Saved by the Celebutante (5 page)

I’m sitting on the couch with my phone in my lap. After a moment, I toss it onto the carpet and close my eyes.

I don’t know how much more of this I can take.

SIX

Kahlua texts me at 11a.m. the next day.

Can you meet me at Starbucks on Spear St at 2?

I text back.
Sorry, I’m not at Perry Tyler anymore. Quinn will look after you.

The next message arrives almost immediately.

I know you left Perry Tyler, but I want to talk to you about something. Please meet me?

Sure. See you there.

I wonder what could be so urgent. Maybe I did something stupid that affected Kahlua and she wants to reprimand me in person.

I’m really hoping it’s not that, but my life is so crappy at the moment, I can’t see what else it could possibly be.

At 1p.m. I dress as if I’m still going to the office, putting on a fresh pencil skirt and shirt. I can at least act like I have it all together on the outside, even if I’m a mess on the inside. Which is what I should have done the day I had my meltdown.

I get there a few minutes early and wait for Kahlua in a seat facing the door. She soon arrives, making a grand entrance in a tiny miniskirt, skyscraper heels, and hair and makeup done like she’s about to head off to a photo-shoot. Which might be the case, for all I know.

Everyone turns to look at her. She has an air about her that just screams “famous”, yet it’s not forced. I love how down to earth and self-aware she really is.

“Hey sweetie, thanks for meeting me here. Have you ordered a drink?”

“No, I was waiting for you. I’ll get them. What are you having?”

“Don’t be silly. You’re my guest, so I’ll buy. I’m just going to have a chamomile tea. Would you like coffee?”

“Yes, please.”

She goes up to the counter and I watch as the barista almost falls over with shock at serving the legendary Kahlua. She returns a few moments later, holding the two drinks.

“On the house. Isn’t he a darling?”

I laugh. “That’s great.”

“So…I guess I should explain why I wanted to see you.”

“No hurry. I’m just going to enjoy this for a moment.” I wave my hand around at all the attention being directed at us. Well, at Kahlua.

“Oh yeah. It
is
fun to be recognized sometimes. The paparazzi can be a bit mean, though. They try to take photos of my kids, even when I ask them not to. Do you know Jack got into a fight with a photographer one time and he almost went to jail, even though the photographer was right in his face and cursing at him? It’s just not right.” She shakes her head at the memory. “Anyway, I just want to say how disappointed I was to hear you’re no longer working at Perry Tyler. Quinn said something about you choosing to pursue other projects? Why do I get the feeling she wasn’t giving me the full story?”

I sigh. I might as well tell her the truth. I don’t have anything else left to lose.

“I should probably start at the beginning. You know the day of our meeting and how I went home early? Well, I found out my husband might be gay.”

“Oh my God. You poor thing!”

I nod grimly. “So naturally, I went out for a big night with my sister to drown my sorrows, but I drank too much and somehow ended up being filmed by one of Perry Tyler’s directors as I was throwing up. The video got spread around the office, and while they tried to deny it, I’m pretty sure they were lying. So after making a big scene, I left. And then yesterday, they fired me.”

“Holy cow, Chrissie! You’ve had some bad luck. If it helps at all, I can kind of relate, going through trauma so publicly.”

“Actually, I was thinking how inspirational you were to come through all of what you experienced and still be optimistic. I saw that article about Jack on the TMZ site…”

“Pfft. TMZ is so stupid. I don’t pay attention to anything they write. But even if they were telling the truth, I don’t care. Jack is long gone and I won’t let him hurt me anymore.”

“See, this is why I like you. You’re so upbeat.”

She grins. “Like they say, the only way is up. Okay, so I have something to ask you and I want you to say yes. And don’t think for a second I’m doing this out of pity.”

I raise a questioning eyebrow. “All right…”

“Will you be my new publicist?”

I stare at her. “But what about Billy?”

“I got rid of him. He was suggesting sillier and sillier things for me to do, and he wouldn’t take me seriously whenever I wanted to talk to him about the baby food.”

“And you want
me
to take over? I’m a complete emotional wreck!”

“You’re allowed to be a wreck for a little while. I’m assuming you can separate your work and personal life when necessary?”

“Usually, yes. But…” I feel like it shouldn’t be that straightforward, only I can’t think of any reason why this wouldn’t be ideal.

“Don’t analyze it too much,” she advises. “Take your own advice and just go with your first instinct.”

“I would love to be your publicist!” My brain whirs into gear. “Okay, so we probably need to tee up a meeting with Quinn…”

“Actually, I was hoping we could avoid Quinn. In fact, I would like to discontinue dealing with Perry Tyler altogether. Quinn was way too serious for my liking, and she kept treating me like I was stupid. Plus, if everyone was passing around a tape of you for entertainment when you were at your lowest, I don’t want to give them another cent of my money.”

“But I don’t know that for sure. That can’t be the main reason you stop dealing with them. Also, I’m not sure if I could get into trouble for effectively stealing you away…”

“Don’t worry about that. I’ll sort out any legal stuff if and when it arises.”

“All right.” I think about how to proceed from this point. “I guess I can call the design agency we were working with and ask if they mind dealing with us directly…and then we can start discussing that image strategy we were talking about…”

Kahlua laughs. “I love that you’re already thinking ahead! Now, here’s my credit card. Feel free to use it for any expenses you need to cover.” She opens up her purse and hands me a shiny Amex.

“Um, are you sure you want to trust me with this?”

