Split Ends (32 page)

Scott's eyes narrow as he sees Alexa, and his eyes flash at the sight of her date. “Stay here, Sarah. Go and check Flora's hair.”

“Nick Harper, trainer to the stars. That's H-A-R-P-E-R. Smile pretty, darling.” Nick leans his cheek in next to mine and flashes his toothy grin.

“Excuse me, Nick.”

The press somehow takes this as me wanting to talk. “Miss Winston, can you tell us the styling products used on Miss Fawn's hair?”

“The color?” Another reporter asks.

“What were you trying to accomplish with this look?”

I see Alexa tug at her ring and my cousin pulling her away from her date. They're definitely having words and I'm hopeful. I pray he might see what he stands to lose. Or at least that she'll get her answer.

I watch my cousin beleaguer Alexa and her date walks away. Scott is very aware of the press around him and is trying to make it look like the friendliest of exchanges, but I can feel the tension from here. And in that instant I vow I won't let that happen to me. I won't let misunderstanding and pride come between me and my true love. Right or wrong, appropriate timing or no, I'm in love with Dane Weston. He was meant to be my husband, and I don't care if he's a
have
or if he has nothing. He's the one God meant for me. I know it. As surely as Flora is not the next Marilyn Monroe, I am the next—the only—Mrs. Dane Weston.

“Flora's hair is fabulous. She wanted to try something different, not be pigeonholed. She's an adventuress, willing to take risks. That's why Spielberg believed in her for this role. All Flora's products will be Yoshi of Beverly Hills.” Of course, I used cheap, chemical product on Flora, but all upkeep will be Yoshi, and I'll be a person of my word.

I have no idea where that little surge of publicist came, but all I can think of is getting home to Dane before my cousin ruins everything and I lose my nerve.

Scott's face is now red, and I watch as Alexa sashays away with her gorgeous date on her arm. The ring is still on her finger as she moves toward the theater, and Scott looks as though he might explode. But he catches himself and breaks into a huge smile for a nearby camera. At the same moment I feel an arm slip around me. Nick Harper is looking for his moment. My wretched date talks to Sydney as the
Hollywood Tonight
camera's red light comes on.

“Funniest story. She was sobbing on Cary Grant's star. How could I have known she was a hair genius? She has no shoes on because her heels were bothering her, and she'd just passed by my gym! ‘Of all the gin joints in all the world—'”

“No,” I stammer, shaking my head, but I see from Nick's expression he's been in the background long enough. He wants his opportunity to shine.

I look straight at Sydney. “Nick is too humble. He was running near Hollywood and Vine, and he works his clients hard. He didn't get this body sitting still.”

Sydney reaches out and clutches Nick's bicep and I see a moment to escape to Alexa, but as I move she turns her attention back to me. “Well, I certainly see that your girlfriend is camera shy. She's definitely content to be in the background. Back to you in the studio, Kim.” With a shake of her head, she and the cameraman move on.

“I have to go, Nick. I have to make sure the hair is okay. I'm sorry to abandon you tonight.”

“No, no. I'm thankful for it, actually. If it brings me even one client, maybe I can be on my way.”

“I'm in love with someone.”

He laughs. “Since last week?”

I nod. “It's a long story, but—”

“It can't be that long if it happened in the last week.”

“I'm allowing myself to admit what I want even if I don't get it, but please, pray I'll get it.” Without a backward glance, I extricate myself from the crowds. Scott runs toward me.

“Sarah, you've got to go into the ladies' room. Flora's losing color. Did you bring some temporary?”

“I did, but—” I point back toward where Alexa was. “Did you talk to her?”

“I can't talk to her, Sarah.”

“Why not? She just wants an answer.”

“Because the answer hurts, all right? I want to be able to say I can forgive her.” He pushes me toward the wall to make sure no one sees our emotions high. “I want to forgive her. I love her, but I'm slime, all right? And every time I see her, she only reminds me of that. Now go find Flora! It's why you're here.” He shows his backstage pass, and I'm ushered into the ladies' room, where Flora is conversing with the bathroom attendant and signing an autograph.

