Believe Me, It's You

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Believe Me, It's You Page 19

by S. A. Cook


  “I feel sick,” Eva said, looking out the window. Dylan took her hand and kissed it.

  “I'm going to miss you. I'll be thinking about you all day Tuesday. I'll be thinking about you everyday,” he said. “Please call me every morning. Even if you have to leave a message, and I'll call you back as soon as I can.” Eva took a deep breath, feeling nauseous.

  “I will, Dylan,” she still couldn't look at him. She hated airports and goodbyes, and she was afraid she would cry.

  “I love you,” he said.

  “I love you, too,” she said.

  “Look at me,” he said. She turned, and when she made eye contact with him, she felt the tears come. He took her face in his hands and put his forehead against hers.

  “I love you, Eva,” he said. “And I'll see you soon.” She nodded and wiped her eyes. She gave him a quick kiss.

  “Bye, Dylan,” she said.

  She got out of the car and went over to Teddy.

  “Ready?” she asked him.

  “Whenever you are,” he said. He carried her bags in and got her to security.

  “You have a safe trip, Eva,” he said, giving her a quick hug. She started to cry again.

  “Don't worry about anything,” he said, his hand on her shoulder. “I'll take care of him. He's in good hands.” She smiled, wiping her eyes.

  “I hate airports,” she said. “Bye, Teddy.” She could see him still standing there before she turned the corner. She waved and he waved back.

  Chapter Forty-Eight

  Eva got settled back into her apartment. She talked to Dylan on the phone after she got home, and she felt better after hearing his voice. After all, it was a temporary separation, and if she was going to have a long-term relationship with Dylan, being separated often was something she was going to have to get used to. It felt good to hear him tell her he loved her and missed her, even if it was over the phone. He called her once in the morning, and once before bed. His was the last voice she heard before she fell asleep.

  On Monday, she checked in with her lawyer. Everything was a go for Tuesday.

  “His attorney assured me they had no plans to mention your client,” the lawyer said. “There is one thing, though.”

  “What?” Eva asked.

  “Apparently, your husband wasn't expecting such a high sum on your financial paperwork,” she said.

  “Well, my last job included royalties. The book was a bestseller, so I have some money in the bank. I don't spend that much,” Eva said, sounding defensive. “And my current writing job...I negotiated a good deal.” Dylan gave her a great deal, she thought.

  “Well, the kicker is you're now worth more than your soon-to-be ex,” the lawyer said. “He's requesting spousal support.”

  “What?” Eva almost dropped the phone. “You cannot be serious.”

  “I don't think he'll get it,” she said. “Between the infidelity and your income being changeable, I think the judge will roll his eyes at the request. But you need to be aware.”

  Eva hung up the phone, feeling disgusted. The nerve of Paul just never stopped. She was going to fight this one. There was no way she was going to write a check with Paul's name on it indefinitely. He wasn't getting her money, or the money from Dylan's book.

  That night when Dylan called, the topic of the court date inevitably came up. Eva felt like she needed to tell him the new development.

  “You're joking, right?” Dylan asked.

  “No, I wish I was,” she said.

  “He can't take your money like that, Eva,” he said. “That's your money. For writing my book.”

  “The lawyer thinks the judge won't grant him spousal support,” she said.

  “Based on what?” he asked. “It's not enough just to think the judge will or won't. We need to stack the deck in our favor.”

  “How?” she asked.

  “Let me make a call,” Dylan said. “I'll call you back, okay?”

  She hung up and sat wondering what he was up to. She checked her email and waited for him to call. She had an email from her publisher. It began with a letter and contained an attachment. Eva figured the attachment was the manuscript with marks for revision.

  The letter read:

  “Eva, Thank you for the hard work you've done and the speed with which you and Mr. Moore were able to produce the book. I think the book offers many insights into Mr. Moore's upbringing and struggles, both inside and out of the music industry.

