After dinner, Robynn colored in her coloring books, and despite her earlier nap, showed signs of sleepiness by eight-thirty. After a quick bath and brushing her teeth, she was more than willing to crawl into bed, though she insisted that she take Oyster Cracker with her. At first Elley thought she meant the actual crackers and told the girl no, because she did not want to start the habit of her eating in bed. But she learned that it was a new toy Jack had bought for her, which had been left in the car.
Despite her weariness, Robynn asked for a book to be read to her. “Oh, honey, you can read almost as well as I can,” Elley said, but Robynn wouldn’t take no for an answer. So Elley pulled out Goodnight, Moon, which had always been one of Robynn’s favorites, even though she was getting a little old for it. Robynn laid there and smiled through it and when Elley was finished, she said: “I like it when you read to me, Mommy.”
After tucking her in and turning off the light, Elley went downstairs and poured herself a large Baileys over ice, then sat down on the couch in the den. Okay, so my career is over and my marriage is on the rocks; at least I might be able to try and salvage my relationship with my daughter. Five years from now I’ll look back and see this as the best thing that ever happened to me. It’s a wake-up call.
Right.
She went back to Jack’s bar and refilling her glass. She felt like tidal wave had hit her with no warning whatsoever, and wiped out her life as she knew it. All her stuff was still there—the house, her car, her clothes, the gadgets, the things that tidal waves usually target—but her life was being snuffed out.
And she still couldn’t get over what she had heard in the car, what Robynn has seemed to say, but apparently hadn’t. Even assuming that it had all been in her imagination, why was she punishing herself so severely?
I like it when you read to me, Mommy.
Elley Gorman Hayden began to weep silently.
CHAPTER NINETEEN
Dani Lindstrom peeked through the motel window shades and squinted in the sunlight. She did not have a restful night. It was now a little after eight in the morning, but she had already been up for a while, trying to stay as quiet as possible so as not to awaken Jack in the other bed. She stood in the bathroom of the motel room, staring into the mirror, still trying to get used to her new hair shade—or lack thereof—vacillating over whether or not she liked it, whether she could even tolerate it. Everyone who had commented on it had assured her that the platinum somehow suited her, but always in the tone of voice that someone uses to say: No, really, that glass eye is hardly noticeable in this light. But it was distinctive and Jack didn’t seem to mind, though it would probably be wise to stop arriving at decisions based on what Jack Hayden thought. Even though such things remained unspoken, she was beginning to sound like someone who was envisioning having Jack a key player in her life from now on, and she knew that was not to be. Jack had a wife and a daughter, and the fact that the two of them had jumped on each other and had sex multiple times was an aberration. He was not going to jettison his entire life just to be with her. Maybe some men did that, but not Jack. Everything she had seen of him indicated that he was too devoted to his sweet, sadly scarred little girl.
Besides, Jack snored like a lumberjack.
She was rearranging her hair to see if perhaps a new style would be more accommodating to the new color when she heard her cell phone ring in the other room. Dashing out, hoping the ringing didn’t disturb Jack, she grabbed it up off the small bedside table and ran back into the bathroom to answer it.
It was her agent, Lillian DeLaRosa, the person responsible for booking her into her radio gigs. She was based in Reno, of all places, though staying non-coastal gave her the ability to stay in touch with smaller regional markets, and long ago Dani came to conclusion that she never slept, since she would call her at any hour of the day or night. “How’s it going, sweetie?” Lillian asked.
“It’s been a little strange.”
“Breaking up is hard to do, kiddo.”
“No, it’s not about Perry. I can’t really explain it over the phone.”
“Well, whatever. I’ve got a rush job for you.”
“How rush?”
“It starts tonight—”
“Tonight?”
“Yes, tonight,” Lillian said with a touch of annoyance. “It runs through the weekend. It’s in Bakersfield, a station called KSOG, it’s FM and they do religious programming.”
“Oh, not a K-God,” Dani moaned.
