by Karen Quinn
Michael held the phone in his hand. He hesitated. “I can’t just call her like that,” he began.
“What do you mean, you can’t? Then forget it.” Christy stood, downed the rest of her martini, and stormed out the door.
Michael ran after her and grabbed her arm.
“Let go. You’re hurting me,” she said.
“Christy, come back. There’s something I have to tell you. Please just give me a chance and listen.”
She looked at him dubiously, and finally said, “Fine.”
They sat back down at the bar. Michael was silent for an uncomfortably long minute. She could tell the news would not be good.
“Do you remember when we bought Anipix Studios?” he asked.
“Sure. California, animated films.”
“Yep,” he said. “Well, it started with that. Andy Chapman, my CFO, led the due-diligence team. But they weren’t very diligent. There were significant liabilities, starting with massive debts that weren’t booked. He didn’t want me to find out that he’d screwed up, so he pledged assets from some of my other companies to pay back the loans. But the idiot pledged mortgaged property. Things we didn’t own. Later, our bond rating was lowered, and some of the loans were called. Andy pledged mortgaged equipment and real estate to cover those. He double-and triple-pledged assets and then lied about all of it. One of his direct reports blew the whistle on him. Of course I fired him as soon as I found out what he’d done. Now I’m working like hell to clean up the mess.”
Christy was stunned. Michael seemed too omnipotent to allow his company to get into this kind of trouble. He always gave the impression of having everything under control. Now his business and reputation were at risk. “How long has this been going on?” she asked. “Why didn’t you tell me?”
Michael ran his hands through his hair a few times until he’d achieved that Nick Nolte mug-shot look. “A few months. You were so distracted that I kept it to myself. The thing is, Galit tracked Andy down and interviewed him for the book. He told her everything. Of course, he didn’t take responsibility for causing the problem. He gave her all the documentation just to hurt us. He thinks he was screwed when we fired him. Ever since, she’s been threatening to write an article for the Journal exposing the whole thing. Anytime I try to brush her off, she lets it slip that her management is pressuring her for the story. If I call her and tell her I’m back with you, the piece will be in the paper tomorrow. I’m sure she’s already written it.”
“Jesus, Michael. How could you get yourself into such a mess? You, of all people?” How could her fearless protector have screwed up so royally? She wasn’t sure how she felt about this Michael.
He shook his scruffy head. “I keep asking myself the same thing.”
Christy realized she would sort her feelings out later. Right now, she had to help him. “How far away are you from cleaning this up?”
“Some of our banks know; some don’t. We’ve leveled with our biggest lenders, and we’re negotiating new terms.”
“You need to level with everyone. Convince them that they can’t afford to call the loans. Make them your partners. Put a plan together to get out of this hole.”
“We have a plan. I just haven’t shown it to everyone.”
“Well, I think you’d better reveal it sooner rather than later. You don’t want it revealed for you.”
“I’m so glad to have you in my corner again,” Michael said, pulling her toward him, holding her. “You have no idea how lonely I was.”
It was strange for Christy to see Michael so vulnerable. He’d always been the powerful one. Until now, she’d counted on him to make her feel safe. Whenever she’d been in trouble, he’d supported her no matter what the charge. His love was there for her, even when she was weak, even when she had been accused of the worst things. Now the tables were turned, and Michael was no longer a paragon. For the first time, she saw that he needed her strength the way she needed his. Could she be there for him? “Call Galit,” Christy said. “Tell her you want to see her this afternoon.”
Galit Shows Her Hand
Four hours later, Galit was buzzed up to their apartment. Jorge, the family carpenter and situational butler, answered the door. He laid Galit’s jacket on the chair in the entryway instead of hanging it up. Without that one faux pas and the fact that a baby goat was tailing him, he might have pulled off the butler act. He walked Galit into the library, where Christy was waiting.
“Christy?” Galit said, looking around. “Where’s Michael?”
“Michael’s not here. This is between you and me. Sit down.”
Galit took a seat, acting nonchalant. “Fine.”
Jorge walked in to serve a Mexican high tea. That is, chips, guacamole, and tea. He poured two cups and left the room.
“Okay, Galit, tell me what you want from Michael.”
“What are you talking about?”
“You know exactly what I’m talking about. You’ve been threatening to expose his financial problems to the business community. If you do that before he has a chance to renegotiate with his banks, the consequences would be devastating.”
“You have a nice home, Christy,” she said, looking around. “I’d like a home like this.”
“I’m sure your apartment is very nice,” Christy said.
“Yes, but it’s not like this. Do you know how hard it is to make ends meet on a reporter’s salary?”
“No, I don’t.”
“It’s tough. By this point in my life, I would have expected to hook up with a CEO who would marry me and take care of me in style. Like Michael takes care of you. But no such luck.”
Galit looked forlorn, and for a moment Christy felt sorry for her. Apparently Galit had never realized that her “don’t fuck with me or I’ll cut your dick off” attitude wasn’t much of a turn-on. “Well, I’m sorry you haven’t met the right guy yet” was all Christy could say.
“My life would have been so much easier with assistants, stylists, chefs, drivers, masseurs, maids—all the things you have.”
