by Liz Fenton
“That’s a wrap. Let’s break for lunch,” Charlie says into the microphone on his headset.
“What are you doing for lunch today?” I ask him.
“The usual, I’ll hit the craft service table and eat at my desk,” he replies with a smile. This past week, I’ve noticed he smiles a lot. When Dean throws a tantrum. When Fiona complains. Even when I ask for yet another retake because I know I can be better.
Again, I wonder why Casey never mentioned Charlie to me. I can tell by the way he talks to me that they have a rapport. Maybe I’ll join him for lunch and try to squeeze some conversation out of him. He’s always friendly, but also a little standoffish at the same time and I wonder why. I look toward the table. “I think I’ll head over there and see what they have today.”
“Really? It’s all carbs and junk over there. I thought you had a policy against eating refined sugar.”
I almost laugh out loud. If he only knew who he was really talking to. I eat what I have time to eat, which is usually leftovers off a teenager’s plate.
“Rules are made to be broken,” I say with a laugh.
I wait for him to laugh but instead he hesitates and scrolls through his phone. “You know what, I forgot I have a script meeting. I’ll have to skip lunch. See you this afternoon at the taping.” He walks away before I can say anything.
“What are you up to? You know you’re only going to confuse that boy if you have lunch with him,” Destiny says as she walks up.
“Really? How so?” I ask, then remembering I’m supposed to be Casey. I’m supposed to know what she’s talking about. But I don’t. When I’d pressed Casey about Charlie she’d told me there was nothing I needed to know about him. “He’ll be nice to you. Just be nice back,” was all she’d said.
She laughs. “You know how so. Do I need to remind you how things ended last time?”
I stare at her blankly.
“What’s with you lately?” She gives me a funny look. “You seem different. You even come to work happy. If I didn’t know any better, I’d think you actually liked this job. And now Charlie. Every time I turn around, you’re talking to him. You’ve barely spoken to him in months and suddenly you want to eat lunch with him?”
“So, can’t a girl be happy and want to talk to people?”
Destiny shifts the stack of scripts in her arms. “Charlie’s my boy. Just remember he’s one of the good ones, okay?”
“Hey, you want to grab a drink after work tonight?” Maybe after a couple of cocktails I’ll be able to find out exactly what happened between Charlie and Casey.
“Hell, yeah. You definitely owe me for helping with this party for Rachel. In all my spare time!” She raises her arms and a few of the scripts fall to the floor.
“Let me help you with those. The intern forgot to take them to the control room again?” I roll my eyes.
“Yes, what’s with college students these days? They don’t work hard like I did, like you did.” Destiny frowns.
I think about college again, as I have so many times since I started coming to this studio every day. I remember Casey’s accusation at the reunion. Did I give up? What if I’d finished college after having Audrey? Where would I be now?
“Thank God Casey found you, I mean, I found you.” I talk faster to cover my mistake. “I’m going to buy you as many cocktails as you want to show you how much I appreciate what you’re doing to help Rachel with this party. She’s so busy with the kids and everything she’s juggling. Even though she really wants to do it herself, the last thing she has time for is planning a party for John.”
“I know you said that, but when I talk to her, it’s like she barely wants my help. She’s already got most of it handled. She keeps telling me that I’m in charge of making sure everything at the venue is perfect and that’s it.”
I frown.
“You seem surprised,” Destiny says.
Must be beginner’s luck, I think. “I guess I assumed she was having a harder time than she is.” I think about where I was just a week ago; I was exhausted from getting up at all hours with the baby, and constantly fighting with my older daughters. I was barely able to find time to say two words to my husband. I can’t image planning John’s party on top of it all. If Destiny had called the real me last week, I would have fallen over with gratitude and accepted her help without a moment’s hesitation. Why did Casey tell Destiny she has it under control?
Does she have a better grip on my own life than I do?
“Girl, you’re lost in thought. Let’s get back to work. I need you to read through your script and make your tweaks so we can do the intern’s job and get these to the control room before the taping.”
• • •
“I can’t believe it’s almost nine thirty. Where did the day go?” I say as we take a seat at a table in the bar.
“This is early! I can’t remember the last time I got out of that place before eleven.” I marvel at how good Destiny looks at the end of such a long day. Still fresh faced, not at all like she applied her makeup twelve hours ago. And her energy—she never runs out of it. The obvious differences between being thirty-eight and twenty-nine, I suppose.
“What do you want? I’ll go order for us,” I offer. She deserves a moment off her feet. She works her ass off. And even though it’s felt good having someone take care of me for a change, getting me coffee, answering my phone, thinking about my needs before I can, that’s always been my job, my role, what I’m good at.
“Really? Are you sure?” Even out of the office she’s still in assistant mode, wanting to take care of Casey. “I’m on it,” I say, standing up.
“I’ll have the usual.”
What’s her usual? I try to remember what twenty-nine-year-olds drink. Rum and Cokes? Strawberry daiquiris? I have no clue. And I can’t screw this up right now. I need her to believe I’m Casey. Casey would know her usual.
“Why don’t you try something different tonight?” I suggest.
“Oh, and drink Belvedere and sodas like you?”
