Rock Solid

by Lisa A. Olech

  Just then the rooster clock announced the hour, her body made up its mind. In a mad rush past Trixie and Joe, Emily shot out into the front yard and threw up on one of Joe’s off-road tires.

  Trixie was begging her to stop and “just listen.”

  Emily jumped into her Jeep and smoked the wheels getting away. Her cell phone rang before she reached the end of the road. Emily squeezed the Off button and threw the phone into the backseat. She made it to Suzanne’s in less than five minutes.

  Suzanne had the front door open before Emily made the stairs. “Oh shit. You look like hell. It’s all true then?”

  Emily covered her eyes as a fresh wave of hysterics crashed over her.

  Suzanne ran down the two steps and wrapped her arm around Emily and led her inside. “I’ve been going crazy. We saw your pictures in the paper first thing this morning.”

  “Pictures? There are picture of this?”

  Suz sat her at the kitchen table and pushed the society pages toward her. “It says Max came to the wedding.”

  Emily looked at the photos taken less than twelve hours ago. Max was holding her in his arms and kissing her. They were the image of two people in love. It tore at her heart to see. The caption read, “The illusive artist, Maximo Vega adds a splash of drama to the wedding of the season.”

  Suzanne set a cup of coffee in front of Emily. “I freaked out when I saw it. I mean, Trixie reads the society pages like the Bible. So much for keeping things a secret. Then when that Lavender woman hit the news.”

  Emily stared at the photo. Suzanne’s words didn’t register in her brain for a moment. “Wait, did you say Lavender? What does this have to do with her?”

  “She’s all over the news.” Suzanne pointed to the television in the living room. The local station was covering a breaking story. “She’s announcing to the world that Maximo Vega is a giant fake.”

  “Oh my God…how did she find out?”

  “What? So it’s true?”

  “Yes, it’s true.” Emily pushed away from the table and rushed into the living room. The television was on the news channel. They were showing clips of Beverly Lavender’s tearful confession before a room full of reporters. “I am shocked and stunned by what I’ve learned in the last twenty-four hours. Maximo Vega is more con artist than artist. To deceive his fans, his loyal employees, and representatives is beyond reprehensible. It is criminal. Lavender Blue Art Agency has taken immediate legal action to sever any and all ties with Maximo Vega and Vega Studio.” They cut away to shots of the studio, of Fame, and a video clip of Max dodging photographers. “Channel Twelve has just learned all upcoming appearances and events featuring the artist once believed to be directly linked to Michelangelo have been cancelled, pending charges of fraud and misrepresentation on the part of Mr. Vega. All attempts to contact the artist for comments regarding today’s revelations have been unsuccessful.”

  “Oh my God, this will ruin him.” Emily breathed. “This can’t be happening. Everything he’s worked so hard for…It’s all gone. He must be devastated.”

  “Why are you defending him? He lied to you. He’s lied to everybody. I’d think you’d be happy to see him suffer.”

  “Of course I’m not happy,” Emily snapped. “His work is too important. His contribution to the art world shouldn’t be dismissed. And…and…I love him.”

  “Oh, sweetie, you need to get over that. He played you for a fool, Em. He sucked you in like all the rest. It’s okay to hate him.”

  “I know. Trust me, I know. I wish I could just shut if off like a light switch, but I can’t.” Emily gaped at her friend. “Last night was m-magical. He showed up and swept me off my feet. It was the best night of my life.” She dropped onto the couch and held her face in her hands. “And then I woke up, and my whole world shattered.”

  Suzanne turned off the television and sat next to Emily. She lifted the fuzzy throw off the back of the couch and wrapped it around Emily’s shoulders. “Trixie must be having an absolute meltdown. Have you talked to her yet?”

  Emily leaned her head back and squeezed her eyes shut, but it was no use. She’d never get the image of Trixie and Joe out of her mind. Not without bleach, a scrub brush, and a stick of dynamite. “I stopped by, but she was too busy screwing Joe Turner.”

  Suzanne choked next to her. “Whaaaat?”

  Emily curled up in the fetal position and pulled the throw over her head. “I don’t want a new daddy,” she wailed.

