After two months, and the end of a long, cold winter and a chilly spring, May arrives. The hardest part of my job has been learning who is important enough to get through to Bud, and who isn’t. Most people aren’t, so I start with that assumption. If they’re brandishing the name Hanks or Spielberg, common sense kicks in, but every once in a while, someone without a famous Jewish name calls, and I incur Bud’s wrath. Like now.
“Don’t you know who that is, Haley? You’ve been in this business for ten years, how is it you managed to dismiss Bill Messing?”
“I just did, that’s all.” I add Mr. Messing’s name to my list of important people to put through. “Won’t happen again. See?” I hold up the list.
“See that it doesn’t. I had to listen to him for twenty minutes about how I couldn’t get a decent assistant to save my life. I don’t have twenty minutes, Haley.”
That makes me want to cross his name right off my list. Sometimes, I think Bud just has to get out of the office and roar at someone. Prove he’s still a man. Still alive. Still virile, as my mother would say.
Speaking of my mother, I called her on Lindsay’s cell phone and she trilled that Gavin is dating someone. Was I planning a visit home soon? Ugh. Does she not see that I am man poison? Only selfish, arrogant men are immune by their own wickedness.
Bud sticks his head out again, “I’m on a call for the next hour. Hold my calls.” He slams the door to his office, and I salute the door.
I look up and there’s a wall of a chest sitting on my desk. I look up to his face. Handsome features and a strong jaw meet my gaze.
“Can I h-help you?” See? I am looking for Trophy Husband material, this proves it!
“George Stanley.” He thrusts out a hand. “Bud’s my agent.” He sits back on my desk. “I’m starring in a new Western out next year, and I’m the new face for Melotti Underwear.”
“Right.” Do not create a visual. Do not create a visual. “I’m Haley Cutler, Bud’s new assistant.” I shake his hand, which is strong and firm.
“I can see that. Says right here Assistant.”
He can read. That’s a plus.
“I don’t have you down for an appointment, Mr. Stanley. Did you want to see Mr. Seligman?”
“No appointment today. I’m just in to pick up a check. The little Asian hottie in HR has it waiting for me. Just wanted to say hi.”
“Lily. Her name is Lily Tseng.”
“You’re not one of those women’s libbers, are you? Haven’t met a woman yet who didn’t appreciate being called a hottie.”
“I’m sure you haven’t.”
“Hey, I’m a virile man—”
“Haley, is that you?” Outside the door, standing in the hallway, is Hamilton Lowe. Speaking of virile. Ugh. I did not just think that. Bad Haley! But oh my, he’s like a steamy vision after seeing only Bud and his cronies important enough to get to the sanctuary. Even Underwear Boy isn’t tempting. Especially Underwear Boy isn’t tempting. There’s a world I could do without: public underwear showings. There was a time in my lifetime when you had to open a J.C. Penney catalog to see people in their underwear. Now it’s like the national pastime, hanging out in your underwear. I don’t see why they have to pay anyone to model it.
Hamilton steps inside the office and stands over my desk, completely ignoring Bud’s client. He picks up my nameplate. He’s still tall. I love that. Not that I care anything about him, you understand. I just like tall men. The norm is for me to tower over men, so it’s a sweet surprise when I don’t. It would be better still if this man weren’t the devil himself. He’s good eye candy regardless. More evidence that I am indeed shallow.
Hamilton’s wearing a red-and-navy pin-striped shirt. Facconable. It’s paired with a red silk power tie, so he must be here on business. Maybe he’s here to ruin some new woman’s life. He looks like the cover model for a Barcelino catalog. Facconable is one of my favorite brands on men because it’s classically fashionable and doesn’t look like he tried too hard, nor is it too metrosexual. I used to make Jay wear it when he had an important business meeting because it made him younger and more hip while being all business.
“I have a job,” I finally say, since he doesn’t seem to be willing to offer any cordialities of his own.
