by Brona Mills
‘Thank you. You do more for me than my own mother.’
‘No, I don’t,’ she says. ‘It so happens at this stage of your life, I have access to the things you need. But I only have a business and my home because your parents were good friends to me when I needed it. Now I get to repay that help through you. So the thing I’m going to ask you to do in repayment is start treating your mother how you treat me. Be kind to her. Be nice to her. If you stop thinking about all the things you wished she didn’t do, she might surprise you.’
Cici holds her car door open for me when I climb in with Max in my arms. She takes the written instructions the nurse gave us out of my hand and packs them safely in my purse. Max has fallen asleep in my arms, and I stroke his hair, taking special caution around the bandaged area above his ear.
‘Why the hell was Mike in the waiting room with you when I came out?’
‘He wanted to see that everything was okay. You’re mad he came to check on you?’
‘Just wondering why David didn’t bother to come with him.’
Cici raises her eyebrow. ‘And why haven’t I ever heard of David?’
I sink back in my seat. I never told anyone about David. They would have thought I was crazy, and I didn’t need any more pressure after having a child. Whomever Mike’s friend David is, he’s not my DD. DD wouldn’t want me to go back into a life I hated. He’d ask me what I wanted to do. Counsel me about my life choices. That’s what guardian angels do, right? Maybe—just maybe, David is only a version of DD that could guide me. Maybe the other version of him died in that car crash he spoke about, or when he disappeared into thin air. Maybe here, he gets to live a little and help me at the same time?
‘What were you and Mike talking about? You jumped out of your seat like your ass was on fire, that gossiping ass of yours.’
‘Stella,’ she scolds. ‘I consider you and Pamela my family. And one thing I don’t gossip about is family.’
I smile meekly at her. ‘Sorry, I know that.’
‘I didn’t tell him anything he didn’t already know. You interrupted right as I was about to divulge what colour of underwear the personal trainer was wearing when he snuck out of Marjorie Considine’s bedroom window when her husband came home from France early.’
I snicker. ‘You would think cheating with a personal trainer was supposed to be all hot and muscles and sex on legs. That guy could do with the services of a personal trainer himself.’
Cici looks at me in the mirror. ‘Now who’s a gossip?’
I chuckle again, and the brief escape from my worries is relaxing. I lean my head back and close my eyes.
I hug Max closer to me when the car pulls up outside my townhouse. I climb out, holding him tight. Inside, I toss the hospital receipt Cici paid for on top of the bills on the table by the front door. Good health insurance shouldn’t be a luxury. If I had a great job, like my dad had always planned for me, I wouldn’t have to constantly worry about a fall in the park, or play catch up on utilities.
Pamela is asleep on the armchair, fully dressed and clutching a tissue. I take Max upstairs to my bed. ‘Back in a sec, baby boy,’ I whisper.
Downstairs I pick up the empty wine bottle and the glass at the foot of Pamela’s chair and head for the recycling bucket. Fuck it. I’m sick of clearing up after her. I throw a blanket over her. She’ll be out cold till morning. I lock up for the night and take the empty bottle upstairs with me, depositing it on her bedside table. She’ll find it when she gets up.
I tiptoe into my room and grab my pyjamas from under my pillow.
‘Why you crying, Mommy?’ Max asks.
I dash the tears off my cheeks, climb in behind Max, and curl myself around him. ‘I’m not, baby. Go back to sleep. We’re home now.’ And one day soon, we’ll be home free.
I see David across the street through the boutique window. Even from a distance, and despite the annoying reflection off the glass, I recognise his walk. He commands attention in the way he carries himself, from the sway of his hips and the confidence of what he must carry between them.
Shit, don’t look at his junk, Stella.
His head is high, not intimidated walking down one of the richest streets in America. The expensive clothes he wears are more subtle than other guys our age. He’s not wearing designer labels to show off his money. He focuses on the store and he doesn’t react when two girls pause behind him and giggle, staring at his ass as he crosses the street to the store. He’s coming to see me. Please, be coming to see me.
