“Hey.” He leads the way inside and over to a couple of stools at the bar. I order a blood orange martini. Corey orders a vodka tonic.
“How’s your week been?” he asks. He really is acting as though I might snatch up a bottle of whiskey and smash it over his head.
“As good as can be expected. Look, I’m sorry about your computer…”
“Forget it. I needed to upgrade it anyway. I totally understand why you were upset, and I should have been more forthcoming.”
“I’ll pay you back,” I promise.
He half-smiles, relaxing a little. “We’ll sort something out. So what’s been going on with you?”
“Well, I got fired, but then Kahlua hired me as her publicist, so at least I can keep paying for my half of the mortgage.”
“You got fired? How did that happen?”
“You don’t want to know.”
“Oh, well, I guess at least everything worked out all right in the end. And if money gets tight, let me know. I don’t want you to feel like you’re all alone.”
“Thank you, but I think it’s important to get used to being independent. Which brings me to our living situation. It doesn’t seem fair that I’m the only one staying at the apartment. Do you think maybe we should rent out our place for a while? Take the pressure off financially and emotionally? I could stay with Penny, or move into a share house…”
Corey won’t look at me.
“Did I say something wrong?” I ask.
He still doesn’t respond.
“Corey?” I prod.
“This is all too real,” he says finally.
“What do you mean?”
He presses his fingers to his eyes. “I don’t know. I guess I didn’t think about the fact that we wouldn’t be living in our apartment together anymore.”
“Well, what did you expect? We can’t just pretend nothing happened. Unless that’s what you want. Is that what you want?”
“No,” he says quietly.
“Then we have to be mature about this and figure out how to move forward. Renting out the apartment seems like the most sensible thing to do right now. We can even offer a short-term lease if that makes you feel better.”
“Okay.”
“Fine. I’ll call a realtor tomorrow and get things rolling.”
He watches the bartender making our drinks.
“Corey, can I ask you something?”
“Sure.”
“I want to understand the dressing up thing. How does that work?”
He shifts uncomfortably on his stool. “In what way?”
“I think you know what I mean.”
He sighs. “I don’t know. I don’t feel like a woman or anything. And I don’t want to wear regular women’s clothes and go out in public. I guess I just like the idea of getting dressed up and taking a few photos. Kind of like having an alter-ego.”
“Do you post the photos online?”
He doesn’t say anything, so I take that as a yes.
“Would you want to perform dressed up? Like in a show?”
“I don’t think so. Hey, can we please stop talking about this? It doesn’t feel right discussing it with you.”
I gape at him. “Why not? I’m your wife! I’m the first one you should have told!”
“But you’re being too normal about it!”
“I just want to understand. Believe me, I am not feeling normal.”
The bartender places our drinks in front of us, but neither of us touches them.
“Would you have told me if I hadn’t come home early that day?” I ask after a moment.
He looks away. “Probably not.”
“So, what? You would have just kept living a lie forever?”
“I don’t know, Chrissie! I’m just trying to deal with everything as it’s happening now.”
“Fine.” I take a deep breath. “Can I ask you one more thing?”
“I guess.”
“Did you cheat on me?”
“God, no, I swear.”
“So you never engaged in any physical activity with another man or woman while we were together?”
“Absolutely not.”
I feel a tiny spark of relief.
“Okay, so were you talking to anyone online before we broke up?”
He avoids my gaze.
“Please answer the question.”
“I can’t do this,” he whimpers.
“Do what? Be honest? Talk like an adult?”
“Stop it!” he says, anguished.
“Corey! Just tell me the truth!”
He stands up and throws a fifty on the counter. “I have to go.”
I watch as my husband hurries off, leaving me with two untouched cocktails.
I sigh. Of course. Always running away from conflict. And probably flirting with strangers online for who knows how long. Awesome.
I sip my drink and stare at the bottles lined up behind the bar. So I guess it’s up to me now. I’m going to have to make the first move and rent out our apartment, and maybe even call a lawyer.
I slam back my cocktail and then start on Corey’s. Which only succeeds in making me feel nauseated, and more depressed than ever.
There’s no point in hanging around, so I reluctantly stand up and head home to bed.
***
I am eternally grateful for the opportunity Kahlua has bestowed upon me. For the time being, I’m going to forget about Corey and throw myself completely into my new job. Today Kahlua wants me to go to her place for a meeting, so I prepare a checklist of things for us to discuss before I head out the door. She did warn me that the triplets will be there, so we might not be particularly productive, but at least we’ll make a start.
I’m actually a tiny bit excited to meet the kids and see where my celebrity boss lives. When I worked at Perry Tyler, we only ever had clients come to our office, and I was never assigned to anyone very famous. Kahlua is probably the biggest name I’ve ever worked with.
Not that I’m impressed by that kind of thing.
