The Widow and the Rock Star

by J. Thomas-Like

Finally the interview was over and I was free. To more coaxed applause, a different PA escorted me off stage and my legs went watery with relief. I was led to where my purse and other belongings waited. Some assistant had gathered and piled them on a chair just outside the green room. As I shook on my light jacket, I watched the group of men from the green room being brought to the stage. They disappeared from my sight and reappeared in a TV monitor broadcasting a view of a side stage filled with microphone stands, drums, and other various musical instruments. Ah, a band. I wondered which one and squinted to read the writing on the drum set. Without my glasses it was too small. I touched the arm of a passing crew member and asked him what band it was. I almost had to shout because the audience had gone wild with spontaneous and authentic applause as the men took their places.

  “Static Neverland,” he called over his shoulder.

  Yes, I’d heard of them. I was a typical radio fan, liking the few tunes I caught in passing, but didn’t own any of their music and had never seen them in concert. Not that I went to concerts anymore. I hadn’t done that since my late twenties. Glancing around, I saw no one paying any attention to me, so I stayed where I was and waited for Static Neverland to begin. They played a song called “Wishbone Fantasies” that I recognized and liked, so I bobbed my head along to the beat. I wished the images on the monitor were bigger so I could see them better, but it was only a 19-inch screen and the camera was at the back end of the audience. I wondered which one of them had said, “You’re welcome” in that sexy voice.

  “Did you need something else, Ms. Stark?” One of the junior producers, whose name I couldn’t remember, appeared at my side looking confused at my lingering presence.

  “No, I just stayed for the song.”

  Relief flooded her face like water over Niagara Falls. I wasn’t upset or needing anything, or causing trouble of any sort that could throw a wrench into her perfectly orchestrated day.

  “Oh, sure, no problem,” she stammered. “Thank you, again, for being on the show.”

  “Thanks for having me.” I nodded my head at her anorexic back because she was already moving away to the next item on her agenda. Taking a deep breath, I weaved my way through the studio to the exit as I heard the band finish playing. In a moment or two I was swept away by the ever vigilant Marvin to the next anxiety-ridden event.

  Chapter 2

  Pepper Taylor lazily reached for the cocktail on the table beside her and took a healthy swallow. The sun’s rays were hot and her body glistened with sweat after lounging by the Ritz Carlton’s pool for a scant thirty minutes. As she sipped the dirty martini, she breathed deep, enjoying the scent of chlorine, suntan lotion and ocean air. Glancing over at Vivienne, she smiled. Vivienne sat cross-legged on her chaise, hidden completely beneath a large umbrella and floppy straw hat. Pepper laughed when Viv coated herself with the strongest sunscreen available, making every effort to protect her fair skin from the yellow beams. Pepper admired her friend’s pale complexion — and even envied it — because it kept Vivienne looking so young, something Pepper worked very hard to do. As an aging actress/model in Hollywood, youthfulness was the key to longevity.

  If only I could write like she does, Pepper thought wistfully. I’d much rather rely on my brains than my body.

  “You look like a ghost,” Pepper remarked for the fifth time, draining her glass.

  Vivienne was scribbling away on a note pad, her face scrunched up with concentration. Her hand never stopped.

  “A little bit of sun isn’t going to kill you, you know.” Pepper stuck her tongue out.

  Vivienne never looked up.

  “I saw that.”

  Pepper laughed out loud and put down her empty glass. She was so grateful to see her oldest and dearest friend. The last time they’d been in each other’s physical presence, was at Bruce’s funeral. Pepper had sworn she’d never set foot back in Michigan, but the horrific and devastating death of her best friend’s husband was not something she could have ignored. The letters and phone calls across the years since then had been scarce, but the bond between them had never wavered.

  Still, when a four-hour marathon telephone conversation would take place, Pepper was always disturbed by how much Vivienne still talked about Bruce. Over the years, she would have expected Vivienne to work through her grief and move on, but she never really did. Oh, she acted like she did, but Pepper knew better. A few carefully worded and leading questions always revealed the same facts. Vivienne had tossed her heart and soul into the grave along with Bruce. But, now that she had her bestie in her clutches in sunny California, Pepper intended to show her a good time like she’d never had before. She would do her damndest to show Vivienne that life had a lot more to offer.

