Chapter Nineteen

The weeks leading up to Christmas hurt worse than the beginning of my punishment. My mood fluctuated, but mostly stayed on “aggravated.” I snapped, sneered, and basically alienated anyone and everyone I came in contact with. Thankfully, the sisters left for some fancy ski trip with their aunt and missed my wrath.

By the time Christmas break arrived, the staff bolted toward their cars. None said good-bye, likely wanting to distance themselves from me.

Not that I blamed them. I craved a vacation from me, too.

Henry might be the slight exception, but even he and I had had several fights lately.

He would remind me of the goal. I was to be better and to change. But my resentment for Meredith oozed an inky darkness deep into my heart. The agony steered every decision and action I made. I desired to change my attitude but was clueless on how to begin the process. I stepped out on the porch and stared as the last car pulled out of the driveway.

A moment later, Meredith drove in and parked. She stepped out of the car and glanced up at me. She didn’t smile.

Neither did I. I sensed she knew how I felt about her. I overheard a rumor earlier in the week—she had tried to have me fired.

Dad stopped it somehow.

I never found out the how and why, only that she had orchestrated the discussion. How I detested her. As she passed out of my view, my attitude nosedived off a cliff. God help anyone who talks to me right now.

“Hey, there,” Henry said behind me. “How are you feeling?”

“Who cares?” I snapped.

“That’s not fair. I care.”

“Do you? Or are you just like everyone else?” I spun around to face him, heat rising in my body. I should stop talking and walk away, but I couldn’t. The desire to scream at Meredith needed to be released somehow, and Henry was my only viable target. “I bet you’re hoping I’ll remember you when this is over so I can get your screenplay in front of my dad? That’s why you are trying to make me good, right? That’s the only way I can help you is if I remember.”

With pursed lips, Henry nodded once, turned, and left without another word.

Guilt engulfed my soul. I should run after him and apologize or beg forgiveness. But I couldn’t yet. Not with the vile emotions coursing through my body at the moment. Right now, I needed to calm down. In the old days, I either drank or shopped. Since I no longer had an ID, shopping would have to do. I shrunk back to my room, collected what little money I had, and called a taxi to come get me.

I had the driver drop me off in front of Darren’s Department Store. Shoulders back and head high, I strode inside and exhaled. A wave of familiar peace washed over me. Shopping therapy might be exactly what I needed. But within minutes of stepping into the store, the glares of store personnel followed me around the floor. Their attention could be because I wore knockoff blue jeans and a five-dollar T-shirt, or more likely, it could be because I stole from them before. Either way, they watched me like a hawk.

I closed my eyes and petted the silk scarves. It took me back. For a second, I became the old me. My expensive “friends” still loved me. They returned me to a world of luxury. To think I took all this for granted. No matter what, I don’t think I would do that again. At least, that had changed. I appreciated it all. I stopped by the makeup and smiled at the woman behind the counter.

She responded with a plastic smile. “May I help you?”

“Yes, I would like to have a sample makeover, please.” I hadn’t worn makeup in so long, but I desperately needed to feel “normal.”

“Do you have the money to buy anything?” she asked in a snooty tone and with her nose in the air.

I recognized this tactic. Make the person feel less than herself, so maybe she’ll leave. But I would not be deterred by this approach. I had money from my paycheck, and I intended to spend it. I narrowed my eyes and mirrored her plastic smile, “Why yes, I do.”

She pinched her lips together, held up a finger indicating she’d be back, and sauntered away.

I slid into the gold stool and waited to be pampered. I noticed a gold bottle of perfume to my right. I sprayed it in front of my face and sniffed. It smelt of vanilla and rain. I sprayed again and waved my wrists and neck into the mist.

The saleslady came into view behind the display, tailed by a man in a suit, likely the manager.

I set the bottle down and turned to face them.

“This is her,” the lady hissed in the man’s ear.

She spoke loud enough for me to hear.

The balding man with glasses crossed his arms and glared. “You’re no longer allowed to shop at Darren’s Department Store, miss.”

“Why not?” I countered. “I plan to buy stuff. I already told her that. I have money. I know I look like a hobo, but I promise you, I’m not.”

