Glitter on the Web

by Ginger Voight

  Since Caz wanted to make inroads with Tempestuous to finalize his shoot for his special client, he decided to go with me. Since I didn’t want to be alone, on Thanksgiving of all days, I let him.

  PING was there to greet us as we got off the plane, as usual. Tempestuous sent a car around, which we shared, which whisked us to our five star hotel, a contemporary place that mixed Southern hospitality with Oriental opulence. We got separate rooms, but they were across the hall from each other. Each had a private terrace, which was fortuitous. We could vape in comfort as we looked over the city.

  Thanks to a shattered heart, I had become a shameless pothead. And the weight of the memories of this particular holiday only made it that much harder to bear.

  As always, Caz knew and understood. When he produced the pen, which counted as contraband in Georgia, I knew he wasn’t above breaking some rules to get me what I needed.

  I wasn’t against breaking some rules to comply.

  He ordered room service so we could wind down from our flight. We braved the crisp air to eat it on the terrace, where we talked about our game plan. After a lull in the conversation, he glanced at me.

  “You okay?”

  I shrugged. “Trying to be.”

  “Let’s get out of here,” he suggested. Up for any distraction, I nodded.

  We spent our one free afternoon at Piedmont Park in Midtown. There was a lot to explore there, including a 30-acre botanical garden.

  “It’s so beautiful,” I murmured as I soaked it all in.

  “It is,” he agreed softly, without taking his eyes from my face.

  I dismissed it with a shrug. “You don’t have to say those things, Caz. You’re not on the clock.”

  “You’re right,” he agreed. “That should tell you everything.” He reached over to brush the hair from my face, then bent to kiss my cheek, lingering there for a brief moment.

  It was a romantic scene. It just starred the wrong man.

  “Caz,” I started but he simply took me by the hand and pulled me towards our next exhibit.

  The natural beauty was so breathtaking it was hard to stay depressed. I drank it in like the balm for the soul it was. I smiled at Caz, who reached for my hand. I squeezed it. He squeezed back.

  “You really do know what a woman needs, don’t you?”

  He grinned. “Occupational hazard.”

  I laughed. And I followed obediently wherever he led next. We biked along the beltway before we stopped for dinner, where we talked for hours about anything and everything. Caz Bixby was good company. I was grateful to have him along, so much so I gave him a long hug in the hallway before we parted for the night. He held on even after I let go. Our eyes met.

  “Caz,” I started, but he shushed me. His head tilted for a soft, exploratory kiss that I allowed, mostly to see if I could kiss another man.

  But the minute his lips parted mine, Eli’s face flashed in my mind. How angry he’d been, mostly that I could have slept with this man. How it had ended everything way before I was ready for it to be over, which was a joke because I knew I would have never been ready for it to be over.

  Eli was it. He was the one. Though I could never have him, settling for anything else was no longer an option. I pulled back.

  “I’m sorry,” I found myself saying.

  Caz gently grasped my chin and tilted my head up so I could look him in the eye. “Never apologize, Carly. Not for that.”

  I nodded. He hugged me. I hugged back harder. I knew I had a friend if nothing else.

  That was worth everything.

  We ate Chinese food for Thanksgiving, which reminded me of Ling. I was so emotional I nearly cried in the restaurant, so Caz took me dancing at a rooftop party. He never let me stay downtrodden for long.

  I was sad to part with him by the time we returned home. Of course, by then the rumors abounded that I had spent a holiday with another man, and Caz Bixby at that. But it had been worth it. Not only had he gotten me through one of my least favorite parts of the year, after meeting with him and getting to know him beyond his persona, Tempestuous had agreed to dress Caz’s client for the episode. With all the rumors swirling about Caz and me, who was at the club a lot in recent weeks to make this very special episode happen, maybe Tempestuous thought that I could domesticate him, like I had obviously done for the reformed ladies’ man, Eli Blake.

