Love Sold Separately

by Ellen Meister

“Ari, wait!” Dana called. But he ignored her and kept walking.

  Her stomach did a flip. How would she ever get him to believe her? “This is a disaster,” she said.

  Adam let out a breath. “No kidding.”

  She didn’t want to deal with this work crisis. She wanted to run after Ari, to replay every word of her conversation with Lorenzo and make him understand. I didn’t lie to you! she wanted to cry. But then Quentin Daye showed up, and his pained expression broke her heart. He was altered—not even the same man she had seen just minutes ago. It took her a moment to understand why he looked at her the way he did, and then she understood. He, too, was disappointed in her. Did he think she stole the watches? It was eviscerating.

  A few minutes later, Dana, Adam and Quentin Daye were squeezed into Adam’s small office as Beecham peppered them with questions. Dana tried to focus on the conversation, but her mind kept going back to Ari and what he was thinking. She wanted to clarify everything immediately, to tell him that she was merely congratulating Lorenzo on his new job. She thought about typing it in a text, but realized it wasn’t wise to put it in writing—not while Lorenzo was still on parole.

  At last, she took out her phone and tapped out a quick message. I hope you’ll let me explain.

  “Put that away,” Beecham said, angry.

  She put it down on her lap, trying not to look like a guilty child.

  As the questions and answers continued, Sherry Zidel showed up and stood in the doorway, her arms folded across her bony frame, her jaw twitching. After listening awhile, she interjected. “Here’s what I don’t understand. Adam leaves Dana guarding the merch, and Dana just walks away, leaving it alone for anyone to pilfer.”

  Her tone was so accusatory Dana wanted to spit. “That’s not fair,” she said. “I was never told to guard anything. I was just waiting for Adam to come back and tell me what happened with the monitor.”

  “And you thought it was okay to leave two diamond watches out in the open?”

  “Don’t blame Dana,” Adam said. “It was my fault. I should have been more specific.”

  “To be clear,” Sherry said through her teeth, “I’m blaming both of you.”

  Beecham turned to Quentin Daye. “Wasn’t your staff supposed to be keeping an eye on your products?”

  “They were putting away the rest of the pieces,” he said. “I thought the producer was looking after the watches.”

  “Aren’t we forgetting the most important question?” Dana asked before Quentin could turn his accusatory expression back to her. “Who took them?”

  “I was in the booth,” Adam said. “I didn’t see who was around.”

  “I was busy with my staff,” Quentin added.

  Dana thought about the last time an expensive piece went missing, and how it ended up in her dressing room. Now she wondered if this was part of a pattern. Whoever was sabotaging her might have taken the watches just to pin the blame on her. Her heart thudded in panic. She had to protect herself.

  “I’m going to question everyone in the crew,” Beecham said. “Someone had to see something.” He rose, and Dana stopped him.

  “Wait,” she said. “I’d like you to search my dressing room.”

  Everyone turned to her.

  “’Scuse me?” Beecham said.

  “Someone here has been trying to sabotage me,” she explained. “And I think it’s possible that whoever took the watches did it just to get me in trouble. So... I’d like someone to check my dressing room before I go back, just in case someone planted the evidence there.”

  “I think you’re getting a little paranoid,” Adam said.

  “Maybe,” Dana admitted. “But humor me.”

  “All right,” Beecham said, and headed toward the door. They all followed him down the hall and up one flight of stairs. They found Ollie standing outside Dana’s dressing room.

  “Did you see anyone go in or out of this room in the past half hour?” Beecham asked him.

  “I see no one, but I have been here only one or two minutes. I was on the set seeking Dana.” He looked at the group assembled and his eyes went wide. “Is there a problem?”

  “Some valuable merchandise is missing,” Sherry said, and pushed open the door to Dana’s dressing room.

  “Stay here,” Beecham said. “All of you.” And they stood crowded in the doorway as he began opening and closing drawers, picking up items and looking beneath them.

