Miss Congeniality

by Marie Garner

  “When he implied you’re bad for my image! He may not have worked very hard for his money before, but he sure is now, and you know what the common denominator in all this happens to be? YOU!” She jabbed her finger in his chest, making Lance take a step back. “Everything that has gone wrong in my life has happened since you’ve been in it. How do you explain that?” She crossed her arms, breathing heavily from frustration and exertion.

  “You think I’m responsible for what happened to you?” He pointed at himself for emphasis. “So, I’m responsible for your brother? Or that shit with Raquel in the Mexican restaurant? I’m responsible for all that shit?”

  “I’m saying being with you has made me a target, and all the stuff I do is subject to a different level of scrutiny I’m not used to. I’m supposed to be the nice one; I can’t continue to be subject to negative media attention.”

  Lance scoffed. “You were never the nice one! That’s just what they called you, so don’t put that shit on me. You’re finally doing what you’ve always wanted to do, and because you get a little bit of negative attention, you want to be pissed at me. Grow the hell up! This is just like the shit with your mom!” Brea felt the blood drain from her face.

  “What does that mean?”

  “It means you have this picture of how life is supposed to be, and if something doesn’t go the way you anticipate, you get angry. Part of the reason why you never went back was you couldn’t get your mom to change, so you just ignored her. And when we went back with the shit with your brother, you wanted to take over everything, and now you’re trying to force his hand to move here. Let the man make his own decisions. You can’t fix him. He has to fix himself. Same with your mother. And guess what, Brea? Life is messy as hell, and the best thing you can hope for is someone who wants to stand by you through the good or the bad, and that’s what I wanted to do for you. I wanted to be your go-to man, your rock, but I can’t do that if you believe I am part of the problem. I’m not; you’re just so fucking scared because of the instability with your job and your family that you don’t want to make waves.”

  She had started crying midway through his speech, and couldn’t stem the tears if she tried.

  “You don’t get it! Maggie Beach is my life.” She wiped her tears away furiously.

  “No, Brea. Maggie Beach is your job; it will never be your life.”

  “It’s the same thing, and if you don’t get that, then you don’t know me. And that shit about my mom. You don’t know what it was like with her; I had to get away.”

  “But you don’t have to keep hiding. You have nothing to apologize for. You can’t continue to pretend to be something you’re not just so people don’t think you’re like her.” She flinched as if she’d been slapped, his observation hitting a little too close to home.

  “If that’s the way you really feel, then maybe we don’t have anything to talk about,” Brea said quietly.

  “No, we should keep talking about this. If you’re upset with me, then we need to discuss this because this isn’t what I want.”

  “But I can’t do this.” She collapsed on her couch, running her hand over her face. “I need you to leave.”

  “So, that’s it, you’re just going to tell me to leave.”

  “Right now, I want you gone.” If she had been screaming, he would have stayed and fought with her. But she just sat there, black streaks down her face where her mascara had run from her crying, eyes bloodshot, hiccupping from her earlier crying jag and he knew he couldn’t put her through anything else. He loved her too much to do that. Lance kissed her forehead, wiping the stray tear that fell, and walked out the door knowing he was leaving his heart in her hands. Brea lay on her back on the couch, letting more tears come when she thought about what she had just done. She felt like she was splintering, knowing her life was about to fall apart as soon as the shit hit the fan. But all of a sudden, the loss of the job she held so dear was nothing compared to the fracturing of her heart.

  To say the next three days were Hell on Earth would be an understatement. After Lance stormed out, Brea was physically unable to move from the couch, the pain in her heart bleeding over into the rest of her body. She had awakened disoriented on the couch the next day, still wearing her clothes from the evening before. Her breath smelled like butt, her face was streaked with mascara from all the crying and her hair looked like she stuck her finger in a light socket. Her cell phone beeped, signaling a voicemail, but when she saw the missed call from Garrett she didn’t have to listen. The firing they had promised finally happened. Dragging her ass upstairs to the shower, mostly to feel better, Brea ignored the fact Lance hadn’t called or left messages. That’s what happens when you ask him to go.

