The Baby Plan

by Kate Rorick

  “They say Vanessa was banging that guy from her ex-husband’s band—the one with the hair! Like, in her trailer.”

  “I heard he’s got a pregnant girlfriend, too.”

  “No!”

  “She’s not famous or anything, but still . . .”

  But still.

  The worst was when Roger, the producer, brought her into his office.

  “So . . . Sophia.”

  “Roger,” she replied.

  “We are almost done with the season.”

  “True.”

  “I’ve been told that things have become . . . complicated in your personal life. And I’m sorry for that. Betrayal . . . is a horrible thing.” Roger shook his head, sighing. Sophia raised a brow.

  “If you want to take some time . . .”

  “No, I want to do my job,” Sophia replied. “Like you said, the season is almost done.”

  “Okay. I just want to make sure that . . . we finish out the season without any extra problems. We’re going to have press on set tomorrow, writing a color article on the finale and on Vanessa. And Vanessa’s . . . under a lot of pressure.” Roger came around the desk, and leaned against it, looming over Sophia. “Let’s get through this together.”

  Sophia looked up at him from beneath her lashes. “Absolutely,” she chirped.

  So when she came to set this morning, it was with a new resolution. No more rage. No being hurt. Just . . . getting through it.

  But that was before Kip decided to dive into the toilet cubicle of the makeup trailer, hiding himself away right before the door swung open and Vanessa Faire made her entrance.

  Sniffling up tears, and with red-rimmed eyes.

  “Sophia!” she said, her voice breaking. “I . . . I’m so glad you’re here.”

  “Where else would I be?” she asked, surprised to find her voice serene. “This is my workspace.”

  “Right,” Vanessa said. She folded her arms against herself, trying to make herself smaller. More vulnerable.

  “Would you like me to find Kip for you?”

  “No. You’re the one I wanted to see.” Vanessa took a deep breath. “I need to apologize to you.”

  Sophia blinked so hard she was surprised she wasn’t accidentally sending Morse code.

  “On behalf of both of us. But especially on my own behalf, because . . . because we were friends once.” Vanessa sniffled. “Do you mind if I sit down?”

  Before Sophia could answer either way, Vanessa slid herself into Sophia’s makeup chair.

  “It never should have happened. Sebastian and me. I honestly don’t know what came over us. I . . .” Vanessa sighed deeply, and turned the chair around, so she was looking at Sophia in the mirror. Their usual positions. Where Sophia was behind her, in servitude, and Vanessa had control.

  “I think I was jealous. I had been for a long time. My relationship fell apart, while yours with Sebastian was just starting. And he and I had been friends for so long, we just understood each other, fundamentally, you know?”

  “Hmm” was the only reply Sophia could make. It was unreal. She had listened to Vanessa tell morning-after stories before, recounted tales of her breakups and makeups with her ex-husband (or any guy she might be seeing). She could always nod sympathetically and act shocked at the appropriate moments at those, because they didn’t personally involve her.

  But now, it seemed like Vanessa was expecting the same kind of treatment.

  “And then you got pregnant, and everyone was so happy. But Sebastian—he told me that he was conflicted, being out on the road—and I understood that conflict, because my life is nothing if not hectic . . . I mean, when would I have time for a baby, regardless of what the tabloids say?”

  Sophia waited. Half-curious to know if Vanessa really did feel badly about her actions.

  But then she got her answer.

  “I mean, part of me thinks you should be thanking me, because of Sebastian’s doubts. Everyone knew about them, and now you do, too.”

  “Thank you?” she replied in disbelief, but Vanessa seemed to hear it as an actual thanks, since she smiled pityingly at Sophia in the mirror.

  “I know, that’s so selfish of me to think, but it’s true.” Vanessa sighed, and brushed her hair off her shoulder. In the mirror, she dropped her gaze from Sophia’s eyes, to her own reflection. “I know you’re hurt. And you have every right to be. But I know that you’ll recover, and when you do, I hope you can find it in your heart to forgive me.”

  Sophia cocked her head to the side.

  “Why?”

