This Life: A Novel

by Maryann Reid

  Vanessa Reeves and Jerome Harper, the executive producers, noticed Blake’s stage entrance. Jerome spoke to a woman whose back was turned to the door Blake and Antonio had just come from, and brought the woman to meet her. Blake thought the woman looked familiar, but she couldn’t remember who she was.

  “Ms. Bertrand, have you ever met Joy Vardash? She’ll be the master of ceremonies for The Takeover.” Vanessa introduced Blake and the young woman.

  “No, we haven’t met before, but I’m glad to collaborate with a fellow businesswoman who’s made her mark in the fashion business on this project.” Blake smiled and nodded to Joy, who smiled back and complimented Blake on her stunning pinstriped Chanel business suit.

  “Joy will introduce the concept to the audience first, then bring you onstage and invite you to say a few words about yourself. So you might want to be thinking of a short biography to share with viewers,” Jerome advised. “After that, she’ll call the contestants onstage one at a time, and each of them will tell you—and viewers—a little about themselves.”

  “I wish someone had warned me about the bio a few days ago,” Blake muttered. “Nice to meet you, Joy, but I’ve got some fast thinking to do.”

  “So have I. Reality TV doesn’t have a script.” Joy grinned. “I’ll see you again in a few minutes with the cameras rolling, Blake.”

  Blake moved to the far end of the stage, away from everyone else except Antonio, and brainstormed aloud what she could say about herself: “I’m thirty-four, divorced, self-made businesswoman…”

  “This isn’t a dating show.” Antonio lowered his Ray-Bans and grinned. “Your age and marital status don’t matter. Just give your business credentials.”

  “Antonio, you’re a lifesaver.”

  “Only if someone under my protection is threatened, but you’re welcome.” He slid the Ray-Bans back into place.

  “Right. So. After I graduated from high school, I worked as a model for a few years, because I knew I could make a lot of money fast. I used that money to buy and renovate important properties—”

  “Don’t forget the handsome actor husband who brought in your first celebrity customers,” said a voice Blake recognized instantly and hated with unspeakable passion.

  While she’d been meeting Joy, Blake’s back had been turned to the rows of seats where the audience would sit. Ushers had quickly and efficiently led the spectators into the theater, and now that Blake turned around, she faced a packed house. In the very front row was the owner of the only voice in the world that made her skin crawl.

  “Goddammit, Lang, you can’t keep following me around wherever I go. Remember the restraining order?” Blake looked around for NBC’s security personnel. “Security!”

  His mouth turned down in misery, the senior security guard shuffled over to talk to Blake. “Nothing we can do, Ms. Bertrand. Judge granted an exception to the restraining order for the duration of filming of this show, so he can attend tapings and other related events.”

  Blake felt her jaw drop, and for a moment words failed her. Finally she managed a weak, “Why?”

  Vanessa clapped her hands for everyone’s attention. “Places, everyone! Filming starts in sixty seconds!”

  “Don’t worry, you’ll find out soon,” Lang called after Blake as she moved to wait in the wings for Joy to call her onto the set.

  She forced herself to look anywhere but at Lang, while Joy explained that twelve contestants would be mentored personally by Blake as they completed an entrepreneurial task each week, and each week the contestant whose performance was poorest would be eliminated by Blake herself. Whoever won would receive a million dollars of startup capital for a business of their own.

  “Now let’s meet the brilliant businesswoman who will be coaching our contestants on how to create thriving businesses of their own. Ladies and gentlemen, put your hands together for the Blake Bertrand!” said Joy, and she applauded along with the audience as Blake strolled onto the set and took her seat at the head of a long table. Holding a microphone toward Blake, Joy added, “Just in case anyone has been living in a cave for the past few years, tell us a little about yourself, Blake.”

  Blake hadn’t finished planning a bio, but she improvised one as best she could. After reciting her experience as a model and using those earnings to buy her first properties for development, she added simply, “I went on to become a millionaire. I can’t promise these contestants that much success, but I guarantee I can help them make their business dreams realities.”

