Meg let out a small laugh. “You’re wrong.” She piled her fork and knife on the plate in front of her and leaned back in her chair. “Believe me, she’s sweet, and we had a nice time talking the other night, but she’s not interested in me like that.”
Tracy stood up from the table. “Well, I’d bet money I’m not wrong.” She walked to the sink with her dishes. “And I think you should maybe take your own advice and give some consideration to what’s right in front of you.” She shrugged playfully as she started to clear the rest of the table.
During a lull in conversation the television in the background blared and the jingle of an entertainment magazine show filled the room.
A sports-music merger tops tonight’s lead story, the host announced.
Meg’s attention shifted to Tracy when her friend stopped in her tracks and stared at a picture of famous musician Jezebel Stone on the screen. Tracy quickly huffed out a laugh, but Meg was on to her. She exchanged an uncertain glance with Lexi to see if she’d picked up on it too as Tracy breezed past them to the sink, still looking over her shoulder. On the TV, a taped clip aired showing Jezebel hounded by photographers as she walked along the bright California sidewalk. The singer held up her left hand, showcasing a diamond band on her ring finger. She wore dark sunglasses and fake-smiled at the paparazzi as she told them in her world-famous sultry voice, It’s true.
The story cut back to the anchorman. That was Jezebel Stone confirming today she has indeed married San Diego Padres third baseman Jasper Lloyd. The two have had an up-and-down relationship over the past year with rumors of infidelity on both sides. Reps for both camps confirmed the couple wed earlier in a private ceremony at Stone’s Hollywood Hills estate. The rushed nuptials have everyone speculating there might be a future musician, or athlete, in the not-too-distant future…
Where Tracy had laughed mockingly at the segment initially, she seemed anything but amused by the full story.
Meg put it together right away. She muted the television and turned to her friend. “Trace, are you okay?”
“I’m fine.” Tracy dropped silverware in the sink noisily. “It’s fine,” she repeated. She picked up the condiments that were still on the table. “Not my problem anymore. That”—she pointed with the pepper mill to the television in the next room—“is someone else’s problem. Not mine.”
Tracy walked from the sink to the table, seeming uncertain what to do with herself in the face of this startling information. She took a long gulp of water, wiped her mouth, and placed her glass on the table with a thump, cutting the tension.
“Jezebel Stone.” Meg nodded, pulling out the chair next to her. “That’s big.” She looked over at Tracy, who sat still, twisting her water glass in front of her. “I get why you didn’t tell me.”
Tracy shifted her eyes to Lexi, who had remained silent the entire time. “I used to date her. Jezebel Stone.” She tilted her head back and looked up at the ceiling. “We broke up, like, pretty much right before I came out here.”
“I’m sorry.” Lexi’s voice was a mix of genuine concern and complete shock.
“Don’t be.” Tracy wiped at her eyes, even though there were no tears. “I’m sorry. For being so dramatic.”
“Shut up, dude,” Meg reprimanded.
Tracy leaned forward and put her elbows on the table. “I’m over it. I really am. I don’t want you guys to think I’m not.” She rubbed the back of her neck. “I’m used to seeing her face all the time—in magazines, the Internet, bullshit shows like this—I just”—she forced out a laugh—“I have to say, I did not expect to hear that.”
“You guys were together a long time?” Lexi asked.
“Almost two years.”
“What happened, if you don’t mind me asking?” Lexi inadvertently glanced in the direction of the television. “Was it the baseball player?”
Tracy frowned. “Not at all. I knew about him. At least I thought I did.” She chewed the inside of her mouth. “She told me they were friends. That he was her cover. They had an understanding.” She put air quotes around the word.
Meg interrupted. “Wait, is he gay too?”
“I don’t know. I doubt it though, now.” Her voice grew agitated. “You heard the guy, they might be having a baby.”
“They say that crap all the time about famous people,” Lexi offered in support.
Tracy looked a little defeated. “Yeah, but she did marry him. So I’m thinking there’s probably something going on.” She fake-gagged a little, revealing her disgust at the thought. Then she stayed silent for a minute, looking out Meg’s kitchen window as she bit her bottom lip over and over, keeping her gaze on the front lawn. “I knew I should have ended it a long time ago.” She shook her head slowly. “I almost did, in fact.”