  I do, however, have some concerns. My first concern is the tone you've chosen. It does not read like that of a young pop star, but it is rather mature. You may want to work on using language more appealing to a youthful readership.

  Second, in light of the fact that Mr. Moore's fan base consists of young girls, there is a noticeable lack of love and romance in the book. You and Mr. Moore should consider a more candid account of Mr. Moore's romantic relationships, both past and present.

  Please let me know if you need any more input from me, or other editors here as you rework the manuscript. I look forward to seeing a revision by December15, so that we may go to print.”

  Eva groaned aloud as she read the letter. No minor punctuation and sentence structure changes, but a rather major rework. And with so much other stuff going on. She dreaded telling Dylan, with all the pressures he had right now. He still hadn't called her back. She would have to tell him when he did. It looked like they'd be on the phone a lot in the next couple weeks, working on the book between his trips and appearances.

  It was late afternoon when Dylan finally called back. Eva told him about the letter from the publisher.

  “It's not a big deal, Eva,” he said, surprising her. “We'll add some things, work on the tone, throw in some slang. They'll like it by the time we get finished.”

  “I thought you wanted it to concentrate on your struggles, not your girlfriends,” Eva said. “Are you sure you're not disappointed?”

  “No, Eva,” he was laughing.

  “What's so funny?” she didn't expect him to laugh at the news, that's for sure.

  “Eva, I got to spend three months getting to know you. I got what I really wanted out of the book,” he laughed. “I got you.”

  “Dylan...,” she tried not to laugh, and she was glad he couldn't see her smiling.

  “I have to be honest. Believe me, it's you...you're the main reason I wanted to write this thing,” he said. “Don't be mad.”

  “I'm not mad,” she said.

  “Good. And don't worry about the thing with your ex,” he said. “I took care of it.”

  “What do you mean?” she asked, puzzled.

  “My lawyer's talking to your lawyer right about now,” he said. “You're submitting new financial statements and I'm taking my money back. I'm exercising my option to withdraw from the book deal. Until February, that is. So as far as the legalities go, you are $350,000 and one book deal poorer. So there's no way he'll get any spousal support. You now make way less than him. Until Valentine's Day, that is, when our book comes out. But it'll be too late for him by then. You'll be divorced for two months.”

  “Oh, my god, Dylan,” she said. “He's going to be so pissed off.”

  “Good,” he said.

  “You're so smart,” she said.

  “I chose you, so I must be,” he said. “I've got smart lawyers, too.”

  Chapter Forty-Nine

  Eva woke up at six on Tuesday morning. She decided to go for a run to clear her head. She got dressed and pulled on her sneakers. It was cold and clear, and the sun was shining. Breathing in the fresh air, she headed to the path along the lake and began her run. She hadn't brought her headphones. She wanted to be able to think clearly, and not get distracted.

  She got about fifteen minutes into the run, and was suddenly struck by nausea. She had been thinking about Paul bringing his girlfriend to the courthouse, and how she would react to that, if it happened. Why should she care? It would just be another of Paul's ways of humiliating her. And how would he reac
t when he found out her finances weren't there for him to take? Pissed--she knew that much. The nausea was a reaction to her nerves, she told herself as she jogged toward a trash can. She stood there, leaning on a sign post until the wave of nausea passed. She had felt calm and in control, but she figured this was her body's way of telling her what she was really feeling: fear and apprehension. Once the wave had passed, she decided to run a little more. She went another twenty minutes, then decided to head back home.

  When she got back to the apartment, she checked her cell phone. Nothing. She went to the bathroom and got her shower, did her hair, and got dressed in one of her old work suits. The waist was snug and it was a few years out of date, but it would have to do. She finished her make-up, and checked her cell phone again. No calls. It was 8:00 Chicago time, which meant it was still 6:00 L.A. time. Dylan was probably sound asleep. He had a session with his trainer at 9:00, and then nothing else until 5:00. Then, he had an interview with a music channel, followed by a release party with his label. He had wanted Eva to fly out and attend, but they both decided it would cause too many questions to be asked, especially if anyone remembered her from the sponsors' party and the arrest incident. After all, she'd been in some of the paps' photos and had luckily been written off as a business associate of Dylan's. Besides, the release party was more for industry and business purposes, not so much fun.