I wait at the door, ready to greet him, like I would any customer. Hell, if the store were empty, I’d probably dart outside, shake him, and scream at him for not remembering me, for not being my David. I pull the door open gently as he pushes from the other side.
He grins when he sees me. He’s probably flashed that pantie-dropping expression at a million girls, but this smile doesn’t have any bullshit about it—I can spot the bull shitters—he looks happy to see me, or to be here—I’m not sure which.
‘Hi.’ He slides his sunglasses on top of his head.
My eyes linger on his short brown hair that’s just starting to grow out. I’d like to give it a tug while my tongue is inside his mouth. Fuck, I have to stop thinking like this around him. I never thought like this with my David.
Sure, DD was super-hot too, but being older and married meant the pull I felt toward him was more like friends—not friends, that feels like too loose a connection. Soulmates, maybe? We just clicked the moment we met. He snuck up on me, and in those two days in the hospital, climbed into the hole in my chest and filled it with friendship that was missing in my life. This David looks the same, only that he might give me a good fucking too. Shit, I did it again.
‘You going to speak, or are you just waiting for me to repeat myself?’
‘Sorry, what?’ Double fuck.
‘I said I wanted to leave you my number.’ He waves a cell phone.
See . . . fucking. My heart falls like cement into my stomach, cooling off the fantasy I had brewing. It’s not my DD at all.
‘Geez, Mighty. You don’t need to look so pissed that I offered you my number.’ He narrows his brow.
‘Mighty?’
He grins. ‘Just thought a cute little nickname might get your attention.’
‘Mighty isn’t cute or little.’
‘Is when he’s a mouse, or you. You could be a girl mouse.’
‘Have you ever flirted before? Because calling a girl vermin is really not the way.’
David opens his mouth, then closes it again. ‘I wasn’t flirting—well, not intentionally.’ He gulps.
‘So you go around stores, handing your number out to people?’
‘No, I told you. I wanted to give you our number so you can speak to Mike about representation.’
Oh crap, I missed that part when I was in hair-pulling fantasy. I chew on the inside of my lip and nod.
‘Great. I’ll tell him you’re going to call. Later today or tomorrow would be best.’
Shit, I didn’t mean to agree to that.
‘Why are you guys sharing a burner phone?’ I cross my arms.
David smiles. ‘We can’t really afford to be in L.A. We’ve had to cut down on expenses, and Mike’s family aren’t in a position to help him. We’re pooling everything we have just to survive for the time being. He’s a good guy, and he needs this opportunity. We know how good you are, Stella, and this could make a difference to everyone. Give it a shot. Talk to Mike again, okay?’
‘I’ll think about it.’
He tilts his head, waiting for more.
‘I promise to call, but I need to think things through, okay?’
‘Okay.’
I give him the notepad we leave by the cash register, and he writes down their contact details.
‘So what’s with the nickname?’ I ask, filling the silence.
‘Thought it suited you, that’s all.’
‘I look like a mouse?’
&nbs
p; ‘No, you look deceiving.’
‘Two-faced? Huh, guess you really weren’t flirting.’
‘That’s not anywhere near what I said or meant.’ He frowns.
‘Then what did you mean?’
‘You’re cute.’ He drops his gaze to the paper. Could this man’s confidence be wavering? ‘And small, but when you met us the other day, you looked fierce. Like you had a hell of a lot more strength than people would think. You’re not just a total knock-out with designer handbags.’ He hands me the pad.
Even his writing is sexy. It’s bold and confident, like him.
He takes a candy bar from his back pocket and sets it on the counter.
‘What’s that for?’
‘Your son. Mike told me he was hurt yesterday.’ He slides his sunglasses down and walks out the door.
I’m frozen to the spot, staring after him.
Please, David, remember me.
‘Wow,’ Cici speaks behind me.
I swat away a tear and turn to see her gaping at me. ‘Not like you to be stuck for words.’ I deflect.