“I see that. Very impressive. Bud Seligman is not just any agent in this town. I suppose you know that.”
“Yes, he’s my agent,” Underwear Boy says.
We both ignore him. “Bud turned Rachel Barlin down, so I’d have to say that’s true. He has taste. He doesn’t regret it, by the way. Thinks she’s a shooting star who will die out fast, either in a scandal of some sort or make one bad movie too many,” I say, with a tinge of spite in my voice. “That’s impressive enough for me to work for anyone.” I stack papers that don’t need stacking, just to look professional.
“How’d you get this gig?” He nods toward the door.
“Tell Bud I stopped by and let him know I’m not impressed with his assistant.” The male model stalks off.
“Already making friends I see,” Hamilton says. “Did Jay give you the connections?”
“Believe it or not, Jay’s not really into doing me favors at the moment.” I sit up straight in my chair. I couldn’t have a better job for myself if I were paid millions. I was a great assistant to Jay Cutler, but I’m a better one to Bud because I’m simply not in love with the man. Love changes the equation. For me, it’s usually a negative number.
“It’s a pretty high-end position.” His face clouds. “I mean, for someone who hasn’t worked for—no—” He stops to collect his thoughts. “I mean for—”
“Never mind. I know what you mean. I see why you’re not a trial lawyer.” The phone rings, and I put a finger up in the air. “Bud Seligman’s office. Haley speaking, how may I help you?”
Bud has two lines of defense from callers. First, he has the downstairs’ operator, then he has me. He has a private line for those people in the know, but I answer that generally because he’s always on the phone.
“I’m not sure where he is in his production schedule, but I can check and have Bud get back to you…right…most definitely, it will be today. And thank you for calling.”
I hang up, and Hamilton is walking around the office, checking out all of Bud’s awards and recognition plaques.
“So what are you doing with yourself, Hamilton? I saw you at church a few weeks ago for Bible study, but you were in the sainted section, and I had to head to the sinners’ room.”
“You’re still coming?”
“Not regularly, but I still keep up with the gals. Did you expect a heathen like me to drop out?”
“I didn’t know if you were ready to hear what those women had to say.”
“Those women?”
“Stop it. You’re trying to catch me stumbling over my tongue. Can you assume something decent of me for one minute?”
“Not really, no.” Again, he gives me that wounded animal look.
“You’re making me answer to you to get money that rightfully belongs to me. That production business was at least 30 percent mine. If you think I should be decent to you, you underestimate your presence in my life, Hamilton.”
“I’m not representing Jay anymore if it makes you feel any better. He dumped me for someone more sharklike. Someone Rachel recommended.”
“Ah, so we both got dumped for the likes of Rachel. Pretty shrewd of her to get her own lawyer in place before any pre-nups.”
“Naturally, I’m still handling your case and the ones I wrote contracts for, but Jay says I don’t have the edge anymore.” Hamilton has the verge of a smile. “That should brighten your day.”
“Nothing is ever his fault, is it? That’s just what he’d have you believe, that you’ve lost your edge because he’s found someone better. Jay gets everyone around him to question their competence. Well, now you’re right alongside me. A castoff. You be the professor, I’ll be Mary Ann.”
“What?”
“I knew you wouldn’t get it.”
“I get it. Gilligan’s Island.”
This makes me smile because I can’t for the life of me imagine Hamilton Lowe was ever childish enough to sit through a sitcom. Any sitcom, much less Gilligan’s Island.
“Maybe this is a sign you’ve grown a conscience. Maybe you believe that Bible verse on your wall now, huh? I don’t remember what it said.”
“It said I can do all things through Christ who strengthens me.”
“And can you?”
He ignores the question. “So the Trophy Wives Club is working out well? That Bette really has a heart of gold. She can teach you a lot about servanthood.”
I roll my eyes. “I think I could teach them all a thing about servanthood myself.”
“I meant servanthood in a good Biblical way, not a dysfunctional way.”