  “I’m sure they all look forward to learning from you, so let’s meet the contestants,” said Joy. “First, let me introduce you to Eve Womack. Eve, come and meet your mentor!”

  Blake liked Eve immediately. This woman had done her homework: she didn’t try to shake hands with Blake, but instead waved at her as she chose a seat at the table. When Joy asked Eve about herself, Blake liked her even more because of her bio.

  “I used to be a pediatric nurse, until a little boy battling leukemia changed my life. The hospital I worked for was next to an elementary school, and little Julian could see the playground from his room. Every night at bedtime he said his prayers, and he’d finish by saying, ‘And I slide down the slide, amen.’ We tried to take him out to play once, but he was weak from his treatments and had to keep an IV going, and, well… I went back to school and studied engineering so I could build pediatric recreation centers for kids like him.”

  “You sound like you already have good ideas, Eve,” said Blake, and she meant it. “What are you hoping I can teach you?”

  “How to sell my vision, especially to men. When they reject my proposals, I always wonder if one reason is because I’m a woman and engineering is still a man’s field,” Eve answered in a calm, matter-of-fact voice.

  She’s not on a self-pity trip. Good. Blake smiled at Eve and said, “Well, welcome, Eve. I’ll do all I can to help you.” And yes, I know a thing or two about competing in businesses dominated by men.

  One by one Joy introduced the other contestants, until finally she said, “Our twelfth and final contestant may already be familiar to you for her popular movie roles. Gabby Truitt, come and meet your mentor!”

  Blake was troubled by the name Gabby even before its owner sauntered onto the set.

  “Hi, all, I’m Gabby Truitt,” she grinned, shifting her body from side to side. “I sooo want to open my own production company, and this would be such an awesome chance to learn and grow.”

  When she recognized the blonde hair and waifish face and build, she understood what Lang had done. Twelve weeks of seeing you and your girlfriend four days per week, eh, Lang? It doesn’t bother me to see her. As for you, one wrong move and you’ll still go to jail.

  “Welcome,” Blake said to Gabby, through clenched teeth. Blake thought she could laugh or cry.

  Blake smiled widely at the contestants and said, “It’s a pleasure to meet you all. Now let me tell you about your first challenge. This week you’re going to create a mission statement and a business slogan…”

  Chapter Twenty-One

  June 3

  New York, New York

  Filming the introduction of the cast and contestants went well, but it was almost 2 P.M. when they finally stopped for lunch. When they reconvened, Blake was scheduled to conduct her first two private mentoring sessions. The producers had randomly chosen the order in which she’d mentor the contestants. Her first two appointments were with Ray Fisher, an African American with an interest in eco-friendly landscaping, and with Gabby Truitt, who claimed an interest in starting her own film production company.

  “I’ll call a taxi,” Antonio said to Blake as they emerged from the studio into bright summer sunlight that made her envy him his Ray-Bans. “Where do you want to go for lunch?”

  “This is New York. You can’t walk two blocks without meeting up with a street food vendor. And I’m starving. I’ll eat anything that isn’t roadkill.”

  They’d just about walked two blocks, an
d saw a hot dog cart ahead on the next corner, when Antonio sighed. Blake flashed a worried look at him. “What in the world is wrong?”

  “Your friend is back,” he muttered, and turned around to face Brett Skeet.

  Brett had been hurrying to catch up with them, and he had to come to a sudden stop to avoid colliding with the burly bodyguard. “Whoa. Uh, hi, Blake.”

  “Hi, Brett. Good-bye, Brett.” Blake continued toward the hot dog cart.

  “Wait, I really need to talk to you, Blake.”

  She heard a thump and a grunt, and turned around again. Brett must have tried to dodge Antonio, because now he was doubled over and clutching his stomach, wide-eyed with pain. Antonio stood with fists ready, and curious onlookers were gathering.

  “This is turning out to be the most fucked-up day I’ve had in months.” Blake waved at Antonio to relax. “What the hell do you want, Brett?”

  “Cha,” gasped Brett, finally able to breathe again.

