“No, I need to tell someone. I’ve been carrying all this around for so long, sometimes I feel like I’m losing my mind.”
“Felicia, you aren’t the first woman who tipped out on her husband when her marriage was falling apart.”
“It’s not that. I got pregnant.”
“Oh, shit. Did you tell him?”
“I didn’t know which ‘him’ to tell.”
“You had an abortion?”
“Yes.”
“And neither of them knows?”
“No.”
“So you did what you had to do.”
“That’s what I keep telling myself.”
“Look, I have a meeting at CBS,” Lois said, glancing at her watch. “If you need to talk, I’ll be up late. You be strong tonight. Don’t let Trace bully you into anything you don’t want to do, and definitely don’t say anything to him at this late date.”
Hot copy, Stephanie said to herself as she quietly scurried back to her office. She couldn’t believe what she’d heard out of Felicia’s own adulterous little mouth. She stored the information away, knowing that it was only a matter of time before it came in handy.
“You’ve already filed? Without telling me?” Trace asked, slamming his glass down on the table. He was caught totally off guard by Felicia’s announcement.
“That’s why I’m here now.”
“I thought this was supposed to be a temporary separation.”
“We’ve done everything we can to save this relationship, Trace. When I came back from Martinique, we went to counseling. It didn’t help, but we kept limping along for months until I finally moved out. It’s over, Trace. Our marriage is over.”
“I don’t have time to get divorced,” Trace pointed out angrily, unwilling to face the truth. “I’m in the middle of an important case.”
Felicia shook her head in disbelief. Even when it came to the dissolution of his marriage, Trace put his career first. “Believe me, I wish it could wait, but it can’t.”
“What’s the rush, Felicia?”
“I need to get on with my life.”
“A life with a new lover?”
“No. I just want my freedom.”
“You have your freedom. We haven’t lived under the same roof for months. I don’t see why this matter can’t wait until I have the time and energy to give it my full concentration.”
“And I don’t see why this ‘matter’ has to be a big deal. We have no children. There are no custody issues,” she said, keeping her cool.
“And I know you’re glad about that,” Trace remarked sarcastically. Trying to get Felicia pregnant had turned out to be a miserable failure. Trace still couldn’t understand why she hadn’t conceived during or right after the cruise, but she hadn’t, and to make matters worse, she’d gone on the Pill shortly thereafter. Now, with divorce on her mind, Trace had to face the fact that he would never share parenthood with Felicia. “What about alimony or the property settlement?”
“There’s no need for alimony, and I’m sure we can come to an equitable property agreement. I want to make this as painless as possible for both of us.”
“What about WJ and A?”
“What about it?” Felicia asked, suspiciously.
“I do have a financial stake in the company. It seems to me that it should be on the table with everything else we own.”
“Trace, I was hoping that we could dissolve our marriage quietly and without hurting each other any more than we have to,” Felicia sputtered, outraged by his suggestion. “But if you want to go toe-to-toe on this, fine. Just understand that Wilcot, Jourdan and Associates is not negotiable.”
“I guess we’ll just have to see about that.”
“Why are you being so difficult?”
“Because I don’t want a divorce. So if you’re hell-bent on giving up on our marriage, be prepared to give up everything.”
Felicia stormed out of his place. She had been such a fool to think that they could get through this divorce with a friendship intact. She should have known that because dissolving their marriage was her idea, Trace would make the situation as difficult and uncomfortable as possible. Lois’s warning had been right on target; her freedom was going to cost her, but Felicia had not been prepared to pay with her company.
She walked out into the night air and flagged down a cab. Felicia climbed into the backseat, not knowing where to go. She didn’t want to go home. The idea of being alone right now was totally unappealing. She needed to be around people, keep her mind occupied. The last thing she wanted was to be flooded with memories of the man who for over ten years had been her lover and husband, and who now had become her enemy.
“Where to, lady?”