Hamilton is more nervous and fidgety than I’ve ever seen him before. Maybe it’s because we’re not on his turf, but he can’t sit still, and he keeps rolling a pen in his hand.
“Is something wrong, Hamilton?”
“What?” He looks to the pen and drops it back in his pocket. “No, nothing’s wrong. Why?”
“I owe you a debt of gratitude. Even if you didn’t mean for anything good to come of it, the women in that group rescued me from a very bad daytime TV addiction and chocolate frosting fetish.”
“Huh?”
“One of the gals found me this job. I moved into another’s town house, since she’s going back to her husband. One of them reminded me how much I wanted to be a mother…”
Crash!
Hamilton knocks over the pen receptacle and disappears behind my desk to pick them up. “Are you all right, Hamilton?” I stick my head over the desk.
He looks up at me with those incredibly large eyes and immediately looks down at the pens. “Fine.”
“I thought you’d be happy about the women helping me find my worth again. Doesn’t it assuage some of your guilt?”
He stands tall again. “I have no guilt. I protected my client’s assets. That’s what I’m hired to do.”
“Well, I credit the women for giving me my life back—you know, the one that was stolen from me so you could protect your client’s extramarital affair? This is a better life than the one I had because I’m not looking over my shoulder any longer.”
“And the money? What did you do with the money from the first checks?”
“Not that it’s any of your business, but I put it in separate CDs that mature every three months so I always have cash on hand. And, I’m putting as much as I can from my salary into a 401k. It turns out the fantastic redhead Helena is quite the stock expert. And Lindsay’s husband is no slouch either. So with all their help, I’m well on my way.”
“You look happy.”
“I am brilliant.”
“Jay says you won’t go to the tabloids. Is that true? If so, I can just mail your next check.” He nonchalantly stands up and places the pens back where they belong. “Why don’t you write down your address?” He takes out a pad from his chest pocket and opens it to a clean page. He plucks a pen from the bucket and hands it to me.
“I thought you had to see me. You know, approve that I wasn’t going to rat Jay and Rachel out to the tabloids, which by the way, I see they’re doing enough of themselves.”
“I trust you. People in glass houses and all that.”
“What?”
“Right there.” He points to the pad, and I scribble my new address.
“What about you, Hamilton, are you happy?”
Bud bursts out of his office. “Haley, I need those docs on my desk in ten minutes. Did you get them signed?”
“Yes, sir. They’re right here.” I hand him the manila folder. “Jerry Bruckheimer just called. He’s interested in Hugh Jackman’s availability for the fall.” I rip off the message sheet and hand it to him.
“Hamilton,” Bud nods. “Everything okay? You’re not here to serve me, are you? Don’t sign anything this man ever gives you,” Bud says to me. “He’s a piranha.”
“Don’t worry, that’s what got me into this mess. Signing Hamilton’s documents will only lead to trouble.”
“Good girl, Haley.”
“Just a personal call, Bud. I saw Haley as I finished up some business down the hall. We’re old friends.” Hamilton smiles, obviously glad to see he still strikes the fear of God in someone of stature.
“Then what are you hanging around for? Don’t sign anything and don’t date him either, he’ll probably make you sign a contract giving him power of attorney. See you later, Hamilton. Quit flirting with my assistant. She’s a knockout, ain’t she?”
“That’s sexual harassment!” I call to Bud.
“Tell it to my lawyer.” He slams the door behind him with a snigger.
“I see you have a good working relationship with him.”
“He’s great. A little gruff, but nothing I can’t handle. So, you’re dodging my question. Are you happy?”
“Why do you care?”
“Because that’s something I realized about myself. I could take satisfaction in a job well done each day, and I could try to please Jay and make the numbers work for a production, but I never had any fun. Fun is underrated. Do you have fun, Hamilton?”
“Does it matter?”
“Yes, it matters. That’s why I’m asking. What’s fun to you?”