“Sarah, thank goodness you're here. My hair is losing color at the root. There's that green tint back again.”

I just nod. “Sit down.” She sits at the vanity stool, and I wrap her in a towel used for show in the bathroom and spray her hair until all the spots are covered. “You'll have to come in as soon as the movie's over. We'll need to make sure the mineral oil doesn't make you lose more color, but you need the moisture right now or it will show like straw in photographs.”

“Sarah, are you all right?” Flora looks at me in the mirror, and I see my nose is red.

“I'm fine.”

I paint the color on and spray it with setting spray.

“How do you know if you're in love, Flora?”

Flora's eyebrows raise. “You're asking me? I can't even get a date to my own screening.” She laughs. “You might want to look into that roommate of yours. He seemed interested enough in you last night.” She looks into the mirror and breathes in deep. “I'm ready.” She kisses my cheek and dashes out of the restroom. I hear the hush of excitement as she walks through the crowd.

I have to reach Dane. I have to tell him, even if he turns me out flat on my ear. Whatever Scott told him, I need to tell him my truth.

I call Dane on his cell phone. No answer, so I rush out of the restroom and meet Scott. “I've got to go home before intermission.”

“You're not leaving here. You'll never get back. Do you know how many limousines are back there? This is as busy as any screening I've been to. I guess that's what Spielberg will do for a movie. Besides, Dane's packing for France.”

“Dane's going to France again already?”

“He'll be there when you get home. Chill.”

But I can't shake the feeling I have. The feeling that this night of success—the one night I've dreamed about my whole life, to make someone so beautiful that the world noticed—is like a blip in time compared to life without Dane. Sometimes you just know. There's no proper time involved, and there's no reason. There's just this man I know was made for me.

My cell phone trills for the first time. “Dane? Oh my gosh, I'm so glad you called. I was worried.”

“Sarah Claire, it's not Dane. It's Mrs. Gentry, dear.”

“Mrs. Gentry, I'm sorry, it's just not a good time.”

“Well, dear, what I'm calling about is very important. It needs to be said.”

Exhaling deeply, I try to refocus, “What is it, Mrs. Gentry?”

“I'm in the hospital, dear.”

“What? Are you all right?”

“Oh, I'm fine, but I needed to tell you something because I don't want you to hear it from anyone else, should something happen to me.”

“Just a minute, Mrs. Gentry. I need to get to a quiet place. Are you going to be all right? What's happened to you? How can I pray?”

“Relax, Sarah, it's just my bad arteries; you know how they give me trouble sometimes. All that butter so many years ago.”

“Should I come home? Do you need me home?”

“No, no, dear. I'm just going to have a stent put into my heart, and I needed you to hear the truth before I go into surgery, that's all.”

“The truth? Mrs. Gentry, you never lied to anyone in your life.” I laugh.

“Sometimes, there's the sin of omission, dear.”

She has my attention now, and I slowly lower myself onto a padded bench in the theater's lobby. “Go ahead.”

“This is your mother's tale to tell, and I always hoped that she would be honest with you. But since she hasn't, I feel I must.”

“My mother?”

“Sarah Claire, Bud Simmons is not your father.”

And just like that, I can't breathe. I struggle for each gasp of air, looking to find more oxygen. “Not my father?” I reach for the quarter I take with me everywhere as a reminder to pray for him.

“Sarah Claire, your father was my husband.”

My head shakes from side to side. “No. No, Mrs. Gentry, it was Bud Simmons. No one wanted to say because he was the head of the town, but it was Bud Simmons.”

“I'm sorry, darling. I wish that were true, but my
husband—well, he was an elder at the church when he got
involved with your mother. She was doing some secretarial work after school, and one thing led to another . . .”

“No, Mrs. Gentry, why are you telling me this? This isn't true. Your husband was a man of God.”

“A very flawed man of God, Sarah. He tried to make things right, but he knew going public would only hurt your mother more. She begged him to keep it to himself and he did, until the day he died. He told me that day.”

I can't help it. I start to weep. Ugly, blubbery cries of anguish come out and I could care less who sees me. “That's why you spent so much time with me at the library?”

