Dana lifted her pant leg to expose the terrible swelling, obvious even through the white bandage that had replaced Ashlee’s Spanx. Understanding the power of a demo, Dana lifted her other pant leg for comparison. The swollen ankle was at least three times the size. Talk about drama.
“This happened just before I went on the air. The heel broke off my boot—not bought from the Shopping Channel, I’ll add—and I twisted my ankle. Now, we have an excellent production staff here, and they could have brought in another host to take my place today. And I’m sure she would have done a terrific job telling you about this Reluven bath set.” She punched the word terrific to show how very much she meant it, and paused for effect before continuing. “But for months, I have been talking to our buyers here about these products. From the moment I opened that scrub for the first time and got a whiff of that exquisite scent, I was hooked.”
Dana paused for an extra beat, and the camera panned back up to her face, just as she had hoped. She went on, still addressing her friend at home. “Then I actually tried the products and, well, let me tell you. I knew it would be a game changer. Because I’ve never fallen more in love with a skin care line. And there was no force on heaven or earth that could keep me from coming on the air today and introducing these products to you. That’s how strongly I feel about them.” The camera pulled in tighter and Dana gave her dear friend the biggest and most grateful grin, before glancing offstage. “Now, if someone could bring in a chair for me, that would be great. Because I want to get right to the demonstration. It’s going to rock your world!”
There. She had not only addressed the elephant in the room, she had tied a ribbon around its trunk. Now she just had to keep going and see if the audience responded to her impassioned confession, believing she would have walked through fire to introduce these products.
Within minutes, Jessalyn was back in her earpiece, saying that sales were going through the roof. We already exceeded our sales projections for the entire show, she whispered. Dana kept going, demonstrating the eye serum on both models, marveling as the fine lines faded. In a spirit of sisterly camaraderie, they helped her back to the display table, where the crew had placed a bowl of warm water so Dana could immerse the shampoo bar and show the richness of the lather. She brought her face close to the bowl to inhale the scent. “It’s subtle,” she gushed, “but so exquisite.”
We’re now fifty percent over projections! Jessalyn whispered.
Dana demonstrated the exfoliating properties of the scrub. She narrated over a short film that showed the luxuriousness of the bubble bath crystals in action, as a woman in a silk robe filled her tub and delighted in the sensual richness of the experience. She even cooed over the gold-and-silver packaging.
Sherry and Eleanor are in the booth with me now, Jessalyn whispered. Everyone is freaking out. You’ve doubled projected sales!
Dana kept going. She talked about each product included in the gift basket, and then went back to the beginning and talked about them again. She marveled at the value, explained how much the viewers would pay if they were to buy each product individually. She walked her friend at home through the Easy-Bucks option of spreading the cost into five small payments. Since new viewers were constantly tuning in, she demonstrated the eye serum again and retold the story of her injury.
By the time she signed off, she had sold four times the projected numbers, and she could hear the folks in the control booth whooping. Dana had moved so many units Eleanor had to get on the phone with the supplier to see how fast they could manufacture more inventory to get the Shopping Channel through the rest of the holiday season programming.
Megan and Ari had both shown up on set, concerned about Dana’s injury, which they learned about while she was on the air. So as the rest of the staff literally popped champagne, Dana was on her way out the door—one arm around her best friend and the other around her boyfriend—heading to the emergency room.
29
“Broken or sprained?” Ari asked, when the ER doctor returned to the curtained-off area Dana had been delivered to after being x-rayed.
Dana expected him to say sprained, as it seemed impossible to break an ankle from something as innocuous as a loose heel. Especially a loose heel she had known about and meant to fix. Besides, Megan had told her a bad sprain could hurt worse than a break, and this hurt like a son of a bitch. Or it had. The Vicodin they gave her took the edge off, and the swelling had gone down. Unfortunately, her mood had only gotten worse, and it was now so frayed she wished she could yank it off and strangle someone with it. Five hours in excruciating pain, she realized, could wear a person down.
“Broken,” the doctor announced cheerily, as he slapped the X-ray onto a light box. Dana wanted to hurt him.
As he pointed out the fracture and explained how they would set the bone, Dana’s anger morphed into self-pity. Broken? It didn’t seem possible. She was twenty-nine years old and had never broken a bone in her life. It seemed so...permanent. Hadn’t she heard someplace that once you fracture a bone, it shows up on your X-rays forever?
“You’ll be fine,” the doctor said when he saw her expression. “We’re going to go straight to a hard cast in your case, and you can even choose the color. You like purple?”
She blinked at him. A broken bone wasn’t bad enough—he had to treat her like a child?
“Don’t you have something with unicorns?” she seethed.
“Puppies okay?”
He had meant to make her laugh, but Dana was having none of it. She turned to Ari. “Can you kill him? Pretty please?”
“Calm down, honey,” Megan said, “and we’ll get you a lollipop.”
Dana put her face in her hands. “I hate everyone.”
“She’s not usually like this,” Megan said to the doctor. “I mean, don’t get me wrong. She’s always a pain in the ass, just not like this.”
