Outside In

by Courtney Thorne-Smith

  “What does that mean?” asked Kate.

  “It means that you may very well be entitled to a percentage of his earnings as well.”

  “So, she gets ten percent of his ten percent of her income?” asked Paige, confused.

  “No,” said Frank with a chuckle. “Although that would be interesting, wouldn’t it?”

  Kate was too nervous to join in the laughter. “Frank, what does it mean?”

  “Well, it means that if the court agrees that you have basically bankrolled his business, which should be fairly easy to prove, since yours is the only traceable income, you may be entitled to a percentage of his income in perpetuity—and certainly to a piece of any business deals that were agreed to during the course of your marriage.”

  “Wow, that’s great,” said Paige.

  “Yeah,” snorted Kate, “until you realize that I’m his only client.”

  “No, you aren’t,” said Paige, grinning. “You are forgetting Sapphire Rose.”

  “Oh my god,” gasped Kate, the pieces falling into place. “Does that mean that I could get a percentage of Sapphire’s earnings?”

  “If he was in business with her before your divorce, you have a very good chance, yes,” said Frank.

  “Well, then I wish her all of the success in the world,” said Kate. “And today, I actually mean it.”

  “Ditto,” said Paige. “Although I also wish for her to lose all of her toes in a freak lawn-mowing accident.”

  “I didn’t hear that,” said Frank.

  “Do you need me to say it louder?”

  “No.” He laughed. “I just need you to stay away from Home Depot.”

  “That, sir, may be the easiest promise I have ever made.”

  “So, are we done here?” asked Kate.

  “For now,” said Frank, standing up and offering his hand. “My secretary will set up another appointment so that we can go over everything in greater detail, but I think we have covered the important points. Do you feel better?”

  “Much,” Kate said, gathering her things. “Thank you, Frank.”

  “My pleasure,” he said warmly.

  Kate turned to Paige and said, “Ready to go?”

  Paige stood but made no move to leave. “Actually, I have a question for Frank, if that’s okay.”

  “Sure,” said Frank and Kate simultaneously.

  Paige hesitated and then turned to Kate. “Um…is it okay if I meet you in the car?”

  Kate was on page forty-three of her car’s owner’s manual when Paige knocked on her window.

  “Finally!” snapped Kate, trying not to sound as pathetically hurt and left out as she felt. “Where have you been?”

  “Having sex on your lawyer’s desk,” said Paige, sliding gracefully into the passenger seat and buckling her seat belt.

  Kate gasped. “You liar!”

  “A: I am offended,” said Paige, looking offended, “and B: of course I am lying. What do you think I am? A slut?”

  Kate raised her eyebrows. “Do you really want me to answer that?”

  “No, I suppose I don’t. I never should have told you about that Christmas party. I still believe that I would have held on to my honor had it not been for those musical panties.”

  “They are the devil’s workshop.”

  “So true,” said Paige, nodding wisely.

  Kate waited patiently for roughly three seconds before blurting, “So, are you going to tell me what happened in there or not?”

  “Man, you are like a dog with a bone!”

  “Ruff, ruff,” said Kate dryly. “Now spill.”

  “Fine. Mr. Gilman and I are going to have lunch to discuss a business idea I have.”

  “Uh-huh,” said Kate dubiously. “Business or bid-ness?”

  “Business,” said Paige. “What’s with you and the smut talk?”

  “Oh, I don’t know. Honestly, I have no idea what I’m saying half the time right now. I feel like I’m still in shock or something.”

  “You probably are,” said Paige. “I mean, how could you not be in shock after everything you have been through this past week? My God, it’s a miracle you aren’t curled up in the fetal position, rocking back and forth and humming incoherently.”

  “That’s a nice image.”

  “Isn’t it?” Paige laughed. “Sorry about that. Believe it or not, my intention was to compliment you on how well you are holding up in the face of an extraordinary amount of stress.”

  “Oh, well, in that case, thank you.”

  “You’re welcome.”

