“How dare you talk to me like that?” Gabrielle said, horrified that their first serious argument had degenerated into ugly mudslinging.
“And how dare you give me that ‘the best defense is a good offense’ bullshit story? Don’t insult my intelligence, Gabrielle. Though I have to question it myself, since I was stupid enough to want to marry you.”
“Are you saying that you don’t want to marry me now?” Gabrielle asked softly. She was no longer angry. Doug’s enraged words and hurtful accusations had taken her way past fury. She was devastated. “Well, it doesn’t really matter, because I wouldn’t marry you anyway.”
“Why? Because of von Ulrich?” he asked, swallowing his tears.
“No, because having numerous stepfathers doesn’t make you a believer in happily ever after,” she said simply.
“You told me your mother and father were together until the day he died.”
“Most of the things I told you about my childhood were untrue,” Gabrielle admitted.
“You lied about that, too?” he asked, his fury once again rising.
“Yes, I lied to you. I’m not proud of it, but I had my reasons. Doug, I—”
“I was walking around here feeling so lucky because I knew the real Gabrielle, not the celebrity face on some magazine cover. I’m such a goddamn sucker.”
“Don’t say that.”
“Who are you, Gabrielle Donovan? Do I know you at all?”
“If you’ll just listen—”
“What other secrets have you been keeping from me?”
“There’s so much I have to explain—”
“Save it for von Ulrich. He can have you. I’m a patient man, but the one thing I can never forgive is dishonesty. I can’t love someone I don’t trust, and I refuse to live my life trying to read between the lies,” Doug shouted as he stormed out.
Gabrielle let him go without any further discussion. She could never tell him the truth now. As she knew it would, the time to let go had arrived. It was clear she’d never live a normal life, but it had been so sweet pretending.
“He was going to ask me to marry him,” Gabrielle sobbed in Beatrice’s arms. Two days had passed since Doug had walked out on her, and she hadn’t heard one word from him. She’d called the apartment twice and left messages, but Doug apparently had no intention of returning her calls.
“Do you want to marry Doug?” Bea asked gently.
“Yes. I love him, Bea.”
“If you became his wife, you’d have to tell him your secret,” Bea pointed out.
“He deserves to know the truth.”
“Telling him could be risky.”
“What do I have left to lose? I’ve been lying to Doug since the day we met. He’s right. There’s so much about me he doesn’t know. That’s why I have to tell him everything.”
“You’re sure?”
“I can’t breathe without him. Maybe once he knows, we can start all over. The only trouble is, I can’t get him to return my calls.”
“I wish there was something I could do,” Bea remarked sympathetically.
“There is. I want you to help me write him a note explaining everything,” Gabrielle announced. “I’ll dictate the letter, and you write it. He loves me, Bea, and once Doug knows the truth, everything will be okay again. It has to be. So you’ll help me?”
Bea took a minute to think before answering. This was a very delicate situation, and she could not risk alienating Gabrielle by refusing and suggesting that she simply forget Doug Sixsmith. But Gabrielle was in such obvious pain, she had to do something.
“Of course I will. You go get your stationery and put your thoughts together. I’ll make sure he understands exactly what you’re trying to say,” Bea assured her.
33
September 13, 1996
Stephanie was tired and discouraged, and her feet were screaming. More than anything, however, she was incensed. For two days, armed with the real-estate section of the Times, she’d been crisscrossing the city trying to find an affordable apartment. But based on the astronomical rents being charged, Stephanie had come to the sad realization that she couldn’t afford to lease a shoebox in this town, let alone a luxury duplex like Gabrielle’s.