  “This is ridiculous,” Sherry said to Dana. “I don’t know what kind of show you’re putting on.”

  She exhaled and said nothing, but when Beecham reached the last section of the room, Dana asked if she could come in.

  “Just you,” Beecham said, “and don’t touch anything.”

  She walked around, looking for anything that seemed out of place. She went to the dressing area that wasn’t visible from the doorway, and pointed to the cabinet that held her purse.

  “Was this door open or closed when you came in?” she asked.

  “Open.”

  She felt a chill. It had been closed when she left. She was sure of it. “Did you look in my purse?”

  He shook his head.

  “Mr. Beecham,” she said, “I left this cabinet closed. Also, I hung up my purse with the zipper facing in. Now it’s facing out.” She took a step back and held up her hands to show that she wasn’t touching it.

  Beecham took the purse from the hook, opened it up and dumped the contents on the counter. There, amid her wallet, makeup case, dachshund key chain, hand sanitizer, tampons, tissue pack, breath mints, MetroCard, pens and loose change, was the diamond watch. He picked it up for the group to see.

  “I’ll be damned,” said Sherry.

  “I’m sorry I called you paranoid,” Adam added.

  Dana hung her head, vindicated, but roiling. Her saboteur was still out there. But even that didn’t compare to her despair over Ari. He would never trust her again.

  Now, all she wanted was for these people to disappear and leave her alone.

  But Beecham went back to searching the room to see if he could find the other missing watch. It wasn’t there, and the conclusion was that the thief had probably kept it for personal gain.

  At last the group dispersed and Dana changed into her street clothes. Although she wanted nothing more than to go home and pour herself a tall glass of the pinot grigio chilling in her fridge, she dragged herself to rehearsals. It was a commitment she simply wouldn’t break, no matter how terrible she felt. And besides, the first performance of the show was only a week away, and every rehearsal was critical.

  Still, she assumed she would just walk through the scenes. But once she started saying her lines, something happened. Her sadness over losing Ari found its way into Mrs. Woodbridge’s icy resolve, creating a layer that hadn’t been there before. When the scene ended, Nathan literally bowed at her feet.

  She choked out a thank-you, and then rushed home, where she kept her date with a crisp Napa Valley white that carried her away.

  33

  “You drunk-dialed a cop?” Chelsea asked, incredulous.

  It was the next night—Friday—a planned dinner in midtown with Chelsea and Megan. They were in a seafood restaurant, darkly paneled, and Dana was on her second vodka martini.

  “That’s not what I said,” Dana insisted. “I didn’t call, I texted. So my humiliation is digitally etched into eternity.”

  “It can’t be that bad,” Megan said.

  “Girlfriend,” Dana said, slapping her phone into Megan’s palm, “see for yourself.”

  Megan scrolled to the top of the long line of texts Dana had sent to Ari, and went quiet for a few seconds. “Shit,” she whispered.

  “What does it say?” Chelsea asked.

  Megan looked at Dana, as if asking for permission to read it out loud.

 
; “Go ahead,” Dana said. “You may as well. Just let me order another drink first.”

  “Don’t you think you’ve had enough?” Chelsea asked.

  Megan looked up from Dana’s phone. “Trust me, she needs another drink. Maybe two.”

  “Maybe ten,” Dana added.

  “It can’t be that bad,” Chelsea said.

  “Like Hurricane Katrina wasn’t that bad,” Megan said, and began reading out loud.

  9:08. Hello, are you there?

  9:10. It’s me, Dana. Can we talk?

  9:35. I can’t believe you’re not assering me.

  “Is that what it says?” Chelsea interrupted. “Assering?”

  “I was starting to get a little fucked up,” Dana said.

  Megan went on.

  9:37. I promise you I am not datting Lorenzo.

  9:38. I meant dating. I don’t know what datting is.

  9:39. But I’m not datting him, either. Lol.

  Megan stopped and looked at her.

  “It seemed hilarious at the time,” Dana said.

  Megan continued.