‘Honey, if I were stuck for words, I wouldn’t be able to tell you that hunk of a man is going to fall in love with you.’
‘I don’t even know him. Not really.’
‘You don’t need to know someone to love them, Stella. Some people were born a match. He might be yours. Call your mom in here. We have to talk about your new job.’
It takes Pamela the rest of the day to get to Beverly Hills. When I called, she had put Max down for a nap and wanted to let him rest before feeding him lunch, packing up a bag of toys and food, and riding the two busses over. If it wasn’t for my giddiness about seeing Max in the middle of the day, I would’ve told Cici to come home with me after closing instead.
We huddle in the back storeroom, and Cici draws the curtain halfway so she can see if the other sales assistant needs a hand. She empties a brown box, turns it upside down for Max to play with, and gives him some crayons.
‘Stella, I know how much you were hurt when you worked in the industry before. We all were. You lost a lot of friends,’ Pamela tells me.
‘I lost my so called friends when we lost money. If I do this, the only thing I need to worry about is the people I let into my life in the first place.’ I look around the packed store room. With the three of us leaning against opposite walls, and Max on the floor, there’s barely enough space to shuffle our feet, let alone pace in frustration. ‘When my life went to shit’—I take Cici’s and my Mom’s hands—‘you two were the only ones who helped me. So this isn’t about getting back to the glitzy life.’ I gaze at Max. ‘It’s about this little thing here. He deserves a better life than I can give him right now.’
‘We’re doing okay.’ Pamela stands straighter.
I suck in a breath. ‘We’re not. We owe two month’s rent, and I can’t catch up. I’ve missed three utility bills. I’m juggling them each month, giving each one a little money. We can’t keep going. The only places we can afford to live are not places I want Max growing up in.’
‘You should’ve told me,’ Cici says.
‘You’re not in any position to help. You pay me more than the other girls, and my commission is always topped up even if I don’t meet my sales targets. I know the hospital bill last night went on your credit card. Don’t tell me you have anything to give me, ’cause I think you’re in trouble too, and it’s because of me. I’ve been given an opportunity at a job that could get me out of this and pay you back. I’d be an idiot not to take it. I still have a lot of contacts and favours I could call in. With a lot of work and a strategy plan, media attack, résumé polishing, and audition tutoring, all Mike will need is one big break, and we’ll be moving. He’s hungry enough.’ I let out a deep breath. There’s always the chance neither Mike nor I will make any money for a while.
My mom slips her hand in mine. ‘You remind me so much of your father when he was younger. He had so much drive and talent. He taught you well.’
I smile at her.
‘I only wish he’d taught me too.’ Her shoulders slump and I recognise the self-deprecating thoughts crossing her face. ‘I wish I could help you, but things right now . . .’
‘I understand they’re bad, but maybe we can all work together if I manage to pull this off.’
‘Stella.’ Pamela meets my eye, determination in her tone. ‘There isn’t a doubt in my mind you can make a success out of anyone. Half the work your dad’s company retained was actually due to you pulling the strings in the office. In the later years, anyway.’
I snort. ‘Yeah, and look how that worked out.’
‘Your father invested his money badly. Or whored it away.’
‘Sh,’ I scold her, tilting my head to Max.
‘Hell, I bet you could even get that David a career too.’ Cici chuckles. ‘They are lookers, the pair of them. Must be something in the water over there. Remind me to retire in England.’
‘Last week you said Barbados. You’re going to have to pick between the weather or the men.’
‘Well, isn’t my life just full of difficulties.’ She winks.
The three of us laugh, and I pick Max up off the floor and squeeze him tight. ‘You really think I can do this?’
‘You were born doing this,’ Mom tells me.
Sunday, April 22, 1997
Lakewood, California.
‘How are you getting on?’ Mom asks from the kitchen doorway.
