The Trophy Wives Club

by Kristin Billerbeck

  At twenty, nothing says you can trust me, like a diamond tennis bracelet. Nothing identifies Prince Charming quicker than a man ready to commit with jewelry.

  Now it’s so blatantly obvious to me, with hindsight being what it is, but to be the princess for the first time is magic. To be the one Jay Cutler wants to be with, while all the tittering starlets vie for his attention, it’s magic. There’s an aura of pixie dust lifting you into the night sky. It’s living Cinderella.

  But, of course, loving a narcissist is the first step into hell on earth. You’ll be wearing Prada, naturally, but it won’t prevent the singe of fire that is to come. When they start making Jimmy Choos in asbestos, I’ll be the first in line.

  There’s a photograph of Jay and me smiling at one another at our wedding. I took it before he’d notice its absence. Jay’s looking at me as if I’m the missing puzzle piece to his life. I’m gazing at him as though all my troubles have just evaporated into the night sky on a champagne bubble. That photograph is the last time I ever remember Jay looking me in the eyes.

  From that moment on, I think the only time he ever noticed me is when I did something wrong, and I did most things wrong. I’m intimately acquainted with plate-glass windows. Does that sound like someone who doesn’t need guidance? The first time I really remember him actually yelling though was when he came home to me in yoga pants. The horror!

  “What’s this?” he said as I scrambled upstairs like a child past bedtime. “What if I’d come home with someone, and you looked like that? Unacceptable, Haley. Unacceptable. I did not marry the type of woman who thinks it’s all right to be walking around in sweatpants.”

  I looked down at my skintight yoga pants. “Sweats? These are yoga pants, and I think I look hot.” I twisted my booty toward him. It was a joke, but apparently my comic timing is not what you might think.

  “Don’t mince words with me, Haley. You look like you just came from the gym. And what’s that, that stuff on your face?”

  “I flush when I work out.”

  “You look like a little old lady in a rest home who got ahold of her blush. What if the head of a studio came by, and you’re looking like that? Go change.”

  The smell of the top coat being applied to my fingernails brings me back to the present.

  “I don’t want a man to stay with me because he has no financial choice, Anna. That’s no security.”

  Anna’s face darkens. “Craig doesn’t stay with me because he has to.”

  “No, of course not. I didn’t mean…It was me who chose to leave my career for the marriage,” I say out loud to Anna, as though typing college papers and working at the Gap was a career, but whatever. It’s all I can salvage for dignity at the moment. If my one talent in life is folding the perfect shirt, I’m embracing it. I’m not proud.

  “You did a lot, Haley. I know you worked hard. Supporting a successful man is probably the hardest job in the world, don’t you think?”

  I hate to admit that’s what I did. It kills all my thoughts of being a strong, independent woman—the kind you read about in magazines—and makes me sort of weak and pathetic. It’s bad enough I’m klutzy, do I really need to identify with weak, too? I’m thinking one major issue is enough for any woman. I let out a deep and haggard sigh. “Absolutely.”

  I look at Anna. In her eyes, I see the briefest flicker of understanding, but it evaporates before it has a chance to ferment. It’s too deep a moment, and Anna immediately retreats to the shallow. “The money was a major coup. Girl, you got something in you that just makes men melt. If Jay Cutler is opening his wallet at all, the rest of us should bow at your feet, but I hope you thanked him. You must have had some spell over him early on.” In her mind, this is a compliment. So why do I feel the distinct need to slap her?

  I look into Anna’s startling blue eyes for a sign. “Do you really believe that? That Jay did me a favor by changing the locks? Would you really feel that way if your husband suddenly told you it was over?”

  “I told you. There’s no way. It would cost him too much.” She cackles like a witch in a children’s play. “I still can’t believe he really did that.” She shakes her head. “He’s got rocks!” Anna pops a piece of raw broccoli, from a Ziploc baggie she pulls from a two-thousand-dollar purse, into her mouth. “What do you want me to say? It’s time to move on, sweetie.”