“Why not?” I cringe, remembering the high school reunion.
Destiny doesn’t skip a beat. “Sure, I’m game.”
The bar’s exceptionally crowded for a Monday night. Don’t any of these people have kids?
“Hey there.”
I turn and a gorgeous guy with black hair and olive skin, well over six feet tall and not a day over twenty-five, is staring at me. I’m almost positive I saw him on a Calvin Klein billboard on Sunset Boulevard this morning. The same guy I fantasized about as I stared at him in nothing but his underwear. And now here we are.
“Hey,” I say, instantly feeling nervous, and trying not to picture him in his underwear again.
He looks at the bartender and all the people vying for a drink. “We could be here awhile. We might as well get to know each other.” He smiles, revealing two dimples. “What’s your name? I’m Steve.”
“I’m Rach—, I mean, I’m Casey.”
“And what brings you here tonight, Casey?” he says, his blue eyes holding my gaze.
“I’m here with my friend over there.” I turn and motion toward Destiny, who gives me a half wave and a disapproving look.
“So what do you do, Casey?” He flashes his dimples again.
“I’m in television,” I offer.
“And so is everyone in this room,” he says with a laugh. “Can you be a little more specific? What do you do in television?”
“I host a show called GossipTV.”
“I thought you looked familiar. With that douche bag, Dean Sanders, right? Is that guy annoying or what?”
“Something like that.” I laugh.
The bartender finally notices us and walks over. “So sorry to keep you waiting, Casey, I didn’t see you over here.”
“That’s okay.”
“What are you drinking? Double Belvedere and soda?”
“Make it two,” I say.
The bartender looks from Steve to me. “You guys to
gether?”
“Well, hopefully we’ll be together soon,” Steve says. Such a cheesy line, but he delivers it so smoothly I believe it.
“Oh, no, we’re not. When I said two, I meant the other one was for my girlfriend over there,” I say awkwardly.
The bartender stifles a laugh and asks Steve, “What are you having, man?”
“The same.” He smiles at me and my knees go weak. “So, I’d love to get your number, take you out sometime.”
I think of John. “I can’t. I’m kind of seeing someone right now.” For about twenty years.
“Well, can I still give you my number? I’d love to talk to you and get some advice. I’m a model but I’ve always wanted to be a host. Are you friends with Ryan Seacrest?”
My heart sinks. He never wanted anything to do with me. He just wanted to use me as a connection.
“Sorry, I have to get back to my friend,” I say quickly and take off with the drinks.
“Let me guess. A model but wants to be a host?” Destiny asks.
“Yup.”
“Sunset Boulevard, in his underwear, right?”
“Pretty sure,” I say as I look back toward the bar and find him with his arm wrapped seductively around a petite blonde’s waist.
Destiny takes notice. “That jerk doesn’t waste any time, does he?” She takes a sip of her drink. “Geez, this is strong. Did you get me a double?”
“Guilty,” I say, trying to play off the fact that I have no idea what she drinks.
“Girl, you know I drink white wine. A double anything is going to knock me on my ass!”
“Guess you’re getting drunk tonight, bitch.” I clink my glass against hers and take a drink. Then another.
“You know it doesn’t always have to be like that.”
“Like what?” I ask.
“Like that guy at the bar.”
“It felt like crap just now. I thought that guy was really into me.”
“Oh, he was. He would’ve slept with you and then slid his head shot and reel under your pillow.”
“Ugh.” I think of Casey and realize this must happen to her on a depressingly regular basis.
“You know there are guys who’ve liked you for you.”
I know she’s referring to Charlie. “Your point?”
“My point is when it was real, you didn’t want it.”
“That’s not true!” I say, baiting her to tell me why it is.
“Oh, please. Everything was great before you screwed it all up.”
What did Casey do to him?
I take another sip of my drink, trying to figure out how to pry the details out of her without giving myself away. “Before I screwed it up. Please. He had a hand in it too.”
“Is that the story you’re telling yourself ?” Destiny purses her lips.
“It takes two to tango, right?”
“You guys tangoed all right. If I remember correctly, you tangoed quite often!”
So they slept together. And it sounds like Casey ended it. But why? I decide to take a guess.
“Well, you know what they say, you shouldn’t dance where you work.”
Destiny doesn’t skip a beat. “So why are you dancing with him again then?”
“I’m not!”
“But you want to,” she teases.
I feel myself blush. Is this how I’ve been acting at work? Like I wanted to sleep with him? Sure he’s cute, adorable actually, but I’m married.
Destiny turns serious. “The thing is you can’t just dance with him here and there. He’s a nice guy. He’ll get hurt. He really cared about you, you know.”
“You really think he cared about me?”
“Yes. Why is that so hard for you to believe?”
So did Casey get scared? She’d never had a real relationship and there must be a reason for that. Could she be choosing these twenty-somethings because she knows these flings will never lead to something more serious? I’d always wondered that, but she’d used the excuse that she was too busy with her career to have a relationship and I’d chosen to believe her. It was just easier that way. “Man candy is easier and sweeter,” she’d said.