  After a few minutes Kate said, “I really don’t feel that strong.”

  “That’s okay,” said Paige, reaching over and placing a comforting hand on Kate’s shoulder.

  “And I really am sad about Michael.”

  “Of course you are,” said Paige gently.

  “It’s so stupid. I mean, I only knew him for about a minute and a half, but I felt like he really got me.” Kate sighed. “Of course, it was probably all lies. He probably only talked to me to get information for Sapphire.” She dropped her head onto the steering wheel. “I am such an idiot.”

  “Oh, honey, you are not an idiot. And I don’t think you were the victim of a spy plot, either. Did you see the expression on his face yesterday? He was devastated. He looked like an animal with his paw caught in a trap—”

  “Sapphire’s trap,” interrupted Kate.

  “Yes, Sapphire’s trap. But for all we know he is chewing off his arm as we speak.”

  “Doubtful,” said Kate. “He needs both of his arms to carry all the money he makes off her.”

  “All I’m saying is that we don’t know the whole story.”

  “Maybe,” allowed Kate. “Can we change the subject now? This is too depressing.”

  “As a matter of fact, my newly wealthy friend, there is something I wanted to discuss with you.”

  “Paige, I am way ahead of you,” said Kate, reaching into the backseat for her purse. “I need to pay you rent and back rent and give you money for food and—”

  “Would you stop it?” Paige grabbed Kate’s hand before she could get out her checkbook. “I don’t want rent money. I have a business proposition for you.”

  “Really?” asked Kate, surprised and flattered.

  “Really,” said Paige, and then proceeded to share her idea with an increasingly excited Kate, both of them ignoring the insistent buzzing coming from Kate’s brown suede bag.

  37

  When Paige and Kate pulled up in front of Paige’s house, they couldn’t even see the front door—it was completely blocked by a gargantuan bouquet of roses.

  “Wow,” said Kate as they got out of the car. “Who are those from?”

  “I don’t know,” said Paige, reaching for the card. “They’re so beautiful, it hardly even matters. I think you may be sleeping on the couch tonight.”

  “I already sleep on the couch.”

  “Really?” asked Paige, opening the envelope. “That seems wrong, somehow. I think I may need to move you to the porch.”

  “You spoil me,” said Kate.

  “I’m not the one who is spoiling you,” said Paige, handing over the card.

  Kate’s breath caught in her throat when she saw the name at the bottom: Michael. She looked at Paige, who smiled at her before opening the door and going inside, leaving Kate alone on the porch. She sat down on the step to read.

  Dear Kate,

  I don’t have words to express how sorry I am. I am not sorry for the time I had with you, but for the price I must pay for my deception. I suppose I was trying to present a version of myself that felt worthy of you. I don’t know how I missed the fact that liar was probably not high on your list of positive attributes. I know that saying I’m sorry doesn’t fix the pain that I caused you during an already painful time, but nonetheless I am sorry. I do want you to know that the version of myself that I presented to you wasn’t a thoughtless affectation but the man I have always wanted to be. Your a
uthenticity and honesty are inspiring. I hope one day to be deserving of those titles. And of you. I think of you all day, every day.

  Michael

  Kate stared at the card. Now what?

  The door opened as Paige stuck her head out. “You okay?”

  Kate looked up. “I really don’t know.”

  “Are you hungry?”

  “I am,” said Kate, surprised. “That’s weird.”

  “That’s healthy,” said Paige, pulling Kate up onto her feet and heading back into the apartment.

  “I think I have weird and healthy all mixed-up,” said Kate, stopping to pick up the flowers.

  “So does everybody,” said Paige. “Only the truly disturbed think they are not weird.”

  “That’s ridiculous.”

  “It is not. Everyone in the world thinks that they are a big, dark, embarrassing secret, but the simple truth is that most of us just hate our bodies or secretly believe that nobody loves us.”

  Kate knew there was some truth in what Paige said, but she also feared it was too good to be true. “What if you are the one person who is really, truly unlovable?”

