Giving her a big hug at the end of the song, he then took her face in his hands and kissed her forehead. Then with the Wes smile, I could see his lips form the words, “Thank you, Princess.”
Scarlett floated back to the table just as the main course was being served.
“That was so great. Shut Up and Dance was our song at the father/daughter dance.” She was beaming.
“It looked like you two had fun.”
With a little smile, she said, “Well, maybe for the first dance. I’m not so sure he had much fun during the second song.”
“Why do you say that?” They were now playing soft jazz music while we ate.
“‘Cause I think I kinda like literally blew his mind, Mom,” She paused. “He was asking about you and I told him the truth.”
My fork was suspended mid-air, halfway to my mouth. Oh God.
“Oh shit,” Laynie muttered. “What truth?”
“He asked how you were and I told him that you were sad. He also wanted to know if you were seeing anyone and I said, ‘Bro, you like literally broke her heart, of course she’s not seeing anyone.’ And he was like really, I didn’t want to hurt your mom and I told him, ‘Well, you did. She really cares about you.’ He needed to know, Mom.”
“How naked do you feel?” Laynie laughed.
Putting down my fork and picking up my wineglass, I twirled it for a moment, looking at the color of the claret liquid through the light, before taking a hearty sip. “Very. Like I’m having the naked dream and trying to pretend I look normal. Please tell me I look good.”
“You look fabulous,” Jonathan interjected.
I laughed, “Thank you, because I know if I looked like shit, you would tell me. That is precisely why every straight woman on this planet needs gay male BFFs.” Leaning over, I kissed his cheek.
“Are you mad at me, Mom?”
Shaking my head no, I smiled at Scarlett. “No sweetie, not at all. The truth is the truth. And here’s a saying from my day that applies, put that in your pipe and smoke it, Wes.”
Laynie and Jill cracked up and my daughter looked at me like, what the heck are you talking about?
After the waiters cleared our entrée plates, the lights dimmed again and another one of our PSAs played.
“I love this one,” Jonathan whispered in my ear.
“Me too,” I whispered back.
When the lights came back up, a very prominent local news anchor was standing behind the podium. She had never hidden her battle with breast cancer and brought her viewers with her throughout the journey. All of New York attended her doctors’ appointments, her diagnostic tests and her surgeries. We cheered at the good news and cried with her on discouraging days.
The room was on its feet, cheering. Not just because she was still with us, a valiant warrior who battled her way into remission, but because she led us all into battle with the heart of a General. She educated us, pulled us along when we didn’t want to go any further, and taught us to humbly accept the wins, and cope with the losses with grace.
Sitting back and listening to her wise words as I gently stroked my daughter’s hair , I was so glad that Scarlett was getting to experience the power of strong women, who like Jill and Stacy, had fought back with every last ounce of courage and strength when the odds were stacked against them. My heart pinged, wishing Stacy were here to be a part of this event – as a survivor. As that thought filled my head, a pink glint from the chandelier above flashed before my eyes and I knew Stacy Bergman had just told me that she was sure as hell not missing out on this event.
At the end of the newscaster’s speech, the room was once again on its feet for a standing ovation and throngs of attendees headed toward the donation tables. Once again, the dance floor filled. A few measures into the song, I realized it was Spandau Ballet’s True, the last song Wes and I had danced to on Second Wind’s deck that night after dancing on the neighboring boat and my heart cracked just a little more.
“May I have this dance?” Wes was standing next to my chair.
“Umm, I don’t think,” I began.
Leaning over Scarlett and practically pushing me out of my chair, Laynie took over. “Of course she will.”
Stumbling, Wes took my hand to steady me, and with his other hand on my lower back, led me to the dance floor.
Once in his arms, I could feel the increasing tension in my muscles causing them to twitch at his touch.
“Hey relax,” he whispered in my ear.
Looking up to face him, “Easier said than done.”
“I don’t like that I make you tense.”
