by Liz Fenton
I grab my notebook with the RSVPs for John’s party and flip back a few pages to read the word we wrote down when we met Jordan, the psychic. Promotion. What did it mean? Rachel and I had a major breakthrough the other night. But was it enough? And what does a promotion have to do with it? I shake my head and put the notebook back on the table as my phone vibrates again. Another text from Rachel: Hey, tough girl, I’m coming to dinner tonight.
I laugh and think back to Sunday afternoon. I told John and the girls that I was heading to the store, but as soon as I was in the car, I pulled out the crumpled piece of paper with Chris McNies’ address on it. After a long discussion, Rachel and I decided to let Audrey tell John what had happened, when she was ready. In the meantime, she simply told him that Mr. Popular was really a jerk and that she had decided not to date him, or even be friends with him. Maybe the fact that my own mother never breathed a word to my Dad about what happened to me made me adamant that John should know. Back then, I’d felt relief that my own father didn’t know, but now, looking back, I wish he had; perhaps then he would have been able to comfort me instead of being perplexed by my sudden withdrawal and inexplicable sullenness.
So even though I was relieved when Audrey agreed it was important for her father to know, that she’d confide in him when she felt he’d be receptive to handling it, that wasn’t enough for me. Of course I was proud of Audrey and I respected her wishes—but I knew I had to take an action of my own.
The next day, I pulled up to Chris’ house. Even though there was a chill in the morning air, the fog from the beach still blanketing the sky, he was standing shirtless in the driveway washing his shiny black Land Rover. It was a scene out of a bad movie, him soaping up, his tan arms reaching up over the hood in circular motions. Usually, the cougar in me would have loved every minute of the show, but now all I saw was an asshole who had tried to hurt someone I loved dearly. And I was here to make sure he never did it again. To anyone.
Chris eyed me walking up the driveway, set the hose down, and smiled his most charming smile. “Hi, Mrs. Cole. Can I help you?” His smile made my anger boil and I tried to remain calm.
“How was the dance, Chris?”
He smiled smugly. “Just lovely. I think Audrey had a great time.”
I clenched my fists. Keep calm, Casey. “Oh, really? Is that what you think? Do you consider date rape a great time?”
“Whoa.” He put his hand up in the air. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.” But I caught a flash of fear behind his piercing blue eyes and wondered if anyone had ever called this kid on his shit before.
“I think you do.” I took a step closer to him, causing him to back up against the soapy vehicle.
“I don’t know what Audrey told you, but she’s a liar. And a tease,” he added under his breath.
“Oh, is that what you’re going to tell all your friends next week at school?” I said, moving even closer.
“Maybe,” he said defiantly.
I leaned in and whispered in his ear, ignoring the water from the hose drenching my sandals. It was all I could do not to punch him in the face. “Listen here, you spoiled brat. You’re going to go to school tomorrow and tell everyone that Audrey doesn’t like you because you are a douche bag and she is too good to be around you.”
“And if I don’t?” He tried to inch away but I grabbed his arm and he winced as I dug my nails in. I prayed that his parents didn’t come out while I was accosting their son.
“Then I’m going to call Audrey’s Aunt Casey. You know, Casey Lee, the celebrity? She has over four hundred thousand Twitter followers. Did you know that?”
Chris shakes his head and glances around, desperately looking for a way out.
“If you don’t apologize to my daughter first thing Monday morning, Casey is going to let the whole world know what you did.” I look over at his mailbox. “Oh, and she’ll be sure to include your phone number and home address so everyone can let you know how they feel about it too.”
Chris laughed nervously. “You wouldn’t do that.”
I grasped my hand tighter on his arm and he flinched. “Do you want to bet life as you know it on that? Tomorrow. Apology. Or else. Got it?”
“Got it,” he whispered.
I drove away, tears streaming down my face, my hands shaking on the wheel. Telling Chris off was liberating, like I had finally exorcised the demon of my own past. But the real reason for my tears was joy. I finally knew the feeling of loving someone more than I loved myself.