  “Are you Ted Bundy?”

  “No,” laughed Kate.

  “Then don’t worry about it.”

  “Come on, don’t you think there is a gray area between serial killer and worthy of love?”

  “Honey, sit down.” Paige pulled out a chair at the little breakfast table and leaned into Kate. “I read Michael’s note.”

  “I wasn’t talking about Michael,” protested Kate.

  “Of course you weren’t,” said Paige, her voice dripping with mock sincerity, “but bear with me for a minute. I’m not excusing the fact that he lied to you or that he lied to you at a very bad time, but I do understand why he did it: he is just as afraid as the rest of us that he isn’t enough, that the ways he has traded himself for money or security make him unlovable. One of your favorite things about him was that you thought he didn’t recognize you from your show. Why? Because you wanted to be seen for you, not for what you do for a living and all of the baggage that comes along with that. He wanted the same thing. I’m not telling you to forgive him. It’s up to you to decide if you can learn to trust him again. I’m just telling you that most of us are afraid that we are not as lovable as we really are.”

  “I find that a little hard to believe. Most of us?”

  “Absolutely,” said Paige, getting up and going back to the counter to work on the tuna salad she was fixing. “There may be three or possibly four people who got everything they needed as children and have grown up to believe that they are perfect and worthy of love all the time, but I like to believe that those people are boring and that they secretly wish that their lives could be spiced up with some angst and self-doubt.”

  “Personally, I’d like a little less spice with my angst.”

  “Me, too. Truthfully, if I am ever lucky enough to have children, I hope that they are completely boring and well adjusted, even if they are less fun at the dinner table.”

  Kate sat quietly for a few minutes, deep in thought. “I just don’t know if I can trust him.”

  Paige brought the two plates of salad over and sat down. “I don’t know if you can either, or if you should. First you need to learn to trust yourself, and then it matters a lot less what anyone else does.”

  “Okay…and how do I learn to trust myself? Is there a pill I can take or something?”

  “No—unfortunately, pills don’t work. Trust someone who has tried every conceivable combination.”

  “I’m guessing you are going to burst my bubble about alcohol being the road to high self-esteem, too.”

  “Well, my experience is that alcohol did work…for a minute. But somehow I always ended up with my head in the toilet, which was not a real confidence builder.”

  “Thanks for the nice visual,” said Kate, laughing. “Do you have any real advice?”

  “My first advice is to eat this yummy lunch I have prepared,” said Paige, handing her a fork. “Then I think you and I should start writing out a business plan, and pretty soon we will be so busy doing important things that we won’t have time to beat ourselves up.”

  “Oh, I don’t know. I think one must always find time for that which is really important.”

  “Do you want to know what I think?” asked Paige.

  “Probably not,” said Kate, laughing.

  “I think one must shut up and eat.”

  So they did.

  Three hours later, Paige and Kate were downright giddy with excitement. The more they talked about Paige’s idea of opening a small furniture and design shop, the more enthusiastic they became. Kate was thrilled at the prospect of some time away from the camera, and the idea of spending that time driving around to small-town swap meets collecting inventory with Paige sounded almost too good to be true.

  “Oh my god,” said Kate, stretching her arms above her head and sighing contentedly. “If this works, I will never have to be photographed wearing lingerie again.”

  “At least not until we shoot our ad campaign,” chided Paige.

  “Would you really do that to me?” asked Kate.

  Paige nodded. “If I thought it would bring in a wealthy clientele, I would post pictures of you naked with farm animals.”

  “So, basically, your plan for bringing in upscale customers for our new design business involves photographing me naked, sitting on a donkey?”

  “Yes. I see a large mural.”

  “Wow. I am so blessed to be working with such an astute businesswoman.”

  “Stick with me, kid, you’ll go places—” Paige’s very bad Jimmy Cagney impression was cut short by Kate’s buzzing handbag. “Okay,” said Paige, turning serious, “if you don’t answer that, I am going to flush it down the toilet. That buzzing is making me mental.”

