Saved by the Celebutante

by Kirsty McManus

  “I’m stuck,” he whines. “Help me out?”

  I laugh. “How did you end up there in the first place?”

  “I was getting my…er…stash, and when I kicked the box back under, I slipped.”

  “You are so weird. Well, maybe I should go get one of the guys. They’re stronger than me.”

  “No! It’s embarrassing! I don’t want anyone else seeing me like this. Come on, I have faith in you.”

  I sigh. “The things I do for you.” I bend down and attempt to dislodge his leg. “I think if we just roll it this way…”

  He screeches in pain. “Nooo!”

  “Sorry, sorry. How about if I gently slide it…”

  “Yeah, that’s better.”

  “We might have to cut off your pants,” I joke.

  “Fine with me, baby.”

  “Stop it. I was kidding. What would Becky say?”

  “Why would Becky say anything? She’s cool.”

  “I think she thinks you’re her boyfriend.”

  “It’s not like that…”

  I pull one final time and his leg comes free, but I lose my balance in the process and fall on top of him.

  “Ahem!”

  We both look up and see Becky glaring at us from the doorway.

  “Having fun?” she asks bitterly.

  I scramble to my feet feeling guilty, even though I have no reason to be.

  Brad continues to lie on the floor, rubbing his leg.

  “Hey, what are you doing here?” he asks.

  “I forgot my phone. What the hell, Brad? Are you fucking her too?”

  “No! Of course not! She’s my roommate! And she’s thirty-five!”

  She looks at me, her eyes full of spite. “Oh, that’s right. And didn’t you turn your husband gay?”

  I gasp. “Hey…” And then I turn to Brad. I told him about Corey in confidence. Why would he tell Becky?

  Brad shoots me a remorseful look and then glares at Becky. “Becky! That was uncalled for. Apologize now.”

  “Nope.” She stalks over to the dresser where her phone is lying, snatches it up and leaves.

  I sink down onto the floor with my back against the wall.

  “Sorry about that,” Brad murmurs.

  I stare straight ahead. “I just don’t know why you had to tell her about Corey.”

  “I didn’t mean to. It just slipped out when we were talking the other day.”

  “Well, I guess you don’t care about me anyway. I’m too old.”

  “Listen, I totally don’t think you’re old. It was a stupid thing for me to say. I just don’t know how to handle Becky. She confuses me.” He pounds the floor. “Fuck!”

  I look out the window, trying desperately not to cry. I can’t stay here in the same room with Brad. I go to stand up.

  “Hey, don’t leave like this. Chrissie, you are an awesome chick and I love having you as my roomie. Please don’t be mad.”

  “I’m not mad,” I say resignedly. “Just a bit sad.”

  He crawls over so that we’re sitting shoulder to shoulder.

  “Can I tell you something? I always thought you were way out of my league. Even if you weren’t married.’

  I laugh. “Right.”

  “I’m serious. You are so hot and confident, and you’re amazing at your job…”

  “Okay, you can stop now.”

  He rubs my arm, and before I know what’s happening, he’s cupping my face with his hands and planting a kiss softly on my mouth.

  Time stops, and I melt into the moment, enjoying the feeling of his lips on mine for a split second. And then I come to my senses.

  I push him away and stand up. “I have to go.”

  He smiles lazily. “Great kisser too.”

  I hurry to my bedroom and close the door. I flop down on my bed and stare at the ceiling, full of confusion.

  What the hell did I just do?

  ELEVEN

  I am absolutely mortified. I can’t go out into the living room and face Brad after last night. What was with that kiss? Isn’t there a saying about not mixing business with pleasure? Does living with someone count as business?

  That’s it. I’m going to have to move out. It’s only going to get weirder. Not only do I have to live in fear of Will finding out who I work for, but now Brad is going to think I’m a desperate old cougar.

  I listen at the wall for a moment to see if anyone is moving about. I can’t tell, so I gently ease the door open and tiptoe into the hall.