“Seventy-third, between Columbus and Central Park West,” Felicia said, giving the driver Lois’s address. “No, wait,” she said, changing her mind. “Make that One-sixteenth Street and Seventh Avenue.”
Traffic was light, and they made it uptown to Harlem in less than fifteen minutes. The cab dropped Felicia off in front of Graham Court, and after the night guard buzzed her in through the wrought-iron gate, she walked through the courtyard and into the building. She rode the elevator up to the fifth floor, silently second-guessing her decision to come. Within seconds of her knocking, the door flew open, revealing a pleasantly surprised Lexis Richards.
“Hey, what’s up? Come on in.” Felicia stepped into the apartment and immediately regretted her impulse to stop by. The lights in the living room were off, and the room was bathed in candlelight. The mellow sounds of South African guitarist Jonathan Butler filled the air, and an open bottle of wine sat on the coffee table. Lexis was obviously entertaining.
“I’m sorry for dropping in on you like this, but—”
“You were in the ’hood and decided to swing by,” he finished.
“Something like that. You’re busy, I’ll call you in the morning.”
“It’s cool. I was just sittin’ here by myself, chillin’.”
“Are you sure?”
“Positive. Pull up a pillow,” Lexis said as he pulled out another wineglass for Felicia. “How’s everything at the office?”
“Busy. I brought you by some clippings on Praline Livin’. The buzz going around town is very good, and we’re still another few months away from opening.”
“Bet. Now, why don’t you tell me what’s really up?” Lexis insisted.
“What do you mean?”
“I can hear it in your voice. I can see it in your face. You either did something or want to tell me something, but you don’t know how.”
Felicia sat back and marveled at how well Lexis knew her. In all the years she and Trace had been married, he still could not read her feelings and moods the way Lexis could.
“I finally filed for divorce today.”
“Is everything cool?” Lexis asked, trying to contain his own enthusiasm.
“If you’re asking me if I feel okay about my decision, the answer is yes.”
“What about Trace?”
“He’s a different story. I just left his place. Things got pretty ugly.”
“You rocked his world. You didn’t expect him to just sit back and take it, did you?”
“Take what? The truth that our marriage is over? Yes, as a matter of fact I did. What I didn’t expect was him trying to take away my company.”
“He said that?”
“He told me that if I was giving up on our marriage I’d better be prepared to give up everything,” Felicia said, unable to keep the tears at bay any longer.
Lexis reached over and gathered her up into his arms. “Baby, don’t worry. He’s just sellin’ wolf tickets.”
“He meant it and he’ll do it, not because he really wants my business but because he wants to control me. Lexis, I can’t lose WJ and A. It’s all I have.”
“Why are you so worried? Your people have money.”
“I’m thirty years old. This is my problem. My responsibility, not my parents’.
”
“If you do need some help, I’m here,” Lexis promised.
“Why is he doing this?” she asked, grateful for Lexis’s support and happy to be back in his arms.
“Because he’s a chump who doesn’t like to lose.”
The two sat in silence, both thinking about the impact Felicia’s decision would have on their lives—both individually and together. Lexis couldn’t help hoping that tonight marked a new beginning for him and Felicia. He was tired of being patient, tired of being her friend. He wanted more. Much more.
“Trace asked me if I had a new lover. I didn’t know what to say,” Felicia said.
“One slammin’ day in the sun is all we had. You have nothing to confess and certainly nothing to feel guilty about.”
“But I do,” Felicia said softly. “Lexis, shortly after we got back from Martinique, I found out I was pregnant.”
“Why didn’t you tell me?”
“I didn’t tell you or Trace because I didn’t know who was the father.”
“But it could have been mine?”
“Yes.”
“Then I deserved to know.”
“I’m sorry.”
Stony silence was Lexis’s response.
“It was the hardest decision I ever had to make, but considering the circumstances, I couldn’t stay pregnant. Can you understand that?”