  “My goldfish didn’t die. It’s an eight-year marriage.” I roll my eyes, knowing my pleas to make her understand are pointless. For once in my life, I’m incensed. “I’m definitely moving on.” I stand up.

  “Not ready!” my pedicurist shouts.

  “I’m done. So sorry,” I lean down and say. “Great job. Thank you so much, but I must run.” I walk toward the machine to dry my toes so I can get out of this stifling air as soon as possible. I look back at the façade that was my life. Honestly, the pedicurist who speaks very little English gets it more than Anna. She at least understands I’m upset. Unfortunately, she thinks it’s about the pedicure. She grabs Anna by the wrist and points at me.

  Anna drops the broccoli, “Haley, don’t be mad. I’m only saying it like it is. You have to move on, that’s all. There’s nothing left to hang on to. Would you want me to lie to you?” Anna is as cool as a cucumber and looks to the pedicurist to see if she’s done the right thing by me. Maybe I do want her to lie.

  “Hopefully, he’s found someone more pliant than me,” I say.

  “How is that possible? Sometimes I think if Jay told you he was bringing home an extra wife or three, you’d ask if they were staying for dinner.”

  “I think I just forgot what my opinions were, you know?” I say to Anna. “It was easier. Besides, I was only a kid. I didn’t really have any time to form opinions.”

  “You have to tell these men how to act, Haley. They don’t know.” She slips on her rhinestone-encrusted “pedicure” shoes, and the salon women wait with bated breath to see if she’s leaving. “Are you up for dating yet? John Galvin’s single again. He’s a catch. And he does art movies, that would make Jay crazy! Oh what I wouldn’t give to see that opening, with you on his arm!”

  Ex-wives are not considered “used” here, they’re considered “trained” like pedigree puppies. I now know to go on the paper and not don sequins.

  “I don’t ever want to date again,” I say with conviction. “I’m thinking I’d like to have my own business. Maybe I could help other wives organize their homes so they have more time with their children.”

  Anna laughs. “If you’re going to go entrepreneur on me, I think you should consider selling the eggs for your perfect genes. Of course, you have to get that fashion thing worked out. No one wants a baby who is happy in cotton onesies when it could be wearing Prada Baby.”

  “You don’t think I could do it, do you?” I ask, willing her to tell me I can’t. Maybe it will provide much needed motivation.

  “You’ve got the advantage of time on your side. And only twenty-eight. Oy, we should all be so lucky.” Anna pushes out her chest toward me. “I’m thinking of having them made smaller, what do you think? They look sort of eighties, don’t you think?”

  Considering they look like two Southwest airplane noses thrusting off the tarmac that is her chest, “I think that’s—”

  “You know, these big things are just out. Most women are getting them smaller, and teardrop-shaped, you know? Dainty is in. It’s all that yoga and Pilates, bodies need to be more streamlined nowadays. You wouldn’t know. Good ol’ Mrs. Natural over there, but with yoga they get in the way, you know what I’m saying? Have you tried to do the Cobra position with these? I’m telling you!”

  “You’re beautiful, Anna. Quit messing with stuff. You don’t want to look like one of those old ladies at the club with their windblown faces.” I try to pay for my pedicure, but they keep trying to lure me back to the chair to finish.

  “Upkeep just makes it easier down the line.”

  “Every time you go under that knife—” I start to tell h
er.

  “I make Craig poorer, and much, much happier. The younger I stay, the more virile he looks.” She makes the noise of a race car.

  “Oversharing. Craig doesn’t care a thing about teardrop-shaped implants, Anna.” It sounds so odd to hear this out of my mouth. It’s an actual opinion. “You know, the biggest mistake the women in this town make, is too many surgeries, too young, and then it’s over before they’re fifty. They’ve got no skin left to pull back, and the chemical peel is but a distant dream. It won’t work on that taut of skin no matter what those surgeons on Bedford Drive say. Women in our neighborhood need to start planning ahead, and no surgeries whatsoever during menopause until their hormones aren’t driving the decision.”