  She felt hungry suddenly, and figured a bite to eat would help get rid of any nausea she might get at the courthouse, and calm her nerves. She made herself a bowl of cereal and a piece of toast with butter, and had a cup of coffee. She started to take a bite, when she heard her cell phone ring from the dining room. She grabbed it up. It was Dylan.

  “Hey, how are you doing?” he asked.

  “Good. I was just having a little breakfast. I'm ready to walk out the door in a couple minutes,” she said. “How are you? Excited?”

  “Yes, very. I can't wait to get the news you're officially divorced,” he said.

  “I meant about the album,” she said.

  “I'm nervous,” he said.

  “Oh, don't be,” she said. “I know it's natural to be nervous, but Dylan, it's so good. Only the unmusical could dislike it.”

  “Thank you,” he laughed. “I really like it. I'm proud of it. I have to learn to let that be enough. Are you nervous about going to court?”

  “I'm more nervous about seeing Paul than going before the judge,” she admitted.

  “Why?” he asked. “He can't hurt you, anymore. You're with me, now. Just go in there, and act like he doesn't exist. Please, don't get yourself upset.”

  “I won't,” she said. “I'm pretty calm. I felt a little sick while I was running, but I think some food will calm my stomach down.”

  “You should see a doctor. Maybe you have ulcers,” he said.

  “ I don't think so,” she said. “Don't ulcers burn? This is just a wave that comes and goes. And it's only happened a few times.”

  “You should get it checked out. Better safe than sorry,” he said. “I better let you go so you have time to eat. Don't you have to be there by 9:00?”

  “Yes. I'm meeting my lawyer at 9, and then we just wait to be called. It could take all day, depending on what's on the docket,” she said.

  “Call me as soon as you walk out of the courtroom, okay?” he said. “I love you and I'll be thinking about you.”

  “I love you, too. Have a good day, okay?” she said.

  “Call me.”

  “I will.”

  She hung up and finished her breakfast. She fought back tears as she thought about Dylan, and how she should be with him today, calming his nerves and telling him how much he mattered, before the world took its shots. He's lucky, she told herself. He has a lot of real talent, a great career, and fans who love and adore him. She couldn't help feeling anxiety, though. She cleared up and dishes and put on her coat. She started out on her two block walk to the courthouse.

  Chapter Fifty

  Eva met her lawyer on the steps of the courthouse.

  “Hi, how are you feeling?” she asked.

  “Good. You got the news, I hear,” Eva said. “About the change in my financial statement?”

  “I did,” she said. “Didn't you get my email? It doesn't matter, we're good. Your client's lawyers are very thorough. I've got everything a judge might ask for. Stroke of genius, on their part.”

  “I know,” she said. “So you don't think there'll be any problems?”

  “There shouldn't be,” she said. “You're lucky you have such a cooperative client. He really helped you out.”

  “I know,” she said. “I'm extremely lucky.”

  They headed into the courthouse, went through the metal detector, then reported to the court room. Eva willed herself not to look around for Paul. Two hours later, the bailiff called her and Paul's case. She approached the front of the court room with her lawyer. As she stood before the judge, she saw Paul out of the corner of her eye, with his attorney.

  The judge read her case information and asked her and Paul to verify their names. She looked over their paperwork.

  “There are no assets to divide, correct?' she asked the attorneys.

  “No, your Honor,” they both said.

  “No requests for alimony? No children...” the judge looked through her bifocals, reading the papers.

  “No, your Honor,” they both said, again. The judge fiddled with the papers, handing some to the bailiff for copies, putting some in the folders, stapling one set.