  The phone calls came first from concerned family and friends, as news about the traffic stop with Lance and his field sobriety test hit the airwaves and the internet. They were the number one topic streaming on Twitter the day after it happened. Thank you social media, she thought woefully. Brea tried to ignore it, although they labeled him a drunk and her a hothead. She stayed in the house, calling in her agent and her lawyer to try to figure out whether she could find another job in this town. Her agent informed her he would be in touch, but she could tell he wouldn’t be optimistic until everything died down. She was newsworthy, but not in a good way. Raquel and Clare had called several times since the original story ran, but she deflected them when they asked about Lance, especially when it was reported she and Lance were on the outs. How in the hell the media found information, she didn’t know, but all it did was pour salt on the wound, especially since it was total silence on his end.

  Today, when she thought it couldn’t get any worse, the official press release about her firing was given. No one told her, but she found herself trending on Twitter again. Did I mention I loathe the internet? It was invented for no other purpose than to torture her, and it let everyone else know she was jobless. She had turned her phone off at the end of day two because she was sick of ignoring everyone, and the pressure was starting to get to her. Brea had no way to occupy her time except think about her fight with Lance and the stuff he said. She wasn’t overcompensating for her mother, was she? Brea always knew she was apprehensive and self-conscious because of her past. She had come to the realization after going home that she was running by staying away, but did that mean shame?

  Brea sighed heavily from her position on the couch, where she hadn’t really moved except to shower; but that had been two days ago. And to get more alcohol. She had been drinking wine for the last two days, but fuck it, it’s not like she had a job right now. The only place she needed to be was South Carolina for Alex’s sentencing, but that wasn’t until next month. The pounding on the door, which just happened to match the pounding of her head, broke Brea out of her contemplation of the mess which had become her life. She dreaded answering the door; she knew the media had been camping outside her house the last two days, but she figured people would take a hint with her phone being off.

  They tried pounding one more time, and then nothing. Brea felt a moment of gratitude believing they had left until she heard the key in the lock. Only two people had a key to her house. She should have known a silent phone and a locked door wouldn’t keep Raquel and Clare away. She stayed where she was, they would find her eventually.

  “It’s worse than we thought.” Raquel stared down at her from the back of the couch. Clare stood at her side, eyes widened in shock at the sight Brea presented.

  “Go away,” Brea mumbled, turning over so her face was planted in the back of the sofa, praying they took the hint. Raquel was unmoved, grabbing her shoulders so she was looking back up at them.

  “Hell no, we will not go away. Maybe we wouldn’t be here on this 9-1-1 call if your ass would answer your phone.” Brea threw her arm over her eyes, blocking her out.

  “There’s a reason why I didn’t answer my phone.” Raquel swatted her arm away, at the end of her rope. Brea glared at her; she just wanted to be left al
one to wallow in her misery.

  “And there’s a reason why I barged in here to come help you. Get your ass up.” She sniffed, putting her hand over her nose. “Go take a shower and come down here like you want to get yourself out of this mess instead of lying around like a lush.”

  “Why did I give you a key?” She scowled at her. Raquel got inches from her face.

  “Because Clare is too nice, and sometimes you need a bitch to tell you to get the fuck up and deal with your shit. I will drag your ass off this couch and into the shower if I have to.”

  “You are an asshole,” Brea said, pushing her back for breathing room.

  “If the shoe fits, feel free to lace that bitch up and wear it. Now, get up and shower; and we’ll clean up your mess.”

  “I’m going.” Brea pointed at her when she got up off the couch. “But you’re getting on my fucking nerves.”

  “Well, your pity party is getting on mine, so we’re even!” Raquel yelled at her back as Brea left.

  “You shouldn’t have been so mean to her,” Clare, the conscientious observer, pointed out.