“You’ve done Radio Free Jesus before. You just show up and stick in a few CD’s and say ‘Praise the Lord’ at the top of the hour, and everybody’s happy. It’s not like they’re asking you to be baptized.”
“Look, Lillian, its not just that, it’s simply that right now is not the best time for a gig.”
There was a silence on the other end of the line. “Well, that’s too bad, sweetie, because I’ve already booked it.”
“Don’t I even get a chance to say yes or no anymore?”
“Not while you still owe me money.”
Dani ran her hand through her long white hair. As a result of her split-up with Perry she had borrowed three-thousand dollars from Lillian four months ago on the assumption that she would be able to pay it off quickly, but that had not been the case. She had never figured her agent for a usurer, though.
“Okay, fine,” Dani sighed. She had to earn a living, now more so than ever, so turning down work of any kind was not really part of the equation, no matter how galling.
“Look on the bright side, kiddo,” Lillian said, “you’re getting the emergency rate. I made sure of that. Eighteen hundred for the weekend. Here’s the address.”
“Hold on, Lillian, I have to get something to write this with.” She ran out of the bathroom and went to the nightstand in between the two beds. Jack’s pen was sitting on top, as was a small pad of paper provided by the motel. Grabbing both, she dashed back to bathroom, closing the door behind her, then picked up the phone and jotted down the information. “Okay, I’ll be there,” she said.
“That’s ’cause you’re a pro, sweetie. Ciao.”
Dani clicked off the cell phone. She did not want to leave Jack right now, but what choice did she have? Dani did not want to wake him up to tell him that she was leaving, either. He might try to talk her out of it, and he might be successful. Maybe the best way would be to just leave a note. It seemed cold, but it also seemed easier than looking into his eyes and telling him that she had to run off immediately.
As quietly as possible, she went back out into the room and started gathering up her things, putting them into her suitcase. Jack never stirred. She took everything with her back into the bathroom, and began to collect her toiletries. Once she had everything packed, except for the clothes she would wear that day, she took up the pad, ripped off the top page which contained the information about her gig, and then began to write. Dear Jack, she wrote, I’m sorry but I’ve been called away for an emergency job. It’s one I can’t really refuse. I’ll be gone the weekend, but I will come back. I will try to call in a day or so. Thanks.
Dani was on the verge of writing I love you, but she held it back and simply jotted Take care, then signed her name. She carried the pad back to the nightstand and set it down. She set the pen down next to it, but then noticed something on her hand. “Damn,” she whispered, thinking it had leaked. Going back into the bathroom where she could turn on the light, Dani examined the wet smudge on her hand. It was green, not the blue of the pen’s ink. Studying it more closely, she detected the faint odor of paint.
There was wet paint on the tip of Jack’s pen, the sight and smell of which made Dani Lindstrom feel colder than she ever had before in her life.
CHAPTER TWENTY
The moment Elley Hayden got back to her car after dropping Robynn off at school, she started to wonder if she was making the right decision leaving her there. There was no reason to feel apprehensive about it; it was what Robynn had wanted that day, and Elley c
ertainly didn’t want to take her daughter with her into the office if there was a chance that things were going to get ugly. Even though Blaise was still in New York, he had plenty of underlings to whom he could delegate ugliness. Yet for some reason, she felt like it was a mistake not having her daughter with her. Well, it would pass. There were other things she had to take care of that day.
Elley planned to march inside the offices of Orbit Marketing, head held high, pick up the boxes of her stuff that Shakira had packed, and then march back out, head still held high. If she had to be escorted by a guard each time, then fine. She was not going to play the victim; not for Blaise Micelli, not for one of his toadies, not for anybody.
The headquarters of Orbit Marketing was on a high floor in one of Santa Monica’s few towers, and Elley had a corner office, which offered her a nice view of the ocean. She turned into the parking garage and shoved her card key into the employees only slot in the gate machine, probably for the last time, and drove to the parking spot that had been exclusively hers for the past three years.
Her name on the sign had already been covered up.