The man stepped forward. “Once you’ve been arrested for shoplifting in our stores, our policy states we are obligated to deny you service. We need you to leave, or we’ll call security.”

I blinked, waiting a second for that to fully register. “Fine, no need to get all huffy. I’ll go.” So, my past had not totally been erased in this new reality. I guess I should have suspected that, since I did go to jail in this reality. I wondered, though, did they know me as Cynthia Tremaine, or did that name not transfer over? I vaguely remember them calling me something else. I sauntered out the sliding glass door leading into the main mall.

Rows of neon signs and Christmas decorations lined the indoor walkway. Holiday music and conversations echoed from the high ceiling. A few kids lingered against the rail, eating ice cream. Most of the people dashed in a hurry with shopping bags, and a few moms pushed strollers toward the North Pole.

Santa waved.

I waved back. I had only one memory of the red, fat guy. Around age four or five, Mom had me sit on his lap, but I cried, and she never took me again. Also, she told me the truth shortly after that, so I never got caught up in the magic.

I weaved through the crowd of little dreamers and into the vast sea of shoppers. The more I ambled down the tiled floor, the stronger the aroma of greasy fries and grilled burgers made my stomach rumble. The food court must be my next destination.

Well, so I thought, until I got distracted by a kiosk filled with colorful makeup. In the past, I wouldn’t have shopped at this kind of place—off-brands and cheap merchandise—but since I couldn’t shop in Darren’s, I guess I had no choice. I thumbed through the products and purchased a light foundation with matching powder, a soft pink blush, a dewberry lipstick, smoky eyeliner, and a tube of black mascara, as well as a brush and hair spray. I handed the cashier two twenties and left with my purchase. I couldn’t wait to find a corner to put it on. I needed the morale boost.

I reached the food court, and the angels sang in my head, “Aaah!” A large hamburger, curly fries, and a huge soda would certainly lift my spirits, too. I stopped in front of a large yellow arrow and peered up at the menu.

“Hello. What can I get you?” asked the man behind the counter.

“I’ll have a cheeseburger, large fry, and—” I paused. “I’ll have a small chocolate chip shake.”

The cashier rang me up, and another lady handed me the order.

I turned with my tray and frowned at the vast amount of people eating. I snaked around the tables until I spotted an empty spot in the far back of the food court. Some dork left his trash behind, but I was glad it remained vacated. I stuffed the trash in the can nearest to it and used a napkin to wipe off the table and chair. “Even on my time off, I have to clean up someone else’s mess,” I muttered, as I rolled my eyes.

Finally seated, I unwrapped the burger and squirted some ketchup on the side of the paper. I brought the buttered bun to my lips and bit. So good. Each bite made me smile a little more, but I couldn’t wait to put on the makeup. I prepared to start my makeover by spreading my purchases out on the table next to my food. I applied makeup between bites, only waiting on the lipstick. By the last fry, I felt like myself again. I applied lipstick, then winked in the compact mirror. If only cosmetics could fix a broken soul, too.

I needed to see Henry as soon as possible. He had not seen me look this decent the entire time he’d known me. Well, this me and I needed to make things right. I would stop and buy a few clothing items, then I would go find him and pray I hadn’t destroyed our relationship beyond repair.

****

That night, I put on new jeans and a cream poplin top. I fixed my hair the best I could, touched up my makeup, and crept down the hall to Henry’s room. My heart hammered in my chest. One thing I had never done before was apologize to people. I could see why. It felt extremely uncomfortable and humbling. But if I didn’t, I would lose the one good thing I had in my life.

So, I swallowed what little pride I had left and tapped on his door. There were things I could not take back. I had questioned his motives for being here again. I didn’t mean it. I acted out of ignorance on how to behave. Okay, that was a lie. It wasn’t ignorance. My personality default setting was jerk, and it didn’t seem to have much of an off switch.

The door opened to reveal Henry in gray sweats and a black tank top that showed every muscle.

