Shoot from the Lip

29

DeShay and I helped Jeff walk to the wheelchair in his hospital room. He was going home after only ten days-or, rather, heading for my house. He didn’t complain as he took each slow step, even though I could tell he was hurting. “Pain is comforting,” he’d told me while he recovered. “Pain means you’re alive.” That was as close as we’d gotten to discussing how near he’d come to dying. Knowing him, we might not ever talk about it again.

I’d done the interview for Kravitz two days after Foster was caught. Makeup was provided by the very talented Sandy Sechrest, who made all of us look like movie stars-all of us being Kate, Aunt Caroline, Emma and me. Loreen had absolutely refused to be interviewed, much less taped.

With cameras and lights taking up most of my aunt’s living room, we answered Kravitz’s questions for several hours. At times the crew dragged chairs from different rooms, moved tables and lamps and had us sit in other spots-sometimes together, sometimes apart, depending on who was talking about what. I was told this would keep the audience from getting bored with the set. I didn’t really care. I wanted to be done.

I was sure most of what Stu taped would end up on the cutting room floor, and thank goodness for that, but I had the feeling Aunt Caroline might be disappointed. She’d lapped up the attention like a cat with a saucer of cream. The deal with Kravitz included a clause that Mary Parsons could air her own interview on the late news after the Crime Time episode was finished. Kravitz was concerned she’d leak something, so the plan was to tape my interview with her on the same morning the Crime Time episode aired in November.

A nurse’s aide arrived and wheeled Jeff to the elevator and out the lobby door to the car that DeShay had parked at the front entrance. A security guard was lurking, perhaps ready to call for a tow truck, but when DeShay flashed his badge, the man understood who the T-bird was waiting for. Everyone knew the story.

The ride home was blessedly quick, and Loreen and Doris were waiting for us at my place. I’d moved them from Jeff’s apartment once Loreen finally believed that Jimmy the pimp hadn’t been outside her house that night. Maybe no one had been outside.

Loreen and Emma had reunited the day after Foster was caught. Emma’s gratitude was obvious, but Loreen didn’t want any credit for doing “what any decent human would do.” She said she’d finally gotten something right for the first time and she was the one who should be thankful.

After ten days, Diva and Webster still weren’t sure about Doris’s aggressive approach to pets, but Loreen was working with her on that.

“Jeffy’s better,” Doris chanted over and over when we came in the door. She did a little clapping, too, and I agreed his arrival was worth the applause.

When Doris held her arms out, ready for a run at her brother to offer one of her infamous hugs, Loreen stopped her by placing a gentle hand on Doris’s arm. “Remember how Jeffy hurt himself? You can’t squeeze him like you do me.”

“That’s right.” Doris hit her forehead with the heel of her hand. “Jeffy’s got a hole in him. I don’t know how you get a hole in you, but if it makes you walk like that, I don’t want one.”

Jeff and DeShay were moving through the foyer, and he smiled and held out his hand to Doris. “Help me over to Abby’s… is that a recliner?”

I nodded. “Thought you might be more comfortable there.”

Doris forgot about helping. She ran to the recliner, ready to show Jeff all the chair’s bells and whistles-the remote compartment, the massage options, the little table that you could flip up for your drinks or snacks. She’d been playing with the chair for a week and was quite the expert.

Jeff looked at Loreen. “I can’t thank you enough for taking care of her. She seems so comfortable with you, so happy.”

“She’s sweet. Like the kid I never had.”

“I really appreciate your help,” he said.

I raised my eyebrows and looked expectantly at him. “Loreen lost her job at Purity Maids, hint, hint.”

A bigger smile from Jeff. “Really? Would you consider staying on? I don’t know what your salary was, but-”

“But you’ll get more. Plenty more,” I finished.

Jeff shot me a look, but then he smiled again. He knew we’d work it out.