  She then spoke.

  “In the matter of Paul Altman versus Eva Porter, divorce granted. Good luck to you both. Court's adjourned for lunch,” she stood up, and so did everyone else. And that was that. Four years of hopes, dreams, betrayals and heartaches over in a matter of five minutes.

  Eva was free to live her life as she pleased. She gave her attorney a hug and thanked her.

  “I have to call someone,” she said.

  “Go right ahead,” the lawyer laughed. “You'll get my bill.”

  “Thanks,” Eva smiled. “I think...”She headed outside the court house and called Dylan.

  “Hello,” he sounded out of breath.

  “Hey, it's done. I'm a free woman,” she said.

  “Thank God,” he said. “I've been freaking out a little, waiting to hear from you.”

  “You sound out of breath,” she said.

  “I was working out, doing crunches..on this awful slant board thing,” he said. “So it's really over? You're free to be with me, in the legal sense?”

  “Yeah, you could say that,” she laughed.

  “I do say that,” he said. “I can't wait to see you. I wish Christmas eve was tonight.”

  “You've got a lot of important things to do,” she said. “Concentrate. Time will fly, I promise.”

  “What are you going to do, there in Chicago, all alone for two weeks? Without me?” he asked.

  “Mope. And start my book,” she said.

  “Don't mope. I'm glad you're starting your book. I know you're going to create something beautiful,” he said.

  “I feel the magic coming on,” she laughed.

  “Don't make fun of it. That magic is going to help you,” he said.

  “I know,” she said. “I have my muse back.”

  Chapter Fifty-One

  Eva took Dylan's advice and didn't let herself mope. She spent the greater part of her days alone, writing her book. She was amazed at how easily the storyline unfolded itself. She sat at the laptop, before a blank screen, not knowing what she was going to write, and somehow the story came. The characters developed, and became real to her.

  She took a few afternoons off to meet up with her old friends. Marta wanted to know all the details of her trip to L.A. and her relationship with Dylan. She tried not to pry, and didn't believe Eva when she told her she hadn't met any celebrities other than producers and a couple dancers from Dylan's team.

  She met Sarah for dinner one night. They
caught up on everything that had been going on, not just in Eva's life, but also with Sarah. She was pregnant, and Eva was ecstatic when Sarah told her. The baby was due in May.

  “May 17th is the due date they've come up with. So don't plan any weddings, or anything in May,” Sarah said.

  “I don't think I'll be doing the marriage thing again, Sarah,” she said.

  “Why not?”

  “Because I don't feel like it's for me. Don't get me wrong. I wouldn't mind making a commitment to—to someone, but the legalities and the ceremony...it just doesn't mean much to me, anymore.”

  “You just got divorced,” Sarah said. “Give it some time. You might feel differently. I mean, you're in love with Dylan Moore, right? Can't you imagine how beautiful it would be to get married to him?”

  “You don't have to call him Dylan Moore, Sarah. You can just call him Dylan,” Eva laughed. “I don't know. Everything feels so good the way it is. Maybe I'd like to live with Dylan. I mean, it seems ideal right now, to think about spending all our days and nights together. But would it be special after a while? I don't want to rock the boat. I'm so happy now.”

  “You're going to move to L.A. and leave me, aren't you?” Sarah looked sad.

  “I don't know, Sarah. I just need a little time to breath and figure things out. I've been given a fresh start. I want to think things through,” she said.

  “I'm just glad you're divorced,” Sarah said. “I want to throw you a party.”

  “A party? Why?” Eva laughed.

  “A divorce party,” Sarah said. “We gave this woman Maggie a divorce party. She works at my office. It was fun. We had all this junk food, and drinks, and male strippers--”

  “No, Sarah. Please,” Eva laughed, then tried to look serious. “I'm begging you, Sarah. No divorce party. It's supposed to be sad.”

 

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