  “Let’s go for a swim.”

  Vivienne continued to write, but eventually said, “Let me finish this thought.” Three minutes later, as Pepper waited patiently, Vivienne set her pad and pen aside and shook out her hands. “Okay, let’s go.”

  Pepper swung her legs over the side of the chair and stood up. Her long, lean body was bronzed to perfection and her honey blond hair was tied back in a bouncy ponytail. She made the slightest adjustment to her tiny bikini top, hooking her thumbs in the straps and hiking it up, causing her breasts to jiggle. Then she strode to the edge of the pool, fully aware of the glances she received from the other sunbathers. Snagging the rubber band with her fingers, she pulled her hair free and shook it out in true model fashion.

  Okay, so maybe relying on my body isn’t such a bad thing, Pepper admitted when she caught several pairs of male eyes staring at her.

  Pepper watched as Vivienne tossed her hat on top of her abandoned notebook. She thought her friend’s black, polka-dotted, one-piece bathing suit was too matronly. Vivienne had lost none of her petite cuteness from high school and yet she dressed as though she was twenty years older. She was on the small side, but her legs looked a little longer because of her shorter torso, and she had a solid C-cup on top. Pepper wanted to see Viv in a sexier suit to show off those curves, but knew it would be a hard-fought battle.

  I’ll have to work on that, she decided.

  Sitting together with their feet dangling in the water, Pepper sighed with pleasure, in spite of the circumstances bringing Vivienne to California. Putting her arms behind her on the edge of the pool, Pepper eased herself down into the crystal clear water.

  “What are we waiting for? The pool’s heated for Chrissake.”

  Vivienne obeyed and dropped down. The water came to just below Pepper’s breasts and almost to Vivienne’s neck. Pepper laughed.

  “Still short, I see.”

  “Yeah, well, there isn’t much I can do about that. You’ll always be the beanpole.” Vivienne splashed water at her. “I love your tattoo.” She pointed at the artwork on Pepper’s side.

  Pepper glanced down at it and smiled.

  “Yeah? It’s pretty old. I got it about ten years ago, but it still looks good.” She ran a finger across the wings of a butterfly in flight and then across the rainbow behind it that was exploding with lots of colors.

  “Did you ever get one?” she asked, peering at Vivienne’s body.

  “Hell no! Do you see anything on me?” Vivienne laughed. “I’m too wimpy.”

  Pepper grinned.

  “No you’re not. They can be pretty painful. Luckily, I was quite stoned when I got mine. It hurt worse the day after.”

  Nodding, Vivienne swam closer to get a better look at it.

  “Well, it’s beautiful. Just exactly what I would expect you to have. Look, I’m sorry it took me so long to get in touch. Jake’s had me booked solid since I got off the plane.”

  “Totally okay.” Pepper dog paddled in circles, enjoying the warm water lapping against her skin. “You should have called me when you got in. I could have picked you up at the airport.”

  “Pffft, Jake had a car waiting.”

  “I saw you on TV. You looked great.” Pepper smiled warmly, nodding to show she
meant what she said. Vivienne grimaced and shook her head.

  “I looked like a troll.”

  “No you didn’t!”

  “A broke troll.”

  Pepper snorted with laughter.

  “I think you did a great job.” Pepper’s tone was stern. “How’s Mom? You know, I still get a Christmas card from her every year.”

  Vivienne rolled her eyes but there was love there.

  “She’s my hero. Still hustling about doing her thing. She volunteers five afternoons a week at the daycare center where she used to work, keeps up the house and yard, and has lunches and dinners with all her friends. Not to mention hanging out with me all the time.”

  “That’s awesome. Tell her I said ‘hey.’”

  “Of course. She thought I’d be staying with you while I was out here.”

  “You could have, you know.”

  “I know, but who could pass up an all-expenses paid suite?”

  “I see your point.” Pepper nodded and grinned. “How did the meeting with EJR go?”

  Vivienne bounced above the surface of the water to shrug her shoulders.

  “Okay, I guess. It was a sales pitch for the most part. I was so tired, I kind of zoned out and let Jake handle it.”

  Pepper chuckled.

