by Mia Caldwell
Suddenly the opportunity was there for the taking. She smiled. Willa would like this. “Tom, Lissa has been having a tough time. I wouldn’t tell you this if you weren’t looking for a fast answer from me, but I don’t know if she’ll be up to it.”
“What happened? I know she suddenly had to take some time off, but that’s all.”
“She has a problem. Drugs. She’s been fighting it, and is out of rehab, but she’s in the hospital now.”
“I heard she was pregnant.”
“That’s why she put herself in rehab.”
“Oh my God. I didn’t know.”
“She doesn’t want anyone to know. I’m sure you can understand that.”
“Yes, of course.”
“I’m running our show and I have some fine analysts working under my supervision. If she is up to it, of course she’d run the show.”
Tom rubbed his chin. “You know, I’m surprised the press didn’t get wind of this. They check the admission records constantly, just hoping some well-known person will check themselves in. It feeds their fires.”
Tina shrugged. “Lissa is smart. She used her sister’s name—Joan Edwards. That didn’t set off any alarms. She’s in the hospital under her own name.”
“I should send her some flowers.”
Tina smiled and reached over to put her hand on his. “I’m sure she’d love that, Tom. Just don’t let her know you know about the rehab. She’s a fighter, and we need to rally around her to make sure she feels our love right now. She wouldn’t want you to know.”
“I understand.”
As they ate and talked, Tina felt a glow of satisfaction. She’d accomplished what she set out to do. Once the major clients all heard of Lissa’s downfall, that would clear the field for her. She was nowhere near close to getting Tom to propose that she work with him directly on this project, but she would nudge it in that direction. She would endear herself to him. He was a good-looking man, and at thirty-five, her relative youth would be enough to appeal to his male vanity. She could see herself associated with him. The man had big coattails, and that was worth a lot. She’d monitor things, see how he played it.
She already knew that if he came on to her, she’d take him up on it. He might be good in bed, and if not, well, he was rich enough for an affair to be quite the adventure of its own. Half the joy of sex was the negotiations—the flirting and courting, deciding when to be cautious and when to spread your legs for the man. Maybe that was even more than half. And the rest was reaping the rewards.
# # #
“You aren’t looking very cheerful,” Joan said.
Lissa opened her eyes and stared at her sister. “Is there something to cheer about? I’ll gladly join a cheer if you can provide the reason.”
“Well, how about the fact that I’m six months clean and sober? At the meeting this morning they gave me this token and everyone clapped.”
Lissa stared at the cheap plastic chip, and the way Joan was looking at it, as if it were made of gold. Lissa’s heart swelled with hope at the sight of her sister’s pride in her sobriety. Maybe this time it would stick; maybe the dark days would be a thing of the past. “Oh, Joan, that’s fantastic. I wish I could hug you.”
“All four of you at once?”
“That’s right. All four of us want to hug you tight and tell you how wonderful that is and how proud we are.” She poked her belly. “Especially whoever is over here. I can feel the applause.”
“Seeing as I have you trapped here, tell your sister who the father is. You don’t need to keep it a secret, do you?”
“It isn’t a secret, Joan. It isn’t anyone you know, though. I met him at a conference in Switzerland.”
“Even though I don’t know him, he does have a name, right?”
“Julio Torres.”
“Is he Mexican?”
“Spanish. He’s a businessman from Barcelona.”
“Does he ever plan to drop by and see you or his kids?”
Lissa snorted. “I have no idea.”
“Wait! Have you even told him you are pregnant?”
“No. I have no idea how to do that.”
“You aren’t in touch with him?”
“No, but not because I haven’t tried.”
“What do you mean?”
Looking at her sister, she decided to unburden herself. Joan deserved the entire story. “It’s the weirdest thing, Joan. The relationship took off like a skyrocket and fizzled about as fast. I was in Switzerland for a conference. I’d met him before, but this time something wild and wonderful happened. Lights went on and we wound up spending much of our time in bed. It was glorious. I honestly believed that we both thought we had a good thing going and we would see each other again. He’d even talked about doing some work together as well. To be honest, that was almost as exciting to me as the hot sex. Well, no, it wasn’t, but anyway, it didn’t matter. None of it ever happened. I never heard from him again. I sent him emails and letters… And then I didn’t even know I was pregnant. I was curious—well, I was tearing-out-my-hair crazy— wondering why he wasn’t answering. I read a story about him at some event, so I knew he was alive and well. I sent messages to hotels I knew he was staying at. I never got his personal cell-phone number, but I used every business address to try and contact him, and never got any reply at all.”
“Strange. You’d think a man would at least have the balls to say ‘fuck off.’”
“It was insanely disappointing, for sure. I guess I misjudged him completely, not to mention how he felt about me.”
“I guess things like that can happen.” She didn’t look convinced.
“Short of tracking him down and beating on his door, I can’t think of anything to do, and I don’t seem to be in a position to do that, even if it were a good idea. So here I am.”
“Still doing everything you can to get the kids to term.”