That was when the enormity of her situation fully sank in, and Elley could not keep a small, dry sob from escaping. She sat in the Lexus for a few more moments. If she was really going to cry, she was going to do it in private. But the tears did not come. So after a quick glance in the rearview to see if her make-up was smudged, she got out of the car and headed for the elevator.
After a thankfully solitary ride up to the tenth floor, Elley stepped out of the elevator car and strode into her office as though nothing was wrong, stopping conversations with every footfall. “Morning, Jim; morning Andrea; morning Luis.” In a strange sort of way, she was enjoying this. The discomfort was palpable only on the others in her office, not Elley.
Coming to Chelsea’s desk, she crisply announced, “I’m here to get my stuff.”
“Elley,” the junior AE said, looking startled. “Oh, god, I tried to call you to tell you not to come in. Something’s come up and—”
Just then Blaise Micelli walked out of his office. He froze when he saw Elley. “What the bloody hell are you doing here?”
“I’ve come to get my personal belongings before you sell them on eBay,” she shot back. “How come you’re back from New York?”
“How come?” Blaise screamed. “Because Metrolife not only cancelled the party when you disappeared, they cancelled the whole goddamned account! A twenty-five-million dollar account down the crapper because of you!”
“So what are you going to do, Blaise?” Elley said quietly. “Fire me?”
Micelli was starting to turn purple. “I’m going to fucking sue you for every penny you’ve ever seen, that’s what I’m going to do!” he shouted. “By the time I’m through with you you’re going to be pushing a shopping cart on the street! You’ll be working as a whore in Tijuana!”
The room suddenly turned into a vacuum; no air was present.
My god, Elley though, he must be hopped up on something. She knew Blaise occasionally took recreational drugs—the usual ones, pot, poppers, coke, sometimes Ecstasy—but she had never seen him out of control like this. The rational side of her knew she should back down for the benefit of everybody, particularly herself, but that side was soon overwhelmed by a tsunami of anger that she was unable to stop. “I hope you do sue me, Blaise,” she said in a calm voice. “I want to be in court when you say, ‘You see, your honor, she was so important to the company that without her, we went out of business, and so that’s why I underpaid her, refused to make her a full partner, and forced her to have sex with me as a condition of employment’.”
Elley never saw his fist coming. It connected with her left temple and her vision exploded into a wash of silver and red. She fell backwards, her head colliding with a desk on the way down. Landing on the floor, she felt like she cried out but could not hear herself. Every sound was drowned out by a high-pitched whine. She could feel someone taking hold of her, but could not yet see them. Hands were moving her, helping her to lie down. The whine started to ebb and she began to hear Blaise’s voice screaming, “Let go of me! She had that coming! Take your fucking hands off me or I’ll fire every one of you motherfuckers!”
When Elley’s vision returned and cleared, the first thing she saw was Chelsea’s face. “Honey, are you all right?”
Elley put her fingers on the side of her head and felt the lump rising. It was sore and hot to the touch. “I think so,” she said, thickly. Chelsea helped her up and the two watched as Barney, one of the other AE’s, and Amid from personnel fought to keep Blaise restrained in a chair, despite his hoarse threats, which now covered not simply firing and suing, but killing.
“Do you need a doctor?” Amid called to Elley while he struggled with Blaise. “An ambulance?”
“No,” she said, rising with help, “I just need to get my stuff and get out of here.” It hurt to talk.
“I want to you know that if you decide to file suit or press charges, I will be there to testify on your behalf,” Amid said.
“Fuck you!” Blaise shrieked.
“And fuck you back, boss,” Amid said. “I quit.”
Elley did not know what Amid did to Blaise next, but her ex boss suddenly screamed in pain.
Chelsea helped her into her now-stripped office and put her in her chair, then examined the lump on her temple. “That ain’t good, baby. I think you’d better get it looked at, or at least have some pictures taken in case you do decide to sue the bastard.”
“I want to thank you for sticking up for me, Chelse,” Elley said. “You and Amid.”