“Earth to Mom,” Audrey calls to me as she holds out another tiny champagne bottle.
“Sorry,” I say, smiling as I take it from her and put it into the box that I’ll take over to the venue later today. Charlotte crawls over and climbs into my lap. “Want to help Mommy make presents for Daddy’s party?” I ask, and she gives me the same amused smile she does whenever I call myself Mommy.
John, it seems, has no idea about his surprise party. He is under the impression we’re going to have dinner as a family at the restaurant in the hotel. Little does he know that one hundred of his friends will be there. I wonder if Rachel thought that throwing this party would be a way to bring them closer together, or maybe she hoped a grand gesture might wake John up from the fog he had been in. I thought about my own time with him, watching the John I once knew emerge from underneath the uninterested, aloof man who was here when I first arrived. I couldn’t wait to hand him back over to Rachel; I was out of excuses, in terms of dodging his advances.
It was time to get back to my own life, and Rachel and I had made a pact to make figuring out how to switch back our number-one priority after the party. For the first time since this all happened, I actually felt like she was ready to come back to her own life, and despite the fact that I would miss the little things, like Charlotte’s sweet kisses and Audrey and Sophie’s witty banter at breakfast each morning, I needed to reclaim my own body so I could make some major changes to my life. First up? Telling Charlie how very wrong I was that night and beg for his forgiveness.
The slam of the front door jolts me from my thoughts as I turn to see Rachel walk in with a bottle of my favorite cabernet. “Aunt Casey!” the girls cry and run over to give her a hug. She grabs two glasses from the cabinet and fills them high before handing one to me. “To taking care of business,” she toasts me with a sly smile and glances over at Audrey. “Thank you,” she adds quietly.
“Anytime,” I say before clinking her glass one more time. “To friendship,” I add.
Rachel takes a huge swig of her wine. “I’ll drink to that!”
CHAPTER 32
* * *
rachel
Promotion.
Why hadn’t I told Casey that I might have figured out what the psychic meant? Maybe it’s because I know the gravity of what the word means—that I hold Casey’s career and our fates in my hands. But there’s no turning back now, I think as I push open the heavy oak conference room door and walk in, the network executives’ eyes fixed on me.
“Casey.” Ava rises and stretches her long fingers my way. Her acrylic nails are a bright shade of red, like Charlotte’s lips after she eats a handful of strawberries. Charlotte. I push the image of her chubby cheeks and big blue eyes out of my mind and take Ava’s hand in mine, giving her a firm shake, hoping she doesn’t notice I’m trembling. The other two execs stand and we exchange pleasantries.
“Coffee?” Ava’s assistant asks me, a look of fear in her eyes, the dark circles under them betraying the cost of working for Ava. I think of her boss’s persistence these past few weeks; the phone calls, the emails, the demands that I give her a decision.
Am I easy to work for? I wonder, watching Destiny as she taps away on her iPad with one hand and reads an email on her BlackBerry with the other, my Starbucks coffee nestled between her knees. I’m not sure what Destiny thinks of me here, but I know I’m not easy at home. I’ve been way too hard on the girls, especially Audrey, holding on to her so tightly that I’ve failed to notice
she’s no longer a girl, but a young woman. And John. I’d disappeared so far into myself since Charlotte was born that he couldn’t even see me anymore.
I force a smile and shake my head no, motioning toward Destiny and my coffee.
“So, Casey, here we are.” Ava taps her pen on the sleek mahogany tabletop.
“Yes, here we are,” I repeat, thinking again that I can change my mind. I can get up right now and leave and never look back. For some reason, the exterior of my house flashes in my mind. I see the white shutters, the front door we painted red because it was good feng shui, the ivy-covered lattice, the flower beds blooming with tulips. It’s an adorable home. But why hadn’t I seen it that way before? I used to look at it and see only the chipped paint, the dent on the garage door, the weeds that needed to be pulled. But now I feel a deep hole forming inside me as I think I might lose it forever.