  Raquel sighed, running her hand through her hair. “Someone has to be. She’s given up, and sometimes people just need a kick in the ass.”

  “I’m done, bitch,” Brea announced when she sauntered back in the room. Freshly showered with clean hair and clothes, she did feel better but she wasn’t going to tell Raquel.

  From where she sat on the couch, Raquel chuckled and patted the place beside here. “Come sit here, baby.”

  “Why did you bring her?” Brea asked Clare.

  “I was the smarts. She was the muscle.” Clare wasn’t far off; Raquel did tend to be the brute of the three.

  “If you guys are done talking about me, let’s talk about her.” She pointed at Brea. “I need a rundown of what’s wrong with your life.”

  “Raquel! Be nice,” Clare chastised. Raquel didn’t acknowledge her; she just snapped at Brea to get to it.

  Brea sighed deeply, dropping her head in her hands. She looked up miserably at Raquel.

  “Let’s see. I was fired. I have been the subject of negative media attention forced upon me. Plus Lance and I got into a fight, and I think we broke up.” She ticked off the various points on her fingers.

  Raquel cracked her knuckles dramatically. “Okay, let’s work on one problem at a time. Let’s start with the negative media because if I’m right, that’s what’s causing the other two problems.” Brea nodded her agreement. “What is the problem with the media?”

  “I’m just sick of it. I want to be able to do what I want to do when I want to do it without people commenting. I’m thirty years old, for goodness sake! Why can’t they leave me the fuck alone?”

  Clare rubbed her arm soothingly. “Better or worse, this is what we signed up for.”

  “I know,” Brea whined, “but they usually left me alone.”

  Raquel was having nothing of her pity party. “So, that means you were either really quiet or really boring. I’m going to go with boring, because you’ve spiced up since you’ve been with Lance.”

  “But what if this has always been me, and I just never let it out.”

  Raquel waved her off. “Then who gives a shit what you do? The producers? The financial backers? You have done nothing illegal or immoral, so just tell them to shove it.”

  “I’ve never ruffled feathers before.” Brea didn’t know how to be the bad one; that was Raquel’s job. Brea had been in the shadows, so she was still trying to figure out how to navigate the media.

  “Who cares?” Raquel asked.

  “I care, Raquel! I care! Because that job was my livelihood. I loved being on the show. I don’t know what I’ll do if I’m not on the show.”

  “You will put on your big girl panties and deal with it,” Raquel stated.

  “Is there no way for you to keep your job? And would you even want to?” Clare wondered.

  “Not unless there’s a miracle, and I do want to keep my job. But because our contracts are renewed yearly, as long as I’ve finished out this contract, they don’t have to renew it. My lawyer already looked into it, and he said they’ve done nothing wrong so I have no recourse.”

  “So, we’ll put the job situation up in the air because we’ll think of something. If not, you may find a gig you like better than being on Maggie Beach,” Raquel reassured her.

  “Or you can try movies. I love it, and it’s a nice break from television,” Clare told her.

  “I know it’s not the end of the world, but it’s just one more thing to pile on my list of incredibly shitty things which have happened to me.”

  Raquel nodded. “It’s not something you’re going to change right away. It’s going to take a while, but you will find your balance.”

  “I know,” Brea said, her eyes tearing. She forced them back by sheer willpower, figuring she had cried enough over the last couple of days.

  “Now, what happened with Lance?” Clare asked sympathetically.

  Brea ran her hand through her hair. “Do we really have to talk about this?”

  Raquel butted in. “Yes, because if I could guess, I would say he’s mainly the reason behind your lack of hygiene.”

  “Well, after the traffic stop, I called Henry to meet me here so we could do damage control and salvage my job.”

  “Stop right there,” Clare said. “You needed support and assistance, and Henry has never provided you with that.”

  “I know. Trust me, I know now, but I can’t change it. Besides, Lance went ape-shit on him and slammed him against the wall.” Brea felt the need to defend herself; she wasn’t the only one wrong the other night.