  My domesticating days, however, were over. I knew Eli’s lovelorn persona was just another line of bullshit. Every single time I went to Frank’s office, Julie was M.I.A. Frank had said she was helping Eli with his album, but I knew that album was practically done.

  She was helping with a lot more than that. Apparently he didn’t have any trouble rebounding, casting someone else in my role as effortlessly as he had cast me.

  Still, the release date for his newest CD, aptly named “Glitter on the Web,” was pushed back to January 12th. I knew that was a not-so-subtle jab. This was the Eli I knew best, and liked least. I had been used and discarded, like an old condom, and he made sure the world thought it was my fault that he could never want someone like me.

  Because of this, I was not prepared to find Eli in my office that first Monday in December. I shut the door and approached cautiously, like one who might not to rouse a hibernating bear. “Eli,” I greeted before I disappeared behind my desk.

  I was glad to be sitting when I finally looked into those icy blue eyes of his. They still cut me right to my core. The smirk slowly emerged. “You’re not going to ask me what I’m doing here?”

  “I figure you’ll tell me.”

  His voice was soft. “You always did know me best.”

  I looked away. It wasn’t fair. Even after all these weeks apart, the effect he had on me hadn’t diminished. “Can we get to it, though? I’m really busy.”

  “Yes, I heard,” he murmured. “You’re working really closely with Caz Bixby. Scuttlebutt around FFF is that you’re going to let him film a segment for his show here.”

  Those eyes dared me to confirm it. Instead, “I’m not really sure that’s any of your business, Eli. It’s not your club.”

  “Isn’t it?” he mused. “The way I see it, you would have never had the money to invest in this club if it weren’t for me.”

  My eyes narrowed as I glared at him. “What?”

  “Where’s the confusion? You invested a portion of my million dollars into the club.”

  “I invested a portion of my million dollars in this club.”

  “Au contraire, mon amour. You broke the NDA before you even cashed the check. That money was never yours. Now, you returned some of it, which,” he said as he held his hand to his chest in mock sincerity, “I appreciate. But that still leaves $500,000 left unaccounted for. I realize, of course, that you probably don’t have that kind of money to pay me at the moment, thanks to your new WeHo apartment and all the traveling you’ve been doing.” My eyes narrowed as I watched him. He knew entirely too much, and clearly wanted to punish me for it. I really didn’t know what he could do to me that would be any worse that what he’d already done.

  He was about to tell me.

  “I want you to split your interest in this club with me, bringing me on as a fourth partner.”

  My heart stopped. “You bastard,” I breathed.

  “OGWO is surprised?”

  “Why would you even want to do this? You hate fat girls, remember?”

  “Not all of them,” he shot back. “This club has been very good to me. I like the message it sends. Hell, I wrote the message it sends. It’s like peanut butter and jelly. We just go together.”

  I sat back in my chair. “And I suppose, as a brand new partner, you’d shut the whole Caz shoot down.”

  “Not at all. I don’t give a shit about Caz Bixby. You can do whatever you want with Caz Bixby.” He leaned forward and his voice dropped a notch. “You could screw Caz Bixby on the bar with every camera in Los Angeles pointed at you. I don’t give a royal fuck.”

  “Then
what’s this about?”

  His smirk deepened. “I figure you of all people would recognize payback when you saw it.”

  “Payback? For what?”

  “For breaking my heart.”

  I glowered at him. “You’d have to have a heart for me to break it.”

  He chuckled. “Ah, Sunshine. You never change.” He stood. “I have a record dropping in January, maybe you’ve heard.”

  “I’ve heard.”

  He placed both hands on the desk and leaned forward. “I’m going to go hard with the PR push for it. Julie’s already working on everything.” I made a slight face, which made him smile. “Playing here was really great for my career. And it’s great for your club. It’s all mutually beneficial. Where’s the problem?”

  I leaned forward, resting on my arms. “The problem is that I hate you. I don’t want to spend another second of my life in your presence. I want you gone. Forever.”

