Chapter 167: Pretty Little Lies
The groceries proved superfluous after all. They ordered in pizza—including one with peppered flies on it that everyone else studiously avoided.
Once the pizzas had arrived, Kermit waited until Piggy went into the kitchen for more napkins. Assured that she was gone, he turned toward Trudy on his left. “So…I hear Piggy’s costar is, um, nice….” Kermit said, trying to appear nonchalant.
There was a pause in the conversation, and the women exchanged looks that he could not read.
“Nice,” said Trudy thoughtfully. “I don’t know if I’d say he’s nice. He’s very charming,” she said reluctantly, then brightened. “Ooh! But he is nice-looking.”
“Oh,” Kermit said, mastering a small surge of jealousy.
“Oh yes—very handsome,” Kristen chimed in, looking sympathetic.
“He’s a wonderful dancer, too,” Stacy added eagerly.
“Such broad shoulders!” Darcy sighed.
“Singing voice is to die for.”
“Never misses a cue.”
This went on for some moments, and Kermit prayed that his acting skills didn’t fail him as he struggled to master his emotions. At last, they stopped and looked at Kermit expectantly. Some response seemed called for. With a heartiness he did not feel, Kermit said, “Well, I, um, certainly look forward to, um, meeting him and getting to know him better.”
Again the pause, and that look that passed between the ladies.
“Better watch out,” Kristen added dryly. “His boyfriend is the jealous type.”
“Not to mention cute as a button,” Piggy said from the door. Kermit spun around, sheepish at having been caught, but Piggy was smiling at him with affection tinged with exasperation, and not the other way round. He tried to look contrite, without much success.
“Oh, Piggy—he is darling when he’s jealous!” Trudy exclaimed while Kermit blushed.
“I’ll say!” Darcy echoed. “I can see why you don’t want him to know about any of those other guys that keep hanging around. It’s a good thing—”
“What?” Kermit looked like someone had popped him on the nose with a rolled-up newspaper, then shook his head as if to clear it. He turned in time to see Stacy—on Kermit’s right, Darcy’s left—give a quick, negative shake of her head. The sudden tension in the room made itself felt and Darcy trailed off. She said “oops” very softly.
“What’s a good thing?” Kermit said, turning a steely glance on Darcy. Years of negotiating with actors over contracts and billing and paychecks had honed his skills, and he had (correctly) identified Darcy as most likely to spill the beans.
“Um, it’s just….” she began, but trailed off at the sound of furious hissing. She looked around for support from the others but Kermit stepped closer to maintain eye contact with her. He made a grimace that was almost a smile. Piggy wasn’t the first woman to find it appealing, and he hoped it would worked this time, too.
“C’mon,” he said, with just a touch of wheedling in his tone. “If something’s going on, don’t you think I should know?”
“I—”
Kermit’s mind was racing—why had Marty really suggested Bobo come up here? Why hadn’t Piggy wanted him to meet her friends?
“Is there something going on?”
Darcy looked at the others, not sure how to answer, then shook her head. Kermit turned too, looking into each face in turn for some clue. At last his gaze came to rest on Piggy.
“Piggy?”
Piggy tried to look away, but Kermit stepped toward her and took her hand. He wrapped his froggy fingers around hers and looked at her. Yesterday, they had been on opposite coasts, but the distance between them now seemed greater.
“Everything is fine, Kermie,” Piggy said, but Kermit made a noise that might have been a snort and she stopped.
“Tell me,” he pleaded, pollywog eyes ablaze. Piggy’s resolve crumbled, but Kristen jumped in before she could respond.
“It’s not her fault. Piggy’s been behaving like a nun, but ever since—” She stopped abruptly, then sighed and plunged on. “You know what the tabloids are saying, Kermit. They’re trying to make it sound like you two are skidsville, so of course every hopeful who ever had a crush on Piggy wants to show up at the theater.”
Kermit had gone very still. “Have they been showing up?” he asked at last. Kermit had always had a knack for cutting through the silly, bizarre and extraneous to land right on the point.
Piggy’s heart began to thump so loudly she was afraid Kermit would hear it. She silently willed them not to mention the note found in her jacket pocket. All the ladies traded glances, torn between honesty and loyalty.¬¬
Trudy had been told her whole life that she lacked tact, and a lack of tact seemed called for. She took her moment. “Well, duh,” she said earnestly. “Wouldn’t you?”
No one spoke for a moment.
“I did,” Kermit said quietly. Piggy gave a little cry, took his face in her hands and kissed him like shed been wanting to for what seemed like the longest time. Kermit answered in kind and everyone just let them.
“You did,” Piggy said fiercely, when they finally broke apart. She was something to behold—eyes bright, face flushed, blond curls quivering with feeling. He couldn’t really blame anyone for hoping. “And don’t you forget it, buster!”
