“I know,” I hang my head slightly. The bartender gets to us and Declan orders another beer, as I order a gin and tonic.
“Is this on Mr. and Mrs. McMahon’s tab?” the bartender suddenly asks us as he swipes Adam’s empty glass off the counter. Declan and I look up at each other.
Slowly I bite my lip and give the bartender a smile, “Yes, they are. Courtesy of Mr. McMahon, he’s so generous isn’t he?”
The bartender shrugs, “Never tips very well.”
Figures.
“He plans to make that up to you tonight,” Declan states matter of factly. “Five dollar tip for every drink we order he says. On the tab.”
“Are you serious?” the bartender struggles to hold back a grin.
Declan nods and takes a seat on the stool next to me, “Yup. So keep them coming.” The bartender scurries away to make the drinks and Declan looks over at me.
“Adam, is going to kill you,” I tell him with a chuckle. “And me, I guess.”
“We’ll give the bartender fake names,” Declan suggests. “I doubt he watches Daughters of Famous Mothers.” I nod in agreement and set my arms down on the bar.
“Speaking of,” Declan goes on, “what’d your mother think about you doing the show again?”
I shrug as I answer, “I didn’t tell her, although I’m sure she knows now that it’s trending online…”
“Well she doesn’t know yet,” he says. “Oscar hasn’t gotten a phone call.”
“Thank God for that. I always felt bad for him when she called.”
Declan chuckles after he takes a drink of his beer. “She’s a scary lady. I mean, I only met her the one time but it became clear that she isn’t a woman to mess with.”
I think back on their meeting. Four months into the filming of season one, my mother showed up, fresh from her latest divorce. She watched us film two scenes from behind Declan and Oscar, and then threw a fit because she wasn’t pleased with my screen time.
“Right, I remember that,” I nod my head. “I believe she called you and Oscar...what was it?”
“‘Talentless hacks’,” he’s quick to reply and as I cringe, he smirks. “It’s alright, I’ve been called worse. Besides I don’t think she hated me as much as she hated Oscar.”
“Or Diana,” I add.
“Well, that was because Diana didn’t know how to dial down the ass-kissing,” Declan claims with a shrug. “You’re mother doesn’t seem the kind who appreciates that.”
“She certainly dialed down the ass-kissing down this time around,” I scoff as I think about her dig about Duncan Chocolates.
Declan lets out a long breath, “Yeah. She’s said some not nice things about Duncan’s Chocolates during her interviews.”
“Surprise, surprise.”
A silence sweeps between us for a few moments. “So, what did you do on your day off?”
“Cold calls,” he answers, “to a few directors and producers. I’m trying to get this documentary off the ground.”
“Was it what you were supposed to do instead of this?” I ask.
“No, that was something different. That was about a pack of lions that have been attacking tribes in Africa,” he tells me. The bartender sets down our drinks and we thank him. I take a big drink while Declan continues. “It was going on for two years, nobody was ever killed but a few were seriously wounded. Anyway, the villagers believed the lions were holy and that they were being punished for allowing a group of white men visit them. The visitors brought germs and an elder died, probably from a common cold or flu. So for two years they let the lions deal out what they thought was revenge from their gods.”
“Whoa, that actually sounds pretty interesting,” I admit. “I’m sorry that the funding fell through.”
Declan frowns and shakes his head. “Funding didn’t fall through. The lion killed a family of their sheep which the villagers saw as an omen. So the villagers caught and skinned the lions two days before we were supposed to fly out.”
I don’t know why I laugh but I do. Even Declan smirks, “I know. Ironic.”
I speak through my laughter, “Well, I’m sorry that happened.”
“Yeah,” he sighs after taking a drink of his beer, “me too.”
We sit silently for a moment, just taking a few sips until I break it. “What did Peter say to you? About Adam?”
Declan swallows the beer in his mouth and smiles as he looks into my eyes, “Nothing. He wouldn’t talk to us. It’s just fun to get under Adam’s skin.”
