Take Two (21 page)

Wednesday
and
Thursday
seemed to blend together: three magazine interviews, six phone
interviews,
Skype
chats
with fans, a script
selection
session with Shel
by, an appearance at Ian Somerha
lder’s
party,
and lunch in Miami with my mom.

When
I
returned to reality, I felt another
assistant adjusting my cuff links and fiddling with my shirt.

“I’m Annie Leibov
itz,” a gray haired woman with glasses extended her hand to me.

“Nice to meet you. I’m Matt Sterling.”

“
Let’s get started, shall we
?”

I lay on my be
d and prayed that Joan knew
me
well enough to reschedule the rest of my afternoon. I’d zombied my way through
yet
another week and I didn’t have any energy left.

“May I come in
?” Joan knocked.

“You know you don’t have to ask
.
”

She turned on the light in my room and ignore
d
my groans. I heard her
go into the
bathroom and turn
on the
Jacuzzi.

She walked over to
my
bed and sat on the
e
d
ge
.
“I’ve ca
nceled the rest of your day
.”

“Please don’t
ever quit
,” I rolled over. “
I don’t think I can afford
to lose
you.”

“
You can’t, but
I don’t see that happening any time soon. I think you should
go
re
lax in the tub
.
I ordered
some broccoli
and cheddar
soup
for your lunch
. It should be here soon.
”

“
Thanks so much
.”

“
Of course.
There are some upd
ates
we need to go over
.
”

“I’m listening
.”

“I personally dropped by
The New York Appeal
today an
d Miss Carter wasn’t there.
Apparently she’s on an extended leave of absence. Would you like to send something non-perishable so it’ll be there when she gets back?”

Where the hell is she?

“Five pounds of Skittles.”

“
Will do.
You and Selena are on the cover of
Us Weekly
. There’s
a picture of you rubbing her stomach
and a pic
ture of you leaving CVS late at night
. The cashier
told them
what you
purchase
d
.
”

What I would give to be “normal” right now…

“Is that all?”

Joan sighed and avoided my eyes
. That was never a good sign.

“Joan? What is it? Tell me.”

“Oprah’s people called Peter
. The
n he called Shelby and then she called me and now—”

“Joan…”

“They wanted to know if you could push up the wedding since you two technically aren’t paying for it anyway. Selena’s people already called back and confirmed
,
so they assume that—”

“
Assume that
what?
”

“
That they can film it
in two
months
.”

“Can you
make sure
the
annulment papers and a notary
are
at the ceremony?”

“Sure
,
but—”

“But what?”

“You signed a contract saying that you would stay
legally
married long enough for them
to
air
the special
at
least four times
.”

“How long is that?”

“Seventy two days.”

“Get the hell out of here. They can’t control that. Have
my lawyers here tomorrow
.”

Melody

I was on cloud nine, floating
high
above the
plane
that wa
s carrying me back to New York
.
All I coul
d think about
was kissing Matt Sterling.

I drifted through La Guardia
airport
, humming Frank Sinatra’s
“
New York New York,
”
bumping into travelers every few feet.

“Are you trying to run into people on purpose? Jen to Melody! Jen to Melody! Hey! Wake up!” my sister’s voice brought me
back down
to earth.

“What!”

“You just knocked that woman out of her wheelchair,” she pointed to a woman sprawled
across
the floor.

“
Oh my god!
I am so sorry ma’am,”
I reached down and
help
ed
her back into her chair. “I didn’t see you.”

“And doctors tell me
my
eyes are bad? Hmph!” the woman threw up her
bony middle finger and rolled away.

Jen shook her head at me and sighed. “Is this how you’re going
to act
while we unpack your apartment today? If it is, I’
ll just
get drunk
and pretend to work on my paper
at home.”

“
I’ll be fine. I
was just
thinking about—”

“Matt Sterling?” her eyes lit up. “
I
told
you he liked you. And I know you like him too.”

You don’t know me!