He gave an understanding nod. “It can be a very painful injury.”
Great, she thought. They went from treating her like a child to talking about her like she wasn’t there. Dana took a cleansing breath and tried to tell herself things could be worse.
As it turned out, she was right. Because less than a minute later, two unexpected visitors showed up beside the curtain: her father and his wife, Jennifer.
“Knock knock,” Jennifer said, to announce their arrival.
“What the hell?” Dana demanded. She felt at once exposed and trapped.
“Don’t be mad,” Ari said. “I texted your dad while we were in the waiting room.”
“Why?” Dana pleaded. “Why would you do such a thing?”
“He’s a doctor. And he’s your father. I thought he’d want to know.”
“Orthopedist?” the ER doctor asked.
While Kenneth introduced himself and explained that he was a neurologist and his wife a cardiologist, Jennifer lifted Dana’s wrist and took her pulse.
Dana wanted them gone. She wanted everyone gone. Instead of screaming, she simply said, “Thank you for coming, but I don’t need—”
Her father cut her off. “How did this happen?” he asked, an edge of anger working its way into his tone, as if her injury were a personal affront.
“You know me,” Dana said. “Climbing that slippery ladder of success.”
“Now is not the time for jokes,” he said.
“She broke a heel,” Megan explained.
Kenneth’s brow tightened. “A heel?”
“I was taking a walk with my assistant,” Dana said, continuing with the fictional account she had already given to Ari. “The heel snapped off and my ankle twisted.”
“You couldn’t have been walking at a normal pace,” Kenneth said, and Dana realized how annoying it was to have a father with above-average intelligence. Even Ari hadn’t asked about that. But then, maybe he just didn’t want to interrogate her while she was in pain.
>
“It’s not easy to keep up with Ashlee,” Dana said. “Her legs are like a mile long. Did I mention her dad played basketball for the University of Tennessee?”
Dana felt satisfied that she had veered the conversation in another direction, but Kenneth was dogged.
“You have long legs, too,” he said.
“Well, she was a few paces ahead. And why are you cross-examining me? I was in so much pain I’m lucky I remember my name.”
“You don’t need to get snippy,” her father said.
Dana exploded. “I have a broken ankle! I went on the air and spoke for four fucking hours in excruciating pain and sold millions of dollars of merchandise and saved my whole damned company. And while everyone else is drinking champagne I’m in the emergency room being told I’ll have to clomp around in a cast for god knows how many weeks. So don’t tell me not to be snippy!”
Her father shook his head and tsked. “Language, Dana.”
But her language was about to get much, much worse, because she suddenly realized how tragic this injury might really be. She stared at the doctor, trying to form the question, but before she could get it out he said, “Why don’t we get this bone set so you can get out of here.”
Then he slipped away to get the cast technician.
“What’s the matter?” Ari asked, when he saw her expression.
Dana looked from her father to Jennifer. “How long does a cast stay on?” she asked, her voice desperate.
“It depends,” Jennifer said. “But usually it’s three weeks in a hard cast and three weeks in a splint or a boot. But you’ll have to ask the doctor because—”
“A splint?” Dana cut in. “That means it’s removable, right?”
“Technically, sure. But you’re supposed to keep it on unless you’re showering. That’s the whole idea.”
“As long as I know I can take it off,” Dana said, realizing she could still pull off the Penny Harte role. It would be by the skin of her teeth, but still.
Megan’s eyes went wide. “You’re not actually thinking of performing in the Sweat City play with a broken ankle?”
“You heard what she said. I can take the cast off.”
“Dana, it’s a very physical role. There’s a treadmill onstage, for god’s sake.”
“When is the play?” Jennifer asked.
“Less than four weeks,” Megan said.
“It’s out of the question,” Kenneth said. “You can’t rush bone growth.”
“Refracturing a broken bone can be very serious,” Jennifer said. “Then you’re talking about surgery, physical therapy, a long road to recovery.”
“I’m so sorry,” Megan said.
“I can’t do this,” Dana said, as if she could unbreak the bone through force of will. “I can’t have a broken ankle now!”
“Babe,” Ari said, leaning in for a hug. “It’ll be okay.”
“Maybe Nathan can rewrite the part,” Dana said, aware that it was a long shot. “Make it less physical.”
Megan put a hand on her shoulder. “You have to be realistic.”
“But he wrote it with me in mind. He told me so.”
“I know how much this show means to you,” Megan said, her voice low and soothing. “But I think you’re going to have to let it go. There will be other plays, other performances. You’re a talented actor and—”
“Where’s my handbag?” Dana said. “I need my phone. I need to call Nathan. He’ll figure something out.”
Megan handed Dana her purse and they all watched as she fished out her cell phone. She looked up to see them all staring at her. Their eyes were filled with pity, and that filled her with fury.
“Get out!” she cried. “All of you. Get out!”
* * *
Later, Ari helped Dana get comfortable in her own bed, a pillow under her cast. “I’m fine,” she insisted as he fussed. And she meant it. Because now that the bone was set and the cast in place, she barely felt a thing.