I didn’t answer him and he continued. “I don’t know where to begin to apologize, Tara. I’m just sorry that I hurt you and made you sad.”
With my eyes locked on his, “I thought we had something special, Wes. I thought we were the real thing.”
As the song ended, I went to move from his arms, but he embraced me tighter. The first strains of Roxy Music’s version of the John Lennon classic, Jealous Guy, began to play.
Smiling down at me, Wes said, “This could be my theme song.”
“Jealous Guy?”
He nodded.
“Please tell me you are not jealous of what happened between me and Julien.”
Wes just raised his eyebrows and tilted his head.
Blowing out a sigh, I closed my eyes. “It’s what I wanted to tell you about the first night we made love. It happened when you were a fifteen-year old memory. It only happened once and frankly was a debacle, and if I could take one day back and make it not happen, I would. But I can’t. And as far as you being jealous – of what? A bad memory?”
“He and I have a complicated history.”
“Yeah, I know. Bros before hoes.” I just wanted to get off the dance floor and away from him.
Wes threw his head back in laughter. I’m not sure what he found funny about my statement, but I certainly wasn’t amused, which he could now see on my face.
Still chuckling, he said, “You know what Julien said to me right after I punched him in the face? He said, ‘Hoes before bros’.”
“Fucker called me a Hoe?” I was irrationally incensed.
“Yeah. And I punched him again.”
“Thank you.” I tried to hide my smile.
“T, that weekend nearly broke me. Between Julien blindsiding me with what he told me and the cancer being discovered in Stacy’s lung, I got sucker punched twice. Was it right to take it out on you and not listen to you? No. That was a huge freaking mistake. I was already at a low and flipping out about you when I learned that the cancer had metastasized. It was like the two women I loved most were just ripped from me and I couldn’t control the spiral. I was mad at you for being with him. And yes, I know it’s irrational to be mad at you for something that happened before I was in your life. But there was nothing rational in my emotions that weekend and I knew I had to gather up my strength to help Stacy with this new leg of her fight and I just didn’t have the strength to deal with the emotions I was feeling about us. I needed to channel them for Stacy. I thought I’d have her for a while longer and I’d be the one cheering her along, providing hope. Her death so soon was like the last punch down. Except this time, I didn’t get back up. I lost hope.”
“I’m sorry that you had to go through all that.” The song was changing again, but after that baring of his soul, I didn’t feel like I could pull away and my first gut reaction was to soothe him. “Did you put in requests with the DJ?” I smiled at Crowded House’s Don’t Dream It’s Over.
“I did.” He smiled back. “And you have one more song you have to dance with me to after this one.”
“True, Jealous Guy, Don’t Dream It’s Over – I can’t even imagine what you’ve got up next.”
Pulling me in tight, I just put my head against his chest as we danced in silence. I was being internally drawn and quartered by my own emotions and I wished I could quiet them enough so that I could just enjoy the sublime sensation of
being held in his arms again. Part of me wanted to turn back the clock to before the weekend that everything fell apart, and yet overriding that was the fear that this man could once again cast me aside and kick me to the curb. And I knew, that if I were emotionally in deeper, that pain would be unbearable.
When the Gin Blossoms’ Till I Hear It From You began playing, Wes whispered in my ear, “I want a do-over.”
Pulling my head from his chest, I searched his face. It wasn’t so simple. Just as he needed to be there for Stacy. I needed to be there and strong for Scarlett. She needed a mother who protected her and the first line of defense for that was protecting myself, so that I could be there for her. “I’m not going to respond to you with the mean thing you said to me when I told you that. Excuse me.” I broke free of his arms and walked off the dance floor, headed out into the Silver Corridor in search of the Ladies’ Room.
Leaving the ballroom, I took a deep breath before approaching two women behind a table setting up gift bags and asked them where I could find the bathrooms. Wishing I had no make-up on, I was fantasizing about splashing cold water on my cheeks or maybe just dumping my whole face directly into a sink full of cold water and then walking out with streaks of mascara running down my face.