“I couldn't have my own children. When Albert died, Sarah, you were a part of him. All I had left. He gave me a good life, left me well cared for, but he was a weak man in many ways.”

My father's name is Albert. Albert Gentry.

“How did you bear it?”

“See, that's the thing when you really love someone. You're called to love them despite their flaws.”

“The Bible says you can be released from marriage for infidelity.”

I hear her laugh. “Don't think I didn't consider it, but I loved Albert, and in his heart he loved me and knew he'd made a terrible mistake. Your mother wouldn't take his money. She wanted to punish him, and I can't blame her. She was barely a woman when she fell victim to her passions.”

“How can you stand it? How can you think about it?”

“When you face your deepest fears . . . ? Sometimes that's how you receive your greatest blessings.”

“What does that mean?”

“It means I thought my greatest fear was having a husband not be true to me. But that wasn't really true. My greatest fear was being alone. There was a time I let bitterness take root, and I threw your father out. Out of the house and out of my heart. But I didn't like who I'd become. I forgave him because it made me a better person. And out of my greatest trial I received one of my greatest triumphs—you in my life and a man who I knew would spend his life trying to prove his love.”

“I'm praying for your surgery, Mrs. Gentry. I've got to go.”

“I'll call you when I'm out, dear. Don't do anything rash. This is a lot to digest, and I'm so sorry I had to tell you over the phone. But I couldn't go into surgery without a clear conscience, and this heart just acts up too much. Tell Dane thank you for this number, and find yourself a decent living situation, young lady.”

The movie goes on forever, and I pace the Kodak Theatre until I'm sure I've worn down the carpet. My cell phone trills again, and I pray that it's Dane, but it's Yoshi. Dane is home taking messages for me and passing on my cell
number.

“Sarah, excellent work on Miss Fawn. I knew you had what it took,” Yoshi says, but I'm shell-shocked. I can't even appreciate his cold words of praise.

“Tell that to the poor model with an alfalfa sprout,” I say. After news of my father, I hardly have time to care what Yoshi thinks.

“That was my fault, and she'll learn to overcome her flaws for the camera. It was a positive thing for her.”

Yeah, sure it was. “Yoshi, I'm sort of busy. Can I help you with something?”
Did I forget and leave the toilet seat
up after one of your rude male clients
?

“Sarah, I just wanted you to know I'm promoting you to master stylist; we'll sneak in private classes after hours. As far as anyone is concerned, you're a Yoshi master stylist. I'll be sure you're licensed by the end of the month.”

“Thank you, sir.” I let out the sob I've been holding inside. I know this is totally about Yoshi and someone else stealing me before he can get to me, but I'm still grateful. Yoshi brought me here and I feel loyalty to him, even if I did get on a first-name basis with the toilet.

“We'll see you in the morning.”

The phone clicks as I emerge from the restroom. I see Scott across the room.

“Scott, please, can you finish Flora's hair for the night? I have to get home to Dane. I think he's mad at me.”

“No. This is your night; this is what it's all about. You have to be seen with Flora for the rest of the night. Sarah, this is what you came here for.”

“Oh, yeah.” I look down at the carpet. “It is, isn't it?”

My cousin suddenly dashes into the men's room. Startled, I look up and see Alexa coming toward me. At this point in the evening, I'm too exhausted to show more than mild surprise as the leggy blonde stops in front of me, clad in a stunning shimmery gown.
This is just too surreal.

“He did not really just do that,” she says as the door shuts behind Scott.

“What are you doing here? I saw you with Scott earlier.”

She grimaces. “Believe it or not, I accepted a date with someone connected to the movie just so I could try to talk to Scott. Pathetic, I know, and a lot of good it did me. It took me forever to find someone coming here.”

I refrain from agreeing and we stand a minute looking at the bathroom door Scott escaped behind. Finally, a sigh ruffles out of Alexa. With a nod, she pulls off her engagement ring.

“I give up. He's obviously not going to see me. Give the ring back for me, will you, Sarah? You know him—I trust you to do it right.”