But that didn’t mean her mood was any sunnier. Her bedroom, barely big enough for the two of them, now also held Megan, Kenneth and Jennifer, making it claustrophobic. And if that wasn’t bad enough, Nathan had just been buzzed in from downstairs, and would arrive any second, bringing good wishes and a bucket of pity. On the phone he had told her he was very, very sorry, but the role could not be rewritten for someone with a broken ankle.
“You guys don’t have to stay,” Dana said to her father and Jennifer, as Ari and Megan wordlessly scrambled to pick up laundry from the floor and stuff it away.
Jennifer gave her arm a pat. “We want to make sure you’re comfortable.”
She wasn’t, but one glance at her father, stuffed into the corner of the cramped room, made her feel a little better. It was pure schadenfreude, this pleasure at his discomfort. But he damn well deserved it for criticizing her decision to move to a larger apartment. Maybe there was an upside to this.
Minutes later, Nathan came in. His pity took the form of a box of Neuhaus Chocolates, which were Dana’s favorites. They couldn’t take the place of her role in the show, but they would do for now. He introduced himself to the others, then handed her the box, which she accepted greedily.
“Your cast is blue,” he observed, and it took Dana a moment to realize he meant the cast on her leg, not the one he had just left at the theater.
“I wanted it to match my mood. But thank you for the chocolates.” She didn’t waste any time tearing into the box and popping a truffle into her mouth, and then taking another and another before she even finished swallowing it. When she looked up and realized she had a rapt audience for her self-pitying gluttony, Dana reluctantly passed the box around.
“How do you feel?” Nathan said.
“Do you really need to ask?” she mumbled, pointing to her very full mouth.
“You know, everyone felt terrible when I told them what happened.”
Dana took a beat to swallow. “And Carolyn?” she inquired, because Nathan had explained he had no choice but to give her part to the other actor.
“She feels bad, too. I’m sure you know that.”
Dana nodded. As much as she wanted to be furious with someone, to rail about the injustice she was suffering, she understood that there was no one to blame. Except maybe herself. She took a tissue from the bedside to surreptitiously dab at her eyes before wiping her chocolatey hands and mouth.
A few minutes later, Ashlee arrived, only Dana couldn’t see her face because she was carrying a massive flower arrangement. It looked like the centerpiece from some grand hotel—so large it couldn’t have been easy to fit through the door. Dana knew it must have cost a fortune.
“My god!” she said, worried her assistant had spent her whole paycheck on it. “I hope you stole that from a funeral home.”
“Even better,” Ashlee said proudly. “I got the company to spring for it. Sherry, that little skinflint, wouldn’t spend a quarter to see Jesus do a magic trick. But before she could make a stink, Eleanor cut in and said you deserved at least this much. So here we are!”
“Where do you want me to put it?” Megan said.
“Are you really going to feed me a straight line like that?” Dana asked. “With my father in the room?”
Ari took the flowers from Ashlee. “I’ll find a place for it,” he said, and carried the arrangement into the living room.
“Hey, y’all,” Ashlee said to the group, and Dana made the introductions.
Kenneth couldn’t even manage a smile. “You’re the young lady who was with my daughter when this happened.”
It sounded more like an accusation than a question, and Ashlee chirped, “Guilty as charged!”
“Can you explain how she managed to take such a bad fall?” he asked. “I don’t understand how this could have happened unless she was running.”
D
ana shot Ashlee a look.
“Well, I can’t rightly say, because I was looking straight ahead when she went down. But isn’t it nice that everybody’s here visitin’. It sure is cozy.”
“It’s going to get cozier,” Nathan said. “The cast said they’d stop by.”
“Maybe we should go,” Kenneth whispered to Jennifer.
Dana couldn’t blame him. The place was starting to look like the scene from the Marx Brothers movie A Night at the Opera, where all the characters are crowded into one stateroom. Normally, Dana would have been happy to see her father go. But she decided this was just too much fun. And she deserved a little entertainment right now.
“Oh, Daddy,” she said. “Can’t you stay for just a little bit longer?”
“I... I suppose,” he said.
A few minutes later the intercom buzzed, and Dana assumed her fellow troupers had arrived. But it was Sherry, Eleanor and Charles Honeycutt. The scent of alcohol followed them into the room, and Dana knew they had spent some solid time celebrating.
After they said their hellos and clucked over Dana’s injury, Charles made a little speech about how grateful they were for her performance and quick thinking.
“You went above and beyond,” he said. “And exceeded all our expectations.”
“Saved our asses,” Eleanor added.
Megan elbowed Sherry. “Would this be a good time to renegotiate her contract?”
“Let’s not get carried away,” Sherry said. “We had one good day.”
“One very good day,” Megan corrected.
“Even drunk she’s hard as a rock,” Dana said, shaking her head. Sherry could never lighten up and just go with a joke.
Sherry folded her arms. “I am not drunk.”
Dana might have believed it, too, except that her glasses were crooked and she swayed a bit.
“If you ask me,” Eleanor said, looking around the cramped room, “she needs a raise. Not that this apartment isn’t everything a girl could dream of.”
The Rooftop Party Page 19