  “Haley, I didn’t know you noticed things like that. You go, girl!” Anna is red-haired, with a nose that sticks out nearly as far as her chest. If I were her, I’d tell her the obvious surgery she might have, but I’m not. And thank heavens for that! “Like who has done the chemical peel?”

  “Mary Ellen Geyser, for one.” I sit back down next to Anna but wave off the pedicurist. Maybe I would have had more friends if I’d had more opinions.

  Recognition clouds Anna’s eyes. “Yeah,” she says slowly. “You know, you’re right. When she talks, it’s like a dummy moving its mouth. I can almost see the cracks.”

  “April Welling, for another.”

  Anna’s still nodding. “Yeah, her, too! They need to go in and see if a thread lift can fix them up. Those old face-lifts are just scary. You see how much more fun you are when you gossip?”

  Gossiping? I thought I was just stating an opinion. All these women are beautiful, don’t get me wrong, but they cease looking like actual human beings. Expressions become lost in a sea of Botox, and smiles interrupted by overly indulgent collagen shots. Everyone here thinks they’re so enlightened, that the “middle states” wait for word on what will happen next in this town, so they know which trend to follow, but the fact is, Joe Bob, sitting on his front porch after work, knows who he is. Anna, and even my Jay, never will. They’ll just schedule another surgery/noninvasive treatment before they have to think about it again should insecurity rear its ugly head.

  And I’ll be wearing sequins. My cell phone chirps, and I carefully fumble with it, but I see that it’s my soon-to-be ex. My heart jumps. “Hello.”

  “Haley, it’s Jay.”

  “Hi,” I say too enthusiastically.

  “Listen, call Rosario and tell her to pick up my shirts. I’ve got to go to Switzerland unexpectedly tonight.”

  I look at the phone to connect with what I’m really hearing, and my stomach drops. “No,” I say quietly.

  “What?” he barks.

  “I said no.” My heart begins to pound, but I look to Anna and feel my confidence rise. “Call her yourself. We’re divorcing. You do remember changing the locks,” I remind him. I’m thinking my lackey duties are over, and I know full well he has no clue how to reach Rosario. In fact, I’m sort of shocked he even knows her name.

  “What does that have to do with anything? Haley, you can’t do your husband of ten years a favor? Did I mean nothing to you all those years? You got the car and a settlement and I was more than fair. All I’m asking for is a phone call so I can get on the plane without stress.”

  Systematic dismissal of all opinions. “And all I’m saying is no. What makes you think I want you to live stress-free? We weren’t married for ten years, and don’t act ignorant about that, you made sure to end it before the severance package was raised. My guess is you can tell me to the day how long we were married.”

  “I’m thinking the floors need to be reconditioned, as well. I noticed some of the shine of the travertine is wearing off. Don’t you take pride in your home?”

  “It’s not my home. I said no, Jay. Call her yourself. Are you kidding me? You locked me out of my own house? And now you want me to maintain things?”

  “I took care of things for you all those years, I just thought you could handle some of these details for me. And since you’re taking the Porsche, you’re aware it needs to be waxed monthly.”

  “I’m selling the Porsche, so it really doesn’t matter.”

  “What do you mean, you’re selling the car?” Ah, he heard that. “No one will give you a loan for another one.” It’s another of his scare tactics. Completely devoid of facts. I worked briefly for a loan broker part-time to earn extra money during school. That’s where I met my fate and the charming Mr. Jay Cutler. Not only could I get a loan for another car, but I could pretty much show my divorce settlement and buy whatever I wanted with it. Keep in mind, Jay cares little about my selling the Porsche, only that he can’t control my selling the Porsche.

  “I won’t need a loan, Jay. I’ll buy something cheaper, and I’m moving home. I’ll have plenty to live on until I start a job.”

  “You’re moving? To your old apartment? Pasadena has gotten a lot more expensive since you lived there, Haley. You have to be realistic about the settlement.”