“I don’t know, Haley. I’ve got to get back to the office.”
I nod. “Well, always a pleasure seeing you, Hamilton, especially when you don’t have any documents in your hand.”
“Yeah. Nice to see you, Haley. Maybe when things calm down we could have dinner together.”
“It’s all right, Hamilton, you don’t have to offer up any mercy dates. I do appreciate your handing me the Trophy Wives flyer. When I make enough to keep my own husband, perhaps he’ll need to start a group of his own.”
“A mercy date? With you, Haley?” He laughs aloud. “Am I missing something?”
“You’re missing a lot, actually, but that’s beside the point. You would never end up with a girl like me. I’m tainted. Divorced. A sinner by all accounts.”
He pauses. I knew he’d pause. He still can’t bring himself to see me as anything more than a client’s wife who brought him coffee. “The Bible says to marry a divorcee is to make her an adulteress.”
“I am an adulteress. At least from what I’ve gleaned in the little Bible knowledge I have.” I nod. “But I understand, you can only do what you can do. You’re standing up for what you believe in, and I totally admire that. But be honest with yourself, Hamilton. Don’t play with fire and have some mercy, don’t flirt with the likes of me.” I flip my hair for emphasis.
I get up to file some paperwork when Hamilton speaks.
“I was brought up to believe divorce doesn’t happen.”
“So what would you have me do, Hamilton? In my case? Would you have me ask Rachel to scoot over so I can get into my bed?”
He doesn’t answer.
“No one gets married planning to divorce. Except for maybe people who make up prenuptial agreements. Even women who marry for money see more money in the marriage than the divorce. Did you ever think of that?”
He clutches his briefcase. Hamilton Lowe is not a risk-taker. That much is evident. He methodically plans everything in his life. I bet he knows what he’s having for dinner tonight.
“Sure, I see where people think that way, but then the reality of divorce happens, and that’s where I come in. I make the breakup less painful because everyone knows what will happen, and there are no unfortunate surprises,” he finally answers.
“Like finding out your husband couldn’t father children, for instance?”
“I didn’t know about that when you were married,” he claims.
“A man can protect his money, but he won’t walk away unscathed, regardless. You might think Jay is unscathed, but wait and see if he’ll marry again.”
“We’ll just have to see.”
“Hamilton, I don’t care if you’ve made up a new airtight contract, or if she earns more money than him. I know Jay, and marriage required something of him that he can’t part with it. There’s something in him that can’t deal with the emotional pressure. He looks at it like a business relationship, and when it ceases to be beneficial to both parties, he’s outta there.”
“My client went into this marriage with good faith.”
“That is a bald-faced lie, Hamilton. You cannot go into a marriage in good faith when you don’t mention to your beloved that there will be no children.”
“Good day, Haley.” He walks toward the door, but I scamper after him in my heels.
“Marriage is like a wall, Hamilton. Someone has to bring the bricks; someone has to bring the mortar. Without either, you have no wall, and you have no marriage.”
“How profound,” he says sarcastically as he continues down the hallway.
“You arrogant son—”
“What did you say?”
“You stand here smug and so full of yourself, the great expert on all things marriage. But you haven’t spent one day committed to anything more than a cell phone contract, have you? Did you ever think for one moment, you may have it wrong? That life may not work out as well as Hamilton Lowe deems it does? Those are words on a contract, they’re not life. What if I were maimed in a car accident? What if Jay had a heart attack running? Do you think you can really be married with an ‘out’ if things don’t play right?”
“It’s not my rules, Haley.” He rolls his eyes at me. Just like Jay used to do.
“You hold it right there!” A group of people stop to check out the scene and quickly get out of the area near the elevator.
“Why do I infuriate you so, Haley?” he asks smugly as he presses the elevator button. “I just thought when you’d calmed down it would be nice to talk about you in a casual dinner setting.”