  “Ewww, Joe Turner? Really?”

  “Please, just kill me.”

  “Oh, honey, I’m so sorry.” Suzanne rubbed her back. “And I thought Cynthia’s news would be the worst. Boy, was I wrong.”

  Emily pulled the throw off her head and looked back at Suz. “What about Cynthia?”

  “You know.” She flipped her hand. “The whole champagne thing.”

  Em sat up. “What champagne thing?”

  “She wasn’t drinking.” When Emily just frowned at her, she continued with a deep sigh. “You didn’t notice? She had a glass, but she never drank it. Oh, jeez, I can’t believe I’m the one that has to tell you this on top of everything else.”

  “Tell me what?”

  “Cynthia’s pregnant.”

  ****

  Max found the small pink Cape Cod house. Emily’s Jeep wasn’t in the driveway, but maybe her mother knew where he could find her. After the eighth time trying the cell phone number he found in her file, he’d given up. Taking the stairs two at a time, he pounded on the door and pushed at the doorbell. The bell crowed like a rooster.

  “You!” A frazzled petite woman answered the door. She looked as if she’d been crying.

  “Are you Mrs. Baskins? I’m—”

  “I know who you are.” She tried to slam the door in his face.

  Max caught the door with his arm. “Good, then we won’t waste time with pleasantries. I need to find your daughter. Do you know where she is?”

  “No, I don’t. And even if I did, I wouldn’t tell you…you…Il mio portafoglio è stato rubato! Dove posso trovare un agente di polizia?”

  Max frowned. “Someone stole your wallet?”

  “I’m only on lesson three. I haven’t learned how to swear in Italian yet, you bastard!”

  Max sighed. “I deserve that. Swear at me all you want. I’ll even teach you how to curse like an Italian sailor, but right now I have to find Emily.”

  “Haven’t you hurt her enough? Leave her alone.”

  “I can’t do that, Mrs. Baskins. I’m in love with her.”

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Emily towel dried her hair and gave herself a long, hard stare in the mirror. You stupid, stupid fool. Her eyes burned from crying and her head pounded, but the hot shower made her feel a bit more human. Slipping on a pair of borrowed sweats and a T-shirt, she joined Suzanne back in the kitchen.

  “I made us some tea.” Suzanne placed a china cup in front of Emily

  “You hate tea, and I’m not a big fan either.” Emily lifted the cup and sniffed.

  “I know, but isn’t tea what you’re supposed to offer someone when they’re in the middle of a crisis? That’s what happens in all those old movies.”

  Emily replaced the cup in its delicate saucer. It was nice Suzanne was trying, but it was only making Emily more prickly. She was grateful for the shower and the sweats, but what she needed was some alone time to process everything. Unfortunately, Suzanne’s caring had crossed over into something akin to a suicide watch as if she was afraid to leave Emily alone for more than five minutes. “Thanks anyway.”

  “She’s called four times.” Suz chewed her lower lip. It wasn’t necessary for her to say who she was.

  “Just keep telling her I’m not here.”

  Suzanne screwed her mouth. “I don’t want to tell you your business, but haven’t there been enough lies already? You’ve lied to her, she’s lied to you, Maximo has lied to…well everyone. Aren’t you tired of it? Trixie’s your mother, and she’s worried
sick about you. You don’t have to talk to her. Let me just tell her where you are.” As if on cue, the phone rang again. Looking at caller ID, Suzanne shot her a pointed look.

  “Fine, tell her, but I’m not talking to her. I don’t want to talk to anyone.”

  Suzanne picked up the phone. “Hey, Trix, yeah, she’s here. No. I don’t think it’s a good idea. She’s pretty upset. Maybe she should just hang here for a day or two until she sorts things out.” Suzanne looked at Em and nodded. “I think she’ll be okay. It’s just been a lot to take in, you know. I’m sure she’ll give you a call when she’s ready to talk. Till then, she’s here and she’s safe. I made her tea.”