  “No, not Pasadena. Home to San Carlos. I never really cared all that much for Southern California. I miss San Francisco’s fog, and people who don’t look like Heather Locklear.”

  “You’re moving to suburbia?” He finds a lot of humor in this statement, apparently. “Haley Cutler, you’ll never survive. I’ve taught you to appreciate the finer things in life. What are you going to do when you see women wearing Old Navy?”

  His laughter only steels my resolve. “If I can survive nearly eight years with you, I can survive anything. Besides, I happen to like Old Navy.”

  “Haley, you can’t live like that. What are you going to do, marry some hometown hero? You spend more in a week than the guy next door makes in a month.”

  “You spend more in a week than that guy. I just run the errands for you. Besides, if you cared about my spending habits, perhaps you’d like to fund them.” I let out a laugh. “And what makes you think I’d ever marry again?”

  “You’re not as strong as you think, Haley. You’re a summer blossom who needs lots of care to avoid wilting in the sun.”

  “How utterly poetic. Are you through?”

  “I’ve taken good care of you, Haley. L.A. is your home. You’re destined for this.”

  I feel words, but they’re stuck in my throat, and it’s probably for the best. Jay could pass me off to another man without a look backwards. “Not anymore. I’m going home, and I’m going to be happy.” I’m going to have opinions.

  “Listen, don’t do anything stupid because you’re mad at me. Don’t forget to call Rosario.”

  “Bob, tell her what she’s won! As our parting gift, Haley Cutler has won the right to be a doormat for one more round.”

  “You’ve turned bitter, Haley. I don’t know how that happened,” he says before he hangs up.

  Gee, I can’t imagine. Twenty-eight, bitter, completely void of any real emotion and going home to live with Mom. It just doesn’t get any better than this.

  Anna snaps her cell phone shut as I hang up. “Was that Jay?” she says in her apologetic voice, like she hasn’t just heard the whole conversation.

  They say the truth shall set you free. Well before I go, I’m giving Anna a lesson in truth. “I wanted a child,” I say to a horrified Anna. I slide the cell phone into my purse, lamenting what will never be. “I wanted a child and a family.” If I’m going to have an opinion, I’m going to have one that matters. “I thought once Jay saw his child, things would be different. Don’t you ever wonder about that?”

  “Why should I? Who needs a cute young nanny running about while you’re fighting to keep your figure?”

  Obviously, Anna doesn’t want to go there, but I can’t stop. If she has any depth whatsoever, I want to feel it! I want to believe there is more than just a high-maintenance machine within. I scoot to the edge of my chair, as close as I can get without actually sitting in her lap. “I missed what it felt like to be someone’s world. If Jay didn’t love me, I thought hi
s child would.” No response. “You never wanted a baby, Anna? A little precious bundle to hold close to you at night and whisper into their ear? Someone who would look up at you and see your love?” I clasp my eyes shut. Why didn’t I understand that I was only an infatuation for Jay? I thought he’d at least want to perpetuate his name for ego’s sake.

  Anna studies the back of her hand disapprovingly. “A child? Absolutely not. It’s common knowledge Jay doesn’t have time for a child, what did you think he’s going to turn into Brad Pitt overnight?” Anna asks. “Things could have been worse. He could have left you in your forties, when your chances were nil for having a kid. That’s all I’m saying. It’s still not round enough,” she barks at the young manicurist. “Do I need to call the Board of Health on you to get this done right?” The girls obviously understand that much English. There’s more frantic speech in Vietnamese, then one of the girls stands up next to Anna.

  “You no come back here no more.”

  “What did you say to me?” Anna shouts, to the annoyance of all the other patrons.

  “You heard me, you no come back here. You go to fancy salon in Beverly Hills. You go to spa. You leave us alone. We no like you.”

  I have to bite back my smile. This is probably Anna’s fiftieth nail salon, but she keeps plugging along, oblivious to the trail of destruction behind her, and I have yet to see her with naked nails, so something is working for her.

  “Like me?” Anna screeches. “I don’t care if you like me. I’m here to get my nails done. Well.”