L.A. Woman

by Cathy Yardley

  Judith stood there for a moment, then realized the beef was starting to smoke slightly. She tossed the phone on the counter and yanked the roast out of the oven, narrowly rescuing it.

  “Judith?” David’s voice called out to her from the dining room. “Something smells good. Dinner ready?”

  “I’m almost ready,” Judith replied. The side dishes were on the table. Now it was just up to her to serve the main course.

  “Judith, this is great steak. Where did you get the beef? Whole Foods?”

  “There’s a new meat place, a real butcher, that opened up on Olympic, closer to Santa Monica,” Judith said, pushing at the food on her plate mechanically.

  “Well, it’s fantastic. You know, I was thinking of inviting Henderson over for a barbecue. Do they do ribs? They’ve got to do ribs.”

  “David, I’ve had an affair.”

  He frowned at his plate. “Say, is corn in season? That would go well. That, a salad…no problem. Barely any trouble.”

  “I said, I had an affair.”

  He blinked at her. His knife clattered to the plate. “I’m sorry. Did you just say you had an affair?”

  She nodded, then picked up a piece of her potato, delicately eating it off the fork.

  He seemed to be digesting both meat and this bit of news. “So. Anyone I know?”

  “No.” She swallowed the potato with difficulty. “Nobody I know, either, to be grossly technical.”

  His brow furrowed. “What the hell are you talking about? You, what, propositioned some stranger?”

  “No.” She took a deep breath. “I met him on the Internet.”

  He blinked. Then, to her disgust, he started laughing. “This just gets better and better. How long has this been going on?”

  “We’ve been writing to each other.” She tried for another forkful, finally put it down. She couldn’t keep up the facade. It was ridiculous to try.

  His eyes narrowed. “Judith…have you actually met?”

  “Yesterday.” She took another deep, calming breath. “We finally met yesterday.”

  “So you’ve only slept with him once.”

  “Actually, we’ve never slept together.”

  “So where does the affair part come in?”

  She stared back at him. “David, don’t you understand? I’ve been talking to another man. I…I thought I’d grown to care about him very much.”

  “And now you don’t?”

  “Well…” She was not going to explain the incident. “Let’s just say that when I met him, in person, he wasn’t what I thought he was.”

  He grinned…there was a malicious edge to his smile. “I see. Ugly? Balding? Grossly obese?”

  She simply kept silent. It was easier to let him think those things—easier to save his pride.

  And why bother saving his pride? Hadn’t she done that enough all these years?

  Easier to save my own pride, then.

  “The point is, I think we’re having problems. You and me, that is. I think…I think maybe we should go to counseling.”

  “Why?” He sighed, deeply. “Jesus, Judith. You know I don’t have time for this. Do you have any idea how close I am to making partner? How long I’ve worked for this?”

  “Of course I do,” Judith snapped. “Haven’t I been there, doing everything I possibly could to help you out?”

  “Oh, please. Get off the cross, somebody needs the wood.” He got up, and started stalking around the dining table like he was addressing a jury. “Judith, I think what we have here is a classic case of you thinking I should be paying you more attention. Well, you knew it when I went to law school, you know it now—I haven’t changed a bit. I’m not going to miraculously have time to shower you with roses every time you feel neglected. We’re both adults now, remember?”

  “Could you be a little more patronizing?” she asked in a conversational tone.

  “Could you be a little more unreasonable?” He shook his head. “Cyberaffair. Jesus. Do you know how pathetic that sounds, Judith?” He sent her a humorless grin. “If you were someone else’s wife, I’d be laughing my ass off right now.”

  “Well, I’m not somebody else’s wife, am I.”

  Why had she thought this was a good idea? Because she’d been unhappy. She was, and continued to be, unhappy. It was that simple.

  Did she really think he’d change into something that made her happy? Did she think telling him would wake him up? How codependent was she? In this day of Oprah and Ricki and…and Jerry Springer. She should have known better, for pity’s sake.