  Emily left Suzanne to finish talking to Trixie and curled up on the couch. Try as she might to block him from her mind, she thought about Max. The local news channel had been on top of the story all day. She couldn’t watch any more. His fame was gone. Erased in an instant. The world would hate him for a time and then forget he ever existed. It was all such a waste. While she didn’t have it in her to forgive him for what he’d done, she still couldn’t rejoice in his demise. It was a fickle world, filled with fickle people, who delighted in cheering someone as they rose to the heights of that great silvery illusion of celebrity only to be the same ones jeering when they crashed back to earth. It was all too sad, and yet it happened every day.

  Monday morning, Emily woke on Suzanne’s couch in the same position she remembered laying down yesterday afternoon. She’d been covered with the fuzzy throw and had fallen into a deep, dreamless sleep. She stretched the stiffness of her back and wondered what time it was.

  The house was quiet. Monday was Suzanne’s day off and there was only one thing on Emily’s to do list for the day. She needed to face the inevitable fallout from everything that happened this weekend, and the sooner she did it the better.

  ****

  “Madeline?”

  “Baskins? Jeez, girl, get the hell in here.” Madeline Sullivan move a coiled clay pot from a chair. “Shut the door.”

  “I’m guessing you’ve seen the news.”

  “Are you kidding? I’m still reeling. Talk about dropping a bomb. Daniel Bruce from the Bruce Gallery is a personal friend of mine, and he’s been on the phone with me for hours since the news hit. He’d contracted a VIP, three-city tour scheduled for Maximo Vega. To say he’s livid is an understatement.”

  Emily could understand Mr. Bruce’s anger. There was a lot of that going around. “Speaking of understatements, I’m in a giant mess now, aren’t I? Without the Vega internship, I’m sunk all the way around. The Internship Committee is no doubt removing Vega Studio from the program as we speak. It’s too late to secure another for the summer, and without it I won’t be finishing my degree on time. Not to mention my behavior was beyond inappropriate. Even if the Graduate Board lets me stay at Stoddard, they’re sure to strip me of my scholarship, if they haven’t already. You know my circumstance, no scholarship, no school. Either way, I’m out. You’ve always been good to me, Maddie, but I wouldn’t blame you if you showed me the door right now. I was just hoping you’d let me finish up the semester. Then I’ll leave Stoddard and maybe this scandal will fade away.”

  “Emily—”

  “No, Madeline, I’ve been all over this in my head. Maybe in a couple of years, after everything dies down, I can come back and finish my degree. If I get a decent job and can save some money…”

  “Or…”

  “How is there an ‘or’?”

  Madeline moved a snow globe of the Statue of Liberty and pulled a thick envelope out of her inbox. “Or, this. It arrived first thing this morning.” Maddie pulled several pieces of paper from the envelope and handed Emily two of the sheets.

  Emily frowned. She couldn’t believe what she was looking at. They were her internship papers. They’d been signed off as complete. “I don’t understand.”

  “‘Dear Ms. Sullivan,’” Maddie read from the page she held in her hand. “‘Enclosed please find the internship paperwork for Ms. Emily Baskins. Given that Ms. Baskins has demonstrated such an advanced skill level, proficiency, and dedication to craft, as well as providing invaluable assistance to several significant projects within this studio, I am confident she has met and completed all necessary requirements of her internship. Given the speed with which Ms. Baskins was able to complete these requirements, I give her my highest recommendation. Sincerely, Dante Rizzoli, Managing Director, Vega Studio.’ It’s also signed by Maximo himself. Both were dated Saturday. And there’s this.” Madeline held up a check. “It’s made out to you for the full amount of the internship plus, it says here, a modeling bonus.”

  “I-I don’t understand.” Emily snatched the check from Madeline and was stunned at the number of zeroes.

  “As I said, it was in this morning’s mail. It had to have been mailed before noon on Saturday. So if there’s any debate from the committee regarding the validity of your internship in light of what transpired yesterday, this little postmark negates it. It also means your little lip-lock caught in the newspaper happened after you were released under the program so there can be no allegations made of inappropriate conduct on your part.” She shrugged one shoulder. “Or his, for that matter.”

  “I-I don’t know what to say.”

