Only she hadn’t. She and Nigel had a professional service that came in and decorated their place at Christmas with carefully coordinated trees and garland. Their house had been a showpiece at the holidays—not a place the carousel belonged at all.
She admired it now, stroking one of the horses and wishing it would come to life and take her far, far away. So far that her heart wouldn’t be broken anymore and she could think about what was going to happen without a growing sense of dread.
* * *
Saturday morning, after the nice young couple who had bought her bedroom set left, Ali dusted the baseboards and vacuumed the carpet. Once that was done, she carried in moving boxes that she would have to, at some point, fill. Maybe when she had a place to move to.
She couldn’t shake a sense of impending doom and knew that it had nothing to do with her situation. She was still trying to take in what had happened with Finola. How could Nigel have cheated with Treasure? Ali was as much a fan of the country-pop star as the next person, but jeez, not when you were married, and certainly not when you were married to Finola.
She was still trying to figure it all out when Daniel arrived. She opened the front door and said, “You can’t tell anyone. You have to totally promise not to say a word. Please, I need to talk about this and there’s no one else I can trust and just say you won’t repeat it or anything.”
As she spoke, he dropped the backpack he carried onto the floor, then closed the door behind himself and pulled her into a hug.
“Ali, what’s wrong? I won’t say anything. I swear. Just tell me.”
He felt so good, she thought, clinging to him, letting his warmth and strength seep into her. She didn’t care if he thought she was needy or weird or if he felt he totally got why Glen had dumped her. Right now she needed him.
She took his hand and led him to the sofa. When they were both seated, she stared into his dark eyes and said, “Nigel left Finola for another woman. He’s having an affair. I don’t know if it’s serious or he’s just playing around, but he left her!”
Daniel’s expression shifted from worried and confused to sympathetic. “I’m sorry to hear that. She’s got to be upset.”
“No, you don’t understand. This is Finola. She and Nigel love each other. They have a great marriage. They belong together. You just had to be around them for a few minutes to know they were the ones who were going to be together forever. And he cheated on her. If Finola can’t keep Nigel, then there’s no hope for the rest of us.”
“Slow down, Ali. You’re extrapolating way too much from what happened. You’re understandably upset. She’s your sister and you love her. Plus, you’re going through some crap of your own, so this is really hard. But the state of Finola’s marriage doesn’t affect anyone else’s relationship.”
His words probably made sense, but she wasn’t in the mood to listen. “What is wrong with your gender? Halle Berry’s husband cheated on her. And Beyoncé. Why would anyone cheat on Beyoncé? Men are stupid. I’m sorry to say it, but there it is.”
Daniel surprised her by smiling. “We are stupid. I’m really sorry about Finola and I won’t say anything to anyone. You have my word.”
“It’s because she’s on TV. There could be press.” There would be press when the whole Treasure thing came out, but while Ali was willing to spill some secrets, she couldn’t share them all—not even with Daniel.
They were still holding hands. She wasn’t sure how that had happened, but his hand was in hers or vice versa. He stroked his fingers against hers, as if offering comfort. At least she assumed that was what it was. Regardless, his touch was nice. Like him.
“You’re being so good to me,” she said softly. “Through all of this. I really appreciate it. I couldn’t have done it without you.”
“I’m sorry for the circumstances, but I’m happy to be here. I mean that, Ali.”
She smiled. “I believe you, but it’s so strange. Until Glen dumped me, you were always so stern and it seemed as if you didn’t want to be in the same room as me. Remember the first time we met? We went to lunch.”
“At The Cheesecake Factory at the Sherman Oaks Galleria. I remember. It was a Sunday, last November. A couple of weeks before Thanksgiving.”
She stared at him. “That’s either impressive or scary. How could you remember that? I knew it was last year, but that was about it.” She laughed. “Next you’ll be telling me I had on a blue dress.”
“You wore jeans and a white sweater.”
“Okay,” she said slowly. “Now you’re freaking me out.”
He started to say something only to drop her hand and stand. “Ali, what’s going on with your bedroom?”
She turned and followed his gaze. “What? The empty boxes? I have to get more serious about packing.”
“Where is your furniture?”
“Oh, that.” She drew in a breath. “I sold it.” She held up a hand before he could speak. “I sold it a few weeks ago. The people who bought it agreed to wait until today. I kind of forgot until they texted me yesterday, confirming everything.”
“Why did you let them take it?”
“They’d already rented a truck and they’d given me half the money. I didn’t know how to tell them no.”
She knew it was dumb, but honestly, the thought of telling one more person about the wedding being off was just too depressing. She’d already had to deal with sympathetic words at work and, from her perspective, far too many knowing glances, as if the entire world had suspected Glen wouldn’t go through with the wedding.
“It was easier to let them take the bed. It’s not like I’ve been sleeping there,” she added. “I’ve been sleeping on the couch.”
“Any other furniture disappearing in the next few days?”