“What happened?” Meg asked.
Tracy let out a big sigh and faced her friends. “Pretty much right after we got together, I realized she was not planning on coming out anytime soon. It was hard for me, so I talked to her about it.” She looked over at Meg sincerely. “Meg, you know me. I have never pretended to be something I’m not. And God”—she pursed her lips—“I always swore if I was lucky enough to make it in golf, or anything, I wouldn’t change. I would be who I am. I would be a role model.” She pressed a sesame seed on the tabletop, picking it up with the pad of her middle finger. “It’s just so messed up. There’s all these kids, teenagers, out there. They need us.” She scooted her chair back from the table and walked to the garbage can, flicking the crumb off her finger. “I explained all of this to Jez. How she could make a real difference in the world…” She shook her head as her voice faded out.
Walking back to the kitchen sink, Tracy seemed to regain her confidence as she told her saga while keeping busy with the cleanup chores. “Anyway, I told her I was done. I hated being a secret. I couldn’t stand pretending to be her friend and watching her flirt with everyone right in front of me.” She huffed. “Part of the job, she would say.” Tracy looked over at her friends still seated at the table. “Almost a year into it we were both in Scotland at the same time. We had made plans to meet up. Secretly, of course.” She let out a little chuckle. “She finally sent me the details for our rendezvous.” She widened her eyes, clearly making fun of the drama surrounding the meeting. “The whole thing was so fucking coded, you’d need, like, a legend to figure it out.” She grabbed a sponge and loaded on some dish soap. “The hotel, the room number, what entrance to use. She was under a fake name. I was under a different fake name, even though nobody knows who I am anyway. It was bullshit.” She shrugged. “I didn’t go. I told her to forget it. It was over.” Tracy started scrubbing the pan she’d used to grill the chicken.
“And?” Meg asked, dying to know what happened next.
“She came back to LA. Showed up at my apartment, begged for another chance.” Tracy laughed again, out loud this time as she turned on the faucet to rinse the pan. “God, it’s so clichéd when I think about it now.”
Tracy was trying to mask it, and doing a halfway decent job, but Meg’s heart ached a little to see her friend so uncharacteristically rattled. She noticed Tracy couldn’t quite meet their eyes.
“You know,” Tracy continued, “she came over with her guitar and her sorrow. Played me a song she’d just finished. Gave me the line that she’d written it for me.” She looked over her shoulder at her friends. “Let me tell you, that rock-star shit—it works.” Tracy snapped her fingers. “Just like that, I was back.” She cocked her head back and smirked. “She sat on my couch and sang that song to me and I fell fucking hard as hell.”
“What song was it?” Meg’s curiosity got the best of her.
Tracy turned all the way around and leaned back on the counter grabbing a dish towel to dry her hands. As she looked between Meg and Lexi a small smile escaped her and she looked more than a little nostalgic. “It was ‘Real Me,’” she answered, naming Jezebel Stone’s power ballad that still dominated airwaves a year later.
&nbs
p; Lexi’s jaw dropped. “No way.”
“Holy shit,” Meg added. “There’s some fucking great lines in that song.”
“Well, it was genius, I’ll give her that.” Tracy turned back toward the sink and the remaining dishes. “Every time I heard it on the radio, it was like she tightened her grip on me.” Her eyes bored into the cabinet in front of her. “A truly sick, sadistic mind-fuck I realize now, since I am fairly certain I was not the only recipient of the story behind it.”
“You think she told Lloyd too?” Meg asked in disbelief.
Tracy shrugged. “I doubt it, but who knows.”
Meg nodded to herself, still analyzing the statement she was about to make. “You know, I always thought that song was about a woman. Something about the language, the tone…”
Tracy looked at her and raised her eyebrows. “You might be right.” She smacked her lips. “Not sure it was me, though.”
Meg crinkled her forehead in confusion.
