by Denise Wells
TABATHA VOICEOVER: He did not just say that. Did he? Comparing me to his mother in any manner is not a compliment. But saying that I look like her is unforgivable.
“And you wonder why I’m doing this, when you say things like that.” Tabatha rolls her eyes and drops a few more items at Pax’s feet—toothbrush, electric razor, framed picture of his dog from when he was a kid.
“It’s not like I’m surprised,” Pax says as he walks around, picking up things. “It’s only, what? The most dramatic thing you could come up with? Besides, you’ve threatened to kick me out before, the only difference now being you’re actually trying to do it.”
“It’s so typical of you to throw something like that back in my face later. Maybe if you weren’t such an (BLEEP) all the time, I wouldn’t be kicking you out,” Tabatha yells.
“I didn’t even do anything!”
“Exactly! You had the opportunity to do the right thing and chose not to. Not saving me from the zombies? Not okay, Pax. Now I’m forced to be the bad guy once again by taking a stance. So, here’s three pairs of shoes and some jeans. I hope you and the zombies enjoy them!”
“Hey,” Pax calls out to her.
“What?” Tabatha leans out the window.
“You mind unlocking the front door so we can talk about this?”
“Oh no.” Tabatha opens her mouth, covers it with her fingers, and blinks rapidly. “Can’t you get in the house?”
“My key won’t work.”
“Hmm, pity.”
TABATHA VOICEOVER: I break his golf clubs next, dropping them one by one out the window. Which probably won’t even bother him much. Except, they were a gift from his best friend, Gregor, to try and get him to pick up the game.
Tabatha leans her head out the window. “And let me tell you, it is much harder to break a golf club in reality than it looks on TV.”
“You really want to be divorced before we’ve even been married a year?” Pax asks before she has a chance to duck away again.
“Damn right, I do!” Tabatha screams. “I can’t stay married to you for a second longer!” She slams the window.
“Tabs!” Pax yells at the closed window. Tabatha does not return. Pax picks up a small rock and tosses it at the window. “Tabatha!” he yells again. “I know dramatic is your second language, but you better be serious about this.”
Nothing happens.
PAX VOICEOVER: She had the locks changed; I can tell by the shiny new deadbolt. So, I ring the doorbell, holding my finger against it and letting it ring repeatedly and wait to see what she does next.
Tabatha opens the upstairs window a moment later and leans out.
“What do you want?”
“I’d like to come in my house.”
“No.” Tabatha looks down at Pax. “And it’s not your house anymore. I’m kicking you out.”
“Tabatha, (BLEEP), I’m not playing games.”
“Neither am I, Pax.”
“Is this still because of the (BLEEP) zombie fight?”
“Among other things, yes.” Tabatha crosses her arms over her chest, her face immobile and pert nose pointed in the air.
PAX VOICEOVER: I’d like to punch that nose; you know, if I were the kind of guy to actually hit a woman. But I’m not; doesn’t mean I don’t fantasize about it just a bit sometimes where Tabs is concerned. That and booting her luscious little (BLEEP) right off the edge of a big cliff and wait for her to splat at the bottom. Oh, sorry, that’s a little graphic isn’t it? Let’s switch that to dead. Sometimes I fantasize what it would be like if she were dead.
“Un-(BLEEP)-believable,” Pax says.
“Yes, it is.” Tabatha resumes throwing Pax’s belongings out the window. Hair products, shower gel, razor blades, clothes, jackets.
PAX VOICEOVER: At this point, I’m just happy she hasn’t gotten to any of my camera equipment. So, I breathe easy, you know? That is, until she dangles a camera bag out the window. And it’s the Hasselblad bag.
“I swear to god, Tabatha. If you drop that and it breaks. I will never forgive you,” Pax yells.
Tabatha looks at the bag. Then Pax. Then the bag again.
And drops it.
“Nooo!” Pax dives toward the bag, and barely misses catching it. The bag lands on a pile of clothes. Pax takes it in his arms, cradling the bag like a baby. He opens the bag to find it empty. “Thank god,” he mutters to himself. “I didn’t think she would stoop that low.”