  The gentle smile slid slightly from Vanessa’s face. “Why?”

  “You’ve never done anything without something being in it for you, so . . . why would you come here to beg my forgiveness?”

  Vanessa let out a long, rueful sigh.

  “Because I need you. In my life. Kip is great and all, but he’s not you. You’ve always gotten me. Understood what I need to do my job. Known exactly how to highlight my cheekbones. You’re too important to Team Vanessa to treat this way.”

  “Team Vanessa?” Sophia managed to say through her incredulity.

  “You are a founding member of Team Vanessa!” she said. “And I need you. To do my makeup, to be my confidant. I miss you.”

  Vanessa let her (admittedly well performed) heartfelt plea hang in the air. Sophia waited until Vanessa was visibly uncomfortable with the silence.

  “Which do you miss more, Vanessa?” She raised a brow. “My friendship, or my ability to make you look good?”

  Vanessa only hesitated long enough to paste a smile on her face. “Your friendship obviously! I do so hope we can rebuild our bridge of trust.”

  “Right. Our bridge of trust.”

  “However, right now, I need your ability to make me look good more.”

  “What about Kip?”

  “Kip is . . . fine.” Vanessa shrugged, and Sophia swore she heard a gasp of indignation from the toilet. “But today’s the big finale. And there’s a bunch of reporters here. Entertainment Weekly is going to put me on the cover for the season finale!” She squealed and clapped her hands like an excited child. “I want you to do my makeup. Come on, let’s show all these gossiping PAs and grips and camera guys that we are bigger and better than our personal differences.”

  There it was. The looming threat. If Sophia didn’t do her makeup, and do it well, the whole crew would know it was because of her own pettiness. That she was the problem.

  “Okay,” Sophia said.

  “Okay?” Vanessa repeated. Then leaped out of the chair to hug Sophia.

  She managed to keep herself from wrenching herself free.

  “Thank you!” Vanessa sniffled. Then she turned back around, flung herself into the chair, and smoothed the crocodile tears away from her eyes. “Oh, I’m so glad we can both be adults. Today is too important to leave to chance. I need to look absolutely amazing. Stunning.”

  Sophia dug into the plastic drawer organizer that held all the foundations, praying that Kip hadn’t gotten rid of what she needed. She managed to keep her smile to herself as her fingers closed around the little compact labeled Pale Moon.

  “Don’t worry. I will make you look more incredible than you ever have in your life.”

  SOPHIA DIDN’T OFTEN go to set. Usually she was too busy prepping for the next scene to watch them film the current one. But this time, she just couldn’t help herself. She needed to see Vanessa in all her glory.

  She tiptoed onto the stage, being sure to keep to the shadows that lined the bright environs of the set—which happened to be a snow cave, built out of foam board and plaster. Here, Vanessa would have her big scene. She, as the impervious Billie, would wail and rend her clothes and cry out in pain for her lost love, who was turned into a frost giant. This of course, was a massive spoiler, so the reporters who currently chatted with one of the writer-producers in the corner had signed NDAs, embargoing the big secret until it was slated to air.

  She ignored all the
looks, and all the whispers. And she walked straight up to the person she needed to see.

  “Hey, Gary,” she said, and the camera operator turned around. Slowly, because he had a heavy steady camera apparatus strapped to his torso. Gary liked to say he was two inches shorter than he had been fifteen years ago when he first took the job as a steady cam operator.

  “Sophia,” Gary replied with a smile. “What can I do for you?”

  “Just wondering . . . how did the DP light this scene?”

  Gary looked at her quizzically. “Same as always. Vanessa requested a warm amber glow but the director nixed it since she’s supposed to be freezing her balls off in an ice cave.”

  “Great. That’s perfect.”

  “Perfect for what?” Gary replied. His eyes narrowed shrewdly. “What are you up to?”

  “Nothing,” Sophia chirped. “Just . . . do me a favor, and let her get one take in first. She always likes her first take best.”

  Gary looked Sophia up and down, and shook his head. “Only because you deserve better than they treated you.”