“Why do you infuriate me? Because you’re completely wrong in this, and you sit upon your tower and dare to judge me. What if you married a woman and she was your world and you wanted nothing more than to make her happy? And suddenly, that woman decided she could not live without her college sweetheart and she’d made a mistake marrying you and left?”
“I’d fight for her. She’s my wife.”
“But ultimately, you cannot control another human. Free will, isn’t that what you Christians are always preaching? Jay had free will. All of us have free will and all the ironclad contracts in the world can’t protect you from someone else’s free will, Hamilton.”
He steps into the elevator.
“You’re not even going to answer me?” My temper flares as I follow him in, and the doors shut behind us. “Do you think there’s a reward in heaven for staying together for fifty years, but not once thinking about the other person’s needs?”
“I don’t know, Haley. I think there’s a reward for staying together.”
“But staying together where you kill each other emotionally, do you think there’s a reward for that?”
“I think people always have options, and if they choose to humble themselves—“
“What? The other party won’t run off to Monaco with a leading lady?”
“I would never do that, Haley. That’s all I can answer to. I would never do that.”
“But you won’t have to, right? Because no one’s good enough for you to risk it all, are they? That’s your problem you know, not being willing to risk anything you can’t control. And that’s the real problem with love, isn’t it? You can’t control it.”
“My problem? Look I didn’t stop by for a free analysis, I was only trying to be cordial. I thought when you got over the passion of this situation, you would see—”
“Answer me this, Hamilton. If I was to have avoided this fate, what could I have done differently, besides realized at twenty that love doesn’t come in the shape of goods and services rendered?”
“I guess maybe you should have been better prepared.”
“God forbid, because then I’d be you, Hamilton, and I’d be alone forever.”
“Right.” He plays with a pen in his chest pocket. “So I guess I’ll see you when you come in for your next check.”
“I thought you said we were done with that charade.”
“I want to continue this conversation. At some point, maybe we’ll understand one another. I look forward to it.”
I watch his expression, and he means it. He has not heard a word I’ve said. “Why? If I’m not good enough, that’s not going to change. I’ve spent my whole life trying to be good enough, and Jesus says I am. I have to cling to that.” Even if there’s nothing else about the church I cling to. I punch the next floor and escape when the elevator stops.
“Haley!” my boss bellows into my radio.
“I’m coming, sir.”
I swallow my emotion as I watch the doors close on Hamilton.
Say it. Say something, Hamilton. Show me that your religion goes beyond rules. Show me there’s a heart beating in that broad chest of yours. His hand reaches through the doors.
He steps out. “I’m glad you found the Bible study. I’m glad they showed you how to get back on your feet.”
“Me too, Hamilton. Thanks again for the referral.” We go back to the surface, where he’s comfortable.
He looks down to his shoes. I can’t explain why I want Hamilton to break free of his ridiculous prejudices, but for some reason I just can’t let him walk away without understanding. I have this desperate need to be heard by him. Maybe it’s for all the women who will come after me in his office. For all the women who find out their husbands didn’t care enough to tell them to their faces that all those late-night phone calls and lipstick stains were exactly what they feared. While her husband came home and took off his suit, hung it over the chair, and asked her to take it to the cleaners, he was, at that very moment, planning a romantic getaway in some quaint little island village with her.
“Hamilton, I—”
“If you need help planning for the baby, I can help you with that. Pro bono.”
“The baby?”
“Jay told me about the baby. He wants to help if he can.”
I clasp my eyes shut. “You’re pregnant?” Bud comes out of the conference room on the lower floor.
“What are you doing down here?”
“I’m not training the perfect assistant to go on maternity leave!” Bud yells.
What have I done?
“You can’t fire her for that, Bud. It’s against the law,” Hamilton says.
“I wouldn’t have hired her if I’d known she was pregnant.”
“That too—illegal.”
