TWENTY-EIGHT

“What a difference a couple of months make,” Paulette quipped, as she and Reese strolled past Brandon’s formal butler into the foyer of the impressive twenty-room estate that Gillian now called home. She looked every bit the madam of the house, draped in a burgundy silk Valentino kimono and crystal-encrusted house mules. Her skin was flawlessly effervescent, thanks to lazy afternoons by the pool, weekly spa facials, and the other trappings of the good life. As striking as Gillian had always been, she’d never looked better.

“I could say the same thing about you,” Gillian replied to Paulette. The pregnancy had brought about change for Paulette, wrecking havoc on her appearance, which had always been marginal at best. Some women glowed with the light of life when pregnant; Paulette, at six months, was not one of them. Generally, she looked tired, run-down, and swollen. Her prepregnancy main attractions—her boobs—were now as large as vine-ripened watermelons. It was not attractive, particularly when coupled with a double chin, a spreading nose, and an extra thirty-five pounds. “The last time I saw you, you didn’t even have a boyfriend, let alone a baby and a baby daddy,” Gillian continued.

The three women embraced one another, scattering a succession of double air kisses among them.

“Where’s Lauren?” Paulette asked. She was looking forward to seeing her cousin. Even though Lauren still didn’t know the bombshell news about her baby’s paternity, Paulette nonetheless enjoyed a twisted glee at carrying Lauren’s husband’s child—something Lauren couldn’t give him herself. To Paulette, her pregnancy was a physical confirmation of her superiority over Lauren. When she wasn’t miserable, she was conversely ecstatic with nearly orgasmic joy. Her only regret was having to wait to break the blessed news to Lauren and the rest of the world about herself, Max, and their child.

Regretably, she hadn’t heard from Max since she told him about his impending paternity. Of course, she’d called him almost daily, left a slew of messages, and even shown up at his office unannounced twice. She figured he just needed a little time to get used to the idea of their being a family, and soon it would all be good, especially once she told him that they were having a son: Maximillian Neuman IV. Her first order of business was to get him back in pocket; then she’d tell the world about their relationship. In fact, she’d already put the plan in motion to help get him there.

He simply needed a little extra motivation to extract himself from Lauren and embrace his new family. Paulette, of all people, realized that doing the right thing wasn’t always so easy; therefore it was necessary for her to add a bit of pressure. It came in the form of a letter containing the barely veiled threat that if he failed to “acknowledge his responsibilities” she would force an investigation into his handling of her grandmother’s will. For legal reasons she would rather have applied this pressure in person, but since he wouldn’t talk to her, she was forced to put it in writing instead. She was a master of positioning and spin, and was very capable of getting her point across without implicating herself, especially since there was no evidence against her. Thank God she had had the foresight to record a conversation that clearly implicated him. If his forgery of the will were discovered, not only would it cost Max his career and reputation, but he could also go to jail for quite a long time. So Paulette was sure that he would fall in line quickly, though it was a damned shame that she had to give him such a hard push to get him there.

The three girls were settled in the cozy garden room, which overlooked the Hollywood Hills, sipping champagne—sparkling apple juice for Paulette—and watching the sun set, when Lauren walked in carrying gifts up to her eyebrows. “Hey, girls,” she sang.

When the gifts were lowered onto a coffee table, the women all looked at Lauren with their mouths open; she looked incredible! Not at all like the calm, reserved girl they all knew. Of course, physically she had always been beautiful and exquisitely dressed, but what they saw today went way beyond that. Lauren looked like a woman who was in love and getting sexed really well, on the regular. Of course, this wasn’t something she was necessarily aware of, but anyone with half a brain and a little intuition could see it clearly.

Paulette wanted to scratch her eyes out, since she automatically assumed that Max must have made up with her, and maybe they were back in love and fucking like bunnies. It never occurred to her that Lauren might have taken a lover of her own.

Reese was under the impression that Paulette and Max had kissed and made up, since that was the delusional portrait that Paulette had painted for her, so she automatically assumed that Lauren must be getting some on the side, and consequently wanted to give her a high five.

Gillian gave it less thought than the other two, and simply said, “Lauren, girl, you look awesome! What have you been doing?”

“Yes, please share your secret,” Reese said, hoping to stir something up. She was definitely in a better mood these days after getting the goods on Chris, and had already had two glasses of champagne to celebrate.

Since Chris was caught with his pants down, literally, their attorneys had been negotiating back and forth at a furious pace. They were up to $15 million, and Justin had successfully negotiated a goodwill interim settlement of one hundred thousand dollars that had already been wired into her previously empty bank account. The first thing she did was to march into Barneys on a shopping spree, drop in at Joseph’s hair salon for a haircut and conditioning to take care of the atrocious split ends that poverty had caused, and scoot by Mario Badescu for a series of intense treatments that included everything from glycolic acid to sea salt. After she’d been spit-polished and was back in fighting form, she sauntered into Nobu to eat a decent meal, and see and be seen. It felt good to be back on the fast track. She dreamed day and night of getting her millions from Chris, and finally being a free and single woman with all that money at her disposal—enough money to lure an even bigger catch than the one she’d thrown back, someone with class, style, and money. Maybe someone like Brandon?