“Which seems to be pretty much a matter of doing almost nothing, with the logical result that three incredibly healthy babies will have a mother covered in bed sores who has gone off her nut.”
“All mothers are crazy. It’s a hazard of the job.”
“I suppose it might be.”
“I take it that you are looking forward to getting back to work almost as much as having the babies.”
She sighed. “Almost. That is, if Tina Peters doesn’t manage to put me out of business before I get the chance.”
“No way that is going to happen. You have a good name. Your clients like you and need you. She might skim or wreck a few things you had going, but she can’t destroy it.”
“Good names have a limited shelf life, sis. And goodwill goes just so far. If you aren’t available when you’re needed, those sweet memories fade.”
Joan shrugged. “Well, you have to take one step at a time, just like us addicts and drunks, I guess.”
“Hey, life is always gonna be sequential.”
“I bet that’s one of the cool things they taught you at the London School of Economics.”
“Actually, I think I saw it written on a bathroom wall in a pub.”
# # #
During the taxi ride back to Lissa’s lovely apartment where she was staying, Joan let herself think about what she would do with her own life. Her counselor had suggested she start making a list of goals for herself. “Then you can start seeing which ones are reasonable.”
That was all well and good, but Joan knew she was in an odd place in her life. She’d fallen off a cliff. She’d made incredible money as a model and it was all gone. She’d blown every penny on clothes, drugs, booze, and flying to parties in Europe for more drugs and booze. She didn’t want that life back—being out of that scene was actually a relief—but finding another way to earn a living was tricky. The reality was that, other than modeling, she didn’t have many skills. What she knew was how to look good and appear elegant. She’d cut her education short to make it as a model. While Lissa had gone to school, she’d been the breadwinner in the family. Now
she was living off her sister. Even though Lissa seemed to think it was just fair payback, she felt guilty. And aimless.
She’d never minded helping Lissa through school at all. Now it seemed that supporting the family was the only money she’d earned that wasn’t wasted—it kept them a family of sorts. She’d made sure that there was always a home for them to gather at for Christmas or Thanksgiving and flew Lissa there from London.
When she was drying out, going through the horrors of detoxing and then trying to regain control of her life, it had been hard to find positives in her life to hang on to. Doing nothing more significant than staying clean and sober for another day could seem like eternal damnation, and yet that was what she had to do.
She and Lissa hadn’t been close as kids. Even when they were young, Joan wanted to party and Lissa studied. In a way, discovering modeling and the money it brought had been a problem; it allowed her to justify her lifestyle. Being seen was important. And when you paid everyone’s way, you could ignore their concerns.
It amazed her that when she fell apart, Lissa had been there for her. When their mom had died, it was Lissa who bailed her out of jail and got her into rehab. Lissa came to visit. Lissa had taken care of sorting out the details of her life—the unpaid credit card bills, subletting her expensive apartment for her, and generally making sure that when she got her head straight, she had a clear spot to stand.
They’d fought, screamed at each other, and grown closer than they’d ever been.
Slowly, agonizingly, Joan came through her ordeal, her stupidity, and got her health back. Now all she needed was work.
She was drinking a glass of water and reading a book her counselor had recommended on careers. “You could get a real estate license,” she’d said. “Attractive women sell more houses than other people.” That struck her as a possibility, so she investigated it, even chatting with several realtors. The book outlined a number of careers but none of them excited her. Maybe nothing excited her anymore. Maybe excitement was exactly the wrong thing for her. She’d chased it long enough.
A knock at the door surprised her. She was even more surprised to see that it was Anita, the woman who’d been her agent when she was modeling. “Welcome,” she said. “When I wrote, I didn’t expect more than a note saying ‘yes’ or ‘no.’”
They sat, and Anita looked her over. “I wanted to see you. You sounded good, but I thought I should see how you are.”
“And now that you’ve seen?”
“You look good.”
“Should I let that excite me?”
She shook her head. “From a professional standpoint, no.”
“Because I’m damaged goods? I was a junkie so I won’t get work? I was hoping that using my real name would keep people from finding out I was in rehab.”
Anita laughed. “The press are a tenacious and malicious lot, but that wouldn’t be a serious problem for you, anyway. If people who were damaged goods didn’t work, no one would. You know damn well that half the population of catwalks are junkies—not the top ones, but a lot. No. You were out of circulation for almost a year.”
“Between the time it took to hit bottom and drag my ass back up, a bit more.”
“The jobs you messed up before you went into rehab hurt you more, but we could deal with that too. I’d get you some small jobs and you’d prove yourself. That’s no harder than rebuilding your credit when you’ve fucked up. The real problem is that things have changed in the business.”
“So I need to retrain?”
“With the Internet, things are moving at hyperspeed. As far as our current clients are concerned, you don’t have the right look.”
“I’m obsolete?”
Anita held her hands out, showing her they were empty. “That’s about right.”
“I can do a makeover. I was thinking I needed to do that anyway so I could start fresh.”
“It’s more than that. You are too old.”