I know I should just shout that I’m not pregnant, that only another miracle, in the form of a second Immaculate Conception, could make that happen, but I can’t bring myself to protest while they argue over me. Over the innocent life I will never be carrying. Tears sting my eyes, and I watch Hamilton slip away onto the elevator.
“Hamilton, it’s not—”
“I hope you’ll raise the baby up in the church, Haley. You owe the child that much.”
It’s no wonder Hamilton doesn’t believe in me. He thinks I’m sleeping with someone else already and that I’ve got myself a baby daddy out there somewhere.
“What do you mean, taking this kind of high-pressure job being pregnant?” Bud yells.
“You’re pregnant?” Lily appears in the hallway.
There’s a reason you’re taught not to lie in preschool. I do wish I’d thought of that standing in Jay’s presence that day, but I only wanted him to hurt. I’m the one who ended up being hurt yet again, because he acted like I told him the plant in the bathroom needed to be replaced.
“Bud, can you excuse us?” Lily asks.
“You’re fired!” he yells at me.
“I am not fired!” I yell back.
“You can’t fire her, she’s pregnant!”
“I wouldn’t have hired her, if she was pregnant.”
“Doesn’t matter; you still can’t fire her,” Lily explains.
“Would you all relax? I am not pregnant!” I finally shout, as we all get into the elevator to ride back up to the office. “Not that it should matter if I was, Mr. Seligman! And you would have been guilty of upsetting the baby if I was. You certainly upset me!” I shake my finger at him. “But I’m not.” I need a good shopping spree. Just a few hours in the Sephora aisles, and I’d be right again. “You can’t fire me because I’m the best assistant you’ve ever had.”
“Bud, may I take your assistant to lunch?” Lily asks.
“Please do.” He checks out my frame as I stand. “You don’t look pregnant.”
“That’s because I’m not pregnant!” Why are people so much quicker to believe a lie than the truth?
“We’ll be back in an hour,” Lily says.
“Don’t forget to call Bruckheimer back. He sounded anxious.”
“Right.”
“And you’ve got lunch today at the Ivy in twenty minutes, call him on your cell phone.” I press the codes into the phone so that the calls are taken downstairs and grab my purse and Lindsay’s cell phone.
Bud does just as he’s told and gets his jacket from the office. Lily has her long, jet-black hair in a straight ponytail, cinched with an expensive clip. She takes long, elegant strides to the elevator and punches the button hard.
“Wait for me!” Bud says, as he runs in before the doors close.
We all ride in silence until the door dings to open into the lobby. Security rushes to protect Bud from the throngs of hopefuls, and Lily and I walk by unnoticed. We get to her car, a Mercedes SLK, and she unlocks the door. I slide into the seat, and she gets in, her expression drawn.
“What was that about?”
“Remember at the salon? When I had Penny’s boys?”
“Yes.”
I tell her the sordid tale, and she turns on the car and presses the accelerator, until the G force makes me feel like I’m getting a face-lift.
“Haley, you can’t be lying like that. If you’re over Jay, prove it to us. Move on.”
“I know. I know. I felt like slime as soon as it tripped off my tongue, but it just came out. But look at it this way. At first I wanted to lynch Jay and take him for everything he had. I figure a little white lie is nothing compared to my first thoughts. Believe it or not, this is improvement. I want to believe something different now. Something better about Jay.”
“Thinking the best of someone is one thing. Living in denial, quite another. You might recognize Jay’s character by the fact that he changed the locks on you and kicked you out of your own house with a fraction of what you helped him earn.”
“Well yeah, there’s that.”
“Or maybe that he was having an affair with some skanky starlet and thought nothing of moving her right into your place, what about that?”
“Okay, enough already.”
“This job is a good job. Haley, I have no doubt you could be one of the best agents in the business with some training. I didn’t bring you on here to be an assistant forever. You’re far too smart. I could tell the first night when you sized us all up that your mind was constantly working.”
“You think I could be an agent?”