“Yes, dear,” Kermit said, with a show of meekness that fooled no one. The kiss had improved his mood immeasurably—as well as his determination. “So, do you want to tell me who’s showing up uninvited?” Kermit couldn’t know it then, but the way he asked the question gave Piggy some wiggle room.
“The usual suspects,” she said, shrugging. “Nothing Moi can’t handle.”
Kermit felt his neck tighten. You can’t work in entertainment without knowing about fans who wanted to get up close and personal.
“Anybody in particular? Is someone bothering you, Piggy?” A million nebulous fears flitted across his mind’s eye.
“Some nice college boys came by the other day after the show.” She realized when she said it she hadn’t told him about it. When had she started keeping secrets from Kermit? When had it become a habit?
She hoped Kermit wouldn’t notice that she hadn’t really answered the question. She was working on looking normal and sounding normal. She didn’t know if she could act normal with her heart racing like this. At least no one had mentioned the “mugging,” or Seymour or Scribbler—not even Kristen, who Piggy assumed knew most everything. If Kermit had any inkling of all that had happened, he’d be up here in a flash, the movie languishing at home—and to what purpose? She was fine. Fine.
“And where was Bobo?” Kermit asked, hands on his hips. He could not have known how appealing he was to Piggy at that moment—her fierce, worried frog—but she did not want him to worry while his own work was so demanding.
“Bobo was right there with me.” Mentally, she crossed her fingers and hoped Kermit wouldn’t ever sort out the timeline. “You know how determined he can be.”
“Um, yeah,” Kermit said. Piggy’s reluctance to tell Bobo that Kermit had arrived—unheralded—backstage now made a little more more sense.
“Yeah—and after Piggy thrashed them good, Bobo bounced them. I don’t think it’s an experience they’ll want to repeat.” Kristen’s countenance reflected a great deal of satisfaction.
Kermit felt his nebulous fears recede a little, like bats flying back to nest until darkness returned, but something still niggled the back of his brain—or his heart.
“But, Piggy, why didn’t you tell me?” Kermit said at last. He sounded relieved but a little hurt.
“What could you have done?” Piggy asked. “Moi is here. You’re there. There’s nothing you could do from California. You already sent Bobo.”
A swift looked passed between Mr. and Mrs. The Frog. It was all very good to be annoyed with Bobo, but hadn’t they celebrated their own inventiveness in evading him? It did not seem politic to explain how they had given the runaround to the protective bear at the theater. He and Piggy had ditched her ursine bodyguard with a hasty exit, and Piggy had called Bobo breathlessly from the sidewalk to say she had left. Bobo could be very…literal, and she had not wanted any kind of scene. She had not wanted anything but her frog, and they had run down the sidewalk like truant schoolchildren.
“And Bobo has really been watching out for you?”
A chorus of yeses.
“Don’t forget Moishe! He watches out for her, too,” Stacey said earnestly.
“Who’s Moishe?” Kermit asked, confused and a little aggrieved.¬¬¬ He hadn’t seen any “Moishe” on the program.
“Her cabbie,” Trudy explained. “Watches her like a mother hen.”
An image of Camilla driving a cab popped uninvited into Kermit’s head, but he nodded like he understood. Piggy had had to give her address to the cabbie tonight, Kermit realized, so she—they—had slipped through another layer of protection. While this conversation was designed to soothe him, Kermit was not feeling very reassured.
“And they hired more security since somebody showed up backstage in the dressing rooms,” Darcy said helpfully, then bit her lip. Kristen groaned and slapped her forehead.
“Piggy—what the hey? In the dressing rooms?!” Kermit cried. “Why—!” He had a sudden thought. “Piggy—is it Scribbler who’s bothering you?”
Caught of guard, Piggy answered honestly. “No, of course not.” She squeezed his hand. “Nothing is bothering Moi now that you are here, Kermit,”
Kermit was mollified but not deterred; he wanted to stay on point.
“But, but your dressing room! You could have told me.” (Should have told me.)
Piggy faltered and looked down. “Moi…didn’t want you to worry while you have so much to do on the movie.”
“But—”
“You are so busy, Sweetie.”
“But…but I’m not too busy…for you.” His glum was so palpable that the ladies all crowded closer.
“Don’t worry, Kermit,” Kristen said hastily. “We wouldn’t let anything happen to Piggy.”
“We girls stick together,” Darcy added. “We watch out for each other.”
“Yeah,” Stacy said gently. “We’ll take care of Piggy.”
Piggy was secretly glad that the unwelcome truths were aptly shrouded in the partial version of the truth Kermit was getting.¬ She looked at him, blue eyes huge and compelling. “Moi is perfectly capable of taking care of herself,” she said primly. Kermit smiled faintly. At last, some good news.