PAX VOICEOVER: I swear, it’s like my life flashed before my eyes as I was going for it. The most horrific thing I’ve ever experienced by far. Even though camera bags are heavily padded, I never take chances with my cameras.
“Catch,” Tabatha calls from above.
Pax looks up.
Tabatha tosses the camera.
PAX VOICEOVER: But I was wrong. She would go lower than that low. I watched like a movie in slow motion as her fingers opened from where they held the strap and the camera started to fall through the air. I couldn’t move fast enough to get the camera. It landed on the edge of the concrete. And in a matter of seconds, it went from one whole, to hundreds of tiny pieces bouncing along the walkway. Even if I had one hundred years, I couldn’t put it back together again.
I never thought Tabatha would be capable of such a thing. Something so malicious, so unkind. She knows how much that camera means to me. It would be like if I took one of her . . . I don’t even know what would compare. But once I find it, I’m going to (BLEEP) destroy it.
“You want a war, woman? You got it!” Pax roars.
Tabatha does not hear the ladder at the window. And she doesn’t see Pax until he’s halfway inside the room.
“How’d you get a ladder?” Tabatha asks. She stands and backs up until she runs into the wall.
“Oh, wouldn’t you like to know?” Pax sneers and advances on her quickly.
“Kind of, yeah. If we owned one, maybe you would’ve been a little more handy around the house.” Tabatha tries to dodge his grasp by moving to the right.
“We own a vacuum, didn’t turn you into a decent housekeeper.” Pax is quick on his feet. It seems no matter which way Tabatha turns, he will still be able to reach her.
“How dare you!” Tabatha screams.
“Oh, sweetheart, I haven’t even started to dare.” Pax continues to advance toward Tabatha until the two are nearly nose to nose.
“Get out, Pax.”
“Make me.” Pax crosses his arms over his chest and widens his stance, looking imposing.
Tabatha visibly shivers.
“Are those my socks? You’re cutting holes in my socks?” Pax narrows his eyes as he sees what is in Tabatha’s hands. He turns and opens her closet before she even has a chance to answer. Pax pulls her favorite Yves Saint Laurent dress out and rips it in half.
“Ohmigod! What is wrong with you?” Tabatha cries.
“With me? Oh, I’m just getting started, baby!”
PAX VOICEOVER: I try to think of the most disgusting, most repulsive thing that I can possibly do to her. And then it hits me. Piss and Prada.
Pax grabs her Prada bag next.
“No!” Tabatha yells.
TABATHA VOICEOVER: I watch, with total revulsion, as he undoes his pants, pulls out his (BLEEP), and pisses in my bag, whistling as he goes. Whistling! I lunge for the bag. I have to. I don’t even care if I get his piss all over me. Because, Prada.
Pax turns so his back is to Tabatha, then swivels to and fro as she tries to reach around his sides to grab it. He finishes up, tucks himself back in his pants, and tosses the bag aside. Urine splashes up and around when it lands.
Tabatha takes off her shoes, jumps onto their bed, and throws one at him.
The shoe bounces off Pax’s forehead, nicking his skin.
“Ow!”
“That’s right, you big lug. Ferragamos are fierce.”
“(BLEEP), Tabs! That (BLEEP) hurt.”
Tabatha looks around, as though searching for something else to d
estroy. She makes a move for Pax’s grandfather’s Pulitzer Prize-winning photograph. An original print from The Battle of the Bulge in World War II. He treasures it. Maybe even more than his cameras.
“Don’t do it,” Pax warns.
Tabatha takes it from the wall and tosses it to the side, like a frisbee. Both watch as it crumbles to the floor, frame and all.
TABATHA VOICEOVER: The minute I do it, I know I’ve gone too far. I see the devastation on Pax’s face and I instantly regret my actions. It’s one step too far. Well, one step beyond the Hasselblad, another that I also should never have taken. But it’s too late to take it back.
“You (BLEEP). Do you hate me that much?” Pax asks.