“Everyone seems to believe in you, but you. You keep going backwards because you choose to listen to Jay over us. Over the Bible and even over reason, and I’m telling you, it’s time to stop going backwards!”
“I’m grateful, haven’t I said that? I sent you flowers to show my appreciation!”
“Haley, you’re misunderstanding me. I’m not picking on you. I’m only trying to point out if you continue to play games like you learned with Jay, like trying to make him jealous for instance with a false pregnancy, you’ll reap what you sow. That almost cost you your job!”
“He doesn’t hurt yet, Lily. I wanted him to hurt!”
“And you wanted him to love you, and you wanted him to appreciate you, and he didn’t do those things either. Did you ever think that he doesn’t feel the appropriate responses because he’s just shut out of his emotions, period? Imagine if you put this kind of energy into a healthy relationship. You might actually enjoy your life.”
“I enjoy my life.”
“What do you like to do? For hobbies, I mean?”
“Besides eating tubs of chocolate frosting, you mean? I used to like to run on the beach and in my neighborhood. I could go for miles, and all my problems were left behind in a cloud of kicked-up sand. I’d plug in the iPod and go. Once in a while, I’d get lost in the neighborhood and have to ask for directions back.” I sigh wistfully.
“So what stopped you from running?”
“The motel wasn’t in the best neighborhood, and I just could never get motivated to drive to the beach, so it just sort of faded into the background. Underneath the frosting.”
“Can’t you go get real chocolate at least?” She shakes her silky tresses. “From here on out, you don’t do anything to hurt Jay that hurts you, you promise?”
“I guess so.”
“If you get fat and out of shape, does Jay hurt? Or does he say, ‘Oh, I dodged that bullet.’”
I’m not saying the answer to that out loud. “So you want me to start running? That’s why you brought me to lunch? I’m getting dessert, by the way.”
“I brought you to lunch so that I might show you living well is the best revenge.”
We drive to the south side of town, and I have to say the neighborhood is getting a little dicey. Gone are the neatly manicured lawns and brushed-silver address numbers, and now we’re seeing a lot of wrought-iron gates and bars on the window, and I don’t even want to know when the last gallon of paint was sold here.
“You do realize we’re in an SLK in the hood?”
“I do,” she says calmly.
“And that this is L.A.? The southside? And that carjacking is a relatively normal scenario?”
“Yes, yes, and yes.”
“And you feel safe because of the 352 under the front seat of the car?”
She laughs. “Yeah, right.”
“We only get an hour for lunch,” I say, worried about my growling stomach as much as getting shot for our ride.
She pulls to the side of the road on a street that has no sidewalks, where the houses are all slightly larger than the one-car garage that makes up the curb appeal—or lack thereof.
“Do you see this house?”
It’s sallow green, the roof has places where it’s missing shingles, and the windows are covered in thick, jail-like bars. The grass is totally dead, but makes a final resting spot for an old Chevy on the former front lawn. There are greasy tools lying about and several, let’s say underemployed, men in barrio jackets leaning on the car.
“I rented a room in this house after my divorce,” Lily explains.
“Why? And can you tell me while we drive, please?”
“Because I didn’t have any money, why do you think?”
“Fascinating, let’s get to the living well part of the story.”
“I paid $150 a month, and I got a job at an Italian pizza place to make the rent, took my son with me, and we got to eat all the pizza we could during the day.” She shivers. “I still can’t abide the stuff.”
“You have a son?”
“Jason,” she nods. “He’s twenty now attending UOP, majoring in architecture.”
She does not look like she could possibly have a twenty-year-old, she barely looks thirty herself. “You had a son here?”
“It was all we could afford.”
“Okay, I’m appreciating all that’s been given to me. I will bow down and kiss the glass tiles in Lindsay’s place when I get home. Can we go now?”
She stares forlornly at the building. “I’ve come a long way, baby.” She looks to me. “You have to learn how to dream again, Haley. How all things are possible.”