  “I really, really don’t have time for this,” he said. “If you really want flowers, I’ll send them, but Jesus, Judith, you know better.”

  He retreated to his study, muttering about cyberaffairs and how funny it was. She watched his retreating back. Then, methodically, hypnotically, she started clearing the table, cleaning the remains of the meal they’d shared.

  What else can I do?

  She thought about it.

  I could leave.

  She paused in the act of wiping down the surface of the table. Leave? What would that accomplish? How embarrassed would her family be? How hurt would David be?

  He was right, now wasn’t really the time. She’d bide her time, wait for him to make partner. Then he’d be too busy to even notice she was gone.

  She looked at the remains of the food, thought about her parting words.

  And what would waiting accomplish, really?

  She left the mess on the table. She left the room.

  Chapter 18

  Ship of Fools

  Another temp assignment. Different color gray, same fabric-covered cube walls. Thank God this was an easy assignment. Sarah felt like she could do Powerpoint presentations in her sleep. Now that she thought of it, reflecting on her agency days, she had. That seemed like such a long time ago now.

  Married. She was getting married. How weird was that? To Benjamin, of all people.

  If Martika would show up at the apartment, she might tell her about her impending nuptials…then again, she might not. Mother Hen probably wouldn’t like one of her scout troop wandering off to marry “the enemy,” get a life and some direction. It was just as well they were getting married in Vegas. She certainly couldn’t see her own mother attending—suddenly, it would be another drama of how-can-I-make-this-about-me. No, having Mother there was certainly not an option. Like her father would even take the time, and certainly not to attend anything so spontaneous as a Vegas wedding. He’d probably approve of Benjamin, though.

  She stopped. Okay, that thought was vaguely disconcerting.

  She stopped thinking about it, dropping clip art strategically on the slide she was building, then typing in more text. Still, it’d be nice to have somebody she knew there. Obviously not any of the crew—they wouldn’t understand.

  She thought of Kit, and quickly blocked it out. She hadn’t mentioned her day with Kit to anyone, especially not Benjamin. Of course, after Jessica, it was hardly like he could say anything. Still, that was all behind them now.

  She quickly moved to a different mental topic.

  Judith was being judgmental, she realized. Still, Sarah really wished Judith or Martika would bend and accept this. If nothing else, a girl ought to have bridesmaids…

  “How’s that presentation coming?”

  Sarah eyed the man looking at her impatiently. “I’m almost done.”

  “You are?” He sneered. “You can’t be. There were eighty pages there.”

  She shrugged and gestured at the screen. “I dressed them up a little.”

  He looked, and he didn’t look pleased. Oh, so you’re one of those, Sarah thought. After the dual polarity of Becky the acerbic and Richard the chaotic, nothing phased her. Certainly not some bossy little prick who didn’t have enough seniority to push around anybody but a temp.

  “Well, we might need more changes on Friday,” he said, obviously needing to say something negative.

  She s
hrugged. “I won’t be able to be here on Friday.”

  His eyebrows went up. Obviously, this was a tidbit he could work with. “This is a long-term assignment! You should have…”

  Sarah put up a hand and interrupted. “I told the agency this week—I am getting married on Friday. They cleared it. And I should be moving fairly soon—I’m only booked through the end of the month. They cleared that, too. If that’s a problem, I’m sure you could get someone else.”

  His mouth worked like a fish. “Buh…buh…”

  “She’s quite right.”

  Sarah looked at the new participant. A woman, wearing a red power suit and a short, dark brown haircut that made her look like a futuristic fairy…a gamine cut that was a little spritely and sharp. Her smile matched the attitude.

  “In fact, her agency called here looking for you, according to Marcy. How late did you come in this morning, Bob?”

  Bob now had bigger issues to worry about, obviously. His tone went from aggressive to obsequious.

  “I…was down on the fourth floor…talking to the guy in the mailroom…” He was working up the excuse, Sarah noted, and badly.

  The woman ignored his blathering, walking directly to Sarah.

  “I’m Erica Ross,” she said, shaking Sarah’s hand.

