And while Ebony had gotten out of debt and built Shindig up to an established party planning business and Bobbie had gone to a treatment center voluntarily to confront her problems with drug abuse, Blitz hadn’t fought against his demons. He’d hidden behind his money while withdrawing from everyone around him.
In ways more than one, Blitz and I were similar. He had acted out for his attention. I dressed in costumes for mine. He never got over the death of his father and I lived with the knowledge that I’d never get to know my mother. Thanks to very different circumstances, we were both isolated. Was this how Blitz had felt underneath the surface? Alone, afraid to trust anybody? Living with the fear of losing the few people who he had? I felt an unexpected sense of loss at the knowledge that someone who might have understood the way I felt was now gone.
*
I woke to Soot chewing on my hair. At first I swatted him away but, persistent ball of gray fur that he was, he kept coming back. I sat up and looked him in the face. “Leave my hair alone,” I said. He stuck out a paw and swatted at my cheek. The clock told me it was after nine. I scooped Soot out of my way and got out of bed.
The first thing I did was call the hospital. “This is Margo Tamblyn, Jerry Tamblyn’s daughter. I was there yesterday. How is he?”
“I’ll connect you with his room and he can tell you himself.”
Seconds—and three and a half rings of the phone—later, he answered.
“Dad? It’s Margo. How are you feeling?”
“I feel good. Hungry, but good.”
“If you’re hungry, then eat something.”
“It’s not that easy. This place seems to own stock in green Jell-O. I’d give my signed Blues Brothers necktie for a hamburger.”
“You must be delirious. No way you’d part with that for a hamburger.”
“Maybe not a hamburger. But make it a filet mignon and all bets are off.”
We chatted for a few more minutes, innocuous father-daughter stuff that had the desired result of leaving me feeling like everything was normal. After half an hour, he said a nurse needed him to hang up so she could use him as a human pincushion.
There was barely time to get showered and dressed before opening the store. So much for having time to organize the aliens.
This morning’s smoothie was a banana, a half cup of almond milk, a half cup of orange juice, and a heaping tablespoon of plain yogurt. I added a handful of crushed ice and hit liquefy. While the blender whirred, I wondered if Blitz’s memorial would have any impact on business.
I dressed in a white T-shirt, black pants, and a pair of red plaid suspenders left behind from a ladies of the ’80s costume. I knotted on a pair of red canvas Converse high-top sneakers, pulled my hair into a side ponytail, and went downstairs to unlock the doors. Gina Cassavogli stormed down the sidewalk toward me.
“What are you doing?” she demanded.
“I’m getting ready to open. What does it look like I’m doing?”
“You can’t open today. You’ll spoil everything!”
“The store was closed yesterday for—for personal reasons. I have to open today.”
“Show some respect, Margo.” She thrust one of the oversized Blitz postcards at me.
“Someone already put one under my door,” I said.
“Well maybe this time you should read it.” She flipped it to the side with Blitz’s photo and pointed a shiny red talon at a barely legible font that ran down the side. “It says right here that all of the businesses in Proper City are going to remain closed to pay respects to Blitz. Candy Girls coordinated this whole memorial on very short notice and it’s only appropriate for you to acknowledge what we did and support us like everybody else.”
Heat flamed over my face. “Give me that,” I said, and snatched the postcard from her fingers. I looked closely at the tiny words along the side of the postcard. I’d missed that last night. I looked up and down the street. None of the other stores appeared to be opening. “Everybody agreed to this?” I asked, waving the card.
“Well, of course they did. At least most of them did. It’s the right thing to do. Besides, it would look even worse if you opened, considering your role in his murder.”
“My role? I had no role in the murder. Blitz hired us to provide costumes for his guests and we did. If you ask me, it’s a little strange that he didn’t hire Candy Girls, considering his fiancée works for you.”
“His fiancée? Blitz wasn’t engaged,” Gina said.
“Maybe somebody should tell that to Amy Bradshaw. She seems to be quite happy flashing a giant diamond ring that she says Blitz gave her.”