Page 41 of Forget About Me

“Thing is, he’s a clown at heart,” Lucy says. When our eyes meet, my heart stops at the expression on her face. All I want is for her to look at me like this for the rest of my days. “I’ve known him since he was a pudgy ten-year-old?—?”

“Nine,” I correct her.

She tips her head to the side. “Really?”

“Yeah, I was nine when we moved to—” I have to stop myself. I’m not telling this reporter where we live. “The neighborhood.”

Lucy nods slowly, and a cloud crosses her face. “Oh, right. I guess Tony was ten.”

I don’t want to get into Tony’s story, so I turn the spotlight on Lucy. Her work is the reason why we’re here.

“The thing is, though, Lucy—and the training she’s done with Puck and me—is making it possible for me to stretch and do this role. Launce is a tough character to play. Having a dog I can play off of, trusting that he’s going to remain calm and focused on me in front of an audience, none of it would be happening without her.” Now it’s my turn to lean forward. “Another thing I learned from Lucy? Hundreds of dogs are dropped off at shelters every year because owners can’t deal with problem behaviors like nonstop barking or destructive chewing, most of which could be solved by working with a trainer. It takes some effort, and I’ll attest to the fact that Lucy is a very demanding teacher?—?”

“Hey!”

“Well, you are.”

“Only when a student is extremely dense.”

I roll my eyes and grin. “So you can train anybody if you can train me?”

She shrugs. “You said it, not me.”

I look over at Marcia. She’s scribbling notes, but there’s a glint in her eye that tells me she’s not blind to the chemistry between Lucy and me. That is not something I want out in the open, so I dial back on the teasing. “The point is—well, look at Puck right now.”

The dog of the moment is lying calmly at my feet. When I say his name, his eyebrows go up and his tail wags briefly. “He’s not whining or begging.” I point to the spread of snacks laid out on the coffee table between us. “I can take him anywhere now. But when I first got him, he’d bark at anything and everything. Now, he knows I’m in charge.”

At that, he rolls onto his side with a little moan.

Marcia laughs. “He may disagree with you on that.”

“Well, that’s true. Lucy’s the one in charge.”

Now that we’ve steered her down the path, Marcia takes the reins and gets more facts and figures from Lucy. All I can do is watch. The passion in Lucy’s voice, in her face—I wish she’d turn it my way again. Maybe she will. Maybe I can get her to forgive me.

Then again, maybe I don’t deserve it.

All I know is I want her to be happy. If this interview is the start of something great for her, that’s a good thing.

I may have to be satisfied with that. I’ve been living in a fantasy for years; I guess I’ll have to stay there.

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

"Pump it Up" - Elvis Costello & The Attractions

Lucy’s Right On Rock On Mixtape, Song #8

LUCY

I haven’t been needed at rehearsal for the first few days of the week after the interview. I find myself driving down Ben’s street on the way home from work, telling myself I’m just going to check in. I actually do have a couple of new ideas for the play. Maybe we can work them out and show them to Nick.

Sure, I could call to discuss it, but it’s just as easy to stop by.

Who am I kidding? As confusing and provoking as sharing air with him is, it’s an itch I can’t help scratching.

After parking in front of the house, I head up the driveway. As I climb the stairs to his place, I hear a clanking sound coming from the garage. I sit down on the step and peer through the filmy glass of the window. Ben’s in there working out, just like Tony used to do in our garage. He was always out there, even in winter, playing music and lifting. He had to maintain his “guns,” as he lovingly called them. He always had some other guy there to insult and screw around with. He tried to get Ben to work out with him, but Ben never lasted long, claiming he hated it.

Looks like things have changed. Ben has music going—it sounds like Armored Saint. Deanna’s a huge fan, but I wouldn’t have associated that kind of heavy metal with Ben. The band’s name fits what I’m looking at right now, though. That angelic face is marred by a grimace as he presses a barbell toward the ceiling over and over again. After an insane number of repetitions, his muscles obviously straining, he sets the weight back in its cradle. Barely taking a breath, he rolls off the bench, grabs a jump rope and hops tightly and relentlessly. With no wasted motion, he sets the rope down and drops to the floor to do a bazillion pushups. Then he’s back at the weights.

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