Gingerbread

  "Autumn? Who's Autumn?"

  That response made me feel a little better. At least Blank wasn't dragging HER along to visit with MY people. I asked Sugar, "Do you think he misses me?"

  Sugar Pie said, "What do you think, Cyd Charisse?"

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  "What kind of answer is that?" I asked.

  "Missy, you're in the most exciting city in the world supposed to be having all kinds of new adventures. Maybe the answer you don't want to accept is what you already know. Sometimes you need to lose a person to find yourself. Sometimes only then can you get that person back. Make sense?"

  "No, Obi-wan," I said.

  "You'll figure it out. We miss you here but don't expect to see you back till you've figured some things out, seen something of the world. Now get off the phone and go explore."

  "Don't you want to know about my real dad?" I asked.

  Sugar said, "I've read your cards. I already know. Now stop wasting your life and go outside and have some fun. But BE CAREFUL."

  I didn't want to let her hang up--what was I supposed to do all alone in this sci-fi twenty-seventh-floor condo thingie with honking horns and people swarming around fast-fast-fast everywhere outside? But on the other hand, I wanted Sugar Pie to enjoy her time with Fernando. I know how much I hated to be interrupted when Blank and I were alone.

  "Okay, bye." I was about to hang up, then added, "I love you, Sugar." I realized I could toss those words out like Mardi Gras beads to Sugar Pie, but you would not catch me dead saying those words to Nancy.

  "You too, baby. Have fun. Call me after you have some adventures to report."

  "Kisses to Fernando!" I said. Sugar let out a whopping laugh at that comment and hung up.

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  I looked around the apartment and didn't know what to do. All those weeks locked up in Alcatraz, and now I had all the freedom in the world in the city that doesn't sleep, and I was paralyzed. There seemed to be too much possibility. I took Gingerbread in my arms and turned on the tube. There was a public access program of these Indian women wearing beautiful saris doing some kind of sari-ness dance. It was quite spectacular looking and Gingerbread and I joined in, as if we were participating in an exercise program for our morning workout. I was all into head swishes and hip-to-hand tra-la-la when I heard the sound of applause coming from behind me. Figuring it must be Loo-ese, I curved the ends of my lips upward and turned around to say "Hey ...," but it was not Loo-eese standing before me. Standing in front of me wearing a T-shirt that was actually gray but said "BROWN" on it was a mini-Frank. Well, not literally a mini-Frank but a much younger, thinner, and somewhat shorter version of bio-dad.

  I knew who he was--did he know who I was?

  "You must be Cyd Charisse," mini-Frank said.

  "I know who you are, too. You're Daniel!"

  He looked a little quizzical and said, "Did Dad tell you that's my name? The only time I get called that is at, like, graduations and doctor's offices."

  "Do you have a totally cute nickname like Junior or Flash or Poncho?" I asked.

  He looked even more confused and said, "No, charm girl. People just call me Danny."

  I jumped up onto the sofa--I have no idea why--to reach and shake Danny's hand on the other side of the sofa. "You can call me Cyd or Cyd Charisse. Sid is also the name

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  of my other dad so's people at home call me by both names but here in Manhattan I am like starting a whole new identity so you could use my real name or even make one up if you want."

  "Loving you, lil' sis!" Danny singsonged. He was too adorable. He came around to my side of the sofa and jumped up on it next to me to shake my hand. "Pleased to meet you, secret love child."

  "That's not the nickname you want to use for me, is it?"

  Danny smiled and said, "No, Cyd Charisse. When I think of a good one for you, I'll let you know."

  I wanted to know, "You're not mad or anything about my being here?" Looking into his eyes was like looking into a mirrored reflection of my own: the same dark brown color; his hair was the same dark black as mine, his lips the same full ruby red. The difference between looking at him and Frank real-dad was that with Danny I felt an instant ka-pow ! connection. When I looked at Frank and saw our resemblance, I felt distant--separated from myself--and a little betrayed, and not at all comfortable. With my other family in San Francisco, even though Josh looks just like Nancy (he is totally the handsome Prince William babe-in-training) and Ash takes after Sid-dad and I look like the answer to the "what is wrong with this picture" question in our family portraits, at least I know more or less where I belong in that family.