  So far, so good. The house looks like a bomb hit, but there’s no one around.

  I reach the kitchen and almost jump out of my skin when I see Brad and Frank sitting at the breakfast bar, talking quietly and nursing mugs of coffee.

  “Oh, hi,” I say awkwardly.

  Brad looks up and grins. “Hey, Chrissie. How are you doing this morning?”

  I look at him, confused. “Okaaay. You’re perky.”

  “Yeah, whenever I do shots and pass out, I wake up fresh as a daisy. No memory either.”

  “What, nothing?”

  “Uh-uh.”

  “So what do you remember from last night?”

  He scratches his head. “I guess I remember when people started arriving and having a few beers…when did you get in?”

  “Around midnight.”

  “Ah. Yeah, I would have been well and truly wasted by then. Hey, maybe you can tell me where this bruise came from.” He holds out his leg where a nasty purple circle has formed on his calf.

  “You got stuck under your bed,” I say flatly. “So you really don’t remember anything?”

  “No, why? And why was I stuck under my bed?”

  “Something to do with your stash,” I say, only half-paying attention. How can he not remember ANYTHING?

  He beams. “It all makes sense now!”

  “Becky is mad at you,” I add.

  Frank looks on, seemingly amused.

  Brad frowns. “Why?”

  “Because she saw me helping you out from under the bed and got the wrong idea.”

  “Oh, right. I swear I don’t know what’s up with that chick.” He appears perplexed, and I wonder again how one-sided their relationship is.

  He shakes his head and then focuses on me. “Hey, Frank and I were going to grab an early lunch. Do you want to come along?”

  I’m still mystified by the fact that he doesn’t seem to have any recollection of our interaction last night.

  “I don’t know…”

  Frank smiles at me. “You’re more than welcome to.”

  “Okay. Let me just quickly get dressed.”

  I go to my room and pull on a pair of skinny jeans and a cashmere sweater. I’m kind of relieved about Brad’s memory lapse, but also a tiny bit disappointed. I couldn’t have been that good a kisser if he doesn’t even remember it. But at least it solves one problem for now.

  I step into my boots and then tie my hair back into a ponytail, smoothing out my bangs in the process. After brushing my teeth and swiping some powder across my cheeks, I grab my purse and meet them at the door.

  Brad is reading a message on his phone, looking unhappy. “You guys go on ahead. I’ll be there in a minute.”

  Frank and I walk a couple of blocks up the road to a small strip of shops and cafés.

  “Do you know what that was all about?” I ask.

  “Nope. But probably something to do with Becky.”

  “I can’t seem to figure it out. Is she his girlfriend?”

  “She wishes. But Brad’s too scared to tell her otherwise.”

  “Why?”

  “Have you met the woman? Even I’m afraid of her.”

  “She was kind of mean to me last night,” I admit. “But I assumed she was only angry because she thought Brad and I hooked up.”

  “And did you?”

  “No!” At least not at that point. And apparently as far as Brad is concerned, not at any point.

  “I guess the real question is, did y
ou want to?”

  I narrow my eyes. “Did he put you up to this?”

  He laughs. “No. I just feel like I should warn you that Brad doesn’t really do relationships. If that’s what you’re after, you’re better off looking elsewhere.”

  “Believe me, I am still trying to cope with the fall-out from my failed marriage. I don’t need to add anyone else into the mix.”

  Frank seems a bit disappointed by this comment, but it’s possible I’m just imagining things.

  “How long have you been separated?”

  “It will be three months in a couple of weeks.”

  “And there’s no chance you’ll get back together?”

  “Uh, no. He’s gay now. I mean, I guess he was always gay, but now he’s actually come out. Sort of.”

  “Ouch.”

  “Tell me about it. Anyway, how long was it until you felt normal again after your engagement ended?”

  “I don’t know. I think it was maybe three months?” His eyes twinkle.

  I look away, blushing. Is he flirting?

  We reach a small café and sit down at a table with three seats. I wonder how long Brad is going to be. Not that I particularly mind just hanging out with Frank. I’m actually surprised at how much I’m enjoying his company.