  “Sarah Walker,” Sarah replied. “Nice to meet you.”

  The woman’s eyebrow went up, sharply. “You don’t know who I am, do you?”

  Sarah narrowed her eyes, studying the woman’s face. No bells were ringing—she wondered if the woman had been on TV or something.

  “I’m the director of this department.”

  Sarah waited. Okay, no TV appearance. She didn’t know whether she should congratulate the woman or what.

  The woman took her appraisal with a smile, then glanced through the slides. “This is good work,” she said, clicking the mouse through the presentation at lightning speed. “This is something I’m presenting to the Strategy and Operations committee on Monday. I frankly was surprised you got it done in one day.”

  Sarah shrugged. “It wasn’t any problem.”

  “I like you, Sarah,” Erica said, with a nod. “I don’t suppose you’re looking for a permanent position?”

  Sarah felt a surge of…happiness? Excitement? And just as suddenly as she felt it, it was gone. “I don’t think so.”

  The woman blinked at her. “Why not? We offer very competitive salaries, and excellent benefits. I’m always looking for talented workers.” She sent a quick, disapproving look to Bob. “Some positions should be opening up soon.”

  Bob went white as a sheet.

  “I…my husband is probably getting a job in Northern California.” She paused. “And besides, I prefer the freedom I have now.” Now, why did I add that?

  The woman’s smile, if possible, sharpened, and her eyes glinted brightly. “I see. Well, we’d really like to keep you around. I like someone who doesn’t just put on a good face for management and is interested in more than covering their own ass.” Bob was practically having a seizure at this point. “If your—husband was it?—winds up staying, and you want a job, you come and talk to me.”

  Sarah’s smile was noncommittal, but her thoughts were chaotic. That was it? She wasn’t trying to please, she was just doing her job and telling off some guy who was trying to push her around…and she was offered a job?

  “Thanks,” Sarah said, bemused. “I will.”

  Judith felt her heart beating as if she’d just taken speed. She stood waiting in the lobby of Sarah’s building, her suitcase sitting by her heels. Thanks to careful packing, she had two weeks worth of clothes, all of her makeup, and in her briefcase she had all of her pertinent paperwork. Even if she had to camp out on Sarah’s couch, even if she had to share a bathroom with that…what had Sarah called her? A “Glamazon”? She would make this. At some point, David would realize she’d left.

  Perhaps she should have left a note.

  The ancient elevator doors opened, and she walked in. Why leave a message? She doubted he’d read a note, anyway. He was in the office all day today, at any rate.

  She got to the door, and heard a commotion going on. It was the Glamazon, she thought, hearing the vitriolic voice go up and down like an opera singer practicing scales.

  “You have got to get over here!”

  Judith knocked several times—she knew she should have called. It was unlike her to be so ill prepared.

  The door flew open. “Sarah?”

  Judith blinked. Martika’s curls flew haphazardly around her head. She looked like a voodoo priestess. She held a cell phone to her ear.

  “Um, hello,” Judith said.

  Martika waved at her impatiently. “Have you heard from Sarah?”

  “No…”

  “Dammit!” Martika strode back into the living room, leaving the door wide-open. “Taylor, that does it. We’re going to Las Vegas.” She paused. “I know there are a thousand fucking wedding chapels, but we’ll find her. I don’t know! Hire a detective or something!”

  Judith tentatively rolled her suitcase in. “Did I come at a bad time?”

  Martika paid attention to her for the first time. “Oh, I don’t know. Sarah’s left me a note saying that I need to get my shit out of here before the lease expires, because she’s getting married…to that asshole ex-boyfriend of hers. Sounds like a bad time to me. What do you think?”

  Judith’s mouth dropped open. “She isn’t really going through with that, is she? I thought she was just talking!”

  Now Martika gave her the full force of those Glamazon eyes. “Wait a sec. She talked to you about getting married?” There was a frenzied squawking on the other side of the cell phone line, and Martika said, “Taylor, hold on a second. Judith seems to know what’s going on. Judith. Yeah, that’s the one.” She put the phone against her chest. “What did she tell you? When did you talk to her?”