  Danny said, "Mad? No! How could I be mad at you about something you had nothing to do with." He plopped down onto the sofa into a sitting position and gestured me to join him. Way weirdness--once sitting on the sofa, we both crossed our legs Indian style at the same exact time.

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  "I've known about you for years and have been dying to see you! Daddy finally told me about you last week--1 tried to act surprised--but I couldn't wait for him to introduce us. I've always wanted a little sister."

  "I've always wanted to be one!" I exclaimed.

  "Then we're a match!" Danny said. How funny that in my imagination he was some macho tough football dude, but live and in the flesh I could see he was just a regular Joe kinda fella who wore his heart on his sleeve.

  "Is Rhonda coming to meet me too?" I asked. Because that would be the final chapter, of course, when my big sister and I became Sisters like in that song from the movie White Christmas although we probably wouldn't wear matching outfits and sing together, although we would totally read each other, like, instinctually.

  "Rhonda?" Danny said. "Daddy told you our sister's name was Rhonda?"

  I didn't want to explain how I read about them in a book and how Frank and I still had not touched the subject of me meeting his other children so I just said, "Not exactly."

  Danny said, "My sister uses her middle name. Rhonda was an old family name. She never goes by that."

  "Then what is her name and is she coming to see me too?"

  Danny's face turned down and he said, "Lisbeth is having a little bit of a harder time with this. But she'll come around."

  When he pronounced her name, he said the "Lis" part really fast and the "Beth" part really hard and long: lisBETH. It was the kind of stupid name some fourteen-year-old girl adopts when she is writing in a diary and if she keeps the

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  name when she is an adult, she most likely has problems.

  "Oh," I said and I looked to the ceiling so he would not be able to tell that tears wanted to form in my eyes. "Does she not like me?"

  "How can she not like you? She doesn't even know you," Danny answered.

  You'd think! "Then why isn't she here with you?"

  Danny said, "Lisbeth is ...," Danny paused, searching for the right word, "special. She can come across as very angry and rigid, but once you get to know her, you'll see that she's all right. She always has the best of intentions."

  If ever there was a warning flare, that was it. I figured the lisBETH issue was for a later time. For the here and now, I wanted to get to know Danny, the sweetest older brother ever.

  "So, can we like hang out and stuff? I have nothing to do!" I told him.

  Danny looked at his watch. "I have to be back at work in half an hour..."

  "What do you do?" I interrupted.

  "I'm a baker and cake decorator."

  "No!" I said, awed. The thought of all his sugar access on top of my just finishing a conversation with my Sugar felt like fate or something. "That would quite possibly have to be the coolest job ever. Do you decorate wedding cakes or naughty cakes?"

  Danny grinned and said, "I dabble with both. My partner and I own a little cafe down in the West Village. He does the cooking and I do the baking and we also do catering for special events like weddings and parties and things like that."

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  I could tell he watched my face closely when he said the word "partner" to see how I would react.

  "Is your boyfriend as cute as you and does he want to meet me too?" I asked.

  I could see there was an unspoken test that I had just passed in Danny's eyes. "Yeah, Aaron wants to meet you too. Why don't you come down to the cafe a little later this afternoon after we've got everything ready for the evening crowd?"

  "Cool!" I said. "Should I ask Luis to drive me?" How much did I want to call Blank and tell him that both our older brothers owned cafes? More than a lot. If ever there was cosmic evidence that we were soulmates, here it was. But I plucked the thought from my brain and told it buh-bye.

  "Drive!" Danny exclaimed. "Nobody drives in Manhattan!"

  Confused, I said, "But Frank told me Luis..."

  "Oh, Daddy," Danny said. "He probably assumed Uncle Sid has a driver take you everywhere, so he is being competitive." Danny rolled his eyes.

  " Uncle Sid?" I asked. "You know my dad?"

  "Know your dad? He's my godfather. He and Daddy were roommates at Harvard; they were best friends for years, until the falling out over you and Uncle Sid running off with your mom. All the stuff I'm not supposed to know about."