“You never use to do that,” I remember as I play with the straw in my gin n tonic. “Back in the day when we first started filming.”
“Well I didn’t think he was that big of a jerk off,” Declan answers. He takes a slow drink of his beer.
I remember our short conversation during the wine and cheese night. “If you weren’t friends with Adam when we were filming, why’d you spend so much time with him? Everyone thought you two were friends.”
“Adam wanted to be friends, but there was always something about him that rubbed me the wrong way. I couldn’t put my finger on it.” Declan takes a drink of his beer. “Then I realized it's because he’s a user. During the entire first season, you remember what he was trying to pitch me?” I scrunch my face up so Declan goes on. “His idea for a reality show around his booming plastic surgery practice. As if we didn’t have dozens of those airing at the time.”
I grab Declan’s arm and shake my head, “He never told me that. He never told me he wanted to do his own show.”
Was that why he pushed for me to do the show in the first place? So he could make a transition from one show to another as his clientele grew?
“Surprise, surprise. I figured it was why he hooked up with Di. To use her contacts to get something up and running. After it became clear to him I wouldn’t bite, and that you didn’t care for that kind of thing.” He takes another swig of his beer.
I want to tell him I know what he did but I can’t make the words out.
I’m sitting in a pile of those familiar comfortable feelings that always bubbled up around Declan way back when. I don’t even know if I hate myself for it, at this moment. Could it be the empty stomach and alcohol at work?
“So,” Declan clears his throat and pushes away his empty beer before looking over at me. “Round two?”
I smile at him as my feet swing beneath me, “Sure.”
Chapter Eleven
I wake up to a pounding headache, a dry mouth, and wobbly legs.
I haven’t been this hungover in almost three years.
Somehow I manage to peel myself out of bed and get into the bathroom to drink from the sink. I splash water on my face and head back to my bed, where I hear my cell phone ring loudly on the nightstand. I reach for it as I crash down on the messy bed.
My voice rumbles as I answer it, “He-llo?”
“Jules?” comes Angie’s sweet voice. “You sound awful.”
“Ugh,” I fall back on the bed gently. “I drank way too much last night. I don’t even remember how I got to my room.”
“Did you and Reagan make up?”
“Hardly. She’s a stone wall,” I mutter.
“Then who did you drink with?”
I blink a few times until I remember. “Declan. On Adam and Diana’s tab.”
“Hold on. I don’t even know what to ask you first. Why were you drinking on Adam and Diana’s tab? Are you friendly with them? Wait...Jules, you and Adam haven’t...please tell me that you haven’t—”
“God, no!” I scream, and as I do a sharp pain rocks my temples. I hiss through my teeth as I wait for it to pass. “No, Ange, no. Adam and Diana and I are far from friendly. I expect to get a hissy fit from both of them when they get their tab. I think Declan and I closed the bar…”
“Are you guys friends again? I thought you hated him?”
“Ange. Stop. It’s too many questions for this kind
of hangover,” I groan as I shut my eyes. “But I don’t know.”
“Okay, just be careful with him,” Angie warns. “With all of them. Don’t forget what happened last time, and what they did.”
“I won’t.”
She sighs, “Well I’m just calling to let you know I sent you something. It should get to you by tonight.”
“What is it?”
“It’s a surprise, something to cheer you up!”
“A teleportation device?”
“You wish. Anyway, go have a cup of coffee and take some aspirin. You sound awful and I bet you don’t look that great either.”
“I'm too scared to look in the mirror.”
She laughs and bids me goodbye. After five more minutes staring at the suite ceiling, I pull my legs off the bed and drag my body back to the bathroom. I gasp at the sight of myself in the bathroom mirror. Raccoon eyes, smeared lipstick against my cheek, one section of my hair looks teased while the other frizzes statically around my neck. I’m still in the dress from last night.
I cringe, before twirling to turn on the shower.
Forty minutes later, after hearing a knock on my suit door, I leave my bathroom looking fresh but feeling just as groggy and grappling with the same dull headache. Begrudgingly, I pull open the door and look out.