“I’m not sure how to answer that, Pax, other than to say, yes!”
Pax stalks toward Tabatha.
Tabatha hunches down, her stance wobbly on the mattress, arms out to the side for balance, ready to bolt in either direction. But Pax is a big guy and his arms more than span the width of their California king bed. Pax grabs Tabatha’s hand and yanks her toward him, then he tosses Tabatha over his shoulder like it’s nothing.
“Put me down!” Tabatha cries.
“Not a chance, babe.” Pax spanks her. Hard.
TABATHA VOICEOVER: I’m not going to lie, it made me cry when he spanked me. But at the same time, it was such a turn-on. Which is why I cry. I literally disgust myself by still wanting him. Even now. But no way will I let him see me tear up.
Tabatha pounds on Pax’s back the entire trip down the stairs, but to no avail. Pax opens the front door and dumps Tabatha in their front yard.
Literally.
On her ass.
Claps his hand together in an all-done motion and turns to stride back into the house. The door is shut, and the new lock turned before Tabatha even has a chance to get to her feet.
PAX VOICEOVER: I’m halfway up the stairs in the house before I remember I left the ladder outside against the window. Because, I’m a (BLEEP) idiot.
Pax takes the remaining stairs two at a time. He reaches the master bedroom right as Tabatha tumbles through the window.
Tabatha stands and flips her long red hair over her head with her forearm, huffing as she goes.
Tabatha’s eyes narrow.
Pax looks at her, in her bare feet with her hair awry, reddened cheeks, and dress that is ripped slightly at the bodice. He chuckles.
“What’s so funny?” Tabatha asks.
“You remind me of the women on one of those historic romance covers you love to read. The fierce and beautiful, disheveled woman fighting a pirate, or baron, or whoever the hell she would fight before she (BLEEP) him.”
“They only did that because they were in love. And complimenting me will get you nowhere.”
“You thought that was a compliment, Tabs?” Pax sneers.
Tabatha straightens and points her nose in the air. “You said fierce and beautiful.”
“So, I did.” Pax moves toward her. Tabatha backs up to the wall behind her. “And you are both.”
PAX VOICEOVER: Because there are times, like now, that I can forgive Tabatha in an instant for something otherwise unforgivable if it means I get to (BLEEP) her. Maybe not completely forgive, but definitely forget for a while. It’s part of her charm, the ability to make me forget all the bad and retain only the good.
Tabatha’s breath catches as Pax reaches up to push her hair behind her ear, running his fingertips along her cheek in the process. Tabatha leans into his touch, despite herself.
TABATHA VOICEOVER: I hate that he has this sexual power. Like an electric current that snakes its way between us.
“We may suck at being married, babe,” Pax growls into Tabatha’s ear. “But we have never sucked at (BLEEP).”
PAX VOICEOVER: And even better than that? Hate-(BLEEP). Because just as quickly as I forget, I choose to remember. She killed my Hasselblad. And destroyed my grandfather’s Pulitzer (BLEEP) Prize-winning photograph. The original, not a reproduction. So, yeah, I hate her. With every fiber of my being, I despise her.
Pax leans in and captures Tabatha’s lips with his. Within seconds she has her arms wound around his neck and is moaning into his mouth.
TABATHA VOICEOVER: I may hate him with everything I have and everything I am. But I still die for his touch.
Pax reaches around and grabs her ass and squeezes hard, tightening his hold as Tabatha’s body melts into his. Until the two are a writhing mess of hot breath and long moans.
Tabatha pulls away. “Just so we’re clear, I hate you. This changes nothing.”
“Ditto, babe.”
ANNOUNCER VOICEOVER: And the rest, as they say, is history.
1
Tabatha
TEN YEARS LATER
“In other news, actress Tabatha Seton (formerly Baldwin) has announced her engagement to tech genius, Hunter Simpcox, who just sold his social media app, Face-to-Face, for a cool twenty-five million dollars. This will be the second marriage for Seton, who was previously married to award-winning photographer, Pax Baldwin. The two were married after a tumultuous multi-year courtship, before citing irreconcilable differences and splitting for good close to ten years ago. This will be the first marriage for Simpcox. No word yet on when the nuptials will take place or where.”
