Love Sold Separately

by Ellen Meister

  The assistant director called into the room, “Places in five!”

  “I’m sorry,” Dana said to the assembled group. “You have to go now.”

  “This doesn’t mean you’re not fired,” Sherry said to Dana.

  “I know,” Dana said, frowning. She turned to Emily. “I guess this means you’re getting my job. Congratulations.”

  Tyrel looked up. “I just remembered your name!” he said to Emily.

  She turned her face away. “I think you have me confused with someone.”

  “No, I don’t,” he said. “We took a class together.”

  “That wasn’t me,” she insisted.

  “Sure it was,” Tyrel said. “Only you weren’t Emily Lauren back then. You were Emily Zidel.”

  “Zidel?” Dana said.

  The oxygen seemed to drain from the room, as Emily looked horrified and Sherry’s hands went to her head.

  “Your daughter?” Megan asked.

  Sherry sighed, defeated. “My niece.”

  “Doesn’t the Shopping Channel have a policy against nepotism?” Dana asked.

  “It sure does,” Megan said. “That’s why she hired her niece under a different name.”

  Sherry folded her arms. “This is confidential information. You’d better keep it to yourself.”

  Megan wedged her body between Sherry and Emily, and put an arm around each of them. “I can be persuaded,” she said, and Dana knew that her friend would manage to broker an agreement that would let her keep her job.

  Sherry snorted, catching Megan’s meaning. “Fine,” she said through her teeth. “But I’ll need you both to agree to keep quiet.”

  Dana was about to weigh in when the AD called, “Places!”

  The crowd shuffled out of the room, engaged in a conversation Dana consciously blocked out. She needed to remove herself from everything that had just happened. She needed to become Mrs. Woodbridge. This time, she couldn’t fake it. She had to be all in.

  “Break a leg,” Megan said. “You got this.”

  Dana lingered in the green room as the cast took their places. Then she heard Nathan’s sonorous voice over the speakers. He thanked the crowd for coming, asked them to please silence their cell phones.

  And then the play began. Everything else faded away as Dana inhabited Jeanette Woodbridge for the next two and a half hours. She wasn’t Dana again until it was time for the curtain call, and the houselights came on. It was only then that she looked out into the audience. She saw Megan, Sherry and Emily. Her eyes continued roaming, as there were two people she hoped she might see. One was Ari, who would be easy to spot. But apparently he hadn’t stayed for the performance. Of course not, she told herself. He was in the middle of a huge break in a murder case. Or rather, a suicide case with some nefarious elements. Either way, he couldn’t take the time to stop for a show, whether he wanted to or not.

  Her disappointment didn’t last more than a second, because Dana spotted the other person she was looking for. Chelsea. Her sister had said she couldn’t promise anything, because she didn’t know if she could get a sitter for opening night, but there she was, in the second row, with Brandon by her side.

  And then Dana noticed who was sitting next to them. Her father and Jennifer Lafferty. They were on their feet, like the rest of the audience, giving Dana a standing ovation.

  38

  On Sunday morning, Dana was grateful Megan brought bagels, lox and coffee over for breakfast, but even more grateful she had brought a copy of Theatrix, a weekly trade publication, folded open to a review page. She slapped it down on the table in front of Dana. The headline read The Racist Next Door.

  “Good or bad?” Dana asked, nervously pulling up the V-neck of the oversize sagging T-shirt she had slept in.

  “No spoilers,” Megan said, grinning. “Just read it out loud.”

  Dana could tell by her friend’s face that it was a positive review. But she didn’t know how positive. It was a New York City theater critic, after all, and those folks believed they weren’t doing their job if they didn’t throw at least some shade. She took a calming breath and began.

  “You have been invited into the home of the beleaguered Mrs. Woodbridge, a seemingly quiet play written by Mindy Radler and deftly directed by Nathan P. Thompson.”

  She stopped to look up. “Deftly! Nathan will be thrilled.”

  “Read on,” Megan said, biting back her smile.

  Dana nodded and continued.

  “Put upon by a disabled husband, annoying neighbor and world ‘gone madhouse crazy’ by political correctness—not to mention a toaster oven that can never seem to get it right—the character’s racism finds outlets in almost every situation. The narcissism on display might have veered into discomfort for the audience if not for the multifaceted performance of newcomer Kayla Bean in the title role.”

  Dana stopped to take a quick gasping breath as she broke out in an excited sweat. Multifaceted! She went on.

  “Like a young Frances McDormand, she inhabits her character’s self-image with grace and pride. Ms. Bean didn’t try to oversell here. She simply exposes Mrs. Woodbridge’s heart and lets the audience intuit the ache. In the second act—”

  “The rest is pretty standard,” Megan said, cutting her off. “Except for the last line.”

  With her heart beating as wildly as a bag of birds, Dana read the rest to herself. The critic had praised most of the cast, and only took exception to the “lackluster” set. Then she stared with disbelief at the last lines.

  Not your standard small-theater fare, Mrs. Woodbridge might make you rethink some of your own biases. And even if it doesn’t, it’s worth seeing for the breakout talent of Kayla Bean in the title role.