“I’m just going to cut to the chase here. You going or not?” Ava gives me a cold stare and I sit up a little straighter, suddenly remembering my eighth-grade English teacher who would wait forever for you to answer a question if she called on you. Once, one of my poor classmates, a painfully shy redhead who spoke about three words to me in all the time I knew her, was called on to answer a question about something we were supposed to have read the night before. We all watched her shift uncomfortably in her seat until she finally started crying and admitted she hadn’t done her homework. I felt like her now, like Ava wouldn’t so much as blink until I gave her an answer—any answer.
“Yes, I’m going,” I finally say. My heart is beating so hard in my chest that I inhale sharply through my nose to try to steady it.
“I’m—well, we—we are so pleased.” Ava claps her hands together like a hungry seal and the two other execs start typing away feverishly on their smartphones. No doubt telling their lawyers to draw up the contract immediately before I change my mind.
Suddenly Ava’s assistant appears with a bottle of Moët & Chandon and pops it, the cork flying across the room, everyone erupting in a fit of nervous laughter. I bite back my tears and decide what’s done is done.
I reach for a paper cup full of champagne as I watch the room bustling with activity. Ava’s on the phone chirping away about logistics. Destiny and Ava’s assistant are chatting excitedly. I can’t help but smile at Destiny, knowing this is part of her dream too. She has ambitions beyond being an assistant and she’s talented enough to realize them. She helped Casey get to this place and she deserves to bask in this moment. This New York move will be huge for her.
This is for you, Casey, I think as I hold up the cup. This is for the baby you never got to have, for the family you never started. For all the hard work you put into your career to get to this place. For putting up with Dean and Fiona and all this TV bullshit. And I will sacrifice whatever I must to give you what you deserve. I wasn’t there during a time in your life when you really needed me, but I can be your champion now. I drain my cup and eagerly accept a refill from a round-faced woman who appeared after hearing there was alcohol at 10 a.m. She winks at me and takes off down the hall with the champagne bottle before anyone else notices.
Back at the office, I know there’s something else I have to do. I need to talk to Charlie about where we left things about where our relationship is going. I’ve been avoiding him since Santa Barbara. As I make my way to his office, I have the panicked thought again: What if we can’t switch back? I stop and lean against the wall and close my eyes. It’s all going to work out. I believe it’s all going to work out. I repeat it over and over until I convince myself.
“Knock-knock.” I tap my knuckles on Charlie’s office door. It’s not lost on me how tiny it is compared to mine. It’s so small his desk takes up almost the entire space. The windowless walls are white and bare. His desk is devoid of any photos. A worn gym bag haphazardly thrown in the corner is the only thing that gives you any idea about the type of man Charlie is. For a moment I’m struck by how lonely he must be. No family. Married to his job. Possibly craving a future with Casey but being shut down by her—again.
I was lucky finding the right person so young, having three great kids with him. Why have I taken it all for granted?
Charlie doesn’t look up from the email he’s typing and I don’t blame him. I haven’t given him the time of day since Santa Barbara, why should he give me his attention now?
Still typing away, he says in a voice I don’t recognize as his, “I heard you’re going.”
“And you too, right?”
Charlie laughs. “Oh, Ava didn’t tell you? I’m shocked. She’s such a stand-up gal.”
I lower myself into a black pleather chair. “What?”
“She has other plans for me, as she put it.”
My heart starts racing. “What do you mean?”
Charlie, still not looking up, clicks his mouse, his attention focused on something he’s reading on his computer screen. “Charlie, can you look at me please?” I plead.
“Oh, I’m sorry. Now you want me to look at you. Why don’t you just send me a list of instructions for when and how I can communicate with you and I’ll be sure to review it.” His cold eyes meet mine.
“Look, I’m sorry. I just, it’s so hard to explain, I wish I could.”