I use the remote to switch off the TV, taking a moment to admire my five-carat, cushion cut diamond with platinum pave band engagement ring. Loving the way it sparkles in the overhead lighting of our den. I am somewhat pleased with the news clip. I would have rather they not mention Pax, but I suppose it’s better to have media attention with Pax than no announcement at all.
“Hunter,” I call out to my fiancé. “Did you see the news clip about the engagement?”
“I did,” he says, coming in to the room. He takes me in his arms and kisses me once on the lips. “They said I was a tech genius.”
“Well, you are.” I smile.
“One sold app does not a genius make,” he says.
“It does when you sell that app for twenty-five million.”
His eyes shine. “It’s a lot of money, isn’t it?”
“It is,” I agree. He likes to talk about his money. I think it makes him feel important. My mother would do the same thing as my stage manager. She’d grown up poor, so I think once she finally had money—mine—the need to talk about it helped to make it more real. At least that’s what my therapist says.
It’s the same with Hunter. The more he talks about it, the better it is for him and the more he believes it’s real.
“More money than you’ve seen?” he asks.
“Yes, I believe so,” I say, because he also likes it when he can impress me. “What time are we meeting for lunch?”
“How about twelve-thirty?” he asks.
“That’s perfect. I’m off to my yoga class, see you in a couple hours.”
“It will be hard for you to improve upon perfection, my queen,” he says, referring to the yoga and me. “Until then.” He kisses my cheek and is out the door. I’m not far behind him.
I kind of hate it when he calls me my queen, but I’ve never told him. Hunter can be delicate when it comes to any form of criticism or what he perceives as criticism. So, I refrain because he is good to me, we never fight, and he wants to marry me.
We met a little over a year ago. I was a guest judge on a reality talent show and his niece was a placing contestant. He was visiting LA for a few weeks and asked me out for coffee, and then dinner. It was at dinner he admitted he was a long-time fan of mine.
I started as a child actor with a TV variety show Tabby is so Gabby. I solo-hosted the show spanning from age seven until we could no longer hide that I’d grown breasts. Then I had a string of hit movies as a pre-teen. The variety show made me a household name, but the movies made me a star. My mom worked me every day, as many hours as she could. I was burned out by seventeen, and in true teenage melodramatic fashion, I had a monumental breakdown.
After a stint in a
relaxation facility, Mom moved us to Washington. We bought a house in the suburbs and pretended to be normal, living off endorsements, my fledgling makeup line, and residuals from syndication. That’s how I met my ex, Pax Baldwin. The good-looking boy who lived next door. But he’s a story for another time. Or not at all. Because my life works better when I don’t think about Pax.
I attended a public high school in the Seattle suburbs, tried my best to fit in, met my best friend Crystal, and pretended I was equipped—emotionally and otherwise—to be normal and live a regular life. I’d thought the move to Washington took me out of the industry forever, so no one was more surprised than I when my (ex) agent called a few months after my high school graduation with a movie offer.
By then, Pax and I were practically engaged, so I left my mom at home and he and I flew to LA to see about the role. It was almost as though it had been written about me. Child/teen actress who has a breakdown and moves away, then tries to make a comeback. Granted, I wasn’t the one trying to make the comeback, it was more the comeback trying to get me to make it happen. I did the movie and launched myself right back into the spotlight.
Pax and I moved to LA permanently, causing my mother and me to become estranged. It wasn’t a big jump for Mom and me, we’d not been getting along already. Pax worked on his photography career and I started trying to write and produce a pilot in between movies. The pilot was about my life but focusing on me as an adult. One year turned into two, and pretty soon we’d been in LA for almost four years.
It was at an industry party that we met the talent scout for a major online streaming service that often produced its own shows and movies. We’d just gotten married and were all starry-eyes and positivity. After interacting with Pax and me for an hour, the scout said we needed to have our own show. We laughed it off at the time. Six months later, it became a reality.