“Um, there are a couple more things, but I’ve texted the people to let them know it’s not for sale anymore.” Well, not counting the lady who had bought her kitchen table and chairs. Ali didn’t have a phone number for her, so maybe she wouldn’t show up.
“Okay then.” He got his backpack and returned to the sofa. When he was seated, he pulled out a couple of folders. “Here’s where we are on the rest of the vendors.”
He went over what he’d done. As expected, Daniel had gotten better terms than she would have. She was still going to have to cough up more money than she had, but at least it wasn’t as horrible as it could have been.
“What are you doing about the ring?” he asked. “You could sell it.”
“Aren’t I supposed to return it?”
“Not after what he did. Every state has different laws, but in California, if the breakup is mutual, the ring is returned. When the groom acts like a jackass, you get to keep the ring.”
She grinned. “Good to know.” Her humor faded. “I’m not ready to sell it, but I like knowing I can.”
“I could go shake the money he owes you out of him.”
“Daniel, no. We talked about this. I appreciate all you’re doing for me. You have no idea. But please don’t go beat up your brother. He’s still family and that’s important. I’m figuring it out. Once the dust settles, I can think about what I want to do. I’ve done some research on small claims court. I might go that route.”
“Whatever you decide, I’m here for you.”
“I know.” She flopped back against the sofa and sighed. “You’re so much better than he is. Why didn’t we fall in love?”
Before he could react, she put her hand on his arm. “Kidding. Don’t freak out.”
“I’m not freaked. I guess it’s just one of those things.”
“It is. All right, I’m going to free you from your wedding canceling duties. I have laundry and then I’m going to depress myself by looking at apartments in my price range.”
“Don’t sign any leases until we talk,” he said as he stood. “I’ll want to check out t
he neighborhood first.”
She supposed his attitude could have been annoying, but for her, it was heaven. She liked knowing he was around to take care of her. After all she’d been through, having a little caretaking was nice.
“I won’t even put down a deposit,” she promised. “When I find something promising, you’ll be the first to know. I swear.”
“Good.” He pulled her close and kissed her cheek, his stubble tickling. “Call me if you need anything. I’ll be at work and reachable.”
“I will.”
She walked him to the door. When he was gone, she again had the thought that things would have gone a whole lot better for her if she’d fallen for Daniel instead of Glen. Fate was sure a bitch with a sense of humor.
Chapter Ten
Monday morning Finola got to the studio extra early. She had a meeting to review the upcoming shows and also needed time to get back into what had been her regular life. The week of her vacation, the station had rerun shows and now they would be live again.
She’d spent the weekend getting ready to fake her way through her life. She’d gotten a spray tan and had a facial. There’d been no more binge eating and Saturday she’d flushed her system with water and vegetable juice. Sunday she’d switched to a low-fat, high-protein diet that she would stay on until she was just shy of scary thin. Only then would she relax about her appearance. It was bad enough that she was a dozen years older than Treasure—Finola refused to be the frumpy wife, as well.
She parked in her usual spot, greeted the security guard and made her way to the studio. She’d worn her favorite jeans, a sloppy-chic T-shirt and big sunglasses, and her hair was pulled back. It was how she always dressed when she started her day. Her large dressing room was filled with her “TV clothes”—lots of dresses and separates that she mixed and matched, a season at a time. Her contract included a generous clothing budget, which Finola appreciated. She never wore her TV clothes outside of the station and when the season ended and new things were purchased, her assistant got to pick one of the outfits for herself. The remainder of her barely worn things were donated to Dress for Success and a local women’s shelter.
“Welcome, Finola,” one of the crew called. “You look great. Hawaii agrees with you.”
She smiled and waved but kept moving. She didn’t want to talk to anyone about her trip. Today was about work, nothing else. She was willing to lie, but she didn’t want to have to sweat a lot of details. Not when the truth would come out eventually.
She reached her dressing room. Rochelle was already waiting for her, looking impossibly young and well dressed as she steamed the dress she’d picked out for Finola to wear that day.
“Good morning,” her assistant said. “How was your vacation?”
“Busy, how was your trip back home?”
Rochelle had flown to North Carolina to be with family. Like Finola, she was one of three sisters. Her father was a minister, her mother an accountant. She was the first daughter in three generations not to go to Howard University, instead attending USC. Her conservative parents were equally unhappy that Rochelle had settled in Los Angeles, instead of returning home to find a good job and settle down.
Finola had met them shortly after she’d hired Rochelle. She’d done her best to allay their fears about their daughter’s safety in the immoral wilderness that was the entertainment industry.
Rochelle sighed heavily. “I have nothing in common with anyone anymore. My sisters are both pregnant. Again. My mom lectured me daily on my relationship with God and my father just looked disappointed.”
“That sounds awful.”
“It was what it always is. Parents can be that way. I know they love me and they don’t understand me. I’m doing what I want to do.” She grinned. “When I win my first Emmy, they’ll be thrilled for me.”
Finola laughed. “Make sure I’m mentioned in your acceptance speech.”
“You’ll be the first one.”