Of course, you had to be hotter than ever… I gulped and tried to smile, happy he didn’t slam the door in my face. “I’m so sorry for everything I said earlier.” I lowered my gaze to my hands. My cuticles were a mess. My nails were short and ugly. I seriously need a manicure. Stop thinking about your hands. I peered up again. “Can I come in, please?”

Without speaking, he stepped back.

The move provided a space so I could enter. I glanced around. With the exception of better paintings, an ocean instead of eighties flowers, his room didn’t appear much different than mine.

A few clothes lay discarded on the floor. Henry scooped them up and tossed them in the tiny closet, then waved for me to sit on the bed.

I perched on the edge.

He leaned his hip against the dresser with arms crossed, feet shoulder-width apart.

“Look, I know I owe you a huge apology. Honestly, I owe the world one. I don’t know how to stop being so wicked. Right now, I am furious about the pregnancy. It’s all I think about, and frankly, it’s messing with my head.”

Henry’s expression remained tight. “You want to be good, then be good. Stop dwelling on Meredith. She’s only one person, and you’re allowing her to rule your life. Pretty soon, you’ll be left in your bitterness and have no one.”

I recognized that meant him, too. “I know.” Fresh tears grazed my new makeup. I dabbed my cheeks, hoping to preserve some of it.

His expression softened, and he lifted my chin with his knuckle. “I can help you, but you have to stop resisting, okay?”

I nodded and stood.

He wrapped his arms around me and hugged me tight. “And your makeup looks really pretty.”

His breath hot on my cheek, I laughed through my tears. “Thanks. Well, it did until now.”

He kissed the top of my head. “Still beautiful.”

I sniffed. “Thank you.”

“So, since you’re all made-up, do you want to get out of here and go for dinner? I’m starving.”

“Have you ever known me to turn down food?”

“Never.” He grabbed his wallet. “What do you want to eat?”

“I had a burger for lunch, so how about Mexican?”

“Oh, yes, always a good choice. Let’s hit Roberto’s on Eighth. Best carne asada fries in the city.”

I slid under his arm and squeezed his side. “I don’t know if I deserve a man who will buy me a carne asada fries, but I’ll take it.”

****

After gorging on French fries smothered in steak, cheese, beans, and guacamole, we decided to take a walk on Hollywood Boulevard. Even though Dad was a big deal in Hollywood, I had never been down here. Henry intertwined his fingers with mine and led me down the heart of the town. Neon lights, music, and the buzz of the city filled the air.

The streets, packed with tourists from around the world, pressed tightly together in awe of the various names in their path. Several people dressed like famous celebrities danced, sang, or entertained for money.

I spotted Marilyn Monroe, Prince, and Judy Garland.

A Michael Jackson look-a-like moonwalked, spun around, tipped up on his toes, and squealed.

I laughed and tossed a few coins in his hat.

We meandered down the boardwalk, naming off the names of the tiled stars below our feet. I got most excited when I saw Anne Hathaway’s star. “I love her. She came to dinner once when my dad was considering her for one of his movies.”

“You’ve met Anne Hathaway?”

“Just the once. She’s ubercool.”

We continued to stroll, stopping at some actor that Henry liked who I’ve never heard of. Red Skeleton or something like that.

“Don’t you think it’s odd that people walk on your name, though?” Henry asked, stepping around his star and snapping a photo with his phone.

“Yeah, it is kind of odd, I suppose.”

“But I guess it’s also cool, because you know at some point, these people were right here.”

I raised an eyebrow. “I wouldn’t have thought about you being into all that.”

“Isn’t everyone?”

I shook my head. “You work in a Hollywood producer’s home. A lot of famous people come through there all the time and have even sat in your limo. That’s closer than these stars who are trampled on day-by-day.”

He shrugged. “I guess.”

When we reached the Chinese Theatre, Henry snapped a few more photos. Some with both of us acting silly or kissing.

I stepped in the cement prints of Julie Garland and cringed. My feet looked gigantic next to hers. We talked and laughed. Everything felt light again. For one night, I would not allow my mind to dwell on my past, but only my present of the here and now. The best decision I’d made in a long time. On the way back to the mansion, I laid my head on Henry’s shoulder. “Thanks, Henry.”

“For what?”

“For once again, rescuing me.”