  “Thanks, Gary,” she said.

  “Don’t thank me, thank my union. Hopefully they’ll have my back.”

  Then, Sophia receded to the shadows. She didn’t have to wait very long. Vanessa, fresh from the costume department, came striding in, and the entire set jumped to the ready.

  “Hello! Good morning!” she called out, waving to various crewmembers without breaking her stride. She only detoured when she got to the reporters.

  “Kara! Marc! Wonderful to see you again!” Air kisses were deployed, arms clasped. “Keep your eyes open and your recorders handy—you’re about to see a show!”

  And she was off to confer with the director.

  No one said anything about her makeup, of course. Because in this light, her makeup looked fairly normal. Perhaps slightly paler than usual, but hey, she was supposed to be in an ice cave.

  But once she got under the hot lights, and was viewed through a camera . . .

  “Gary! Can we go?” Vanessa called out. “I’m ready, I feel it, let’s do it!”

  When the lead actor was ready, the set accommodated. People scrambled to make sure everything was in place. Grips did final checks of their equipment. Last looks were called.

  Sophia went up to Vanessa, gave her one last check. “Knock ’em dead,” she said.

  And then, the director settled into his chair next to the video monitors. His eyes met Vanessa’s. “And . . . action!”

  Something shifted in Vanessa with that word. She bent slightly, moved . . . and transformed herself into Billie. She spoke her dialogue in a voice shaking with emotion. She called out to the frost giant/lost love who was frozen in the ice. She railed against the alien race that put him there. She swore her vengeance against their leader. And she cried out for her mother, and for the child (spoiler!) that was growing in her belly.

  When the lines were done, when Vanessa’s sniffles subsided, the entire set continued to hold their breath. Until . . .

  “Cut!”

  Then, everyone—everyone—burst into applause. Even Sophia. She couldn’t deny that Vanessa was damned good.

  “Vanessa!” the director called out, rushing up to her. “That was the most amazing thing I’ve ever seen!”

  “It was, wasn’t it?” Vanessa said, laughing with relief as the director helped her up off the floor. “I left everything on that floor. I’m spent.”

  “I’m sure it came through.”

  “Did you watch it on the monitors?”

  “No—I was too enthralled watching you.”

  “Oh, then let’s see it,” Vanessa said, clutching his arm. “Now?”

  “Absolutely. I want to relive that moment again and again.”

  As everyone gathered around the monitors, from the lowest PA to the highest producer, to the reporters, Sophia decided now was a good time to start moving toward the doors.

  Because as soon as Vanessa’s face came up on the monitor, the celebration stopped.

  “ . . . What . . . is . . . that?” Vanessa said, stone-faced.

  “What do you mean?” the director asked. Then, peering closer, “Oh. Oh my. GARY!”

  “What?” Gary replied, feigning innocence as well as Vanessa did. “I thought that was a choice.”

  “You think it was my choice to look like a rotting zombie?!” Vanessa screeched.

  “Vanessa, darling,” the director said in his most soothing voice. “We will just do it again.”

  “You think I can do that again? I gave the take everything—everything! And that bitch—”

  “Bitch?” It must have been one of the reporters asking.

  “She did this to me! Get away from me, you fucking dolt!” Some poor PA had no doubt gotten into her eye line. “Are you deaf as well as stupid? Move!!! I’m so fucking done with this. I’m done! I’m better than this goddamned show, better than stupid frost giants! Better than . . . basic cable!”

  Vanessa’s meltdown echoed through the stage, and into the reporters’ cameras and tape recorders, reaching Sophia’s ears as she strode away from this job, toward the outdoors.

  And strode toward freedom.

  Chapter 24

  AS APRIL SLID AWAY AND MAY CAME WITH the advent of a SoCal summer, the days were beginning to blur together in their scarcity and importance.