  9:42. The only one I want to dat is you.

  9:50. I’m getting a little fucked up here. I wish you would answer.

  10:16. I shunt tell u this but Lorzenzo is moving after his payroll ends. So even if I was fucking him, which I am not, I would not be anymore.

  10:17. Parole. Not payroll. Fucking autocorrect.

  11:27. I fell asleep but you still did not ersoon.

  11:28. Respond. You still did not respooon.

  11:29. I cannot type respond! Lololol!

  11:32. I like you so much. Why want you answer?

  11:40. I just spilled wine all over my shits.

  11:42. Lol. Sheets.

  Megan stopped and looked up. “The next text is a series of emojis. There doesn’t seem to be any pattern or meaning.”

  “I don’t even think I was looking,” Dana said. “Just randomly tapping. It was some kind of game.”

  Megan read on.

  12:01. In case you dint no, that means I want you in my bed.

  “Oh, God,” Chelsea said.

  Dana exhaled and put her head in her hands. Megan kept scrolling.

  12:12. Did I tell you I love the way you smell?

  She looked up. “You typed that perfectly.”

  Dana shrugged. “A moment of clarity. I do love the way he smells.” She pointed to the phone. “You’re almost at the end.”

  Megan read.

  12:15. Falling asleep.

  12:31. I drank some water and went pee-pee.

  12:33. Will you call me before I go to seep?

  12:35. Yoy are not calling me. Why?

  12:36. Good night, Ari.

  12:37. You are too tall, anyways.

  1:11. I want to suck yr fingers.

  Megan looked up. “That’s it.” She passed the phone back to Dana.

  Chelsea’s face looked pained. “I want to suck your fingers?”

  “I have no recollection of writing that,” Dana said. “I think I was sleep-texting at that point.”

  “You look miserable,” Chelsea said.

  “Miserable would be an improvement.”

  “It’s not really that—”

  “Oh, come on,” Dana said. “It’s exactly that bad.”

  “Okay,” Chelsea conceded. “It’s pathetic.”

  “What are you going to do?” Megan asked.

  Dana shrugged. “What are my options? Change my name? Apply for the witness protection program?”

  “Look on the bright side,” Megan said.

  “There’s a bright side?”

  “He wouldn’t be so hurt if he wasn’t invested. He cares about you.”

  “Cared,” Dana corrected. “Past tense. Pretty sure he hates me now.”

  “Are you sure?” Chelsea asked.

  “It doesn’t matter,” Dana said. “I’m done. And I’m not going to pine over some guy I didn’t even have a relationship with, just because his hands smell good and he has a nose like the Statue of Liberty and he’s brave and smart and has a moral core made of titanium.”

  “He does have a nose like the Statue of Liberty,” Chelsea said, surprised by her own agreement. “You need to try to talk to him.”

  “Pointless,” Dana said.

  “But when you explain—”

  “He’d never believe me. And besides, I sent him twenty-six texts. Twenty-six. In four hours. My humiliation is complete.”

  “I think you just need to give it some time,” Chelsea said. “And then reach out to him again, sober.”

  “Great idea. If I’m still single when I’m eighty-five, I’ll see if he’s interested in hooking up.”

  “What if I spoke to him?” Megan said. “Tried to smooth things over.”

  “You’re my manager,” Dana said, “not my consigliere.”

  Megan reached out and took Dana’s hand. “I’m also your friend.”

  The kindness touched the softest spot in Dana’s heart. Megan was so good to her. Such a loyal and devoted friend. She felt a dagger of guilt over lying to her about the Sweat City show, and dreaded to think what would happen if Megan ever found out. It might be the end of the friendship. She folded and unfolded her damp cocktail napkin, understanding that Megan would have every right to feel betrayed. Now, Dana wondered if telling her was worth the risk of telling her. It was the right thing to do, wasn’t it? Just come clean and confess? As long as she was feeling this shitty, she reasoned, she might as well go all the way. She signaled the waiter for another drink, and wondered if this was just another instance of her addiction to self-sabotage. She decided to think about it some more. After all, she had just blown up her chances with Ari. She didn’t need to throw a lighted stick of dynamite into this friendship. She rolled the napkin into a ball.