  "Oh," was all I could think of to say. This was a lot to take in after weeks stuck in Alcatraz, playing blind, deaf, and mute. A hell of a lot.

  Danny said, "Look, I gotta motor. I'm writing down directions for you to take the subway. You can call me from

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  a pay phone if you get lost. It would be crazy to drive down with the traffic and parking in this city." I liked that he trusted me enough and thought I was smart enough to take the subway by myself in a new and strange city.

  Still, I wanted to say, forget about directions, could you just stop your life for the rest of today and sit down and tell me all this business about Sid-dad and Frank-dad, like in painful and excruciating detail? But Danny was already slinging his carry bag over his shoulder and looking at his watch like he was running late, and anyway, I felt a little weird about begging for a heart-to-heart when we'd only just met.

  Then just in time I figured out a way to get to know Danny better. "I am a barista, you know," I said as he opened the door to leave. "If you need help. I used to have a job until my parents made me quit. I make killer coffee."

  Danny said, "Cyd Charisse, you've got yourself a deal. Come around today at three and we'll give you an apron and put you to work."

  He kissed me on the cheek and walked out. He waved behind his back to me and yelled out, "See you later, charm girl," as he walked down the generic hallway to the elevator.

  I don't need a driver to figure this all out. I'm doing pretty damn good on my own.

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  Twenty-three

  I was too busy being psyched about new barista gig and my new most adorable older brother to think about Blank. Then Luis came by and he was so honeylicious that my heart couldn't help but go south with longing for a cute boy to be all mine to snuggle up with, even in this sticky humid New York weather.

  "So you gotta plan for what you wanna do today?" Luis asked.

  Concentrating on what Luis says is difficult, he is so FINE to look at.

  "Huh?" I said back. Because really I was, once again, inspecting his bulging biceps and wondering about his sure-to-be six-pack abs. "Do you work out?" I couldn't help myself asking. Concentrate, Cyd Charisse, I told myself. Think about cotton ball sky clouds, think about old locker combinations, do NOT think about that bod. Trouble.

  Luis said, "Yup. Every morning I'm at the gym six sharp. Used to wanna be a boxer. Got too many injuries, though. So now I'm taking college courses in business and working for your da ... ," pause, "your unc ... ," pause, "your ... Frank part-time, driving and running errands and stuff."

  "How do you know 'my Frank'?"

  "His family's former housekeeper is my aunt."

  "Miss Loretta."

  "Right! How'd you know that?"

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  "I hear she makes the best gingerbread ever." Gingerbread and I shared a telepathic moment. She knew we have a date with destiny with Miss Loretta, who in some ways is Gingerbread's spiritual mother, if you think about it.

  "You're right about that. So whadya say, want to go explore big bad New Yawk?"

  "I have a job," I said. "Starting this afternoon."

  "Do you now? Where is it, I'll drive you there. Frank said I should take you where you want to go."

  I don't need a twelve-step program to figure out where I need to go without a driver. I said, "Thanks, but I'll take the subway."

  "Frank know about this?"

  "I can take care of myself," I said, and I think I believed it. Besides, after talking with Danny, I didn't want Luis driving me around if that whole deal was really about Frank-dad trying to be competitive with Sid-dad. I wanted no part of it, even if it meant an opportunity to cozy up to Luis.

  Luis shrugged. "I got the car in the garage for now. You insist on taking the subway, I'm taking the subway with. No way some sixteen-year-old girl never taken the subway'before is going on the subway by herself. You hungry? Let's go grabba slice."

  "Grabba slice? What does that mean?" I supposed I wouldn't mind--at all--hanging out with gorgeous Luis, so long as he wasn't driving me. A generous sacrifice on my part, I know. On the babe scale, Luis was like an NBA-sized Blank. How much would I have liked to just spend the afternoon on the sofa making out with him and just

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  fuggedabout driving and subways and everything else? Mucho.

  "Pizza, doofus," Luis said, pretend shoving me. He spoke slowly for him in what probably would have been normal pace for someone like from Idaho or something, "Go...grab...a...slice...of...pizza."