  “I’d be singing, Halleluiah, I’m one damn lucky girl.” She leaned forward in her chair. “I know the media is taking some serious shots at Maximo Vega right now and he’s earned them, but from where I’m sitting, I think he was planning to tell the truth all along.” She raised the paper in her hand. “These tell me he made sure you were protected before the shit hit the fan.”

  A lump in her throat threatened to choke her. Was Madeline right? Did Max know Beverly Lavender was going to expose him or was he planning his own confession? Blinking back the tears she focused on Maximo’s bold signature at the bottom her paperwork. “Why couldn’t he have been honest with me?”

  “You can answer that question better than I. Would it change how you’re feeling?”

  “I don’t know.” Emily sniffed and shrugged one shoulder. “I stopped feeling hours ago.”

  ****

  Emily balanced her sterling flower vase on top of the rest of her things as she fumbled for Suzanne’s spare key. She’d swung by the hotel suite before check out to pick up the rest of her things. The room smelled worse than the men’s. Two bridesmaids were still passed out. There were empty champagne bottles everywhere. The after-after party must have been a doozy. She gathered her few things and left them to sleep it off.

  “Hello? Suz? I’m back.” Em pulled the key with its sparkly teal happy face fob from the lock, closed the door with her elbow, and pushed the key back into her pocket.

  “She’ll be back in a little while. She ran to the store.” Trixie stood in the doorway leading into the kitchen.

  Emily slammed on her brakes and tried to throw herself in reverse. “I don’t want to talk to you.” Her bouquet flowers fell out of her vase and hit the floor with a pink peony splat. She didn’t care. She wrenched the door open.

  “Emily Louise Baskins, don’t you dare walk away from me. I’m still your mother.”

  Emily spun on her. “Are you? Are you still my mother, because I swear I don’t know who you are. It must be a theme, because I don’t even recognize myself anymore. Did I fall down a rabbit hole? Did the whole world flip upside down while I was asleep? When did left become right and up become down? When did my life become The Twilight Zone?”

  “Sweetheart…” Trixie reached out to her.

  “No.” Emily jerked away. “Maximo’s lies and betrayal have destroyed me, Ma, but yours…” She crossed her arms over her chest and dropped her chin. “If there was one person I thought I could trust, it was my mother.”

  “I was going to tell you.”

  Emily gave a bitter laugh. “Do you have any idea how many times I’ve heard those words in the last twenty-four hours? I’m going to have to put that on a T-shirt.”

&n
bsp; “You know, I could be just as upset with you. You weren’t honest with me either. How do you think I felt when I had to learn about your relationship with Maximo Vega from the damn newspaper?”

  Trixie had her there. Emily had no good answer to justify her actions. “I knew you’d freak. I was trying to think of a way to break it to you.”

  Trixie threw out her hands. “Hello. I could say the exact same thing.”

  “But Joe Turner?” Emily screwed up her face. “Ewwwww. Why couldn’t it have been anyone other than him?” She shuddered. “Ew.”

  Trixie planted her hands on her hips. “There’s nothing ‘ew’ about Joe Turner. He a good, hard-working man.”

  “But he’s so…so slimy…and blond.”

  Trixie sighed. “You’re just seeing his business persona. Joe isn’t like that. Not with me. He sells vacation timeshares. He needs to appear sunned and tanned so his customers will believe he’s been to some fabulous tropical destination. That’s his business face. He’s quite successful. And caring and a very generous—”

  Emily shot a hand up to stop her. “Dear God, Mother, if the next word out of your mouth is ‘lover,’ I’m going to puke again!”

  “Man! I was going to say man.”

  Emily flopped onto the couch. “I’m going to need serious therapy after this, I swear.”

  Trixie sat next to Emily and rubbed her knee. “The thing is, he’s a great guy who cares about me and wants to see me happy. I didn’t tell you because I knew you didn’t like him. I was hoping to find a way to get you two together so you could get to know him better. See the wonderful man I see.”

  “How long has this…this…I can’t even say the words.” Emily rubbed her forehead. “How long have you been seeing him?”

  “We’ve been dating for a while.”

  “How long a while? Not before Dad—”

  “No. Of course not. I loved your father with all my heart. I was never unfaithful. How could you think such a thing?”