  “Say again?” Blake’s stomach growled, of the opinion the hot dog cart was much more important than anything Brett Skeet might want to say.

  “A job.” Brett touched his fingertips to his punched gut and winced. “Jesus, bro, you sure you hit me hard enough?”

  “I could do it again if you want,” Antonio offered.

  “Look up sarcasm in the dictionary, wordsmith.” Brett flinched as Antonio raised one hand…and scratched his chin.

  Blake bit back a laugh and asked, “Why are you asking me for a job? Haven’t you messed up my business enough?”

  “I quit my real estate job to be with you and hoped we could work together on something.” Brett jammed his hands in his slacks pockets, not looking at Blake or Antonio. “I’ve tried to find something here, but no luck. Please, Blake. I heard you’re doing this television thing. Don’t they always need extras and stuff like that?”

  “You screwed up. Your messiness stalled my Wishman project. How do I know you won’t do the same thing again?”

  “Let me show you. I’ll keep my distance from you. I promise. I just really need a way to get enough money to go back to Miami and pay some of my debt there.”

  Antonio had lowered his Ray-Bans and was staring at her with arched eyebrows. By now Blake could practically read his mind: “True or not, he’s a punk,” Antonio would be thinking, “and you shouldn’t let him get close to you again.”

  Blake had learned early to keep her enemies close. She could keep an eye on Brett, she reasoned to herself. He knew a lot about her dealings in their short time together. She didn’t want another Sherry wandering the streets. She shifted her footing so that she couldn’t see Antonio’s arched eyebrows anymore.

  Then she said, “Come on, I’ll buy you a hot dog. When we go back in the studio, I’ll talk to the producers about giving you a job if there’s one available.”

  #

  Scheduling conflicts had repeatedly thwarted Blake from meeting with her old friend Robin Love at lunchtime, so Blake had finally made a dinner date with Robin instead. Her mentoring sessions ran longer than planned, making her glad she’d reserved a table for 9 P.M., significantly later than she usually ate her last meal of the day.

  It was such a pleasant evening that Blake decided to walk to the restaurant. She’d showered the Lang and Brett cooties off and changed into a cute Gucci black lacquered lace shift dress with square-buckled belt, and black thong sandals. At eight o’clock she set out with Suki for DB Bistro Moderne, a French-American bistro on West Forty-fourth Street.

  Robin arrived at the same time Blake and Suki did, and their table was waiting. So was the appetizer of pâté en croûte that Blake had preordered, knowing that she, at least, would be starving by then. A waiter with an authentic French accent took their orders immediately, while they snacked. Blake opted for the Hanger Steak, Robin the Crystal Valley Chicken Breast, and Suki ordered the DB Burger.

  “A burger? Really?” Robin grinned at Suki as soon as the waiter left to give their order to the chef. “In a French restaurant, you don’t want to be adventurous?”

  “I’m part Japanese and part Anglo-Saxon,” intoned Suki. “I know exactly nothing about French food.”

  Blake and Robin laughed. “Girl, one of us better start talking,” Blake teased Robin. “We’ve only got about fifteen years of catching up to do!”

  Robin shook her head, and Blake saw a wistfulness on her friend’s face that she’d never seen there before. “No, Blake, you only need to catch up with me. You’ve never stopped being in the news. Just, you shared the spotlight with Lang for a long time.” She paused to sip some of her water before adding, “I never liked him.”

  “When all the other models we hung around with told me to give him a chance, you agreed with them!”

  “If a man offers to buy you food, you say yes. That’s all I meant. He was such a jerk, though. You never should have started sleeping with him.” Robin shook her head again.

  “I wish you’d said all that back then. You could have saved me ten years of misery.”

  “Would you have listened?”

  Blake thought about that, then said, “No. I guess not. He was so romantic, when he wasn’t being a jerk.” She leaned closer to Robin. “But what about you? Why did you stop modeling, and what have you been doing since you quit?”

  “I didn’t quit. Our agency stopped calling me with jobs. That’s the way it is, you know. A few girls, like you, become worldwide sensations. Most, like me, never rise from obscurity.” Robin helped herself to some more pâté, while Blake’s heart hurt for her.