Shortly following her breakup with Doug Sixsmith, Gabrielle and Bea had moved out of the Brooklyn brownstone and into a swank high-rise on Manhattan’s East Side. Not only did the place offer an expansive view of the East River, but it also provided its tenants an elegant private lobby with a twenty-four-hour concierge and doorman, valet parking, maid service, and a rooftop health club. While Stephanie could not afford the eight-hundred dollars a month it would cost her to live in a studio the size of Gabrielle’s new bathroom, Gabrielle had purchased not one but two condominiums. She now resided in a splendid three-bedroom penthouse with a panoramic view and a garden terrace outside her bedroom. Bea, thanks to Gabrielle’s generosity, was comfortably tucked away one floor below in her own two-bedroom apartment. They’d flown the coop and were living the good life, leaving Stephanie stuck in Brooklyn, strung out on a financial shoestring, with custody of the cat and a new landlord who wanted her out as soon as humanly possible.
She had to make more money. The way Stephanie saw it, she had three options: one, find a new job that paid more; two, ask Felicia for a raise; or three, put Visa Lee to work. Finding a new job would mean working harder—something Stephanie had no intention of doing. Going to Felicia for a raise was also out of the realm of possibility. Now that she’d expanded the firm to include a new partner and the offices of Wilcot, Jourdan & Associates had moved into a bigger, more impressive office space, Felicia was in no position to increase Stephanie’s salary.
Her only choice was to approach Harry Grain about doing more Visa Lee stories. The three stories she’d written thus far had paid her substantially more than her contributions to “The Grain Harvest.” She also enjoyed the influence that having her own byline brought. Already she could see that her words had the power to change people’s lives. Just look what they had done to Gabrielle and Doug Sixsmith.
Thinking of the estranged couple caused Stephanie to smile with satisfaction. The news that their love connection had been severed came as a pleasant shock. She had expected to cause some friction between the lovers, but never in her wildest fantasy had she thought her story would split them up. Stephanie didn’t pretend to feel bad for any part she might have played in the breakup. After all, it was Gabrielle who had come between her and Jack Hollis.
Stephanie was about to step off the curb when she saw the M6 bus approaching. Quickly she jumped back onto the sidewalk. When the bus stopped at the light, so did Gabrielle. She was laid out on her side on a poster that ran nearly the full length of the bus, advertising a new mascara by Cover Girl cosmetics, the latest in her recent crop of million-dollar endorsement contracts. Nose to nose with the model, Stephanie had no choice but to study the ad. Gabrielle was dressed in a Maynard Scarborough dress that cost more than the two-months’ security deposit that Stephanie could not afford to pay, and her hair was combed to windblown, come-fuck-me precision. She was also wearing that smile.
It was more of a sexy pout than a full-fledged grin, and the camera loved it. America loved it. Hell, the entire damn planet loved Gabrielle Donovan’s stupid smile. Women all over the world stood in their mirrors each day trying to emulate it. People magazine had even done a story on the famous Donovan pout, calling it an exercise in sheer seduction and Gabrielle a master in the art of “lip tease.”
“I hate that fucking smirk,” Stephanie said under her breath. Unable to restrain herself, she pulled a Magic Marker from her purse and had just enough time to black out Gabrielle’s front teeth before the bus pulled away. She knew her actions were irrational, immature, illogical, and bordering on desperate, but shit, she didn’t care. It felt so good!
Stephanie wasn’t sure when the tolerance she felt toward Gabrielle had turned to envy. But lately even the jealousy was metamorphosing into a slow, si
mmering hatred. Stephanie was tired of watching things always work out for Gabrielle while nothing ever seemed to work for her. In the two and a half years she’d known Gabrielle, everything the woman wished for came to pass. It didn’t matter in what area—career, finances, love life—success rained down on Gabrielle from massive tubs, while sprinkling down on Stephanie from a thimble.
If people only knew the real deal, she thought, they wouldn’t think you were such hot shit If they could see you the way I have—wearing baggy sweats, no makeup, your hair dirty—they’d see you as the fraud you are. I should write a book and let everyone know the real you.