  Dana’s fingertips went numb. It was the kind of review she had dreamed of her whole life. But of course, she never imagined the credit would go to a nonexistent version of herself, and that no one could ever know she had received this glorious review.

  “I don’t even know how to feel about this,” Dana said, but as soon as the words were out, she felt her heart crack into pieces, and tears spilled down her face. This could have been her big break. And it would amount to nothing.

  She read the review a second time, imagining it from the perspective of a talent scout. “I feel like I’m going to have a stroke or something.”

  “Don’t you dare. You’re my only client.”

  Dana’s cell phone rang. It was Nathan. For him, this was a momentous review. Dana wiped her tears and exhaled. This was no time to be petty. No matter how terrible she felt, she had to be happy for her friend. She silently counted to ten before answering the phone.

  “Theatrix!” she said, instead of hello. And then her emotional damn burst. Dana was racked with sobs, the line between her happiness for Nathan and her own self-pity vanished. Megan handed her a bagel store napkin to blow her nose.

  “I was waiting for a decent hour to call you,” he said.

  “Congratulations, my deft director,” she choked out.

  He laughed. “Congratulations to you, too!”

  “You mean to Kayla,” she said, and added a laugh so he wouldn’t think she was bitter. She wanted him to be able to bask in this success.

  “One day,” he said, “this will be an asterisk in your brilliant career—a funny anecdote for a talk show.”

  When she got off the phone, Dana took several struggling, jagged inhales and assured Megan she was okay. After all, she still had more performances of Mrs. Woodbridge to get through, and couldn’t afford to be distracted.

  “I’ll grieve for my career when I have time,” Dana said.

  Megan shook her head, exasperated. “Your acting career is not over.” She held up the magazine. “This is proof that you have the goods. It’ll all happen. We just need to have a little patience. Once your two-year contract with the
Shopping Channel expires—”

  “But this could deliver opportunities,” Dana said, grabbing the magazine from Megan’s hand. “And I’ll never get those back again.”

  “I promise you,” Megan said. “We can use all of this to our advantage. We just have to make a plan.”

  “What kind of plan?”

  “Okay,” Megan said, and began ticking off the elements of the plan on her fingers. “One, we keep quiet about your secret identity. Get it? You’re Clark Kent. No one can know you’re Superman or the consequences will be dire.”

  “You mean I’ll get fired from the Shopping Channel.”

  “It’s more serious than that,” Megan said. “Sherry was willing to not shitcan you and keep management off your back. But things are more complicated now. If news gets out that you’ve been in breach of contract and Sherry covered for you, she’d be neck-deep in it, too. So Sherry would get fired...and you’d get sued.”

  “In other words, I’m screwed.”

  “God, no. You’re thinking about this all wrong. You’ve got a great job. A job you’re brilliant at. A boatload of money. National exposure. And when your contract is up, if you don’t want to stay with the Shopping Channel, you just say the word. At that point, I can let it leak that you had this secret identity and kept it quiet despite the rave reviews. It’ll be a big story and then...well, then you’ll have options. This whole thing can play out in ways you can’t even dream of right now. Trust me.”

  Dana took it all in and knew that she did, in fact, trust Megan. She took another bagel store napkin from the table and dried her wet cheeks. The sadness and sorrow floated off, replaced by something that felt as light as a feather. Hope.

  39

  On Monday, Dana was back at the Shopping Channel like it was a regular day. Only there was nothing regular about it. Sherry informed her that Ollie and Kimmo had been taken into custody, and would probably be deported. The station was pressing charges against Adam, who was apparently out on bail.

  “And my new segment producer?” Dana asked.

  “We’re giving Jessalyn a shot,” Sherry said, clearly treading more carefully on the whole nepotism thing. She gave Dana a look that warned her not to bring it up.

  For the time being, Lorenzo was still there, and he stopped into her dressing room for a private chat before the show.

  “I gave notice this morning,” he said, smiling.

  “Congratulations,” Dana said. “When are you moving?”

  “Well, that’s the funny thing. I might not.”

  She studied his face, trying to understand. He was happy, so it couldn’t be bad news. “What do you mean?”

  “They made me a counteroffer. Ten percent more than the QVC job.”

  “So...you’re staying?”

  “I’m thinking about it.”

  “What about the house and the yard and the good schools?”

  “Well, yeah. I want all that. On the other hand, I have family here. So, I have some thinking to do.”

  Dana noticed that he didn’t say anything about a possible continuation of their relationship, and any role it might play in his decision. Just as well. Ari was taking up so much space in her heart it was as if he held the mortgage. If only she could find a way to set him straight about her relationship with Lorenzo.

  The next morning, she got her chance. She was at home in her apartment when a call came in from the Thirteenth Precinct. Dana tried to tell herself it wasn’t Ari. No way. It was probably Detective Lee calling again. Maybe he wanted her to identify Kimmo in a lineup or something.

  Still, her hopes were raised. After all, Ari did come to the performance of Mrs. Woodbridge Sunday night. So maybe. Maybe.

  She took a long gulp of water to moisten her dry throat, and said hello. And there it was—Ari’s seductive voice, flooding her with buoyant optimism.