Now, he was a catch! One that Gillian certainly didn’t deserve. Reese had been secretly hoping he’d be here today, so that she could test the waters with him. Reese ran her fingers through her silky hair as she imagined lording over a house like this one, complete with a butler and chauffeur-driven Maybachs and Bentleys. She started, almost yanking out a fistful of hair when she heard her name called and realized that all eyes were upon her. Thank God they couldn’t read her thoughts.

“What are you daydreaming about?” Paulette demanded. “We’ve been trying to get your attention, and you’re sitting over there looking like you’re miles away.” By now they were on the third bottle of champagne, chasing it down with caviar, pâté, and an assortment of French cheeses.

“Not at all.” Which was true; Reese was right there, all right, plotting to replace Gillian. “I’m sorry; what were you guys talking about?” She took another long sip of the delicious rosé Champagne Paul Goerg, savoring the crisp, effervescent bubbles. It was her favorite, and having just emerged from poverty she had a lot of champagne drinking to make up for.

“Well, I was just thinking about how much has changed, at least for you guys, since we were last all together. Gillian is about to be a big-time actress out here in L.A., and Paulette is going to have a baby!” Lauren hugged her cousin, and was genuinely happy for her.

Yeah, with your husband, you ditzy broad, Reese thought. She took another sip and shook her head. The whole silly affair was too stupid for her to comprehend. How could Lauren not know that her cousin has been screwing her husband for over a year now? Instead of taking care of business and figuring the shit out, she threw the bitch a baby shower! Reese had never found Max terribly sexy, especially after she got to know him; otherwise, friendship aside, she’d probably be the one taking him from Lauren. But what woman wanted a man who was as pretty as she was? She liked her men to have some edge. In fact, she didn’t even mind a little roughneck action from time to time.

“So, who’s the lucky man?” Gillian asked Paulette. “You’ve still not told us.” Her catlike sixth sense told her there was something fishy going on with Paulette. She’d been evasive and coy whenever she was asked about the father of her child. As big a blabbermouth as that girl was, there had to be a really good—or really bad—reason that she hadn’t publicized her baby daddy’s identity to the whole world.

“You’ll all find out soon enough.”

“Since when did you, a premier publicist, become tight-lipped?” Lauren asked, amused by the change in her cousin.

These days it took little to amuse Lauren. Life was beautiful. She saw Gideon at least a couple of times a week, and lived for those stolen hours when they would lie in bed, talking, kissing, and making love; in fact, she realized that she was in love. At first she didn’t know what that light-headed, heart-palpitating ailment was, since she’d never had it before. She thought about him every waking hour; Max barely existed for her anymore. She was vaguely aware of his feeble attempts to gain her favor lately. He’d even shown up one night with flowers and a diamond bracelet. When she asked him what the occasion was, he answered, “Because I love you.” There was a time when she would have melted in his arms like heated butter at such a sappy gesture, but now it hardly even mattered. What did matter to her was getting out of the marriage. She’d already consulted an attorney and was preparing for battle. Thanks to her grandmother they did not have kids, so it should be a relatively easy one to win.

On her wedding day, Priscilla had counseled Lauren not to have his child, no matter what he or her mother said, until she was 110 percent sure that she was the most important thing in his life. Morning after morning she’d woken up and asked herself that question, and when the answer wasn’t a resounding yes, she’d take another birth control pill. Originally she felt deceptive for doing it, as if she were cheating Max out of a child and her mother out of a grandchild, but as time wore on she became convinced that she was doing the right thing. When Reese had Rowe and pawned him off on a staff of nannies right after the umbilical cord was cut, Lauren reaffirmed her vow never to have a child for the wrong reasons. That was one mistake she wasn’t prepared to make. It was one thing to mess up your own life, but why start fresh by messing up a child’s?

“Don’t worry; you’ll all meet him soon enough. He’s a little shy, that’s all.”

Reese laughed out loud. “And a little married,” she let slip. Four consecutive glasses of champagne had gone straight to her head.

“You’re pregnant by a married man?” Gillian asked.

Paulette shot Reese a dirty look that didn’t stick. “He’s getting a divorce soon,” she lied. Though to her it was only a partial lie; she knew that in time he would be getting a divorce, even if he didn’t know it. He had to! As happy as she was to be having his baby and to have some real money, in the darkest hours of the day she didn’t feel any worthier of happiness than her mother had all these years. Maybe even worse—at least her mother did marry, however badly, while she’d be just another statistic: a baby mama.

“That’s what they all say,” Reese slurred. Some women were such damned fools, she thought. It was laughable. Oblivious Lauren didn’t have enough sense to know that Paulette had put a butcher knife in her back and was slowly twisting it in deeper, and Paulette was stupid enough to believe that Max would leave perfect little Lauren and her precious family name in exchange for her tired, soon-to-be-stretched-out punany. The only one who warranted a measure of her respect was Madam Gillian, who Reese never would have thought to have enough cunning to land a big fish like Brandon. She’d better enjoy it while she could. Reese took another sip.