  “I wish I could have seen that,” Raquel grinned.

  “Raquel, you’re not helping,” Brea chastised her.

  “And I bet he deserved it. If I know our favorite Alpha, Henry probably spoke disrespectfully toward you and Lance was honor-bound to defend his woman.”

  “Maybe. But he still shouldn’t have said shit about my mom.” Raquel and Clare just watched her, waiting for Brea to explain herself. “Lance tells me I’ve been hiding behind the shit with my mom and that I’m so worried I’ll turn out like her, I overcompensate by being too nice and agreeable.” Raquel and Clare exchanged looks with each other; Brea felt she was missing part of the equation. “Why are you two looking like that?”

  “I hate to break it to you, sweetheart, but he’s probably right,” Clare said sympathetically.

  “But he also told me I’m too controlling, and try to play people like chess pieces, and life’s messy, and I was never the nice one.”

  Clare patted her back. “Yep, still agree with him. I’m a lot nicer than you, but that’s not how the chips fell when it came to our nicknames.”

  “Which is part of the problem with the producers. Our personas became this living, breathing monster. Some kind of self-fulfilling prophecy no one anticipated, and now it’s got you stuck in a bind and you’ve lost your job because you weren’t abiding by it,” Raquel pointed out.

  “Yeah, that was one of the issues focused on in the meeting. I shouldn’t be acting this way because I was Miss Congeniality. And as far as the stuff with my mother, I’m not making up for her. I’m trying to become so unlike her I probably took it to the extreme.”

  “We all have baggage in our past we want to get rid of; the big issue is making sure it doesn’t consume your life. I believe yours has, up until a certain bad boy came into your life,” Clare spoke from experience, nudging her when she talked about Lance.

  “But he said I was controlling.” She pouted.

  “Do you really think you’re going to be able to argue you’re not?”

  Brea thought about her life, the meticulous emphasis she placed on order, and figured she had to give him that one. “Probably not. But Henry does have a point when he says all the bad press I’ve experienced recently has been since Lance was in my life.”

  Raquel threw her hands up in exasperation. “The
boy is newsworthy! If he shits, it becomes a big deal. You just weren’t prepared for them to follow your every move. We’ve taken shots in dive bars before and it never made the press, or gotten into verbal altercations where nothing was said about it after. The difference is now you know and are better equipped to handle cameras following you around day and night. I always act as though a camera is pointed at me, but I didn’t care with Ginger because I wanted to hit her, so I let my guard down. What really matters is just being cognizant of them, and you shouldn’t have a problem. The last thing, and then I’m done, is it shouldn’t matter what you do on your own time. You’re an adult. I’m sure most people could give two shits about what you’re doing, and if the producers can’t respect that, then maybe you should be looking for another job.”

  “You’re right, about everything, Raquel.”

  “I know.” She grinned.

  “That still doesn’t solve the problem of being on the outs with Lance.”

  “Now, I can’t help you with him.” Raquel held up her hands in defeat. “If you’re asking my opinion, give the boy a couple more days to see if he gets back in touch with you. If not, go pound his door down like we did you. He’ll be unable to resist your charms, as long as you keep up that whole hygiene routine you seemed to have lost there for a minute. He’ll at least listen to what you have to say, if not agree with you.”

  “Have you guys seen him since all this happened?” She was desperate for any information about him. She had wallowed in her own pity long enough to realize they were printing crazy shit about Lance, too. Clare and Raquel exchanged a long look; they weren’t telling her something. “Just tell me what you’re not saying?” They continued to stare at each other, seeming to have a conversation with their eyes.

  “Lance called me yesterday. We’re supposed to meet him today for coffee,” Raquel finally told her.

  “You’re supposed to meet him,” she asked slowly, not comprehending.

  Raquel cringed. “We’ll meet him when we leave here, but we didn’t want to go until we talked to you. We hadn’t heard from you, so we figured it had something to do with you.”