I felt numb. Positively numb. Wes wanted me back. He’d even said something about the two women he loved most and one of them was me. So then why the hell would he have treated someone he loves the way he treated me?
As I washed my hands, I hoped that dessert was served soon. I’d had about enough of this evening. I wanted to settle back into the cushy seats of the limo and kick off my beautiful, yet ridiculously painful, shoes.
Walking out of the Ladies’ Room I was shocked to feel the pressure of strong fingers digging into my upper arm. The déjà vu was not a pleasant memory.
“Julien, get your hands off me.” I shook my arm hard to rid his grasp. “Don’t you touch me.”
“What? Not rough enough for you, Tara?”
I wanted to smack the sneer off his face.
“Get out of my way.” I unsuccessfully tried to sidestep around him.
“You need to stay away from Wes.” The man loomed over me.
That seemed to have been the prevailing sentiment from the time I first met Mr. Bergman. First Stacy and now Julien. Except I didn’t think I’d ever become friends with Julien.
“Get out of my way,” I repeated.
His finger was now in my face and I had taken the protective posture of crossing my arms over my chest.
“You go near him, Tara, and I will destroy you.”
“Number one, get your effing finger out of my face and number two, if you screw with me any further, I will bring you down and the gravy train you have been living off will quickly dry up. Wes has been so good to you and all you do is look for ways to hurt him.”
“You know nothing.”
I smiled. “If you say so.” My answer incensed him.
“You have nothing on me.”
“If you say so.” I continued to smile.
“Don’t push me, Tara.”
“No Julien, don’t you push me. I know all about April 22, 1994 and even if Wes doesn’t know what kind of scum you really are, I’ve got the whole picture. So, it might be in your best interest to stop threatening me.”
“What happened on April 22, 1994?” We had been so engrossed in our argument that neither Julien nor I had seen Wes approach. How much he had heard before my last comments, I had no clue.
Turning to Wes, I put my hand on his upper arm and calmly said, “That’s a conversation you need to have with Julien. Though, at least from me, I know you’d get the truth.” I took a moment to glare at Julien before turning on my heel and walking away from the two old friends as I headed back into the ballroom.
Returning to my table, a slice of flourless chocolate torte drizzled with raspberry coulis waited for me.
“So, that looked pretty intense with Wes on the dance floor.” Laynie remarked, giving me the eyebrow raise that was code for I want all the details.
“Ugh. That was the least of it. I was just accosted by Julien walking out of the Ladies’ Room.”
“Accosted?” Jonathan laughed. “Ooo, Tara’s pissed. She’s using big words.”
“The man is such a douche.” I was still riled up from what had happened in the corridor.
“D word. Tara’s cursing. She’s mega-pissed,” laughed Jamie.
“You need chocolate.” Jonathan pointed at my uneaten dessert. It was then that I noticed that all the other dessert plates at the table looked like a dog had licked them clean.
“No, I’ve lost my appetite.” Which I had. But I was also fearful my hands were still shaking from anger and I wouldn’t be able to successfully maneuver the cake from the plate to my mouth without making a huge mess.
Jonathan picked up my fork and cut the tip of the torte slice. I was just about to bust on him about a second dessert ruining his boyish figure when the fork approached me.
“Open up, doll face. This will make you happy.”
The minute my mouth opened to respond, the chocolate was in there. And divine it was. The smooth ganache melted in my mouth and I instantly felt better.
“Wow, that is delicious.”
“Mmm-hmm.” Jonathan had the next bite already to my mouth, this time the torte was dripping of raspberry sauce.
“Mmm.” I savored the second bite. “If I finish my dessert, can I leave?”
Everyone laughed.
“I think we’ve all made a good showing tonight and we’re at the point where it’s no longer rude to disappear,” was Jamie’s assessment.
“Mom, I want to say goodbye to Wes.” Scarlett started to look around the room.