  “Okay,” said Kate calmly. “Flush it.”

  “Answer it!” yelled Paige.

  “No!” Kate yelled back.

  “Why not?”

  “It might be Michael,” admitted Kate, “and I don’t think I can face talking to him.”

  Paige reached into the purse and yanked out the vibrating phone. “Caller ID!” she shouted, holding the display up in front of Kate’s face.

  “Oh, right,” said Kate meekly, taking the phone. “You know, Hamilton always complained about how technologically challenged—”

  Paige threw up her hands in disgust. “Answer it!”

  “Fine,” said Kate, looking at the display before flipping open her phone. It was the number for the Generations production office. Great, she thought, more bad news. She answered with a resigned “Hello?”

  “Kate! Hi there! It’s Jerry!”

  “Hello, Jerry.” She shot Paige a scathing look for forcing her to take the call. Paige smiled guiltily and skulked into the kitchen.

  “Well, aren’t you a difficult lady to get on the phone. I’m not afraid to tell you that you had us all a little worried over here on your old stomping grounds!”

  “I’m not suicidal, Jerry,” said Kate, annoyed beyond politeness. “So now that I’ve allayed your fears, I guess we can both go on with our lives. Good-b—”

  “Wait! Don’t hang up, Kate! It took me too darn long to track you down!”

  “Jerry, you just fired me two days ago. That’s hardly enough time to send out a search party.”

  “Oh, I know, I know.” He chuckled nervously. “It’s just been a crazy couple of days here and I really expected to hear back from you sooner. Did you get any of my messages?”

  Kate was in no mood to apologize for not checking her voice mail. “Why don’t you just tell me why you are calling, Jerry?”

  “Well, Kate, as I said in my messages, Sapphire has decided to leave the show.”

  “What?” Kate blurted out loudly, enough to bring Paige running in from the kitchen. For her benefit, Kate repeated, “Sapphire is leaving the show?”

  “Holy shit!” whispered Pai
ge, dropping into the chair next to Kate and leaning in close to listen in on the call.

  “Yes,” continued Jerry. “Apparently, she has her heart set on doing some movie about Vivien Leigh. She decided she has to leave immediately to ‘begin her process,’ whatever the hell that means. I’m sorry to use that kind of language, Kate, but this has come as quite a shock to us all, especially after everything we did to make her happy.”

  “Like firing me?” asked Kate, earning her a thumbs-up from Paige.

  “Well, yes, that may have been our biggest mistake.”

  “Uh, yeah,” blurted Paige.

  “What was that, Kate?” asked Jerry.

  Kate smacked Paige before answering. “I said, yeah, that certainly seems to have been a mistake, Jerry, but I still don’t really know why you are calling me.”

  “Well, that’s the good news!”

  “What’s the good news, Jerry?” asked Kate, fearing that she knew what he was going to ask.

  “We want you back!”

  “Do you, now?” asked Paige dryly.

  “We do!” said Jerry energetically.

  Kate’s heart sank. She felt as though she were being welcomed back into the brawny arms of an abusive ex-boyfriend. She thought about how happy she had been just a few short minutes ago when she was planning her new venture with Paige. How joyful she felt thinking about spending her days running her own business, shopping and creating designs with her friend, away from the critical public eye. Then she thought about early call times at Generations and the endless hours wasted waiting for so many things that were out of her control. She didn’t want to go back to feeling that powerless. She didn’t want to go back, period.

  “Kate? Are you there?” asked Jerry, his enthusiasm giving way to the intense insecurity that was always lurking right beneath the surface.

  “Yes, I’m here.”

  “Well, what do you think of my great news?” He sounded like a cheerleader rooting for the losing team—forced and desperate.

  Paige gestured for Kate to cover the mouthpiece. “It’s okay if you want to go back,” she said. “Don’t worry about the shop. We can still go to flea markets on weekends, and we can use all of the cool stuff we find to decorate the wonderful place you buy with all your new loot.”