  He just chuckled as he bent a little closer. “You can want that all you like, honey. I’m in here,” he said, tapping the side of my head. “I haven’t left. And you know it.” He straightened. “I’ve already talked to Clem and Antoine. They said you were my final hurdle to clear. So either I leave here a fourth partner, or you give me a check for $500,000.”

  I stood to face him. “That wasn’t part of the bet.”

  “This has nothing to do with a bet, sweetheart. You broke a contract. I can sue you for the rest of that million, which you don’t have, which means I’d take your share in this club anyway. This way you get to keep some of the pie.”

  “If you sue me, everyone will know the truth.”

  “Exactly,” he replied. “But the way I figure it, you have a lot more to lose now than I do if that comes to light. And FFF could lose most of all.”

  What an insidious bastard. I sidestepped the desk and stomped out to find Clem, who was racing around her office doing a gazillion things as usual. “Did you tell Eli he could partner with us with the club?”

  Her eyes met mine. “I didn’t say yes or no, Carly. I said it was up to you. I mean, if he’s blowing smoke with this whole legal thing, maybe we can tell him to get bent. But I can’t afford to lose this club. I don’t want to lose this club. FFF is my baby. I’ve cultivated it from conception to birth and beyond. If keeping it means I have to sell my soul to the devil himself, I’ll do it.”

  And that pretty much settled it. That weekend Eli Blake made his triumphant return to FFF, where he tried out some of the new music on the enthusiastic crowd.

  As an added bonus, he tweeted to the world that he was happy to partner with us with the club, as he loved and respected all of us. “I love her,” he had said. “I’ll always love her. Nothing means more to me than keeping her as my friend.”

  He posted that with a picture of the both of us, which he broadcast to the world, effectively tying me to his wagon again. Only this time there was no expiration date. He was now a fourth partner to FFF, and we were stuck with him for as long as it lasted.

  I finally got my forever with Eli Blake. It looked nothing like I imagined. For his part, however, he did try to keep the peace. It was likely yet another front. He was the magnanimous ex now, bestowing forgiveness and encouragement to the woman who shattered his heart.

  He even let Caz tape the segment of his show there as planned. Caz’s client, Camille, was a larger woman, a size-24 at least. It was clear she had let that defeat her for a long, long time. She walked with her head held down. She spoke softly. She barely looked anyone in the eye. She was lost behind a shell most people gleefully overlook, solitary confinement in a prison of her own making.

  Clem and I knew what to do about that. We took her upstairs to Clem’s office, where we dressed her to the nines. Clem painted her nails and did a glamor makeup that made Camille gasp with surprise as we spun her around towards the mirror. She no longer looked like the mousy girl who came into the club.

  We weren’t done. We took her to our club’s private gym, which had its own stripper poles to use for fitness purposes. She wasn’t about it at first, but after watching me, and especially Clem, work the pole, she finally started to pop her head out of her shell.

  By the time Caz saw her again, it was like he was meeting a completely new person. His obvious appreciation for her new look was yet another boost for her ego. He had expected the shoot to be so much more of a chore than it turned out to be. She wasn’t completely liberated, but she was on her way. I had a sense that by the time he left her the next morning, she’d feel like a completely new woman.

  And once again, the great OGWO was right. He called me to tell me how it all went down. We had that kind of friendship now.

  I had also told him all about Eli. Since there was no NDA in place anymore, I was free to tell the truth, which I did so over wine and pizza at my place. He took me into his arms when I began to cry. Then he broke out the vapor pen and we watched stupid comedies all night, laughing ourselves silly and stuffing ourselves with junk food.

  As always, he knew just what a gal needed.

  On my birthday that week before Christmas, it was Caz, and not Eli, who dropped off a gift. It was Rhonda Esposito’s newest CD. I had to laugh when I saw it.

  From Eli I got a public tweet, a #TBT photo snapped during our time together in Vegas, one I didn’t even know he had taken. Though it had been worded perfectly to wish me the fabulous day that I deserved, it was still just an afterthought, a crumb given mostly for show.