“So are you opening this door? Are you finally ready to tell me what happened? Because when I found you crying that night you blew up at me and refused to talk about it,” Destiny says, slurring her words. She wasn’t kidding about the drink knocking her on her ass.
Not sure what to say, I just nod and let her keep talking.
“What I never understood was why you dropped him so quickly and refused to talk to him again. It was like one day everything was great and the next, it was over.”
“I don’t know why I did that,” I say, telling the truth for the first time tonight.
“I never told you this, but he came to me after you ended it,” Destiny says quietly.
“He did? What did he say?”
“He said he couldn’t tell me what happened because you’d sworn him to secrecy, but he wanted me to make sure you were okay. He told me to let him know if you needed anything. But not to tell you that we’d talked. And that didn’t surprise me. Even after he was hurt, he was still looking out for you.”
I shake my head, wondering what happened between them.
“The thing is I always thought . . .”
“Always thought what?”
“That you’d end up together.”
CHAPTER 13
* * *
casey
“And that’s our show. Good night from GossipTV!” My voice rings through the bedroom and I grab the remote to turn off the DVR. Rachel’s getting better each episode. This time, she didn’t even look like she was reading the TelePrompTer. In a designer wrap dress and four-inch stiletto boots, she might look like me, but she’s definitely better than me at faking that Dean isn’t the most arrogant asshole who ever lived.
“Your mama’s doing a great job!” I say to Charlotte, who’s playing with a tub of blocks I dumped out for her so I could get ready to have lunch with Rachel today. I can’t wait to surprise her with her new look. It’s not a huge departure from what she had, just a few highlights and a much-needed trim, giving her hair a shininess to it that it hadn’t had in a while. It turns out the back of her closet is where all the cute clothes are stashed. Just because I’m wearing Old Navy instead of Tory Burch doesn’t mean I need to look frumpy. I discovered a few sassy sundresses, some leggings, and even a great pair of boots. Not that I didn’t like her uniform of empire-waist shirts and cargo pants, but a girl needs some variety in her life.
I also need to talk to Rachel about Sophie. Every day she seems more and more withdrawn. John and I talked about it more last night and decided that we both needed to keep a much closer eye on her. And even though Rachel seemed to prefer keeping John in the dark about whatever’s going on, I’m relieved to have his help. I’m certain she’s not going to be thrilled that I called him, but it sure seemed to wake Sophie up. She was on her best behavior this morning, getting out of bed without me having to pull the purple comforter off her like I usually do, frantically trying to raise her from the dead. One morning, I even grabbed one of Charlotte’s annoying musical drums and played it next to her ear until she finally raised her head. Teenagers.
I’ve gotten less sleep the last few weeks than I ever have—including back when I pulled all-nighters as a production assistant. That level of exhaustion was nothing compared to this. But I could finally feel myself adjusting, no longer waking with crusty eyes and bitterness lodged in my throat. In fact, I’d started to crave the chaos in the morning. I liked taking care of people; it felt surprisingly good considering I hadn’t so much as fetched my own americano in years. I always thought of this as another perk of all my hard work, but now I wondered if it was just another way to avoid actually living my life.
I felt bad for Rachel. I knew she was missing her family so much. But who was I missing from my own life? Destiny? Yes, of course. But I couldn’t think of one other person. I was a
n only child and my parents had retired to Florida several years ago. I hated to admit I’d been somewhat relieved. My relationship with my mom, Natalie, had been strained since high school for reasons I didn’t want to get into. She was a creature of habit and called me the first Sunday of every month, but she was usually more interested if Angelina and Brad were really as nice as they appeared than in what was actually going on in my own life. My relationship with my mom had always bothered Rachel. Even though her own parents had moved to Boston three years ago, they were still very close, which was something that I now had firsthand experience with, fielding more phone calls and emails from her in a week than I had ever received from my own mom. Which was fine with me; I’d always considered Rachel my real family. She was the one I had turned to when things went sour with whatever guy I was dating; she was the one I called first when I got the GossipTV job.
Did I miss Charlie? Yes, there was a part of me that missed the comfort of seeing him stride into the hair and makeup room each morning in his uniform of plaid shirts and baggy cargo pants, ready to brief me on that day’s script. Or making sure I never got mic’d by Wally, the creepy audio guy who always breathed heavily as he ran his hand up my dress to attach the mic pack. But I couldn’t afford to have that kind of distraction at the studio. I just didn’t have time for emotional attachments, or at least that’s what I’ve told myself. But being here, in this life, makes me wonder if there’s more to life than reporting on other people’s lives. Rachel’s life may be a complete cluster fuck half the time, but at least she has roots. Take away my silk sheets, my fifty-seven-inch TV, my view of the Hollywood Hills, and what did I have?
As I’m packing up the car to meet Rachel, Hilary prances up with her designer jogging stroller. Decked out in a striped jogging bra and matching shorts, she looks like she just stepped out of a Nike catalog, not like she had a baby nine months ago. “Hey there,” she says, coming to a stop in front of my house. “We missed you at the park a few days ago.”
“You did?” I say blankly as I heave Charlotte’s stroller, which Rachel found on craigslist, into the back of her minivan.