‘Good.’ I clear some notes off the other chair, and she sits next to me. ‘Thank god Cici lets me take her laptop home in the evenings. I’ve most of the ground work already established.’ The dead of the night is a calming time for me to get through some work. Especially since Pamela has been putting Max to sleep. With the TV off and the kitchen already wiped down for the evening, there’s nothing stopping me from working till midnight.
‘It’s only been two weeks. You don’t mess around, do you?’ She smiles. ‘Max is asleep.’
‘Thanks for helping out in the evenings too,’ I say. ‘This really is team work, getting this business up and running.’
She nods. ‘When your dad and I were married, and his career was in full swing, I used to feel bad that I couldn’t help out. I wanted to be useful, so I’m glad I can help you this time around.’
‘You’ve always helped me.’ I tap the top of her hand, not quite at the hand squeezing and hugging stage yet. ‘Even if I never told you, I should have. The only reason I’m able to work the hours I do is because you look after Max.’ I swallow hard. ‘Thank you.’ It’s the first time I’ve said those words to her in years.
‘You’re welcome.’ She pats my leg. ‘You want some coffee?’ She gets up and flicks the switch on the machine.
‘God, yes.’
‘You know, one thing your dad did let me do was decorate his office. I was really good at it. When you’re ready, let me know, and I’ll see what I can do.’
I shrug. ‘Dad had a lot more spare cash than we’re going to have for a while.’
‘There are lots of things you can do on a budget, if you’re willing to get your hands dirty.’
I look at her hands. ‘I know you don’t get manicures anymore, but do you really want to get them dirty?’
‘Why not?’ She smiles and this time it reaches her eyes. ‘In the meantime, can you do me a favour?’
‘Sure.’
‘Tell me what you’re doing.’ She sits again and scoots the chair closer to me. ‘I want to know exactly how this all works.’
I chuckle. ‘Well, I haven’t pulled it off yet.’ I shove the laptop to the end of the table and pull up a document. ‘I’m drafting emails so I can send them when I arrive at the boutique tomorrow morning and connect to the store’s Internet. I’ll check for replies at lunchtime and before I leave for the day.’
I open a folder and show my mom the contents. ‘We’ve had headshots taken for free, thanks to Joanne. She’s an established photographer, who started her career with me
through Dad’s agency. Once I finalise Mike’s résumé, she’ll print them in exchange for publicity once I have my new website up.’
‘How do you get a website?’
‘Isaac is going to help with that.’
She shrugs. ‘Why Cici divorced him, I’ll never know.’
‘You never know what goes on in people’s relationships.’
‘That’s true.’
‘I’ve contacted the girls who used to work with Dad, and a couple of interns I used to know, who are now assistant producers for casting directors.’ I’ve worked so much on this, as well as in the boutique, I only get to see Max briefly in the mornings and evening. ‘How about the day after tomorrow, we pack a picnic and spend the whole day in the park? Max needs to get his confidence back on the jungle gym.’
‘I’d like that.’ She squeezes my hand.
Upstairs in Cici’s office, after a disastrous practice audition Mike read for me, I realise the only mistake I made these past few weeks of starting my agency business was not checking to see if Mike could act. He’s not terrible, but he’s not mind-blowing either. He’s average. Average we can work with, but it’s going to take time. With all the favours I’m going to have to call in, I’m spending all that I have.
He’ll need acting workshops, maybe even a voice coach to control his wavering inflections. He’s going to have to chase this harder, because I can’t quit. Not now I’ve glimpsed a life where I wasn’t worried about paying bills or buying school supplies. Shit, Max hasn’t even started school yet, and there’s no way I can afford it if this doesn’t work. Mike needs to be shown what making it can look like in this part of the world.
‘I think we’ve done all we can for today. Can I borrow this?’ I hold up the book he read from.
‘Sure. I haven’t read it in a while anyway.’
That fucker. Sheer tiredness and the ridiculousness of him admitting his lack of preparation has me laughing rather than giving him hell. I smack him on the side with the damn book, but miss, and he takes most of the hit with his arm. ‘Don’t ever go to an audition unprepared again.’