  Julie got no fewer than five tweets that day. I may or may not have counted.

  It was the week before Christmas I got my real gift, however. Gabby had come to visit her brother for the holidays, with Beth this time, and they had come to the club to say hello. I nearly wept when I saw her, falling promptly to my knees to take her into my arms.

  “What are you doing here?” I asked between sniffles.

  “It’s Christmas,” she shrugged. “Christmas is for family.”

  It made me cry even more. I led her to the sofa. “How is going? Tell me everything.”

  She laughed. “It’s good. For today,” she added, because she knew I would understand. And of course I did.

  She told me about the treatment center, and about the parenting classes and groups Wayne and Daphne now attended. She talked about Beth, and the kind of growing sister relationship they had. I was too happy for her to be jealous.

  “I brought you something,” she said as she reached into her bag for a gift.

  “You didn’t have to do that,” I admonished gently.

  “I know I didn’t have to. That’s why it’s a gift.”

  I smiled. She sounded so like her brother when she said things like that. I accepted the package with no further complaint. “I feel bad that I didn’t get you anything.”

  “You gave me everything,” she corrected softly.

  I squeezed her hand before I opened the gift. It was a digital photo frame that cycled through all the photos we had taken together, from the beach, to Disneyland, to Fairplay.

  “I love it,” I said, even though each photo pierced my heart. We looked so happy, but it was all a lie.

  “I wanted you to remember,” she said as she watched each photo morph into the next. “Because I never want to forget.”

  I hugged her again. “You’re my gift, G,” I said, squeezing her tight.

  Our first Christmas at the new FFF was quite the affair. We had a huge week of events, including Christmas dinner hosted at the club, catered by Daisy and Bravo catering. We were also treated to another Eli Blake mini concert, but my heart couldn’t take it. I stayed in my office and caught up on paperwork. We were nearing year’s end, and I was ready to close the books out and start over January 1st.

  It was midnight when I heard a knock on my door. It opened before I could say, “Come in.”

  It was Eli.

  “I didn’t see you downstairs,” he commented as he walked further into the room. He was sweaty but electric, the way he alwa
ys was after he performed. He carried a plate of food, which he dropped off at my desk. He took notice of the digital frame on my desk, but he didn’t say anything. “You never came down for dinner,” was all he said.

  “I had some paperwork to do,” I said as I referred back at the computer screen.

  “Oh,” he said. “I just wanted to wish you a merry Christmas before I head to Colorado in the morning. Going to spend the holidays with my folks.”

  I looked up at him. “That’s great, Eli,” I said. And I meant it.

  Those eyes met mine. “You saved them. All of them.”

  I shook my head. “I just pointed the way.”

  He laughed. “Why do you do that?”

  “Do what?”

  “Downplay how amazing you are?”

  My stomach dropped. “Eli.”

  He reached into his pocket. “I got you something.”

  “Another contract?” I mumbled, hitting the bitch button because that was easiest.

  “No,” he said softly. “No more contracts.”

  My throat tightened. It was over. Truly, truly over. “I guess you don’t need one now that you have Julie.”

  How I wanted him to refute my statement. Instead his voice just hardened. “You’re right. I don’t need a contract with Julie. Any more than you need one with Caz, I guess.”

  He searched my face for any clue. I just swallowed hard and said nothing.

  He turned to leave but I was on my feet. “Eli, wait.” He turned back to me. I owed him an apology, but I couldn’t form the words.

  Our eyes met. Words passed unspoken. It was like we were waiting for the other to blink. Finally he waved the white flag as he withdrew a small box from his pocket. He opened it, pulling out a giraffe keychain, which he placed on my desk by the photo frame, where a trinket like that belonged.

  “Merry Christmas, Carly.”

  I hated how choked up I got. “Merry Christmas, Eli.”

  He smiled and then exited the office.

  I glanced back at the digital album on my desk, watching the previous year pass by like the dream it now was. I picked up my new keychain, clasped it in my hands and cried.