“After that night, nothing changed.” Tracy picked through the silverware at the bottom of the sink, rinsing each fork and knife off before loading them into the dishwasher. “I was still in the shadows. She constantly told me she needed more time, that I didn’t understand”—she shrugged again—“but it was all lies.” She held up a dirty pair of tongs and pointed them at Lexi. “Which brings me to the answer to your question, Lexi.” She leaned against the lip of the sink, the tongs hanging from her left hand. “We did not break up over Jasper Lloyd.” She spoke with sincerity and a little sadness. “I honestly believed her when she told me she wasn’t sleeping with him. Although it totally grosses me out now to realize she probably was.” She looked at the floor. “But no, we broke up over a girl.”
Meg couldn’t hide her surprise. “Another girl?”
“Another girl,” Tracy confirmed.
Lexi interrupted. “Wait, you or her?”
Tracy looked right at her. “Not me.”
Lexi winced a little. “Sorry. I just wasn’t sure. Sorry,” she repeated.
“It’s fine.” Tracy forgave Lexi’s uncertainty with a wave of her hand. “No, I was faithful the entire time we were together. But at some point I suspected she might be cheating.”
“With a girl?” Meg asked again, her voice a blend of half question, half amazed statement.
Tracy nodded yes, biting and chewing her lower lip. “You guys know the drill. You start seeing all these signs and you want to believe they’re not there. I knew the girl. She was part of her makeup team. Trina.” She uttered her name sarcastically, but it obviously hurt her to say it. “I confronted Jez about it. She told me I was crazy.” She looked at Meg and Lexi and her irritation came through as she spoke. “She gave me this whole drawn-out lecture about how it was hard enough hiding one girlfriend, forget about two.
“Then Fourth of July weekend, I was playing a charity tournament on the coast. I had gone to the reception after and stayed kind of late. I was having a good time. Had no one to rush home to.” She frowned. “Jez was tied up the entire weekend doing a small venue outside of Vegas. At least that’s what she told me,” she added with a lift of her eyebrows.
“Anyway, I had keys to her place in Santa Barbara. It was where we always stayed together. It was basically our place. That’s how I thought of it anyway.” She took a minute as though she still couldn’t believe it had all happened. Then her expression changed completely and her eyes crinkled in the corners as she smiled. “You know, I was there for like forty-five minutes before I even realized she was there.”
“Nooooo.” Meg held her head as she cringed in disbelief.
“Yep,” Tracy confirmed. She couldn’t hold back a laugh as she continued. “I let myself in. Shut off the alarm. Got a drink. Watched SportsCenter for a while.” She nodded, continuing. “Finally I went into the bedroom to put my stuff away and get changed.” Her expression was stoic. “There they were.”
“The makeup girl?” Lexi asked.
“The fucking makeup girl.”
“Were they like”—Meg clenched her teeth together and circled her hands around as she searched for the least offensive wording—“actively—”
“No. They were asleep,” Tracy answered. “I arrived postcoitus,” she added snarkily.
Meg cocked her head to the side. “Well, that’s better, right?”
“Is it?” Tracy countered.
“I mean it’s not ideal. But at least you didn’t have to see her face in someone else’s box.” Meg shrugged. “Who needs that image?”
“Point taken.” They exchanged eye contact, and in the small moment, Tracy saw Meg’s support.
“Wow.” Lexi shook her head, her jaw still hanging open. “I can’t believe it.”
“What part?” Tracy asked.
Lexi pushed her long curly hair off her shoulders. “All of it. It’s crazy.” She flashed her eyes at Tracy. “And sad. I’m sorry it happened to you.”
Meg echoed her statements. “It sucks. You deserve way better than that.”
“Thanks, guys.” Tracy turned around and began to finish washing the remaining utensils.
They were all quiet for a second before Lexi broke the silence. “Am I the only one who’s shocked Jezebel Stone is gay?”
Meg took the opportunity to tease her bestie on her favorite Lexi-ism. “You have the worst fucking gaydar.” She gave Lexi a huge smile. “Seriously, I don’t know how you survived this long. Thank God you live here, because you’d be lost in the real world.”