  The countdown had begun. As Nathalie’s calendar flipped to May, all the way at the bottom there was the circled due date—May 31st. And every day before it was packed with events and information. The AP tests. Finals. Doctor’s appointments. Getting one last haircut before the baby arrived. Getting her car serviced, and the car seat installed. Placing everything breakable on a high shelf. Putting those little plastic outlet covers in all the lower outlets. Finally transferring all those old home movies from VHS to digital that had been sitting in the closet of what was now the baby’s room and wouldn’t have anywhere to go.

  There was no putting it off anymore. Things had to get done.

  But it was also time to start relaxing. Her body was crying out for it. Every day when she got home, she collapsed on the couch, which now bore a deep indentation of her body. She slept hard at night for short stretches, and then woke fitfully. Things were sore she didn’t know could be sore. She was doing all the work she could, trying desperately to finish out the school year for her seniors, but more than once she had to resist the urge to just let her students watch a movie, and use the fifty-five minutes of class time to let her mind stop running.

  Back in olden times, they called it one’s “confinement”—when one just stayed home, and put her (swollen) feet up, letting her body rest before the stress of having a baby.

  And Nathalie was ready for it. Just as soon as she took care of one or two little things.

  After all, it wasn’t every day a girl went to the senior prom.

  “Are you sure you’re okay going to prom without me?” David said, watching as Nathalie pulled a silk wrap around her green sheath dress, trying to disguise the well-stretched aspect of the only garment she had left that was vaguely decent. With strappy metallic sandals, large earrings, and some judicious low lighting in the reception hall, she should pass muster.

  Of course, nothing could overcome the fact that she had to wear her glasses.

  That’s right, there was a new symptom to add to the ever-growing list of pregnancy annoyances—her contact lenses no longer fit properly.

  As Dr. Duque explained it during her last visit, “your body retains fluid during pregnancy. It retains this fluid everywhere—including your eyes. Sometimes, it subtly changes their shape.”

  Meaning, her contact lenses felt like a pair of too-tight jeans on her eyeball. The assurance that this was temporary didn’t do much to appease when one was trying to hold on to their beauty standards by tooth and nail (and eyeball).

  But in this instance, it was workable—the glasses helped distract from the sheath dress.

  “Don’t pretend
for one second that you wanted to put on a suit and come to the high school senior prom,” she said, smiling back at him.

  “Oh no, don’t misunderstand.” He came up and wrapped his arms around what remained of her waist. “I am ecstatic that you said I didn’t have to go to prom. I wear suits all day, I don’t need that on my Saturday night. But, I just want to make sure you’re okay going without me.”

  She pecked him on the lips. “I’ll be fine. I’m only thirty-six weeks, we still have plenty of time.” It was true, even though it didn’t feel like it with that circle on the calendar now visible. “I’m not even driving, I’m taking an Uber. And Lyndi will be with me.”

  “Lyndi’s going?” David’s brow quirked up.

  “Her co-op is doing the flowers. I invited her to stick around after they do the setup, so she’s like my junior chaperone.”

  “Think Lyndi’s up to that level of responsibility?” David asked, wryly.

  Nathalie thought of the role Lyndi played in uncovering David’s secret Twitter confessional. “Of late, I have been nothing but surprised by my sister’s ability to solve problems.”

  Indeed, Lyndi was in problem-solving mode when Nathalie arrived. She found her sister in the ballroom of the rented reception hall, giving instructions to one of the staff.

  “No, the crystal beads have to drape from the flowers! Fall like raindrops!”

  “Wow,” Nathalie said, in complete awe.

  Bowers of fat, white flowers greeted her in the entryway. Crystals dripped from them, like diamonds. Tarnished gilt and silver lent a touch of old elegance. Romance mingled with drama and celebration in Lyndi’s designs.

  This was the tenth prom Nathalie had attended—not including her own—she was used to the prom committee pulling out all the stops. Not to mention a lot of the kids’ parents worked in the entertainment industry, so they knew how to create an illusion. But the place looked so good, you could almost forget that they were in the middle of a Burbank rented reception hall, with sound-dampening ceiling tiles and hollow Greek columns. Instead they were transported to the coast of Long Island in the 1920s, attending the party of the summer in style at the mansion of the mysterious Jay Gatsby.