It’s Declan, in dark jeans and a grey sweater, with a small smile on his face. In his hands are two takeout coffees. He pushes one of them at me, “Good morning.”
I groan as I take it and head back into my suite, “Is it?”
“Oh I had a feeling it wouldn’t be,” he says as he follows me. When I turn around to face him, he retrieves something from his pocket and hands it to me. Two small white aspirins. “Extra strength.”
“Thanks,” I mutter as I swipe them from his hands. “And thanks for the coffee.” I pop the pills into my mouth and swallow with a swig of the hot coffee. “What happened last night? Did we close the bar?”
“You closed the bar,” Declan tells me. “I had the pleasure of carrying you up to your room.”
Oh no.
“Did I do, or say, anything—”
“Sure, you went off on how you hate my guts and how everyone will hate my guts when they find out what I did.” He grins as he takes a drink of his coffee. “I’m assuming you can clarify that to me, being sober now and all?”
I stare at him, as he watches me expectantly and I suddenly get all nervous. “I was drunk. Who knows what I meant.”
Why didn’t I just tell him I know? What’s wrong with me?
He doesn’t buy it. “You do know, children and drunk people always tell the truth, right?”
I snort. “Where did you get that? Off a t-shirt?”
“Coffee mug, actually,” he jokes.
“What’s on the agenda for today?” I ask him, hoping it’s enough to change the subject.
“You didn’t read the schedule? It’s sleigh rides.”
I let out a laugh until I see his serious look. “Seriously?”
“Yup. So,” he gestures at my dresser next to him, “suit up. I’ll wait out here.”
Ten minutes later I’m in my ski outfit, leaving the room to join Declan in the hallway.
“Sleigh rides. It’s not even Christmas,” I remark as I hand him my coffee so I can slip on my gloves as we head down the hall. “Who am I riding with?”
“Reagan.”
I look at him as we hit the bottom of the stairs. “Really?”
“Yeah, so maybe don’t mess it up this time,” Declan remarks as drinks his coffee.
I think about our conversation in Jill’s room last night. “Did I—did I ever do anything to you, that you know, had you angry at me?”
He sighs then smiles, mischievously. “Which time?”
“Ha, ha, very funny” I reply. “But I’m being serious. Reagan said something yesterday to me, about you.”
He frowns slightly. “What did she say?”
“That you forgave me for something, but she wouldn’t say what.”
He clears his throat, as he scratches the back of his neck. His frown intensifies and it looks like he’s trying to figure out what to say. “Uh, I don’t know what she’s talking about. I don’t think I gave her the impression that I was angry with you.”
I don’t believe him. “Really?”
“Yup. Pretty sure.” He takes a drink of his coffee quickly. “So, just try a little harder with her today for the cameras. I don’t know if I can change arrangements anymore without Oscar losing his head.”
“Alright,” I agree, “and uh, thank you. For sticking her with me, again.”
“Man, if I were keeping IOU’s, you’d owe me for a lifetime,” he smirks as he begins to walk away from me.
“I would not,” I throw back as I run after him. “I would owe you like two…”
We get to the ski lounge and see that everyone else is already there. Adam and Diana are off to the side, Adam on his cell phone and Diana giving an earful to Armin. I take my eyes off them as I reach Reagan and Brooke, who are getting patched up with their microphones.
“Good morning,” I yawn.
“Is it?” Brooke asks, I catch her quick glance towards Declan and then me. She raises an eyebrow suggestively and I frown at her. “I heard you and Declan partied it up late last night.”
“Hardly,” I let out a small laugh.
“You look hungover,” Reagan declares giving me a once over. “Are you going to throw up today?”
I exclaim. “No! I just have a bit of a headache.”
“I don’t care if you don’t have guests by those names! Find them today!” The three of us look over at Diana whose shrieking at Armin, Adam casts her a frustrated frown before stepping away to continue on with his call.