“Okay, go find him and say goodbye and then we’re leaving.”
As soon as Scarlett left the table, Laynie leaned over. “It looks like you’ve got a lot to tell me.”
“It has been an eventful evening,” was all I said.
“I can’t find him. I like literally looked everywhere.” Scarlett was pouting when she returned to the table.
“Okay then, let me buzz the limo driver and let’s get out of here.” I was on overload. Wes. Julien. April 22nd. My hurting feet. I just needed to freaking leave, go home, crawl into my bed and process the evening.
Exiting the ballroom, tables were set up on each side of the door with giftbags. Usually you just grabbed one and left, but these all had individual name tags on them.
“That’s odd,” Jill commented.
“Maybe it gives them a count of the no-shows tonight?” I conjectured, but wasn’t really sure.
As we walked the length of the Silver Corridor, I could see Julien up ahead, a roadblock strategically located between us and the safety of the elevator. Just the sight of him again made my stomach knot. I was so done with our confrontations.
“Oh fuck,” I muttered under my breath. I just wanted out.
“I’ll handle this.” And Laynie was immediately four strides ahead of us, strutting elegantly in her sparkly skyscraper shoes.
Watching her spine straighten to full height and shoulders fall back, I knew immediately what my best friend was doing and there was no doubt Julien would succumb to the siren’s call of her barely sheathed breasts. And as if right on cue, enchanted, she began to lure him in. With his eyes focused on the prize(s) and his signature sneer brightening by the second, he was so entranced by the perfection of this exotic creature’s breasts, that even he was surprised to be yelling ‘Shit!’ as his chest met a cart full of dinner dishes filled with leftover prime rib, mashed potatoes and gravy.
As she passed by him, Laynie leaned down and gave him a spectacular view of what was under the crimson silk chiffon. With her lips just grazing his earlobe, she whispered to Julien, “You’ve got egg on your face.”
He looked at her, perplexed.
There was not an egg on the cart.
My lips were twitching, dying to break out in a smil
e as I reached where he stood, now brushing himself off. Taking joy in his food stained, white shirt, I managed to look straight ahead, maintaining my composure as the ornate elevator doors opened. Although close, I had escaped without another Julien run-in, so I was beginning to breathe easier and when we reached the lobby and immediately saw our limo driver waiting by the hotel’s entrance, I felt the thousand-pound weight lift off my heart. Home free. Finally.
“That was fun,” Laynie whispered in my ear. “Score one for the hoes.”
Settling into the back of the limo, the first order of business was shoe removal. With my legs straight out in front of me, I said to my feet, “Go ahead and swell. You deserve it after what I did to you tonight. But I do want you to know one thing, you looked fabulous.”
Laynie was perusing the bar. “Can I interest either of you?” She looked at me and Jill.
Nodding, “My feet want cognac, if they have any.”
“My feet want what she’s having,” Jill piped in as she kicked off her shoes and started to go through her giftbag. “Look how cute this is.” She pulled out a bright pink C-Kicker shirt that said, C Me Kick Cancer to the Curb.
Laynie had handed us our drinks and began digging through her bag. “I got that shirt too, except mine is in green. Which is good, that goes better with my hair. And oh look, Bluetooth headphones. These are really nice.”
Jill pulled out her headphones, “These are nice. I can’t wait to use them on the treadmill.”
Scarlett pulled a big square box out of her bag. It was wrapped in pale blue metallic paper with silver ribbon.
“What’s that?” Jill asked. “I don’t have that in mine.”
“Neither do I,” said Laynie. “I’ve just got the shirt and headphones, donation information and a box of handmade truffles.”
“Me too,” Jill corroborated.
Pulling the ribbon and the paper from the box, an excited Scarlett said, “It’s from Swarovski.” Opening the box, she gasped, staring fondly at its contents before looking up at us. “It’s a tiara.”
The Do-Over Page 21