  “I’m so sorry. That isn’t fair at all. You were beautiful then. Still are.”

  “Don’t worry, Blake. I moved on. Took me a while to find my niche, but I got there. Now I’m the spokeswoman for a charitable organization that builds and supplies elementary schools in western Africa.”

  Blake needed to think about that, too, before speaking. Robin had never expressed any interest in children back in their modeling days. The only thing African she was into were the men. “What got you interested in doing that?”

  Now that odd wistfulness settled into Robin’s facial features again. “Just something to do that is actually positive. I’m done with all the man drama, and being broke. I was homeless just two years ago, Blake.”

  Dropping her fork, Blake stared at Robin through eyes filling with tears. “Oh, my God, Robin, that’s terrible. I don’t know what to say, except I’m so very sorry.”

  Robin reached across the table and took Blake’s hand, and Blake gave Robin’s a squeeze. Germs be damned this time, Blake thought, and wondered if she could get up and give her friend a fierce hug without making a scene.

  “It made me stronger, and I vowed that won’t happen to me again no matter what I need to do.” Robin managed a smile. “You don’t know this, but you have always been an inspiration to me. I missed us.”

  “Me, too,” Blake said, her lips forming a smile. She hadn’t seen Robin in years, but listening to Robin it was like the absence hurt her more than she could imagine.

  Robin stayed silent, as if in her own private thoughts, before she finally spoke. “I hear you’re going to be starting a new organization called Mentors & Protégés. To tell the truth, hearing that inspired me to make sure our paths crossed. You’re a business genius, and my charity never has enough money for all the needs it’s trying to meet. So, I was hoping…”

  “If you need anything, I’m here for you now!” Blake knew she was a bit loud because of her excitement for Robin, and didn’t care that a few heads turned at nearby tables.

  Robin’s eyes watered.

  “Donations, advertising, you name it. And, Robin?”

  “Blake?”

  “I don’t care what inspired you. I’m glad to have your friendship in my life again.”

  #

  June 4

  New York, New York

  Blake checked the time on her BlackBerry when she finished her seventh mentoring session, which was with Eve. O
ne o’clock in the afternoon. She was on a pace to finish all the mentoring sessions by lunchtime Friday, when she was scheduled to preside over the first board of directors meeting for Mentors & Protégés.

  “Ready for me to call for a taxi?” Antonio asked.

  “I sure am. Do you like Greek food? I’ve got a craving for a gyro wrap.” Blake stood and stretched out her back, stiff from five hours of sitting.

  “Who doesn’t like a good gyro wrap?” Antonio grinned. “Listen, I need to run to the men’s room before we catch the cab. Can I get you to stay in here and lock the door until I come back?”

  Blake folded her arms across her chest in pretend consternation. “I don’t know about that. How will I know it’s you?”

  “I’ll recite the correct secret code.”

  “And what’s that?”

  He took off his Ray-Bans and sucked thoughtfully on one earpiece for a bit before answering, “The black bird flies backwards.”

  “Get out of here, you madman.” Blake grinned at Antonio and opened the door for him.

  She shut the door and was shaking her head, about to turn the lock, when there was a knock on the door. As she swung it open again she asked, “What did you do, forget your dick?”

  “I hope not,” said Brett, and grinned at her.

  “Oh, shit.” Blake tried to slam the door and lock it, but Brett caught the door and held it open about an inch while she pushed against him.

  “Come on, Blake, I’m not going to hurt you.” Brett grunted with the effort of keeping the door ajar against Blake’s weight. “I just wanted to thank you for getting me a job, that’s all.”

  “Well, you’re welcome, but you’d better go before Antonio gets back here.”

  “I’ll be long gone, believe me, but I also wanted to ask if I can take you out to dinner sometime soon, to show my appreciation. Nothing fancy, they don’t pay errand-runners well enough for five-star restaurants.” Brett smiled at her through the one inch between the door and its frame. “Say you’ll think about it, at least.”