Oh, who am I kidding? I am so impressed by that kind of thing. My fascination with Hollywood is one of the reasons I got into PR in the first place. I wanted to peek behind the curtain and study the differences between image and reality. And I am aware that a lot of it is smoke and mirrors, so I’m not really sure what to expect when I arrive at a quiet, leafy neighborhood and knock on the door to Kahlua’s apartment.
“Hey!” she whispers, letting me in. “The triplets are asleep, so we’ll have to keep it down.”
We walk down the hall and I surreptitiously check out my surroundings. It looks like the place only has two bedrooms, which is very modest, even for normal standards. But it does have a lovely light and airy feel to it. Kahlua obviously has a natural talent for interior design – or she at least knows someone who does. The white walls are offset by exposed beams on the ceiling and an ocean-themed color palette in her furnishings.
“Not what you were expecting, huh?”
“Oh, it’s lovely,” I say. “But how do you all fit in here?”
“We don’t need a lot of room. The kids all want to sleep together, so this is plenty for now. I could afford somewhere bigger if I wanted, but I just don’t see the point in investing all my money in real estate. Today’s market is so risky. Plus, who wants all that extra housework?”
“Good call.”
“Besides,” she continues. “You haven’t seen this.”
She pulls back the curtains to the outside, revealing a large terrace overlooking a breathtaking view of the bay. The terrace is almost as big as the apartment again.
“Wow,” I breathe.
“And the building superintendent doesn’t mind that I have this little fella,” she says as a teacup Yorkshire terrier bounds over to nuzzle at her feet.
“Oh, this must be Max! Aren’t you a gorgeous little thing?”
Max comes over to check me out. I tickle his chin.
“I don’t know how much longer the
kids will sleep, so we’d better get started. How did it go with everything?”
I sit down on her plush sofa and get out my notebook.
“Good. The design company was more than happy for us to take over. Apparently Perry Tyler were way behind on their bills, so I think they quite liked telling them where to go.”
“Excellent. Are you happy to move forward with the concept we discussed last week?”
“As long as you are. I also spoke with the web department about getting a site online. We just need to finalize the copy and then they can get it up and running. How is everything going with the manufacturer?”
“Great. We sorted out all the logistics a while back. I actually did a lot of research before choosing them because I wanted to make sure this baby food was something I’d be proud to put my name to. For the first time in my life, I want to do something properly.”
“That’s great to hear. Do you mind me asking why you haven’t tried something like this before?”
She sighs. “I’m not sure. I guess I was sleep deprived for a couple of years after the kids were born. I was so preoccupied looking after them that I just did whatever was easiest. And Billy was really persuasive. You don’t even know. He had this weird charisma that made me want to do anything he asked.”
“Did you guys…?”
“Oh, no. It wasn’t like that. He never tried to hit on me or anything. I think the fact I had kids scared him off from pursuing me that way.”
Well, at least that’s something.
“So what changed to make you get rid of him?”
“A couple of things. But honestly, I think after we talked the other day, it really made me sit down and look at my priorities. You offered me a new perspective, and made me realize I don’t have to sacrifice my dignity to make a decent living.”
I squeeze her arm. “Of course you don’t have to sacrifice your dignity. In fact, when I’m done with you, you’ll have one of the classiest images in town.”
She laughs loudly, and then a second later a muffled voice calls out from one of the bedrooms. “Mommy?”
“Oh shoot,” she says, covering her mouth. “It looks like our peace and quiet is over before it even began.”
“Do you need some help getting them up?”
“Only if you want. You don’t have to.”
“I know that. Come on. It must be hard only having two hands.”
“You can say that again.”
She opens the door to the kids’ room, revealing a bunk bed in one corner and a single bed in the other. Two little boys occupy the bunk, while a small girl is sitting on the single, rubbing her eyes.
Because Kahlua is so protective about letting her children be photographed, it’s rare to see them in the media. But they are as beautiful as you would expect from the spawn of a handsome Hollywood superstar and a curvaceous blond bombshell.
“This is Zac,” she says, helping the boy on the top bunk down to the floor. “That’s Evan,” she continues, nodding her head at the bottom bunk. “And Lily’s on the little bed by herself. She’s such a sleepyhead. She would nap all day if she could, but her brothers are always waking her up.”
“They’re so cute,” I whisper, creeping over to Lily’s bed and sitting at the foot. “Hi, did you have a good rest?”
She looks at me uncertainly.
“She’ll come around,” Kahlua assures me. “You look like one of her dolls, so it will only be a matter of time before you’re her favorite person.”
I look down at my outfit. Today I’m wearing a black and white polka dot dress with red patent leather heels. I suppose it is a bit doll-like. I also blow-dried my hair so it’s dead straight – and my bangs are behaving for a change.
“Hey, do you want to try on my necklace?” I pull off a set of long red beads from around my neck and drape them over her shoulders. She runs her fingers along them and smiles.
“You’re a natural,” Kahlua says. “From now on, you can be my back-up babysitter.”
“I would love to be your back-up babysitter.”
As I watch Kahlua carry her two boys out to the living room, a deep sense of loss washes over me. What if I never have this?