“I’m holding you to that.” Finola enjoyed the moment of normalcy for another couple of seconds, then closed the door. “We have to talk.”
Rochelle immediately turned off the steamer. “Tell me.”
Finola motioned to the sofa. She took a chair. And here we go, she thought sadly. The telling had begun. There would be lies, an attempt to conceal, at least for as long as she could. This business being what it was, she knew she wouldn’t take any flak for that when the truth came out. Everyone she worked with would understand. Those higher up the food chain would be unamused, but there was no way she was going to tell them what had happened. It would all hit the fan eventually and when it did, she would deal.
But Rochelle was different. Finola needed someone on her side, someone who could watch out for her and run interference if necessary.
“I didn’t go to Hawaii,” she said as calmly as she could. “Nigel is having an affair and he moved out.”
Rochelle’s eyes widened. “No. No! But...he was just here on Friday. I saw him. You were supposed to be on vacation.” She dropped her voice. “You were going to get pregnant.”
Finola ignored the wave of humiliation. “Change of plans,” she murmured. “On all of it. As for why he was here, it was to tell me what was happening.”
“I can’t believe it. That’s why you were so upset?” She started to stand, then sagged back in her seat. “Are you saying your husband showed up less than thirty minutes before you were on live TV to tell you he was having an affair?”
Finola nodded. Her assistant’s indignation was heartening.
“There’s more,” she said, knowing she had to get it out quickly. “And it’s bad.”
She went on to explain that the woman in question was the world’s most popular country-pop singer, and how Treasure had confronted her right before their interview.
Rochelle pressed her hand to her chest. “Finola, I’m so sorry. I can’t believe how amazing you are. You were so professional. I would have bitch-slapped her, then set her on fire. You had to interview her! And all the time you knew what Nigel had done to you.”
She stood and crossed to Finola and hugged her. “I’m sorry. I hate her. My daddy would say it’s wrong to hate people, but I hate her.”
The hug was comforting, as was the support. Finola leaned against her. “Thank you. It’s been a really hard week.”
Rochelle sat back in her seat. “What can I do to help?”
“What you’ve been doing. Please have my back around here and let me know if there are any rumors about what’s happening. I want to keep it quiet as long as possible.”
Rochelle winced. “Because when it comes out, it’s gonna be bad. Have you talked to a lawyer?”
Finola didn’t understand the question. Why would she—
“You mean about a divorce? We’re not there.” A divorce? No. Nigel was going to come back to her. He would be sorry and beg her forgiveness and never do it again. They were married. They had a life together. A good life that was important to both of them... At least it had been.
“You think I should?”
Rochelle held up both her hands. “That’s not for me to say. You have to do what’s right for you.”
“What would you do?”
“After what he put you through? If he’s not sorry and begging for forgiveness the second he was caught, then he should be tossed to the curb. He needs to respect you and right now there’s no respect.” She softened her tone. “I’m sure you know what you’re doing, Finola. Don’t listen to me.”
“It’s just all so sudden and confusing. I never thought he would do this to me. I thought we were happy.”
She’d sure been wrong about that, she thought sadly. What else hadn’t she known about her husband? What else had he kept from her?
She closed her eyes and wished it would all go away, but when she opened them, the world was just as it had been.
Her phone chirped. Rochelle handed it to her without glancing at the screen. Finola read the alert and flinched, then passed it over to her assistant.
“I signed up for alerts when Treasure Tweets,” she explained. “Just so I know what’s coming. So far there hasn’t been anything about Nigel.”
Rochelle read the Tweet out loud. “‘It’s sad when people get old and no one will love them.’”
“Not very subtle,” Finola murmured.
“You think this is about you? It’s not. You’re not old.”
“Compared to her, I’m ancient.”
“You aren’t and you are loved. She’s just being a bitch. We’re going to ignore her. Come on. People have stood in line for two hours just to see your show. It’s time to get ready to dazzle them.”
Finola didn’t bother saying she wasn’t really up to dazzling anyone. Not only because Rochelle wouldn’t want to hear it but because in the end, how she felt didn’t matter. She had a responsibility to the show, and maybe to herself. If she couldn’t be strong, she could at least fake strong. For now that would be enough.
* * *
Ali got back to work from her lunch break with two minutes to spare. She walked into the warehouse, doing her best to, from the outside at least, seem strong and confident. In truth she’d just seen the ugliest apartment ever. Not only had the unit overlooked the trash dumpsters, it had been small, dark and desperately in need of paint and carpet. But the worst part had been the weird, musty smell—sort of a combination of mold and dampness.
She’d already looked at four places and had hated them all. If nothing else, she was going to have to up her budget by at least another hundred dollars a month. But with having to pay off the wedding and deal with the cost of moving, she just didn’t see how that was possible. Yes, she could pay the more expensive rent and still eat and take care of her bills, but there wouldn’t be anything left for savings. She’d always had an emergency fund. The wedding had taken care of that, leaving her in fairly desperate straits. At the rate she was going, she was going to have to choose between living with her mother and living out of her car.
California Girls Page 12