“Shit, honey, you would’ve done the same for us.”
“I just hope this doesn’t put you in jeopardy you. He really could fire everybody if he wanted.”
“On what grounds?” Chelsea said. “Just like you said, I’d like to be there in court when he comes up to the judge and says, ‘Yeah, I shitcanned my entire staff because they should have been at their desks working instead of looking at me go after a woman like Oscar de la Hoya!’ Shit, girl, Johnnie Cochran’s ghost couldn’t save him from that one.”
Elley smiled, which hurt. “I suppose not. But maybe this is all my fault. Maybe I should have shut up and stayed in New York and not panicked and put out like usual.”
Chelsea took her shoulders firmly, but not roughly. Her eyes bored into Elley’s. “No, no, you hear me? You are not the victim in this one, Elley. Don’t you even go there. You kept your cool like a hostage negotiator while he went postal, and damn near everyone on the floor was a witness to it. So you don’t worry about what’s going to happen to us, you just get yourself to the damn hospital to get checked out, and then get a picture of that damn bump. It might be your retirement fund.”
“Okay. I guess I’d better do it before they turn off my insurance.”
“I’m coming with you,” Chelsea said. “I’ll drive. Give me your keys.”
Elley didn’t argue with her. Feeling woozy, she let Chelsea lead her down the elevator and back into the garage. Sliding into the driver’s seat of the Lexus, Chelsea said, “You know, I always wanted to drive one of these. It’s just a damn shame this had to be the reason.”
As they pulled out onto Arizona Boulevard, they could see the police cruiser heading toward the building. “I hope they take him out in cuffs,” Chelsea said.
“Wait, maybe I should stay and talk to the police,” Elley said.
“Nope. They’ll come to you if they need you. Trust me.”
“You almost sound like you have experience at this sort of thing.” Chelsea did not answer. Elley closed her eyes and rode to the hospital in silence.
Chelsea had been right; while Elley was waiting for x-rays a policewoman arrived at the emergency room to take a statement, which Elley gave honestly. But when the woman asked if Elley wanted to press charges, she was unable to decide. Even with Chelsea encouraging her to, she could not make that step. Maybe tomorrow she would be able to s
ee things with more decisiveness. Right now her head hurt like the devil, and she just wanted to get through the emergency room and then go home.
The x-rays revealed no serious damage, so both sides of Elley’s head, where Blaise had hit her and where she struck the desk on the way down, were treated, bandaged and she was released. Chelsea drove her home and offered to stay with her, but Elley politely refused, saying she simply wanted to lie down for a while. She offered to pay for the cab that Chelsea was going to have to take to get back to the office, but her co-worker refused, equally politely. “I’m gonna expense that mother,” she said, making Elley laugh. Hugging her gingerly, Chelsea left.
Had Elley Gorman Hayden kept a diary, the entry for today would have become a book. It was the worst day of her life. At least the worst day of her professional life. One of the worst days of her life, certainly. So why did she feel so strangely triumphant?
Elley wetted a wash cloth with cold water and placed it over her forehead as she lay down on the sofa. If she did not wake up until Nola (whom she had called and “reactivated,” after Jack’s little escapade) arrived that afternoon with Robynn, then that would be just fine.
Inside the surprisingly quiet house, Elley was asleep within ten minutes, which meant she slept through the sound of the phone ringing. She awoke about a little less than an hour later because of a dark, disturbing dream, the details of which she was unable to remember, other than that it left a lingering feeling of unease. She glanced at the clock. It would be another hour and a half before Robynn was home, so she still had time to pull herself together.
It was another twenty minutes before Elley noticed the phone machine’s blinking red light. “You’d better not be Blaise,” she cautioned the machine as she hit the playback button.
“Hi, Mrs. Hayden?” a woman’s recorded voice greeted her, and Elley immediately thought, fucking telemarketer. “This is Jennifer from Sera Elementary, and we’re just checking to make sure everything is fine with Robynn.”
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