  I order a BLT and Frank orders fish tacos.

  “I don’t know how you can order fish this early in the day,” I say, wrinkling my nose. “Especially after a big night.”

  “I’m not actually hung over. Although, I have to admit my back isn’t feeling great after sleeping on the couch.”

  “Oh. So do you have the same fortunate affliction as Brad and wake up fresh but forgetful after drinking?”

  “I wish. No, I only had a couple of beers last night.”

  “Ah.”

  Over the next half hour, Frank and I chat, almost like old friends. We bond over the drama of our previous relationships, and I’m trying to decide whether I’d like to see him again when Brad finally shows up.

  “All sorted with the missus?” Frank teases him.

  “I wish you wouldn’t call her that,” Brad says.

  Frank keeps pushing. “Well she is your girlfriend, isn’t she?”

  I know it’s wrong for me to be enjoying Brad’s discomfort, but I can’t help it.

  “Why do you have to put a label on everything? It is what it is,” he says.

  I stifle a smile. Such a boy answer.

  “Isn’t that just another way of saying you don’t want to be in a relationship, but she does?” Frank prods.

  “No. And it’s none of your business. Hey, don’t you have that thing this afternoon?”

  Frank gives Brad a death stare. I feel my stomach drop ever so slightly.

  “It’s not until later. I have plenty of time,” he says, his tone challenging.

  “You don’t want to get stuck in traffic,” Brad reasons.

  The air is thick with tension. Weird.

  Frank stands up. “You’re right. I should go.” He turns to me apologetically. “I’m sorry I can’t stay. It was really nice meeting you, Chrissie.”

  “It was nice meeting you too. I hope your thing goes well.”

  He smiles. “Thanks.”

  He looks back at Brad, his eyes cold. “I’ll see you ‘round, buddy.”

  “See ya,” Brad says stonily.

  I wait until it’s just the two of us, and then I face him.

  “What was that?”

  “He was being an ass.”

  “You mean hassling you about Becky?”

  “Yeah, but that’s just his way of making himself look good to impress women.”

  “You think he was trying to impress me?”

  “Of course he was. But listen, you do not want to get involved with him. He cheated on his last three girlfriends.”

  “You’re kidding.”

  “Nope.”

  “So I’m assuming he didn’t really have a thing to go to?”

  “No. I’m sorry. He should know better than to mess with the girl I live with. I shouldn’t have left the two of you alone.”

  “That’s all right. Thanks for looking out for me. What happened with Becky?”

  “Oh, Becky’s cool. But I don’t want to talk about her. Let’s just enjoy the morning, okay?”

  “Fine with me.”

  I try to relax again but find I’m unable to. It’s not like I’m sad about Frank – I wasn’t even that sure about him before Brad told me his history – but it makes me worry that I can be so easily charmed without knowing anything about the guy doing the charming.

  I always seem to be attracted to the wrong sort of guy. Even in high school I was obsessed with the boys who were either dating cooler girls, or didn’t even know I existed. I think there’s something wrong with me. I certainly made a huge error in judgment with my choice of husband.

  Maybe it’s because I’m shallow and only go for good looking guys. People always used to tell me how good looking Corey was. And Frank was definitely good looking. Not to mention Brad, with his beautiful shoulder length brown hair, huge full lips and intense brown eyes. But I cannot be interested in him. He’s just as wrong for me as Corey and Frank.

  “I love hanging out with my roomie,” he says, seemingly back to his chilled out self.

  “You aren’t such bad company yourself,” I shoot back. “So, if you don’t remember anything from last night, I assume you don’t remember us talking about Will and how he used to work for Gia?”

  He furrows his brow. “That sounds vaguely familiar. Shit. I’m sorry again. I really should have realized how awkward that could be if he found out.”

  “I won’t tell him if you don’t.”

  He pretends to zip his lips.

  “You did that last night too,” I laugh.