“Yeah, I got it—your body, your choice. What I can’t understand is why you totally dissed me. We could have dealt with this together. I would have supported your decision either way.”
“I’m sorry. I should have trusted you.”
“Felicia?”
“Yes.”
“What if you knew the baby was ours? Then what?”
“I would have definitely told you, but beyond that, I honestly don’t know. We really didn’t know what was happening between us then.”
“And now?”
“I still don’t know what’s going on,” she said softly. “But I’m ready to find out.”
35
“Miss, the gentleman at the bar sends this with his compliments,” the waiter announced, presenting Gabrielle with a bottle of Peter Michael Point Blanc wine and a note. Gabrielle unfolded the cocktail napkin and saw what she assumed to be the giver’s name and phone number. She turned to the bar and returned the wave of Christophe Dylan, a popular and sexy soap-opera hunk.
“That’s no bottle of Ripple,” Felicia remarked with a whistle. “Point Blanc ninety-three—we’re talking eighty-five dollars a bottle in a place like this.”
“Shall I pour?” the waiter inquired.
“Please tell Mr. Dylan, thank you, but I can’t accept his generous gift,” Gabrielle replied, turning her attention back to the menu.
“Looks like a cold front has descended over the bar,” Lois said in jest.
“I can never decide what to eat,” Gabrielle admitted, ignoring her. Gabrielle was well aware of her reputation as an ice princess, and it was just fine with her.
“Everything is good here,” Felicia assured her, “particularly the lamb.”
“I don’t eat red meat anymore. I wonder what the specials are today?” She was stalling until the waiter arrived. With luck, there would be something she found appetizing among the verbal listing of today’s specials.
“Turn your menu over. They’re on the other side,” Lois said.
Time for Plan B. “Be right back.” Gabrielle excused herself and walked over to the table diagonally across from theirs. Sitting alone was a man, immersed in a copy of Advertising Age, totally oblivious to his surroundings. As Gabrielle got closer, her lips stretched into a smile.
“Excuse me. I’m sorry to interrupt, but what are you eating?”
“Veal medallions with lemon and capers in a Chardonnay sauce,” the man said, looking up from his magazine. A flicker of recognition registered in his eyes before he jumped up from his seat and warmly embraced the model. “Gabrielle Donovan!”
“Jack Hollis?”
“It’s been ages since I’ve actually seen you. I must say, your photos do not do you justice. You look wonderful!”
“Thanks. So do you.” It was true. He looked terrific.
“How have you been—other than busy?” Jack asked.
“Very well. And you? How’s business?”
“Good, though advertising is a strange new world.”
“I’d heard you’d closed your design firm a few years ago. Things are going well?”
“We’ve made a few inroads. Come join me. We can finish catching up,” Jack offered hopefully.
“I’m sorry, I can’t. I’m here for a business meeting.”
“Why don’t I wait for you, and we can have dessert together?” he suggested, determined not to let Gabrielle slip through his fingers again.
“Are you sure? We’ll be here at least an hour.”
“No problem. I just got served and I have plenty of work to keep me busy.”
“Okay then, you’re on.”
Jack watched Gabrielle return to her table and turned back to his meal, only to find he was no longer hungry. It had been a long time since the anticipation of spending time with a woman had caused him to lose his appetite. But, as Jack figured out years ago, Gabrielle was no ordinary woman.
“I’ll have the veal medallions with lemon and capers,” she announced to the waiter.
“I thought you didn’t eat red meat,” Lois said.
“Veal is the other white meat.”
“No, that’s pork,” Lois corrected her with a laugh.
“I swear, Gabrielle, we’ve eaten together at least fifty times over the years, and I have yet to see you order from the menu,” Felicia observed.
“You can’t tell what the food is going to be like just by reading it off the menu. I like to see what I’m getting,” Gabrielle replied, reciting her well-practiced explanation. “Besides, if you pick your tables right, you can meet some very interesting dishes,” Gabrielle added, smiling back at Jack.