“But, but…you’re not supposed to have to take care of yourself. That’s…that’s my job,” Kermit said before he could stop himself. Every woman in the room sighed. The good ones are always married.
“That’s why we came here tonight,” Kristen explained gently. “When Piggy didn’t show up at The Grill, we thought something might have happened.” That was as close as she dared. If Piggy didn’t want to tell Kermit everything, Kirsten felt it wasn’t her place to do it.
“Well, something did happen,” Trudy teased, trying to lighten the mood, “but it looks like it was a good thing.”
“Very good,” Piggy said, beaming at them.
“Very, very good,” said Kermit firmly, and squeezed Piggy’s hand.
He looked around the circle of anxious faces and forced a smile. “Thanks, ladies—I’m glad Piggy’s in such good hands.”
******
Supper was subdued at the Mole household. Tricia professed to be starved but picked at her food, and Clifford and Mabel exchanged puzzled looks over her head.
“Did y’all get Brassy Lady down today?”
Tricia groaned. “Yes,” she said at last, her tone aggrieved. “Tia—Tia’s amazing at what she does, you know? But some days, well, she can be as uptight and perfectionist as….” Mabel and Clifford were not looking at each other. They were not looking at Tricia, either. They were both studying the ceiling with varying degrees of self-control, but seeing it didn’t do much to encourage Tricia’s self-control. “Oh—fine! I get it. So I can be sort of a pain when I’m working on something. That doesn’t mean I can’t, I mean—it doesn’t mean it wasn’t….” In spite of herself, Tricia began to smile. She tore her roll in half and dropped it on her plate. “Fine. I will save you both the trouble of dealing with nitpicky me in the kitchen.” She smiled and crossed her arms across her chest. “I am not doing dishes.”
Clifford looked at the ceiling and muttered, “Lord, help me,” then started chuckling. Mabel began to cough—ostensibly not laughing—but she stood up and started to clear the table. Clifford stood and picked up a bowl in each hand, starting after Mabel. “Okay, boss—then come in the kitchen and tell me what I’m doing wrong,” he said. Tricia sat for a moment longer, trying to decide if she was annoyed, and finally concluding she wasn’t. She wait just a moment longer—just to show she could—and then followed her mother and her lover into the kitchen.
As for bossing him around, she had a looong list of things she wanted to suggest—but that would wait until later.
Sarah snuggled into the warmth of Scooters body and rested her head on his chest. He was absently tracing the curve of her ear with his fingertip, ninety-nine percent content with the world. Ninety-nine, but not one hundred, Sarah knew.
“You could call him,” she murmured.
“I’m sure he’s fine,” Scooter mumbled, but he didn’t sound convincing.
Sarah was quiet for a moment, listening to Scooter’s breathing.
“Want me to call Piggy?” she asked.
“What? I, um, yes please?” Scooter answered. Relief was evident in his voice. She smiled, sat up and reached for her phone on the nightstand.
It rang several times, but Piggy didn’t answer. Undeterred, Sarah called right back, and Piggy answered breathlessly on the second ring.
“Hellooo!” she said. “Sarah—is that you?”
“Hi Miss Piggy—it is Sarah. I was just calling to—”
“The most marvelous thing has happened. Mon capitan has come to see me in New York!”
“Yes, I—”
“Did your wonderful fiancée arrange this? Moi is so very grateful that—”
Kermit came on the phone. “Oh, hi, um, Sarah?” he said.
“Hello Kermit!” Sarah said. “Looks like you made it to New York!”
“Yes,” Kermit said, “and I should have called Scooter to let him know but I—”
“Not to worry,” Sarah said. She handed the phone over to Scooter.
“Yeah,” said Scooter. “It was fine. Gonzo took care of everything and called me.”
He could hear Kermit smile. “I think that’s the first time we’ve every said, ‘Gonzo took care of everything’ and ‘everything is fine’ in the same sentence.”
“I’m sure your right, boss. Glad you got there okay.”
“Look, about Monday—I’ll….”
“Boss—take a night off, okay? We’ll talk tomorrow.”
“It’s already tomorrow,” Kermit said. “I’ll call, um, later, okay? Sorry I didn’t call earlier.”
“I imagine you were busy,” Scooter said dryly, and he could swear he heard Kermit blush through the phone.
“I was,” Kermit said happily. “I’ll, uh, talk to you later.”
Scooter handed the phone back to Sarah, one-hundred percent relaxed now.
“Aw—Kermit sounded so…happy,” Sarah said. “I’m glad that worked out.”
“Me, too,” said Scooter, flopping back. “Now I can relax for a bit.”
Sarah had returned to phone to the nightstand, and she swung over and put her hands on Scooter shoulder. Her long hair fell down and tickled his face.
“Not just yet….” Sarah said, and then no one was talking.
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