  “Congratulations,” he said. “I understand you got a glowing review.”

  Interesting, she thought. Theatrix wasn’t exactly the New York Times. Ari wouldn’t have stumbled upon the review. It took detective work for him to find it. This meant...something. At the very least, he was still interested in what she was up to.

  “Thank you,” she said, and waited for him to tell her he had seen the show.

  “Are you still employed?” His tone was hard to read.

  “Sherry agreed to keep my secret,” she said, “as long as I keep hers.”

  “So you’re working today?”

  When she said that she was, he asked if she had any time to see him this morning.

  “I do!” she responded, more eagerly than she had intended. If he was ready to listen, she was ready to talk. She knew she could explain everything and make him understand she hadn’t lied to him about Lorenzo.

  “Great. We need you to come in and make a statement.”

  “Excuse me?” she said, stalling as she got her bearings. It wasn’t what she had expected to hear. She had imagined them sitting across from each other in a coffee shop, bearing their souls. But it was okay. Dana could make this work.

  “I said we need you to make a—”

  “I’ll do it,” she said, “on one condition.”

  “And what’s that?”

  “I get to talk for as long as I like, and nobody cuts me off.”

  He paused for only a moment and agreed.

  By the time she arrived at the station an hour later, Dana had gone through the story in her head several times. She could imagine Ari’s expression. He’d be dubious at first. But by the time she was done, he would understand.

  The same surly young man was at the front desk, and she wasn’t in the mood for him.

  “Excuse me, Officer McBride,” she called from her caged position in the entryway. “I’m here to see Detective Marks. He—”

  “Name?”

  “Dana Barry, but I wanted to—”

  “Have a seat.”

  “I just wanted to say it’s important that I talk to Detective Marks. No one else.”

  “I heard you,” he said. “Now have a seat.”

  She shot him a look and lowered herself into a black plastic chair. After a few minutes, Detective Lee appeared at the gate, and Dana gritted her teeth. This was not part of the bargain. She was here to tell her story to Ari.

  “Ms. Barry?” he said.

  She crossed her legs, making it clear she was in no hurry to get up. “Where’s Marks?”

  “He’s a little busy right now.”

  “I’ll wait,” she said.

  “I’m his partner,” Lee said, folding his arms. He was smaller and thinner than Ari, but imposing in his fastidiousness. Dressed in a dark blue suit and striped shirt with a carefully matched tie, he looked like someone who insisted on being taken seriously.

  “I understand that,” she said, and added, “I prefer to give my statement to him.”

  Lee paused for a moment and then sighed. “Suit yourself. But it could be a while.”

  Dana shrugged, and he went back to the elevator, leaving her behind on the hard plastic chair. She imagined that Marks was trying to teach her some kind of lesson by leaving her waiting. But she was determined to stick it out, and killed the time on her phone, texting her sister and Chelsea about this latest development.

  At last, almost thirty minutes after Lee had walked away, Ari emerged. He looked strained—not a hint of joy at seeing her.

  “You ready?” he asked.

  “Born ready.”

  He didn’t smile—just held open the metal gate, led her into the elevator, up to the fourth floor and down a hallway to an interrogation room.

  “Really?” she said, peering inside. “Isn’t this where you take suspects?”

  “It’s where we have the recording equipment,” he said.

  “You’re recording my statement?”


  “Of course,” he said. “It goes straight to the DA.”

  Dana let out a breath. She hadn’t anticipated this. But whatever. She’d talk and talk. And if they wanted to listen, so be it.

  She lowered herself into the chair at the table and Ari sat across from her. She noted that the wall to her right was almost completely taken up with a mirror, which she knew was a one-way deal, and that it was entirely possible there was an audience on the other side. There was a camera mounted onto the table in front of her, pointed at her face. Another camera was mounted to the ceiling across the room.

  Ari began by stating his name and Dana’s, as well as the date. Then he addressed her. “I understand that you want to make a statement about your relationship with Oliver Sikanen, as well as the events just prior to and following the death of Kitty Todd. Is that correct?”

  “Yes,” she said, sitting erect. Dana was well aware of how she looked from the angles of both cameras. She didn’t fidget, touch her face or straighten her hair. She kept a calm repose, her hands folded on her lap under the table.

  “Is there something specific you want to address, or would you like to start from the beginning?”

  Even under the harsh lights, he was strikingly handsome. But his eyes were pained today, ringed in dark circles. She could tell that he didn’t want to be there, going through this exercise with her. It was as if he were braced for more hurt. Dana wished she could reach out to lay her hand on his and reassure him. But she glanced at the overhead camera, took a fortifying breath and trusted that when she was done, he’d understand.

  “I’ll start from the beginning,” she said, and then she did, opening with her audition at the Shopping Channel, her first encounter with Lorenzo and her description of the Hector Comb, which led to her only real encounter with Kitty Todd. She described her first impression of Ollie, and her callback audition the very next day. When she got to the part about going up onto the roof with Lorenzo, she noticed Ari shift subtly in his seat.

  “It was a beautiful view,” she said, “and I was in a happy mood—glad I’d done well on the air, and anticipating good news.”