Stephanie felt the excitement of the best idea she’d ever had overcome her body. Writing Gabrielle’s authorized biography would be just the thing to put Stephanie’s career on the literary fast track and place her squarely among the legitimate biographers and journalists. She crossed the street and hurried toward the subway. For the first time in what seemed to be a very, very, long time, she couldn’t wait to talk to Gabrielle.
“No thank you,” Gabrielle spoke into the phone. She was polite but emphatic. “I don’t want my life story written right now.”
“It was just a thought. We can talk about it later,” Stephanie said, retreating from her request. Completely aware of Gabrielle’s skittishness about publicity, she should have known better than to start out so big. But this book was definitely possible; it was just going to take longer than Stephanie thought to convince Gabrielle. She could afford to be patient. She was the perfect writer with the perfect subject. There was no way that anything or anyone was going to stop her from doing this book.
The only problem was that Gabrielle was a bit too perfect. She led such a boring personal life. She didn’t party, she didn’t have any wacky hobbies or interests, and her private life was lived discreetly and quietly. Frankly, for being such a celebrity, Gabrielle made for dull copy, and editors weren’t interested in dull people, famous or otherwise.
The only way to get this book published was for Stephanie to create a media situation in which the publicity was so intense that the public would be clamoring to find out everything they could about Gabrielle Donovan. Once the publishers were busy outdoing each other trying to get their hands on Gabrielle’s life story, Gabrielle would be more inclined to turn to a trusted friend to write her biography, and Stephanie would have no problem selling her manuscript for big money.
Creating juicy and enticing publicity on Gabrielle was going to be great fun, Stephanie decided. Thank goodness for Star Diary. It was the perfect vehicle to take her where she wanted to go. Stephanie grabbed a notepad and started jotting down ideas. It was definitely time for Visa Lee to get to work, so that Stephanie Bancroft could finally come out and play.
34
“You’re still here?” Felicia commented, walking into the office. It was already after six o’clock, and she still had a good three hours of work ahead of her.
“I’m actually about to leave,” Deena answered. “Oh, the woman from Jonathan Demme’s office called again.”
“That’s her third call in as many days. They really must want Gabrielle. Are Lois and Stephanie here?”
“Stephanie left a while ago. Lois is on her phone, so it’s just the two of you.”
“When Lois hangs up, could you ask her to come by my office? Have a good evening, Deena.” Felicia walked proudly through the new reception area, feeling a huge sense of accomplishment. In the areas of public relations and talent management, Wilcot, Jourdan & Associates was fast becoming recognized for its professional acumen, and they now had the office space to go along with it.
Felicia had just settled in behind her round desk when her intercom buzzed. “What’s up?” Lois asked.
“Can you come in for a minute? I might have a new client for you.”
“Anybody I know?”
“Gabrieile Donovan.”
“Ching, ching,” Lois said, giving her impression of a cash register.
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“Just adding up my fifteen percent. I’ll be in in a minute.”
Thank goodness for Lois, Felicia thought, laughing. Her addition to the firm was a blessing on several levels. Personally, Felicia was thankful to have her old friend working with her. Even after years of separation, the two women had stepped right back into the same comfortable, companionable friendship they’d shared in college. Her humorous, tell-it-like-it-is attitude was contagious, and her mere presence added a certain levity to the office.
Financially, Lois was also a godsend. She came on board with a roster of clients that was growing quickly. Thanks to her savvy and aggressive business sense, Lois also brought to the firm a plentiful infusion of cash. This money allowed them to move into their new offices and relieved much of Felicia’s worry that a divorce might topple her business. Together they were building a powerful alliance.
It was less than a minute before Felicia heard a tap on her door, followed by Lois’s familiar, “Hey, girl. What’s all this about Gabrieile?”
“Jonathan Demme wants her for a small part in his next movie.”
“If she’s interested in the part, she’ll need an agent.”
“That’s exactly what I was thinking. Is your client roster full?” Felicia asked.
“There’s always room for a potential star. Why don’t we take Gabrieile out to lunch and discuss the idea with her?”