“Of course. I like to think I’m a good judge of character. Where business relationships are concerned anyway. And as long as I’m not dealing with anyone with the name Billy.” She laughs at her own expense. “I know you won’t let me down.”

I have to stop myself from bursting into happy tears. “Okay then. Thank you. But I’ll be sure to run everything by you before I charge anything.”

“Whatever you feel is best.” She claps her hands together. “I’m so glad you said yes!”

“I can’t believe you thought I might say no!” I lean over the table to give her a hug. “I am so grateful for this opportunity. I’m going to be the best publicist ever!”

She laughs. “I hope so.”

We sit there, grinning like idiots.

Life might not be so bad after all.

***

For the next week, I find myself wildly fluctuating between energetic bursts of productivity, and periods of melancholy where I can barely drag myself out of bed. Thankfully Penny is still staying with me, so she makes sure that the evenings – when I’m at my lowest – are filled with girly TV marathons and long elaborate dinners.

I’ve always been good at burying myself in work when I’ve wanted to escape reality, but it’s impossible to keep up the act 24/7 – especially as Corey’s absence is so obvious.

He finally calls me on a Thursday afternoon, more than two weeks after what I now refer to as D-Day, or Drag Day. I have a feeling that from now on, events in my personal history will be remembered as either
before drag
(BD) or
after drag
(AD).

We agree to meet at Americano, because it’s a place we’re both familiar with, but it’s not somewhere we ever celebrated any anniversaries or milestones. I think the décor makes it a good choice, with it’s muted colors and natural timber furnishings.

Corey is already waiting out the front when I get there. He looks nervous. I’m sure he’s wondering whether I’m going to turn violent again.

“Hey.” He leads the way inside and over to a couple of stools at the bar. I order a blood orange martini. Corey orders a vodka tonic.

“How’s your week been?” he asks. He really is acting as though I might snatch up a bottle of whiskey and smash it over his head.

“As good as can be expected. Look, I’m sorry about your computer…”

“Forget it. I needed to upgrade it anyway. I totally understand why you were upset, and I should have been more forthcoming.”

“I’ll pay you back,” I promise.

He half-smiles, relaxing a little. “We’ll sort something out. So what’s been going on with you?”

“Well, I got fired, but then Kahlua hired me as her publicist, so at least I can keep paying for my half of the mortgage.”

“You got
fired
? How did that happen?”

“You don’t want to know.”

“Oh, well, I guess at least everything worked out all right in the end. And if money gets tight, let me know. I don’t want you to feel like you’re all alone.”

“Thank you, but I think it’s important to get used to being independent. Which brings me to our living situation. It doesn’t seem fair that I’m the only one staying at the apartment. Do you think maybe we should rent out our place for a while? Take the pressure off financially and emotionally? I could stay with Penny, or move into a share house…”

Corey won’t look at me.

“Did I say something wrong?” I ask.

He still doesn’t respond.

“Corey?” I prod.

“This is all too real,” he says finally.

“What do you mean?”

He presses his fingers to his eyes. “I don’t know. I guess I didn’t think about the fact that we wouldn’t be living in our apartment together anymore.”

“Well, what did you expect? We can’t just pretend nothing happened. Unless that’s what you want. Is that what you want?”

“No,” he says quietly.

“Then we have to be mature about this and figure out how to move forward. Renting out the apartment seems like the most sensible thing to do right now. We can even offer a short-term lease if that makes you feel better.”

“Okay.”

“Fine. I’ll call a realtor tomorrow and get things rolling.”

He watches the bartender making our drinks.

“Corey, can I ask you something?”

“Sure.”

“I want to understand the dressing up thing. How does that work?”

He shifts uncomfortably on his stool. “In what way?”

“I think you know what I mean.”

He sighs. “I don’t know. I don’t feel like a woman or anything. And I don’t want to wear regular women’s clothes and go out in public. I guess I just like the idea of getting dressed up and taking a few photos. Kind of like having an alter-ego.”

“Do you post the photos online?”

He doesn’t say anything, so I take that as a yes.

“Would you want to perform dressed up? Like in a show?”

“I don’t think so. Hey, can we please stop talking about this? It doesn’t feel right discussing it with you.”

I gape at him. “Why not? I’m your wife! I’m the first one you should have told!”

“But you’re being too normal about it!”

“I just want to understand. Believe me, I am not feeling normal.”

The bartender places our drinks in front of us, but neither of us touches them.

“Would you have told me if I hadn’t come home early that day?” I ask after a moment.

He looks away. “Probably not.”

“So, what? You would have just kept living a lie forever?”

“I don’t know, Chrissie! I’m just trying to deal with everything as it’s happening now.”

“Fine.” I take a deep breath. “Can I ask you one more thing?”

“I guess.”

“Did you cheat on me?”

“God, no, I swear.”

“So you never engaged in any physical activity with another man or woman while we were together?”

“Absolutely not.”

I feel a tiny spark of relief.

“Okay, so were you talking to anyone online before we broke up?”

He avoids my gaze.

“Please answer the question.”

“I can’t do this,” he whimpers.

“Do what? Be honest? Talk like an adult?”

“Stop it!” he says, anguished.

“Corey! Just tell me the truth!”

He stands up and throws a fifty on the counter. “I have to go.”

I watch as my husband hurries off, leaving me with two untouched cocktails.

I sigh. Of course. Always running away from conflict. And probably flirting with strangers online for who knows how long. Awesome.

I sip my drink and stare at the bottles lined up behind the bar. So I guess it’s up to me now. I’m going to have to make the first move and rent out our apartment, and maybe even call a lawyer.