  “Did I? Well I mean it this time.”

  I stay with Brad while he orders a tuna melt. Ugh. What is it with guys ordering seafood so early in the day?

  I look at him for a moment and wonder if he’d remember our kiss if I prompted him.

  He’s halfway through a mouthful of cheesy tuna when he looks back at me.

  “Hey, I had this weird dream last night where we made out. Crazy, huh?”

  I sigh. “Yeah, pretty crazy.”

  He goes back to eating, a funny smile on his face.

  It’s probably best if that moment is relegated to dream status. The last thing I need is more complications.

  TWELVE

  My cell phone rings while I’m sitting at the kitchen counter, going over some of Gia’s website statistics. I don’t recognize the number on the caller ID.

  “Hello?”

  “Hi! Is that Chrissie? It’s Barb from City Realty.”

  “Oh, right. Yes! How are you?”

  “I’m great, thank you. I have a couple of people I’d like to show through your apartment if you don’t mind. I know you said to call Mr. Lambert if any inspections came up, but he hasn’t been answering his phone and these people really want to see the place.”

  Typical Corey. Missing in action again.

  “That’s fine. He could be at work or sleeping. When did you have in mind? I can meet you there.”

  “In an hour, if that’s okay?”

  “Of course! I’ll see you there soon.”

  I hang up and get ready to go right away. Knowing Corey, he’ll have left everything in a mess, and I’ll need to make the place presentable before the realtor arrives. I haven’t been back since I moved out, and to be honest, I’m a little nervous about what I might find.

  I can’t stop wondering where he kept all his stuff while I was still living there. I wasn’t overly diligent in cleaning out our closets, but I can’t believe I didn’t notice extra lingerie in the washing, or tucked away under Corey’s boxers in the drawers.

  I quickly text him to let him know I’m on my way. If he’s home, we definitely need to talk about the divorce. I can’t keep living in this state of uncertainty.


  I head over to the apartment, distracting myself by thinking about anything but Corey. Work is good. The baby food is flying off the shelves, and Gia seems happier than I’ve ever seen her. She was over the moon when I told her about the movie audition. All we have to do now is call back in a few weeks to find out the exact time and location. Gia has even enrolled in some acting classes to get into character.

  Life with Brad and Will is okay. I try not to talk to Will though because a) I don’t like him, and b) I’m worried I’ll accidentally let something slip about Gia.

  Brad and I have a strange relationship. Since our kiss, I haven’t really known how to act around him. He’s quite flirty and always giving me hugs and complimenting me, but I’m also very aware of his relationship with Becky. Plus, who knows if he’s sleeping with anyone else? For now, I’ve decided to just go with the flow. It’s not like we’re ever going to start a romantic relationship, so I’m just treating him like a slightly unpredictable friend.

  My heart beats a bit faster as I near the apartment. I sort of hope Corey isn’t home.

  I loudly rap on the door several times, just to be safe. There’s no answer, so I let myself in.

  He’s out. I didn’t realize I had been holding my breath until that point, but I now let it out in a big whoosh.

  I step into the living room. It feels so normal, yet so strange at the same time. All the furniture is still in the same place, at least. Corey has certainly benefited from our separation. That’s another thing we’ll need to discuss at some point – dividing up all our belongings.

  I glance around at the paintings on the walls. There’s an abstract canvas we got from New York currently hanging beside the couch. I don’t mind it, but Corey is absolutely obsessed with it. I guess he could keep that. I’m not actually very attached to many of the things here, but if I’m ever going to buy another place, I’ll need some stuff to put in it.

  I look out the window at the rooftops nearby. It isn’t an amazing view, but I always found it comforting.

  I run my hand over the caramel suede couch and remember all the dinner parties Corey and I hosted here.

  A tear slides down my face. And here I thought I was coping so well.

  I busy myself by rearranging the magazines on the coffee table and loading some plates into the dishwasher. I wipe down the kitchen counter and pick up a few crumbs from the carpet. It’s not as messy as I expected.