“I’ll set something up when she gets back from Europe.”
“Just let me know when and where,” Lois said, as she turned around to leave.
“Don’t go. Come on in and take a load off.”
“That sounds like you got some juicy dirt to dish, sistafriend. What’s up? And start with where you were all afternoon,” Lois requested as she made herself comfortable.
“At my lawyer’s. I filed for divorce, and I’m telling Trace tonight.”
“What made you go ahead with it?”
“I’ve let Trace drag this separation on for months. I don’t want to live in limbo anymore. Our marriage is over, and it’s time to let go.”
“You’re sure?”
“Yes. That’s not to say that I’m not scared as hell. I’ve never lived on my own before, but this just isn’t working. A part of me still loves Trace and probably always will, but I can’t be married to him anymore.”
“I have to be honest with you. I always thought you could do better. Trace was a tight-ass when you met him at Georgetown, and his butt is even tighter now. Hell, he even managed to suck most of the life out of you.”
“We had our problems, but Trace is a good man. He’ll make some woman very happy, but I’m not that woman.”
“I have to give it to you, you’re a lady to the very end. I’ve never seen a more graceful kick to the curb. I hope, for your sake, that Trace is as understanding and cooperative as you are.”
“Why wouldn’t he be? I don’t want anything from him. There’s no reason this divorce should be ugly.”
“You’d think so, but it’s not always the case. Just check out your Compton’s.”
“And what am I going to find in the encyclopedia that has anything to do with my divorce?”
“Freedom always costs,” Lois summed up. “Though getting rid of that control freak is worth almost any price.”
“This isn’t all his fault. I’ve done some things that I’m not proud of either.”
“Do any of those things include Lexis?” Lois probed gently.
“Why would you ask that?” Felicia said, unable to look her friend in the eye.
“Come on, Felicia, you may not have made any announcements, but your body language is screaming out the news. Whenever you two are in the same vicinity, it’s pretty clear that something’s going on between you.”
“Is it really that obvious?”
“Don’t get me wrong, you’re still your highly professional self, but anybody who’s observant or who cares about you can tell. Is Lexis the reason for the divorce?�
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“No, not really.”
“That sounds convincing. Have you two done the wild thing?”
“Only once,” Felicia admitted, unable to keep from laughing.
“I won’t ask for all the gory details, but you have to tell me one thing,” Lois said, holding her two index fingers about six inches apart. Smiling, Felicia answered Lois’s inquiry by pulling her hands another two inches apart.
“The brother is so lean. Who knew he’d be packin’ a wallop?” Lois commented as they both burst out laughing. So amused were they that neither woman heard Stephanie return to the office to retrieve her forgotten briefcase. Instead of making her presence known, Stephanie quietly positioned herself outside Felicia’s door to find out what all the laughter was about.
“If Lexis is that gifted, why did you do it only once?”
“I thought you didn’t want any of the details.”
“I lied,” Lois laughed. “Give up the four-one-one. Let’s start with where.”
“In Martinique.”
“You and Lexis went to Martinique together? How did you pull that off without Trace knowing?”
“We didn’t go together. I was there on vacation, and Lexis just showed up.”
“And where was your husband?”
“We had an argument, and Trace left for New York.”
“So while he was in-flight, you and Lexis got busy.”
“If you want to put it that way, yes. I have to tell you, Lois, he changed my life.”
“He’s that good, huh?”
“It wasn’t the sex, though it was great,” Felicia said, smiling at the memory. “Making love with Lexis made me look at myself differently. For the first time I felt like I was in charge of my life, that I was my own woman.”
“That must have been one hell of an orgasm,” Lois said, not getting the laugh she was expecting. “So why only once?”
“Things got complicated,” Felicia said, getting quietly but visibly distraught.
“Hey, girl, if this is upsetting you, we don’t need to talk about it.”
Read Between the Lies Page 26