“Shut up.” Lexi swatted Meg playfully before redirecting her attention to Tracy. “On the bright side, she wrote an awesome, heart-wrenching love song about you.”
Tracy nodded, considering. “True.” She paused. “But”—she drew out the one syllable word before going on—“we should maybe consider the source.” She grinned over her shoulder and there was a devilish twinkle in her eye. “I like your theory, Lexi, believe me.” She had just finished washing the large knife she’d used to slice the chicken and she held it as she continued to talk. “Honestly, it’s pretty likely she was screwing at least one other person at the time.” She turned around for full effect, emphasizing her point by wagging the knife in the air. “And anyway, how do you trust someone who parades around as a self-assured international celebrity, pretends to be a role model, marries her beard, and cashes in on a song called ‘Real Me,’ when the real her is a closet case named Judy Rockwell from Sarasota, Florida.”
Meg watched Tracy’s confidence return as she completed her zinger with a satisfied smile. But her big show of being over it was overshadowed by what happened next. As she finished talking, she dragged the kitchen knife over the dishtowel with a flourish, not accounting for the blade or its sharpness, slicing clear through the fabric and her palm in one swift motion.
Chapter Twelve
“Fuck, Meg. I’m getting blood all over your car.” Tracy wrapped her hand tighter in a teal beach towel. “I’m sorry, dude.”
“Would you shut up with the apologies already.”
Tracy smiled. She was pleased her voice remained smooth and calm despite the circumstances. “I feel bad.” She laughed a little, rolling her head against the seat. “I’m such a tool. I can’t believe I did this.”
“Does it hurt?” Lexi asked from the backseat.
“It’s fine,” she lied, clenching her teeth to swallow the pain as Meg pulled up to the hospital’s emergency entrance.
Tracy breathed a sigh of relief that the ER was virtually empty and she was taken in almost immediately. After a series of nurses, residents, interns, and more unidentified staffers came by to weigh in on her prognosis and treatment, she urged Meg and Lexi to go home. They refused, of course, instead slipping out on a coffee mission and leaving her with her own thoughts.
Tracy stared up at the ceiling, thinking about the events that had led her here, reclining on the uncomfortable bed and consciously reminding herself not to blame Jezebel Stone, even though, considering the circumstances, it was
her fault a little.
She was genuinely surprised and secretly elated when she heard Betsy’s sweet voice in the doorway.
“How’s the patient?”
Tracy inched up a little, using her good hand to sit up more in bed. “Hi,” she crooned, unable to resist ogling Betsy in her hospital getup. Betsy’s eyes stood out even more than usual, their color enhanced by her aqua scrubs under a long white coat. “How did you—”
“Jesse texted me.” She held out her hand. “Let’s see.”
Tracy undid the loose wrap the nurse had fixed for her and looked up at Betsy to assess her reaction. Betsy didn’t hold back.
“Geez, Trace. That looks pretty serious.” She leaned over to get a better angle. “Obviously not my area of expertise but”—she peered closer, putting her hand on Tracy’s shoulder for balance—“Jesse made it sound like you might need stitches.” She rubbed Tracy’s shoulder and continued to evaluate the wound. “I think you’ll probably need surgery.” Her expression was a mix of concern and disappointment as though she knew she was right, but hated being the one to break it to her. “That is a very deep cut.”
When the doctor came, he confirmed Betsy’s initial diagnosis. The wound was severe and had caused tendon damage that needed to be repaired right away. Tracy was scheduled for surgery later in the evening. She made Meg and Lexi go home anyway, saying she was a big girl and it was only hand surgery. Meg agreed only after talking to Betsy, who promised to check on her throughout the night.
*
“Hey, killer.”
Tracy looked up from the form she was signing to the welcome sight of Betsy at the edge of her bed in Recovery.
“Hi.” Her voice was groggy despite her best efforts.
“I talked to your surgeon. He said everything went smoothly. You can go home.”
Tracy nodded. “Yeah. He told me.”
“Finish up your paperwork.” Betsy nodded with her chin. “I just have one more thing to do. Then I’ll take you back to Meg’s.”
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