“I’ll daydream all afternoon at the office. Let’s go. You never told me how you got a divorce. Did you get a divorce? I mean were you married to Jason’s dad?”
“I got married at eighteen to my high school sweetheart. He was a quarterback and had big dreams of playing at Texas A&M, but when he didn’t make the cut, he took me to Ohio, and we got married instead.”
“So your parents didn’t approve?”
“No, they did. Other than he was a Caucasian, they liked him well enough. We both went to the same church, we were baptized together, we had a lot of history together. They were upset they didn’t get to plan a church wedding, but life went on.”
“So what happened? And this is the last time I’m asking before I step on that gas pedal myself.” I’m feeling the beat of other people’s music in my gut.
She puts her foot to the accelerator again and now I’m no longer worried about being carjacked, but I am worried that the car will take off into the air the way she uses the road like her personal runway.
“Long story short, he decided he didn’t want to live like a Goody Two-shoes anymore, left the church, left the faith, and started a business selling tools out of a big truck.”
“That’s it?”
“That’s not tragic enough for you?”
I shrug. “I just thought you were going to tell me he bit the dust doing cocaine or something. Selling tools?” I sigh.
“How would you have liked to live in that dump? With a little boy who doesn’t understand why he can’t play in the yard?”
“Oh that’s easy. I wouldn’t have. I would have gone to his tool-selling self and told him to give me my share.”
“Sure, you would have. That’s why you lied and told Jay you were pregnant because you’re such a tough girl.” She shakes her head. “I raised a straight A student in the hood all by myself, and I drive an SLK and work in the best agency in Hollywood. Don’t be telling me you’re tough, Haley, I got a black belt in being kicked to the curb—without money for diapers.”
“So did your son ever meet his dad?”
“Yes, Robby’s parents tried to forge a relationship with Jason, but they felt weird having an Asian grandson, and their prejudice eventually destroyed the relationship. Robby met his son once at an Easter brunch, but”—Lily shrugs—“that was it. So I tried to marry for money and do the trophy thing. I thought my son would have a dad, and our problems would be solved. Unfortunately, I could not live up to my husband’s high standards, and it wasn’t long before we were worse off than where we started. Now I’m a two-time divorcée, and it was then that I decided to rely on the faith of my childhood. No one is going to fix things for you, Haley. You have to fix things for yourself or you’ll just stay an eternal trophy wife.”
She gazed ahead of her as we continued back toward the office.
“Anyway, the whole reason I’m taking you out is to tell you that Rachel Barlin is pregnant.”
“I know that.”
“You never said anything.”
“Jay told me. It’s not exactly something I wanted broadcast.”
“It’s not his baby.”
“I know that, too. But Jay doesn’t know whose it is. What is with men that they want to be with a woman who is carrying another man’s baby, and they don’t know who the father is? Don’t they read the paper? Don’t they know every man can come out of the woodwork, like with Anna Nicole Smith and demand a DNA test? I mean, I know Jay thinks I’m the one who is dull-witted, but hello.”
“I do,” Lily whispers.
“You do, what?”
“I know who the father of Rachel’s baby is. She told her agent, and I overheard.”
My eyelids feel heavy. I’m tired of getting hit. I need a respite. “Don’t tell me, Lily. I can’t move on if I continue to obsess over this. I don’t want to hear anything more about Rachel Barlin. America continues to love her, as does Jay.”
“They won’t when they hear who the father is.”
I’m tempted. Oh so very tempted. “I don’t want to know.”
“So you’re not going backwards?” she asks me. “You’re going to fight for your career?”
“I’ve got the message, I’ll be clean and sober. No more lies, no more tubs o’ frosting, a little more running, a lot less Jay. Happy?”
“Ecstatic. See you at TWC tomorrow.”
She drives me back to work without food. Have I mentioned that I am extremely grouchy without food, or that my boss is currently at the Ivy?