  “A couple of days ago. She asked me if I wanted to go to Vegas to see her get married to Benjamin. I thought it was just a joke. I mean, I figured she’d come to her senses by now.”

  “Doesn’t seem like a joke now, does it?” Martika sighed. “Did she tell you where?”

  “At that medieval-castle-looking-one…Excalibur,” Judith said, running it over in her mind for a minute.

  Martika looked supremely offended. “She told you, but she wouldn’t tell me?”

  “She wanted…” Suddenly, it struck her as prudent not to mention that Sarah had asked her to be maid of honor. “She wanted me to be there. I guess she thought I’d understand more.”

  “So why didn’t you go?”

  Judith glanced down at the carpet. “I’m afraid I didn’t handle it very well. The past couple of weeks have been very…unsettling for me. I barely listened to her when she told me, I’m afraid, and then I yelled at her. I don’t really…I didn’t express myself very well, let’s say. I was busy with domestic problems of my own.” She leveled a glance at Martika, now, challenging her to pry.

  Martika’s eyes lit on the wheeled bag…on Judith’s naked left hand.

  “I see.” To her credit, in her outlandish outfit, she managed a look of elegant understanding that would have looked more at home on a fifty-year-old in a St. John’s suit. “Well. You wouldn’t happen to know when she’s planning on getting married?”

  Judith frowned. “What day is today?” God, she’d gotten far afield.

  “Thursday.”

  “They’re getting married on Friday. Night. They’re flying out tonight.”

  Martika grabbed the phone from its resting place on her bosom. “Taylor. Did you hear that? No? She’s getting married at the Excalibur tomorrow night. Taylor!” Martika’s ruby-red lips pursed. “I think being tacky is the least of her problems right now!”

  Suddenly, the tall woman’s eyes fluttered, and she lurched toward the nearby settee.

  “Hey!” Judith flew to her side, propping her up. “Are you okay?”

  “Little morning sickness,�
�� Martika said, gritting her teeth. Judith’s eyes flew down to the barely discernible bulge in her otherwise smooth midriff. “Dammit. I don’t have time for this.”

  The squawking continued, and Martika sighed. “Taylor, sweetie, it’s fine. We’re road tripping. Get packed.” She hung up the phone with a punch of a button.

  “Are you sure you should be traveling in your condition?” Judith said, sternly. “You went quite pale there for a second.”

  “It happens. This is just first trimester, anyway,” Martika said stubbornly. “And I’ll bring the boys as backup. I certainly won’t be able to drive it.”

  “This is very ill-advised,” Judith remarked, nudging Martika onto the couch and, for lack of anything better to do, getting her a glass of tap water from the kitchen. Martika frowned at it, then got up and headed for her bedroom. “Where are you going?”

  “To pack.”

  “Honestly! It’s not like Sarah even wants you there!” Judith stopped. She hadn’t meant to be that rude—at least, not that blatantly so—but this was ridiculous.

  “That’s fine. I’m sure she doesn’t want me there. We’re going there to stop her.”

  Judith blinked. “Stop her? You mean…just ruin her wedding?”

  “That’s the plan, yes,” Martika called from her open bedroom door. Judith saw her haphazardly stuffing a black duffel bag full of clothes.

  “But…?”

  Martika stopped, a fistful of bras in her hand. She glanced at Judith, her mouth working for a second, then she nodded meaningfully at the bag at Judith’s feet.

  “I just want her to really think about what she’s doing,” Martika said. “He’s an asshole, but if that’s what she really wants…well, we’ll see. I think she’s just doing this out of a misguided sense of comfort, but hey, I could be wrong.”

  Judith thought about it. Comfort. Duty. Direction.

  Why in the hell had she married David?

  She watched, fascinated, as Martika’s eyes flashed, cursing as she zipped her bag shut.

  And what would she have done if friends, people who had cared about her, asked her if she really knew what she was doing when she married the newly graduated law student?