“I do n
ot!
He’s got
Selena Ro
—”

“
So!
Didn’t he tell you not to believe everything you
read
? Maybe there’s something going on with them. You never know, but he definitely likes you.”

“I guess.
”

I still couldn’t wrap my mind around the
idea t
hat Matt Sterling could really
be
interested
.
I
reasoned that he only asked me out
because there were so few people on our part of the island and he wanted some company.
Th
en again
,
I was still trying to come up with a legitimate reason f
or that kiss
.

Jen and I sp
lit the cab fare and made our way up
to
my new apartment.
The movers had placed all
of my things from storage and
Trump
SoHo
in the middle of the floor.

Jen
circled the pile and crossed her arms. “
I forgot you didn’t have
furniture.
Do you have any wine?”

“I don’t think so.”

“
I’m
definitely
going to need some to get through all of this.
I’m
also going to need some food
.
”

“I can have some delivered. What do you want? Chinese?”

“That’
d be
cool,” she headed for the door.
“
I’m going to pick up some trash bags while I’m out too.”

“You’re leaving
now
?”

“Um, yes? Unpacking without alcohol? That’s so sophomore year.”

“I tend to forget how
mature
you are
. Really.”

She rolled her eyes and shut the door. I walked over to the mountain of boxes and ran
my hand
across the labels.

I opened a box
labeled “memories”
and removed
the bubble wrap. Inside were
journals I kept in college. I flipped through one and stopped on a
random
page: “
Dear Journal, I’m not sure about Sean. I
think I
love him
…Okay,
I’m IN LOVE
with him.
But do you think he’ll ever
get tired of
me? Like, he could have any woman he wanted yet he’s with me…I don’t want
to sound like I have low self-
es
teem or anything but if I were on the verge of becoming a
rich jewelry designer, I wouldn’t
be dating
a college kid…Then again he’s only four years older than me…and…Welp, got
ta go! Sean’s taking me to dinner
tonight!
”

I sifted
through the box and found
pictures of the two of us
smiling in Belize, swimming in Hawaii,
and
star gazing in Paris.
There were numerous love letters from Sean, letters he sent from overseas whenever I couldn’t join him on a business trip.

At the bottom of the box
was
our
original
marriage license. It was what
we
both
“couldn’t wait”
to get and
purchased three months before
the
wedding.

I need to
get rid of
all of this
.
Now.

I
found the
“electronics”
box and pulled
out my speakers. I dragged them
next to the door
and hooked up my Ipod.
I scrolled down
my “Fuck Sean” playlist and
turned the volume up as loud as it could go
.

I placed the “memories” box
on the
fireplace
and cranked up the fire. I began dancing to the music, shouting along to e
ach power
anthem—Aretha, A
dele, Tina Turner, even Beyoncé.

I crumpled
the useless
journal pages
one by one
and
threw
them into the fire. I held
our
perfect
pictures over the flame
s
and laughed as they burned
.

“
Break
another little piece of my heart now baby!”
I screamed with
Janis Joplin.
“Have another little piece of my heart now baby
!
You know you got it
if it makes you feel good
!
”

“Melody?” Jen
stopped
the music and gaped at me. “I’m not even going to ask.”

Turn down
the fire and avoid eye contact…

“I
forgot I left the door unlocked
.
”

“Good thing you did or else I would’ve be
en standing out there all night!
Have you and
Janis
unpacked anything?”

“Just some old memories.
”

“
Let’s get started
then
, unless you wanted
to
finish the song first
.”

“I hate you
.”

I took my time picking out
new
furniture. I spent
countless hours
visiting boutiques and department stores.

A part of me wanted to c
all Sean and ask for
the designer wh
o styled his condo, but I held back.
The last thing I wanted to
do was open a chann
el of communication between us.

I easily found pieces for my living room and dining space, but I couldn’t find anything amazing for my bedroom. I wanted something sleek and modern, something that reflected how much I loved New York City. I guessed summer was the time for traditional and contemporary, because the most
“
modern
”
piece I could find was an egg shaped bed with
re-purposed pipes
for bedposts.