  “As long as you didn’t fall asleep in the meeting.”

  Vivienne returned the grin and laughed as well.

  “How long do you think you’ll have to be out here?” Pepper closed her eyes and tilted her face up toward the hot sun. A while, I hope.

  “I’m not really sure. Jake has me scheduled with every flippin’ TV show that’s on the air and I get calls from the bank and the police constantly. I still have to meet with Gleaming Bee tomorrow, but I’m not sure of the time. I’m hoping not more than a week, but probably closer to two. I told Jake to stop smashing so much shit into one day. I can be here as long as he needs me, and I don’t want to be running from sun up to sun down.”

  Pepper realized then just how tired Vivienne looked. There were bags under her eyes and stress lines around the corners of her mouth from frowning so much. The sparkle Pepper remembered being in Vivienne’s eyes was dimmed from exhaustion and worry.

  “Well, I sure hope we get more than just today out of this trip.” Pepper cocked her head to the side, feeling sad for Vivienne — she wasn’t able to be more excited about negotiating for the movie rights to her book because of all the chaos with the foundation.

  Vivienne treaded water and then set her feet back down on the bottom of the pool.

  “I promise I will do my best. We have the rest of today and tonight for sure.”

  Pepper nodded.

  “I’ve got you in my clutches now, girl. Jake will have to find us if he expects to get you back before tomorrow.” With an impish grin on her face, she bobbed up and down in the water, causing the liquid to cascade off her shoulders and breasts.

  Vivienne dog paddled around in a circle, and then flipped to backstroke her way to the edge of the pool.

  “I’m sorry I’m not too much fun to be around right now. I can’t stop thinking about all the families I’m letting down.”

  “Hey!” Pepper pointed a finger at her, flicking the tip so drops of water smacked Vivienne in the face. “You are not letting anyone down. That scumbag Tony is the one who’s fucked everyone over. He’ll get caught and they’ll throw his ass in jail.” Pepper dunked below the surface of the water and then popped back up, smoothing her hair back with her hands.

  “Yeah, but I’m the one who chose him. I’m the one who put him in charge of the entire operation. The fault ultimately lies with me.” Vivienne dropped her face into the water, pretending to drown.

  Pepper yanked her friend’s head up, back into the world, and looked Vivienne in the eye.

  “Look, you did what you thought was right. He snowed you, like he snowed everyone else. This is not your fault, Viv. Everything will be fine.” Pepper leaned over and kissed her on the cheek.

  “I hope so,” Vivienne sighed, trying to smile.

  Slinging an arm around her shoulders, Pepper said, “Let’s go get a drink.”

  Pepper slumped down beneath the surface and then propelled herself through the water toward the other end of the pool. Vivienne followed as her friend climbed up the steps in the shallow end, hips swaying, her hands squeezing water out of her hair. They linked arms and strolled in tandem to a couple of stools under the shaded part of the bar.

  Pepper quizzed the bartender about what the best flavored martini would be for a reformed drinker like Vivienne. The girl making drinks grinned and offered up the apple martini as the smoothest and most popular, but Vivienne opted for her standby of gin and tonic, extra lime. Pepper stuck with a repeat of her dirty martini. When it came time to pay the bill, Pepper tried to argue over it, but Vivienne had the charges added to her room account.

  “You can thank EJR Productions. They’re paying for everything.”

  “Wow!” Pepper’s eyes popped open. “Pretty convenient since you’re here on so much other business.”

  “Yeah, and because I’m broke.” Vivienne offer a wry grin and Pepper returned it.

  They clinked their glasses together in a mock toast. Pepper sipped and closed her eyes at how good the liquid tasted and felt running down the back of her throat, all smoothness and warmth.

  “Well, I’m thrilled for you. It’s not every day two studios fight over someone for the rights to her book.”

  Vivienne smiled and shook her head.

  “I’m proud and honored, but it’s all very surreal.” She sipped a tiny bit of her gin. “It’s a godsend in a way because whatever I make on the deal will go directly to the foundation to pay it back.”

  “When one door opens,” Pepper said softly, putting a reassuring hand over Vivienne’s. She was so proud of her friend’s dedication to the cause. “What should we do tonight then? There are parties everywhere.”