  "Do you have a girlfriend?" I asked Luis as we headed toward the elevator. I know, it's like a disease I have, cute boys.

  "Why? You got a friend who wants to put in an application?" Luis winked at me.

  "Maybe," I said. "How old are you?"

  "Just turned twenty," he said. "You got any girlfriends old enough for me?"

  I guessed that was Luis's nice way of telling me I was jailbait.

  "I don't have friends my age," I told Luis.

  "No boyfriend back in Frisco?" he asked.

  "Nobody calls it Frisco. People call it The City. It's like this stupid rule people obey."

  Luis repeated, "No boyfriend back in Frisco?"

  "I had a true love but he dumped me," I said. I sighed. The elevator stopped for us and we stepped in.

  "His loss," Luis said. "Beautiful girl like you. He'll wake up. Trust me."

  I hit the STOP button on the elevator as it was going down. The elevator came to a sudden halt. "Do you really think so? Because I am getting kind of worried."

  Luis hit the START button and the elevator proceeded back down. "If you're meant to be together, you'll figure it out. You must have lots of other friends to hang out with,

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  right? While you and your ex figure things out?"

  "No," 1 told Luis as we arrived at ground level. "I am the girl at school that even the weird kids think is too weird."

  "That just means you're the coolest girl in school," Luis said.

  "Thank you, Loo-eese," I said. I pretend shoved him back as we walked out into the hot sticky summer to go grabba slice.

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  Twenty-four

  So I might be totally lost in this vast and strange new freakcity, but there's one gig where I totally know the scene, and that is making coffee. Pressing beans, steaming milk, pouring perfection: Here at the Village Idiots, Danny and Aaron's café, I have a little pocket of belonging in this city of millions.

  "Wow," Danny said, "you were really trained well. I don't have to teach you anything except where the supplies are."

  "You are a godsend!" Aaron, Danny's boyfriend, said. "I didn't know how we were going to survive the rest of the summer with
out a decent barista. The only people we can afford to pay are out-of-work actors, and they are too busy looking into the mirrors to make decent coffee. Cyd Charisse, where have you been all our lives?"

  Funny question, huh? That's what I thought about them. Their café was quite possibly cooler than Java the Hut at Ocean Beach. The café was decorated with medieval wall hangings and gothic wood chairs and had gilded mirrors on the ceilings which reflected back the most sumptuous joy you could imagine: Danny's cakes. Some were soft and delicate, light chocolates with mousse petals, others were towering layers of buttermilk heaved with iced rose bouquets. Each cake was its own artistic masterwork. Not that the beauty of them prevented me from random samplings of as many as I could stomach. Hello Delicious, my new friend.

  In the back room, Danny showed me a few of his special

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  order naughty cakes which he makes for "bachelor" parties in the West Village and Chelsea. The cakes were not vulgar or crude. They were anatomically correct visions of beauty. Danny sure knew how to put pink icing, chocolate sprinkles, and whipped cream to good effect. I must confess, some of the cakes made me kind of hot. It was a good thing Loo-eese said his good-bye, after taking me on the noisy-crammed-manic-cool subway train and letting me cop a feel on his thundering biceps when I saw huge rats scurrying across the tracks. Catch my breath.

  Even better than Danny's cakes and Aaron's mega-delish pasta salads and quiches was the knowledge that, at least for my parole in Manhattan, I would be properly caffeinated. The Village Idiots favored Italian coffee over Java the Hut's Indonesian, but I attributed the diff to an East Coast/West Coast thang and decided I could be hip to the new coffee groove. The taste was totally different but the coffee outtasite. Energy returned to Cyd Charisse.

  "Va-va-va-voom, Cyd Charisse!" Aaron proclaimed after I gulped my first straight double espresso shot and shouted out "HIIIIIIIIIII-YAAAAHHHH" like a banshee and then shimmied with caffeinated pleasure. Gingerbread, who was reclining in a giant porcelain coffee mug, rolled her eyes at me. I know, I know, I telepathed back, I don't have to try so hard, he's just a long-lost brand-new brother, but it's just all so good and where do I feel more at home than at a coffeehouse surrounded by gorgeous guys? Just deal, okay?