“What is she screaming about now?” I ask Reagan and Brooke.
“Somebody spent over five hundred dollars on their bar tab yesterday,” Brooke whispers to me. I lift my arms in the air as Liz, the microphone woman, approaches me with my set. “Armin told her it was probably a one day pass holder because the names of the drinkers aren’t in the computer.”
I bite the inside of my mouth to hide my laugh. “Awful.”
Diana lets out a scream and we all look over at her as she points a finger at Armin. “You’re letting me be robbed! I am getting robbed and you are doing nothing about it! I’m an innocent victim!”
I can’t help but snicker as I glimpse over to Declan who stands behind one of the cameras. He’s also chuckling to himself as he looks down at a clipboard in his hands. I look away as Oscar calls our attention but catch Reagan’s stare. Her small eyes bore into me.
Does she—No, there is no way she knows it was us.
“Everybody!” Oscar calls again, “Everybody gather around!”
Jill had an emergency, and had to back out of filming the sleigh rides. This meant that Brooke had to ride with me and Reagan, while Diana and Adam rode in the other sleigh in front of us. The sleighs are small, but bright red. Enough room for three people, and that’s squished together. We got a crash course on how the trail we were to take has markers on the trees and takes about an hour. There are checkpoints as well, small cabins with ski lodge employees if we need assistance. Reagan opted to learn how to command the horse for us, and Adam for him and Diana.
After an hour of instruction, and suggested talk points from both Oscar and Declan, we set off. Two other sleighs near us, a camera crew in each, Oscar in one and Declan in the other.
The first part of the route is in a long trail in the forest, set between bushy pine trees and naked maple trees. It is truly a lovely sight, the snow is fresh and light, bundles of it sit against the pathway like gleaming walls. The sun shines brightly down at us, and though it’s cold, it’s far from bitter or sharp against the face.
Not more than five minutes in, Adam and Diana speed off ahead of us, Diana
giving a loud excited cry. Oscar’s sleigh struggles to catch up and stay on the pathway next to them without cutting into their shot.
“Did anybody talk to Jill this morning?” I ask Brooke and Reagan.
Reagan sits on the bench in front of us, her back to the two of us, as she holds the reins of the horse in her gloved hands.
“Briefly,” Brooke answers me as she wraps her fuzzy orange scarf tighter around her bare neck. “Her PR team is dropping the ball when it comes to these ridiculous rumors. By the time they put out press releases, or comment to the media, the rumor has hit her suppliers and investors.”
“That’s awful,” Reagan says loudly, so she can be heard over the swash of the sleigh tracks.
“If only she could find the source of the rumors,” Brooke sighs.
I look over at Reagan but can’t see her face.
“How did your dinner with Diana go last night?” I ask, remembering that Oscar stressed that question to me above all others.
Brooke turns slightly to face me. “It started out awkward. We had nothing to say to each other. Then she apologizes, saying that she didn’t mean to lash out at me, she was just frustrated at Jill. She says Jill thinks she started and spread the rumor when all she did was tell a mutual friend what she heard. She tells me she feels like she’s the villain and that everyone is against her and that nobody understands who she truly is. She cried.”
“She cried?” I repeat. “Real tears?”
“Yeah, right at the table. About how she has been trying to show her side of the story in life and nobody gives her the chance. How Adam wants a baby and she isn’t ready so he—”
“Stop,” I sit up as I interrupt her. “Adam wants a baby?”
“That’s what she said,” Brooke nods. “It was all very sad. She knows it’s logically the next step for the two of them but she doesn’t think it’s right, right now. Her words.” Brooke takes a breath and leans back into her seat. “You know? I felt bad for her. I feel bad for her. There clearly is lots we don’t know about Diana. Maybe we should all give her a chance…”
Something doesn’t sit right. I can feel my brow crinkle as I keep my eyes on Brooke. Diana, be vulnerable? Why is that so hard for me to believe? And Adam, wanting a baby? Adam never wanted kids. He hates kids.
Reuniting Reality Page 14