  “Eh, I don’t know. I’m not much of the party type anymore.” Vivienne swirled the straw in her glass, stabbing at the piece of lime that floated amongst the ice and alcohol.

  “I’m not sure if I can get us into any super A-list parties, but I’m good for a B minus. You could talk up the foundation, try to get some money out of people!” Pepper waggled her eyebrows.

  “I’ll think about it.”

  “You and your brain.” Pepper shook her head and waved her hands in dismissal. “Look, I know you’re upset about this whole mess, but you really need to let it go and have some fun. Get your mind off things.”

  “Pffft,” Vivienne scoffed. “Say that when you lose close to a million dollars.”

  “You didn’t lose the money. The foundation was robbed. It’s not your fault.” Pepper leaned in close to force eye contact. “Is that all that’s bothering you?” Pepper always knew when Vivienne was more inside her head than in the real world, having known her since they were both five years old. From childhood, they shared an almost innate ability to understand one another like no one else.

  “Nothing else is bothering me.”

  “Liar. You’re not feeling guilty about Bruce are you?”

  Vivienne bristled and shook her head.

  “No, I’m not feeling guilty. I just miss him right now.” She pushed her still-full glass away. “This whole fucking mess started on the anniversary of his death, that’s all.”

  Pepper’s face softened.

  “That’s all? Why didn’t you tell me?” She reached for Vivienne’s hands and squeezed them. She was pleased when Viv squeezed back.

  Now isn’t the time to talk about Bruce, Pepper thought. Even though he had been killed overseas almost two decades ago, Pepper knew Vivienne had never let go of her status as a war widow in spite of her protestations to the contrary. The thing she didn’t know was whether or not widowhood had become a habit or an escape, or if Vivienne was too far gone to resuscitate.

  “I have an idea! Let’s go shopping. We could look for something
sexy for you to wear!”

  “Please,” Vivienne snorted. “I don’t think California stores cater to the short and pale.” But her eyes lit up and it did not escape Pepper’s notice.

  “You aren’t short and pale. You’re fair and petite.” Pepper kicked her in the shin. “If anyone could find something for you, it’d be me. What else are we going to do? Sit around here and get drunk all day?”

  “Okay, okay. I’m not really the sit-around-and-get-drunk-all-day type, either.” Vivienne hopped off the bar stool and put her hands on her hips. She stretched her back out and then raised her arms above her head. “Let’s do it.”

  “Atta girl! Just wait till I show you my favorite stores. We’re going to have a ball!” Pepper rubbed her hands together gleefully. Nothing cheers a woman up like shopping. If I can get her spirits up, there’s no telling what else I can get her to do.

  Chapter 3

  The drink in my hand was really just club soda with a lime in it so I could get Pepper off my back. I was nervous enough standing in the middle of a multimillion-dollar mansion and I had no intention of getting drunk. We got to the party on Mulholland Drive about seven o’clock; the sun was still shining brightly, its rays flowing through the 12-foot windows of the great room like yellow ribbons floating across the floor. Pepper introduced me to the hosts, a twenty-something starlet of extraordinary beauty and not so extraordinary talent, and her boyfriend, a powerful Hollywood producer in his late fifties who was responsible for more than half of the highest grossing films of the last five years. He barely accorded a greeting when he didn’t recognize either of us, offering only a limp handshake. On the other hand, “Lana” exuded too much warmth in her encouragement that we make ourselves at home in their “little abode.”

  We initially stuck together, me clinging to Pepper’s arm, consumed with nervousness, having never attended a Hollywood soirée before. But we arrived on the early side, and there were few people to mingle with after the first twenty minutes. With nothing else to do but hit the poolside bar, we got ourselves drinks and stood around waiting for more people to arrive. I got bored quickly and needed to move, so I decided to sneak back inside and explore. For an hour, I wandered through the 8,000 square feet of rooms on the first floor, alternately admiring the furnishings and scratching my head at the competing design strategies. One of them appeared to love old-style Hollywood furniture and textiles, while the other preferred a more modern aesthetic. I wondered who preferred what as I ran my hand along the back of a beautiful white silk couch with wood trim, clearly inspired by the 1930s, and gazed at a modern piece of art hanging on the wall across from it.