“Too old? I’m twenty-four.”
“In this market, you might as well be forty-two. The truth is that even if you hadn’t dropped off the radar, you’d be having a tough time getting shoots now.”
“So I’m history?”
“Things can change again, though. Make sure I have your number, and if something comes up I’ll call, but honestly, you know it’s a cyclical business. The cycles are going faster too. What’s in goes out quickly.”
“Are you still handling Judy?”
“Judy Wilson? Yes.”
“She and I did a lot of the same kind of work.”
“And she hasn’t had a shoot since the Toyota ads three months ago. She’s lucky that was a big one. The ad agency wants the new look for the next round. Judy told me she expected this. She saved some money and she’s thinking of starting a PR agency.”
“So the baton is handed to a new generation?”
Anita smiled. “You understand.”
She did. Beyond being an ex-junkie, she was last year’s flavor in an industry where a year was an eternity. Even if Anita got her work, it wouldn’t be a career. Maybe it had never been a career. Maybe she’d had a long run of good fortune. After all, she’d never paid attention to what happened with her peers. She’d been much too self-centered for that. Too focused on having a good time.
She couldn’t let herself go down that road again. Maybe being kicked to the curb was a good thing.
“Thanks for the brutal honesty, Anita.”
“Nothing else makes sense, Joan. It doesn’t do either of us any good to get your hopes up. That doesn’t pay bills.”
She felt lighter suddenly. “I was probably foolish to even consider modeling again—it would put me back in the center of all the things I didn’t deal well with last time.”
Anita stood up, grinning. “I always liked you, Joan. Now I’m proud of you.”
When she left, Joan let herself recall the life she’d led. Even when it had been good, and at times it was wonderful, the life was too hectic, demanding. She didn’t need that kind of pressure now.
But she needed something. A direction. A focus.
That meant analysis—the kind of thing that Lissa was good at. Now that they were close, she felt comfortable talking to her about it. She would see it from the outside.
# # #
Lissa considered the question, wondering if any insights she might have would be right for her sister. They were quite different people, and when you were setting goals, they had to be right for you. “I’m willing to help, but I need you to promise me you won’t get offended if any of my ideas seem silly.”
“Okay.”
“If what I come up with is off base, tell me why, honestly, and it will give our model a useful feedback loop.”
“A feedback loop?”
“A way for me to reevaluate my assumptions. I listen to your reaction and make adjustments.”
“Okay.”
“For instance, and this is just an offhand idea, not something thought out, it would help us both if you were interested in working for me, with me.”
“Doing what? I have no business skills, and I have almost no idea what you really do.”
“I’m thinking of a more personal service. You know I’m eager to get back to work. Interviewing and evaluating people to take care of the kids and keep house is going to be a nightmare. If you had the least interest in doing it, that would be fantastic. I can trust you with the kids, and with my stuff, obviously, which would be a huge plus.”
“I don’t know that much about child care.”
“Getting pregnant doesn’t seem to have instilled a lot of knowledge and wisdom on that score in me. A person who was still mobile, on the other hand, could start attending classes on child care and home economics—on my dime.”
A smile crossed Joan’s face. “I guess so.”
“That was just a wild idea out of the blue, although now that I’ve said it out loud… That sure would be nice for me. Still, we are looking at what’s right for you
. To do that, you need to think about the crazy-assed suggestions I come up with and get back to me with why you think it would be a bad idea or what aspects you might like. I take that in and then the next one will be more on target.”
Joan looked at her sister and Lissa saw that something had caught her imagination. “That one is weird enough to think about,” she said. “From model to nanny.”
“You don’t need to take it seriously.”
“Assuming I said yes, that would help you, right?”
“This analysis, what we are trying to do, is aimed at figuring out what’s right for you.”
“It would let me see my nieces, nephews, whatever you’ve got stuffed in there, growing up.”
“And it would pay a salary.”
“And free you to go back to work.”
“Where are we taking this, Joan? Are you actually considering it?”
“I need to think about it, but it would involve me in your life, which might be nice for a time.”
“Make certain you think of everything that might suck about working for me…”
“Like the fact that you are such a hard-nosed bitch.”
“I might be at times. And think about working a lot of weird hours—you know my schedule. And sometimes we’d travel at a moment’s notice.”
“Forced to see the world? Damn.”
“But you’d be taking care of the kids, not sightseeing.”
“Kids need to see museums too. If we did this, you’d need a bigger apartment. You need a bigger one, anyway. No matter what, you’ll need something with a bedroom for me near to a pretty big nursery.”
“Oh my God, yes. Do you know I haven’t even looked into that?”
“While I’m thinking, I could start researching that for you.”
“You could?”
“Sure. It might give me some insight into doing that kind of thing for an ungrateful employer, and I can I think about what it might be like to be an overpaid super-nanny for a hard-nosed businesswoman.”
“Overpaid?”
Joan put her hands on her hips. “What would mom think if you took advantage of family?”
Lissa reached for her water. “And here I thought hiring you might make all this easier.”