“Reese, I think you’ve had too much to drink. Why would you say that to Paulette? We should all be happy for her,” Lauren lectured.

“I may have had too much to drink, but I’d still have enough sense to know if my husband was fucking my cousin.”

The air in the room froze solid. No one moved or even dared to breathe as the meaning of the words that had dribbled from Reese’s loose lips sank in. They made a bizarre tableau, each stuck in her own sphere of disbelief. Lauren, who had been raising her glass to her lips, stood with her mouth open, though her brows had risen in slow recognition, and her eyes moved from Reese to Paulette. Instantly months of lies, innuendo, and funny feelings fit together snugly like a very simple jigsaw puzzle.

Paulette, who was normally adept at covering up deceit, was caught so off guard that her expression was that of a kid with both hands caught deep in the cookie jar and crumbs around her mouth; her lips were moving as if she wanted to say something, but the words were inaccessible. Gillian’s hand flew to her mouth, as if to stop the gasp that crept up her throat. She knew that Paulette could be a scurrilous bitch, but she never considered that she’d have an affair with her own cousin’s husband—and then to have his baby, and worse, to let her cousin give her a baby shower! She was the worst kind of trollop imaginable.

Reese’s reaction was delayed, slowed down as it was by alcohol. It wasn’t until she saw Gillian, Paulette, and Lauren all looking mortified that she realized that the words she’d thought in her head had actually come out of her mouth. “I’m sorry,” she blurted out.

“You cheatin’, lyin’ bitch!” Lauren yelled at Paulette. She thought of the countless times she’d stood up for Paulette to her mother, and how she’d always made sure that Paulette had money when they were growing up, so that she wouldn’t feel bad when she got the newest toys and Paulette didn’t. And how she had considered her a confidante when she had problems with Max—only to find out that Paulette was fucking him behind her back!

“Listen, Lauren—” Paulette began.

“No, you listen. How dare you sleep with my husband after all I’ve done for you?” Lauren screamed. “And then you’re so low and despicable that you’d let me give you a baby shower!”

“All you’ve done for me? You make it sound like I’m some charity case.” Paulette stood up to face Lauren. “Just because your family had the money doesn’t make you better than me.”

“No, what makes me better than you is that I’m not a whoring slut!” Lauren hissed, inching closer to her cousin. The calm demeanor that she usually wore was replaced by cold fury. Oddly enough, she wasn’t mad at Max. Knowing him as she did now, she would expect him to stoop that low. But it really hurt that her cousin—her own flesh and blood—would betray her.

Paulette looked as if she’d been slapped hard in the face. “You can call me what you want to, but at least I know how to please a man, which is more than I can say for you.”

Lauren stared at her hard, never letting her eyes waver, and in a calm voice that was barely audible, but steely and steady, said, “Like mother, like daughter.” She regretted the words the moment they left her mouth, but it was too late to take them back. It was one thing to insult Paulette, who certainly deserved it, but far below the belt for her to attack her aunt’s character.

This was the ultimate insult to Paulette. She looked around the room and saw disgust—definitely from Gillian, who was visibly appalled, and even from Reese, who was certainly not above what Paulette had done. She turned, grabbed her bag and ran out the door with tears stinging her lids. She had to get away from everything—the disgrace, the rejection, and the disgust, emotions that she had dealt with all of her life. They had little to do with Lauren, money, or Max, but were pieces carefully packed away in her private set of baggage. She was out the door before the other three could collect themselves.

Realizing that she wouldn’t have a ride back to Paulette’s house, where she was staying, and ever self-centered, Reese jumped up, gathered her things, and ran after her, feigning concern. “I need to stop her; she’s in no condition to drive.”

Gillian came over and put her hand on Lauren’s shoulder, not knowing what else to do.

By the time Reese caught up with Paulette, she was in her car, had started the engine, and was about to drive off. Reese managed to hop in and buckle up before Paulette sped out of the driveway, headed down Mulholland Drive, which now bore a coat of March rain, made slick by the cold caused by the high elevation.

“Paulette, let me drive; you are in no condition,” Reese said, as if she were suddenly sober herself.

“And you are? You’re so fuckin’ drunk you can’t even keep your damn mouth shut,” she spit.

“I’m sorry, Paulette. I didn’t mean to do that; you know it,” Reese pleaded.

By now Paulette’s tears—which should have been shed decades ago—flooded her eyes, as they came upon a sharp curve that hugged the mountain over the steep canyon. Paulette turned the wheel to maneuver the car, but nothing happened. As the cliff approached, she applied the brakes: Again, nothing happened. In those few seconds, the realization that they were going over the cliff hit her in bold print. When the car broke through the guardrail, she and Reese both screamed. Her hands released the wheel and went flying to her face, as though she might be able to shield herself from the massive wreck that was now imminent. Her last thought was Damn, now Lauren will end up with Max.

Then everything faded to black.