not just that. I'm worried about what I'll think about myself. If I got with her-'

'And we're not saying you want to or that you will ...' I tease.

'Right!' he agrees. 'But I'd always wonder if I'm just with her for her looks.'

'Well then, your problem isn't with Sasha, it's with yourself,' I conclude. 'So I suggest you stop taking your inverted looksism' I frown, hoping that's a real word 'out on her!'

He looks gloomily at the earth. I could have sworn we were getting somewhere, and now this defeated slump.

'Have another sip of coffee.'

He obliges.

'It's funny isn't it?' I muse. 'For some people it's having the glamorous trophy wife and the right sports car and fancy address, and with you it's about having the correct set of political beliefs, hating the right group of people, wearing the dirtiest trousers, all to prove you don't care.'

No reaction.

'I mean, did you have to study the history of grunge to get your hair just right?'

'I don't care about that s.h.i.t,' he grumbles.

'I don't care about this, I don't care about that! If it's so wrong to care then what on earth are you doing here?'

He looks straight at me. 'These cats need me. Look at Oliver. What happened to him is wrong!'

Finally some pa.s.sion.

'Is that how you see yourself? As some avenging angel?'

Ty shrugs.

'You're here because you care. Be man enough to admit it.'

Gawd, I hope I haven't overstepped the mark. Martha said I'd have to tussle with him but- 'I wish that were true,' he sighs.

'What then? Are you trying to a.s.suage guilt for your over-privileged background? You think you got it too easy so you want to help poor dumb animals. Animals who can't tell you what an idiot you're being?'

He takes the insult on the chin and simply says, 'I can do something for them. I can make a difference.'

'It's not either-or, Ty. You can help humans too.'

His angry eyes suddenly seem searching and vulnerable.

'You could help Sasha. You're so good at seeing the pain in these animals. Can't you see hers?' Now my voice is wobbling. 'Just think about it,' I say, swallowing my tears.

He crumbles and his head falls forward into his hands.

'She must hate me,' he says.

I shake my head. 'She should hate you. If she had any sense she would. But it's not hate, it's hurt. Your vanity is hurting her. Which is ironic, considering she's the babe and you're the dog!'

Ty snuffles a laugh. 'Where the h.e.l.l did you come from?' He looks at me with something approaching affection.

'I wish I knew. If I did I'd go back there and get a second one of me made up just so I could sit on your shoulder and make sure you don't mess up the rest of this week.'

'Have you got a boyfriend?' he asks, somewhat unexpectedly.

I flash to Joel but then decide he doesn't fit in that category.

'Don't be absurd,' I say. 'You know all the best relationship advice comes from people with totally c.r.a.ppy love lives. It makes things so much clearer.'

'Well, I hope you get the one you deserve.'

'Is that a threat?'