“Casey, I’m so tired of your excuses. For all your reasons why you can’t talk about things. I’m just exhausted by it all. It shouldn’t be this hard.” He exhales sharply. “And then I had to hear about it from Ava. Ava, of all people. You know how much I cannot stand that woman! You couldn’t even be bothered to tell me your decision to move before you told her? You didn’t even think about me, did you?”
“Charlie . . . I’m sorry. I really am. I promise you it’s complicated. And I don’t expect you to understand. I just wish you could trust me that I do care about you. And my decision to move, you’re right, I should’ve talked to you about it. But it was a choice that was so much bigger than me, than you, than us.”
“A choice about your big career?” It’s a question, not a statement. “How could I forget that it’s all about you?”
Looking at Charlie now, his eyes burning with anger, I wonder if I’ve screwed up Casey’s chances with him. Have I blown it or is he just upset? I should’ve talked to him before saying yes. I knew he needed that from Casey. I knew it and I didn’t do it, worried that if I said it out loud to him, then I’d back out. I had assumed he’d be going with me and I thought we’d work things out in New York. I had no idea Ava was going to screw him out of the job. I shudder to think how expendable people were to her. If things didn’t go well in New York, would Casey be next?
“Why doesn’t Ava want you to be the executive producer? What did she say?”
“That they were going in a new direction. Best part? I’m out of a job. Her other plans for me include wrapping things up here at Gossip TV and letting me go because she knows she’s holding me back. It was like she was reading from some bullshit manual on how to give someone the ax.” He runs his fingers through his hair. “I’ve worked for her for eight years. No loyalty. None.”
“What a bitch.” I fold my arms over my chest. “I wish I had known.”
Charlie laughs bitterly. “Why, so you could make a toast to that too?”
I flinch but speak up. “I’m sorry,” I say again. “I really am. I took for granted that you’d be going with me.”
“But did you want that?” he asks, his eyes now searching mine.
“I did,” I answer honestly. Whether Casey or I ended up in New York, we both needed someone like Charlie looking out for us. I feel tears sting my eyes when I think of being there without him, of being all alone and away from my family. That I’ll miss all of Charlotte’s milestones and Sophie’s next big performance. My resolve begins to crumple and I look away and wipe my eyes.
“Hey, don’t cry for me, Casey.” Charlie stands up. “I’ll be just fine.”
I know he’ll be just fine—but I won’t. What have I done?
; I have to think fast—how do I do this? Before I know it, I blurt out: “Will you come with me to John’s birthday party tonight?” I have to get the real Casey and Charlie into the same room. I know—absolutely—that this is the first step in fixing this mess.
Charlie eyes me suspiciously.
“I promise: No red carpet. No paparazzi. Only really good people that I love—and that I think you’ll love.”
“No bad cheese trays?”
Was he cracking a joke? A good sign.
The wheels in my head are spinning wildly. I’ve got to get them back together; I’ve got to figure out how we can switch back. “There will be no bad cheese trays,” I say aloud. “That is the one thing I can guarantee.”
“Then how can I say no?” Charlie says. I pray that I can get the woman he loves back into her own body before it’s too late.
CHAPTER 33
* * *
casey
“You are so not wearing that.” I shake my head as I catch Sophie slinking down the hall in a barely there green minidress. Then I realize, it’s practically a clone of the one I wore to last year’s People’s Choice Awards, a dress I also had no business wearing at my age. “Is that the same dress that . . .”
“Aunt Casey wore last year. Yes!” Sophie throws up her arms dramatically and lets out an exasperated sigh. I never realized the way I was dressing was affecting young girls like Sophie. I drop down into John’s favorite leather chair and rub my temple. What had I been doing? Somewhere along the way, I’d totally lost sight of who I was. I stare at Sophie, who looks so much older than her fourteen years. “Why do you treat me like I’m a baby?” she cries out as John walks by and does a double take.
“You are not wearing that tonight,” he says with finality. Sophie glances at me and I can tell she’s wrestling with wanting to lash out and ruin John’s surprise. I stay silent but lock eyes with her and shake my head quickly.