  “Should we order?” Chelsea asked. “Get some food behind all that alcohol?” She looked down at her menu, unconsciously fingering the silver lariat choker at her neck.

  “Is that new?” Dana asked, pointing at it.

  “Not really, but I never wear it.”

  “I wonder why it looks familiar,” Dana said, trying to remember where she’d seen it.

  Chelsea shrugged. “I bought it from the Shopping Channel a few months ago—before you worked there.”

  Dana moved in for a closer look. “Are those real diamonds?”

  “Don’t judge me,” Chelsea said. “Kitty Todd talked me into buying it.”

  “I’m not judging, I’m just asking.”

  “In that case, yes. They’re real diamonds. But I think it’s quite tasteful.”

  “Oh God,” Dana said, a memory pulsing into view. “I know where I saw it before. On Adam’s wife—in a picture he showed me.” A sickening idea took hold, and she didn’t want to believe it was true.

  “So?” Megan asked.

  “How much did it cost?” Dana asked. “Tell me the truth. Was it more than five hundred dollars?”

  “It was more than seven hundred.”

  “Damn it,” Dana said. “He would never have spent that money.” She knew she was right. Adam was strapped. Struggling to pay the mortgage and afford diapers. He wouldn’t have bought his wife a delicate lariat choker with two small diamonds at the tips. Even with his employee discount, it would have crushed him.

  “What are you saying?” Megan asked.

  Dana took a breath. “I think Adam stole it.” As soon as she said it out loud, it felt true.

  Chelsea looked dubious. “That’s a pretty big leap.”

  “But it makes sense.” Dana remembered what Sherry had said about display merchandise going missing in the past...and recalled how defensive Adam was when she mentioned his wife’s necklace. She could picture his expr
ession. At the time, she’d been confused by how alarmed he was. But now that she played it back, his expression looked like something very specific. It looked like guilt.

  “Isn’t it possible he just wanted to buy his wife a nice present?”

  Dana shook her head. “Sometimes people legitimately can’t afford things, Chelsea.”

  “Thank you. Because I’m not just a spoiled brat, I’m also an idiot.”

  “Take it easy,” Dana said. “The point is, Adam is broke. He wouldn’t have bought it. And he would have had easy access to the display merchandise. He might be the one who’s been taking things all along.”

  “He seems like such a decent guy,” Megan said.

  Chelsea snorted. “Those are always the ones.”

  “I can’t believe I’m saying this,” Dana choked out. “But I think he’s the one who stole those watches.”

  “And put one of them in your purse?” Megan asked.

  Dana paused. “That’s the part that doesn’t make sense.”

  “What about Kitty’s alligator bracelet that wound up in your dressing room?” Chelsea asked. “You think he took that?”

  “I do.”

  Megan downed the last of her mojito and practically dropped the glass. “You don’t think he murdered Kitty, do you?”

  “No! I mean... I don’t know. It doesn’t really make sense, does it?”

  “I think it makes perfect sense,” Chelsea said. “He was sleeping with her, right? Maybe Kitty threatened him like she threatened Charles Honeycutt.”

  “But why would she do that?” Dana asked.

  “Because she was a fucked-up crazy-ass bitch,” Megan said.

  Dana shook her head. “Motivation is everything. Kitty was in love with Charles Honeycutt. She threatened to go to his wife in desperation. She was trying to force him to leave her. But she didn’t love Adam. She was using him.”

  “But if he stole the alligator bracelet...” Megan said.

  Dana closed her eyes and thought back to the day of Kitty’s murder, to the crowd of people rushing toward her office. Had Adam been at the front of the pack? If he had sticky fingers, it might have been too tempting to resist—such an expensive piece out in the open like that. He might have simply slipped it into his pocket when no one was looking.