“I don’t have a stylist, Galit,” Christy said.
“Obviously,” she said, looking Christy over. “I was hoping Michael would find me enticing enough to leave you.”
Whoa! All that time Christy had been envious of Galit’s beauty, brains, and sophistication, and Galit was jealous of her. She laughed out loud. “Galit, you have no idea what it takes to entice a man like Michael.”
“Then why don’t you tell me?”
“Sorry, I don’t give lessons in husband stealing. You’ll have to figure that out on your own. Can I offer you some chips? Guacamole?”
Galit took a blue corn chip and dipped it in the chunky green dip. “Did you make this? I heard that you’d given up everything to become Suzy Homemaker.”
“Galit, just tell me what you want.” Christy was losing her patience.
“Okay. I want a million dollars. Give me that, and I won’t publish the article. If you don’t, the story runs in Friday’s edition. In fact, it’s already written.”
Christy swallowed hard. A million dollars. “Okay,” she said evenly. “That’s going to take a few days to pull together.”
Galit rolled her eyes. “Don’t bullshit me, Christy. Michael can get that kind of money with the snap of his fingers. I want it in bearer bonds. By Thursday.”
“Thursday? That’s two days.” She thought about it for a moment. “Okay, fine. Come back Thursday at five. You’ll have your money.”
As Galit left, Christy heard her lay into Jorge. Apparently, Princess Anastasia had licked her on her way out. “Get that thing away from me!” she screamed in Christy’s direction. “Who ever heard of a pet goat?” she muttered. Then she slammed the door.
Christy sat on the couch thinking about what to do next. There was a rustling sound in the closet. Mice? Bats? Naah. Quietly, Christy tiptoed over and yanked the door open. There was Renata on the ground, holding a glass to her ear where the bottom of the door had just b
een.
“What in God’s name are you doing in there?” she asked.
Renata looked up and smiled weakly. “Ummm…I was looking for my contact lens?”
Christy reached down and pulled the girl up by the arm. “You don’t wear contacts. Try again.”
“Okay, okay. Don’t get mad. Just listen to what I have to say.”
“It had better be good.”
When Galit arrived on Thursday afternoon, Michael was with Christy.
Jorge escorted her into the library once again.
“Hello, Galit,” Christy said politely, before realizing that she really didn’t need to treat their blackmailer so civilly.
“Christy, Michael,” Galit acknowledged coldly.
“Here,” Christy said, handing her a duffel bag. Galit unzipped it and started counting stacks of bearer bonds.
“It’s all there,” Michael said.
“I’m sure it is,” she said, still counting.
“What assurances do we have that you won’t demand more money later?” Michael asked.
“None,” she said, looking at him with those icy blue eyes of hers.
He walked over and got in her face. “Listen, Galit, you can do this to us once, but not twice. We don’t ever want to see your ass again.”
“You seemed to like my ass just fine in Aspen,” Galit said.
Christy recoiled. Galit was one nasty piece of work.
“There’s one more thing,” Galit said, peering around Michael at Christy. “I want that ring you’re wearing.”
“Are you nuts? That’s Christy’s. You can’t have it. In fact, fuck it.” Michael grabbed the bag from Galit. “Get out. You’re not getting anything.”
Galit stood up and walked to the door. “That’s too bad, Michael. Look for the story tomorrow, front page, center column.”
“Wait,” Christy said, taking off the ring. “Here. Take it. Give her the money, Michael.”
Michael’s face was red and his jaw was clenched, but he handed her the bag.
Galit left in a hurry. Jorge politely opened the front door for her. She didn’t acknowledge him or the fact that Princess Anastasia had chewed a cantaloupe-size hole in her Burberry trench coat. Jorge had personally seen to that.
Renata the Hero
After Galit left, Christy and Michael heard a scuffling sound from the hall. They ran to check on the noise.
At the elevator, two tall, burly men had the blackmailer in handcuffs. The look of utter disbelief on her face was priceless.
“Renata,” Christy called, “bring the clock from the library.”
“We’re going to have to take the bonds with us, Mrs. Drummond,” one of the cops said.
“She’s got my wife’s ring, too,” Michael said. “The cash wasn’t enough.”
One cop started oinking at her. The other said, “You have the right to remain silent…”
Renata came running down the hall, a clock radio in her hand.
“We nanny-cammed the whole thing,” Christy said, handing the hidden camera to the cop reading Galit her rights. As they stepped into the elevator, Galit maintained a defiant expression even as both officers held their noses up and snorted loudly right in her face.
“And I heard the whole crime go down from my secret hiding place,” Renata said.
Michael looked at Christy, confused. “Renata knew about this?”
“Honey, the sting was her idea,” Christy said, “not mine.”
“How did she even know?” Michael asked.
“Well, when I met with Galit the other day, before you and I decided what to do, Renata was hiding in the closet.”
“What possessed you to do that?” Michael asked Renata.
“Christy told me that Galit was threatening to tell a big secret of yours. And secrets are my specialty. They’re what I’m known for. Christy said it would be bad if people found out, so she was gonna meet with Galit to talk her out of it. I decided to spy to see if I could help.”