“My, my, my, how things change. A minute ago you were blowing off Christophe Dylan. Now look at you, flirting with some stranger,” Felicia teased.
“First of all, Chris is a jerk; and second, that’s no stranger. I’ve known Jack Hollis for years.”
“As in the Hollis/Henderson Group?” Lois asked.
“Yes. He and his friend have a small advertising company.”
“He’s being modest. Jack and his partner Fritz Henderson are quickly becoming known as the Rogers and Hammerstein of the advertising world. Their firm is the talk of the block, and Jack’s one of the most sought-after art directors in the business,” Felicia informed her.
“Successful and fine. Is he single?” Lois asked.
“Very. And based on his reputation as a ladies’ man, plans to stay that way for a long time,” Felicia replied.
“I thought he was gay,” Gabrielle remarked.
“Girl, don’t you read the papers? He’s in and out of “Page Six” all the time. Jack’s considered the heir apparent to JFK Jr.’s recently abdicated throne. How do you know him?” Felicia asked.
“He dated Stephanie.”
“I’m sorry, but I can’t see Jack Hollis with Stephanie, not with her funky little attitude,” Lois remarked. It was common knowledge that Lois and Stephanie disliked each other. The two had managed to carve out a shaky truce in the office, but when she and Felicia were together, Lois didn’t pull any punches.
“All right, Lois, that’s enough,” Felicia suggested tactfully.
“You’re right, slamming an employee in front of a client is a no-no, but Gabrielle knows the deal. She lived with the woman.”
“Yes, and she still has to work with her.”
Not for much longer if I have any say-so, Lois thought. Stephanie Bancroft was one associate Wilcot and Jourdan could definitely do without.
“Speaking of work,” Felicia continued, “Jonathan Demme is shooting a new movie, and he has a small part he swears you’d be perfect f
or. I think it’s a great opportunity. I talked it over with Lois, and she agrees. She’s also willing to represent you if you’re interested.”
“But I’ve never acted before,” Gabrielle said lamely.
“Once upon a time you never modeled before, and now look at you. You’re at the top of the heap,” Felicia remarked.
“Modeling is one thing. Acting is an entirely different matter,” Gabrielle said.
“It’s just a small part.”
“How much dialogue would I have to learn?”
“That I don’t know. I’ll tell you what, I’ll call and have the script delivered. We’ll decide later.”
“I’ve already decided. I’m not interested,” Gabrielle replied resolutely. She was intrigued by the idea of acting, but acting meant scripts, and scripts meant reading. Gabrielle was unwilling to take the risk.
“Why don’t you take a few days to think it over?” Lois suggested.
“I don’t have anything to think over. Just tell him thanks, but no thanks. Well, ladies, if our business is concluded here, I have a date for dessert.”
“I’m not gay. I have never been gay, nor do I have any interest in being gay anytime in the future,” Jack announced with a chuckle.
“I’m sorry. I had to ask,” Gabrielle explained, relieved that she hadn’t offended him.
“Where did you get an idea like that?”
“Stephanie,” they answered together, before breaking up with laughter.
“I guess she was much more pissed off than I thought,” Jack said.
“And then some. I’m glad to hear it isn’t true.”
“Oh, it’s definitely not true, and it is my sincere hope that I have the chance to prove it to you one day,” Jack said, giving Gabrielle one of his promise-laden smiles.
Over tiramisu and coffee, the two caught up on each other’s lives. Jack filled Gabrielle in on the milestone events these past three years, mainly the start-up of his successful business, and Gabrielle entertained him with war stories from the fashion front. As he chewed on the last bite of his dessert, Jack was struck by his good luck that the elusive Ms. Donovan had reappeared just when things were becoming dreadfully dull with his current arm piece, Corona, a twenty-year-old pop star on the rise.
“Do you believe in kismet?” Jack inquired, turning on the Hollis charm.
Read Between the Lies Page 27