Lily takes the beads off and gently lifts them back over my head. My eyes start to water.
Kahlua returns to pick up Lily and notices me crying.
“Are you okay, sweetie?”
“Yeah, I’m fine. Sorry. I know I’m not being very professional, but I’m still struggling with the whole Corey situation…”
“Hey, hey. You’re allowed to be upset. And I’m not exactly being professional either, inviting you to a meeting with my kids and dog here.”
“Thank you for being so understanding.”
Kahlua waves a hand at me as if to say “don’t mention it”. I follow her out to the kitchen where she retrieves three sippy cups and fills them with water.
“How old are the triplets now?” I ask.
“Three. They’ll be four in January.”
“How do you do this all on your own and not completely lose it?”
“Well, I have my mom to help sometimes, but the key is to get by on less sleep, and lower your expectations when it comes to keeping the house clean.” She points to the living area to illustrate her point, but I’m not quite sure what she means. The place is spotless.
“I hope I get to experience this one day,” I whisper.
“You will,” she says firmly.
“How can you be so sure?”
“I just know. I’m actually a bit psychic.”
“Oh, are you now?”
“Yep. I can tell you about your future.”
“All right then. Enlighten me.”
She closes her eyes and rubs her temples theatrically.
“I see…a very successful solo career as a celebrity publicist…”
“Naturally.”
“Also, you will move into a beautiful house…and then I see a tall, blond and handsome man…”
“Of course. What prediction isn’t complete without the tall and handsome man? But did you say blond? Aren’t they normally supposed to be dark?”
“Not in this case. Oh, and he’s playing with a gorgeous little boy.”
“Great! I’m all set. You don’t happen to know when this will happen, do you?”
She laughs. “It will happen when the time is right.”
I know she’s just trying to make me feel better, but I appreciate the sentiment. Why not pretend I’ll get my happily ever after?
Kahlua switches on the TV for the kids and ushers me over to the dining table.
“Dora will keep them entertained for half an hour, but then we’ll have to call it a day. So I guess we better get to it.”
I open my notebook again. “All right, I think we need to start organizing the launch party. I was thinking…”
SEVEN
Kahlua cuts our meeting short when the triplets somehow locate a box of crayons and begin crushing them into the beige carpet. I offer to stay and help tidy up, but Kahlua shoos me out.
“Go and do something nice for yourself,” she urges. “And I want a detailed report when I next see you. I’ll live vicariously through you.”
Ha. What person in their right mind would want to be in my shoes right now? Thirty-five, practically single and with a reality-avoiding husband. Yeah. I’m sure women everywhere are jealous as hell.
At least by leaving early, I have time to call a realtor about the apartment. I also have the number of Kahlua’s lawyer. Apparently he was really helpful, even though Kahlua didn’t get much from her divorce. Jack was never very involved in the triplets’ lives so she happily traded whatever material possessions he wanted for full custody of the children and a quick settlement.
I’m not sure whether I yet have the courage to phone a lawyer. That would mean admitting my marriage might actually be over, and I don’t feel like enough time has passed for me to make that assumption.
When I get home, Penn
y is on my couch as usual.
“Have you actually moved at all today?” I ask.
“Work is a bit slow, but I might go home tomorrow. Is that okay?”
“Of course. Thank you so much for staying here while my life is a mess.”
“No problem. I can come back for dinner tomorrow if you like.”
“I’ll see how I go, but I don’t think that will be necessary. Have you spoken to Michelle today? How’s she coping without you?”
“She’s been loving it. She gets the whole bed to herself…full control over the TV remote…”
“You better hurry back before she gets used to it.”
“Ha. I know. The only thing she misses is me helping with the housework.”
I laugh, and then get my phone out to call the realtor. I figure there’s no sense waiting to sort out that area of my life.
I have a text from Corey.
Can you call me when you get a chance?
There are no missed calls from him, so I assume he’s been too lazy – or scared – to contact me properly. I scowl. Why does he have to be so vague? Vague text messages imply to me that the sender is about to impart some difficult news.
Oh God. I don’t even want to think of the possibilities.
I nervously call his number. He answers on the first ring.
“Hey babe, how are you?”
“Fine,” I say cautiously. “You?”
“To be honest, not so good. Mom and Dad are driving me insane, and I was kind of wondering if I could move back into the apartment?”
“Oh. But I thought we were going to rent it out? Then we can both find new places.”
“Yeah, but the thing is, I don’t have any money at the moment. I just got my credit card statement and it’s up to ten grand. I can’t afford moving costs or a rental deposit until I pay some of it off.”
“Jesus, Corey! What have you been buying?” It occurs to me that he might have always had a large debt on his credit card and never told me.
“I don’t know. It just added up over time. You know how it is.”
Actually, I don’t know how it is. And part of me wants to ask how much his fancy wardrobe cost, but that would be petty.
“Well, I suppose I could go stay with Penny for a while,” I concede. “I don’t have enough money to pay the mortgage and rent somewhere else.”
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