“How could you tell Renata something so personal?” Michael asked.
“We tell each other a lot of things these days, don’t we?”
Renata nodded.
“Anyway,” Christy continued, “she was hiding in the closet during my first meeting with Galit. Which you will never do again, is that clear?”
“Yeah, I promise,” Renata said. Her secret hiding place was blown, but it was for a good cause.
“After Galit left, I caught her. But she had a good idea—to tape the next meeting. She thought we should get the police involved. So I suggested it to you.”
“And the Financial Journal,” Renata added. “Don’t forget that I told you to call them. Something just like this happened on Diff’rent Strokes. Arnold saved Mr. Drummond just like I helped save you.” Or was it Buffy who saved Uncle Bill? She wasn’t sure.
“I don’t know what to say,” Michael said. He looked at Renata, really looked at her. “You and I have a lot of catching up to do, Renata.”
“Don’t toy with me, Michael,” Renata said.
“I’m not. I mean it. I do.”
Renata’s eyes teared up, and she bit her lip. She took Michael’s hand in hers and squeezed. “In that case, it’s time you started calling me Freckles.”
Christy and Michael looked at each other. “Why?” Michael asked.
“I just think it’s important for a father to have a pet name for his daughter, that’s all.”
Christy smiled at the two of them. Then she turned to Michael. “While you were meeting with the banks yesterday and Renata was at school, the detectives came over to show me how to work the wire, and I remembered the nanny-cam that was hidden in the clock radio. Katherine gave it to me when Nectar first came to work for us.”
“You spied on Nectar?” Renata said. “How could you?”
“Well excuse me, Little Miss Snoop. Look who’s talking!”
“Oh, yeah. But still, you should have trusted her.”
“I did. I never used the thing. But we tested it, and it worked perfectly. So the police didn’t have to wire me.”
“That would have been so much cooler,” Renata said, disappointed. “Big Pussy wore a wire on The Sopranos before he got iced.”
“When were you watching The Sopranos?” Christy asked.
“Ali has the first five seasons on DVD,” Renata said. “There’s nudity on that show. And cursing,” she added with a measure of pride.
“I know. And that’s why you’re forbidden to watch it again. Is that clear?”
“Awwww…”
“Anyway,” Christy continued, “Renata’s been our silent partner in this operation all along. She even went with me to the Journal yesterday when I told them what was about to happen.”
“Boy, did they have a spaz attack,” Renata said.
Michael turned to her. “Renata, I want to thank you. You are one clever kid, you know that?”
“Yeah, I know,” she said. “And it’s Freckles to you.”
Can This Marriage Be Saved?
The jet began its graceful descent over the Mediterranean. The sun was almost gone, and Christy could see the evening lights sparkling by the shoreline. Michael wanted to surprise her, so she still didn’t know where they were going. She felt glamorous in a way she hadn’t for months, being whisked away in their plane to a beautiful seaside getaway. When they landed, the pilot came on over the speaker. “Welcome to Saint-Tropez.” No wonder Michael had allowed her to pack only three outfits: a bikini, a summer dress, and running clothes.
As their driver sped along a curvy seaside road with tiny villages on each side, Christy let out a long sigh. She and Michael had been through so much together since their wedding—an unexpected child, who made Christy break a promise to him; the crash of her career and her ego; Michael’s fling, which broke his most important promise to Christy; another unexpected child—and then a threat to everything he had built. Christy wondered if the damage could be repaired. She didn’t think they could go b
ack, but maybe they could go forward. As though he was reading her thoughts, Michael moved closer and put his arm around her.
They pulled down a steep driveway to a small house with purple bougainvillea covering every wall. Michael got out and motioned for Christy to wait. Then he lifted her up and carried her over the threshold, to the delight of a plump, white-haired woman Christy assumed was the housekeeper. Inside was cozy and elegant, with an exquisite antique stained-glass window. The house was perched on the edge of a cliff, and as Christy walked to the back, she could see the clear blue-green of the sea swooshing against the rocks.
Michael put his arms around Christy, as he had so many times. She stiffened involuntarily. He pulled back. Christy turned around. “I’m sorry, Michael, I’m just not there yet.”
“I was such an idiot, Beeg, not to see what Galit was doing. And not to understand what you were going through. All I saw was that you were turning into her. It all seemed to be starting over.”
Suzanna, of course. Christy shuddered.
“Then, when I felt like I could lose everything and you helped me through that, I realized how much I’d failed you. I’m sorry.”
And it could happen again, Christy knew, once he was back on top of the world. Could she really ever again rest in his arms and feel safe? At least she had Renata, who accepted her just as she was.
Christy knew he wanted to kiss her, to make love to her again, so she changed the subject. “Let’s go eat. We don’t have to figure this out tonight.”
They dined at the top of the Old Village, a collection of stone buildings dating back six centuries. On the way, they passed the communal bread oven used in the medieval village and watched the sun set over the Mediterranean from the ancient wall. Then they sat at a table in a small restaurant, with candles and a fifty-year-old bottle of wine, and the French waiter remarked on what a beautiful couple they made.