Glitter on the Web (41 page)

“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 1
^st
.

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 always 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.

Christmas dinner I shared with Clem and her Pop Pops. We had tofurkey. I thought back to the year before, when I lived at Ling’s. I had eaten my #2 special with brown rice and vegetable eggroll all by myself, staring at a Hopper print, listening to Gilligan and the Skipper through the walls.

That night when I went home to my new place in WeHo, I found an oldies channel and watched all the Christmas specials. It made me oddly nostalgic. And really lonely. For the first time since I broke away from my family, I felt untethered. Like I didn’t belong anywhere or to anyone.

Normally that was right where I wanted to be. It was comfortable. It was safe. But suddenly I was claustrophobic, like the walls of my tiny safe room were closing in.

I wondered briefly what Eli and his family were doing. I could picture him chasing Gabby and Elizabeth down the mountain as they enjoyed the slopes. I could see them all singing Christmas carols as they sipped hot chocolate around the fire.

Maybe they were at that cabin, and there was a giant pine tree decorated right in front of the massive windows.

It made me think about the barn where Eli and I had first made love. My skin ached for his touch. I had to stop myself from calling him a hundred times, but by the time I went to Frank’s office that following Monday, I was glad I didn’t. I found out that Julie had taken an extended vacation in Denver.

My heart broke all over again as I replayed those holiday scenarios with her inserted right at his side, like I used to be.

New Year’s Eve we spent at the club. Caz was there, as was Camille, who practically glowed like a new woman on his arm. That meant my New Year’s Kisses came from Clem and Antoine, just like the year before. The three Floozy-tiers.

January was all about Eli, but I knew it would be. “
Glitter on the Web
” had been selling like hotcakes since his performance on NYE in New York. We planned to host the release party on January 12
^th
, so we spent those first ten days in party planning mode. There were glitter cannons installed all over the dance floor, along with about five more disco balls to scatter prisms all over the floor like diamonds. They brought in Laverne, Eli’s beloved piano. Tempestuous dressed everyone for the video they were going to tape that night, one of the bonus tracks on the album, one that Eli insisted they do with no rehearsal.

“I want it to be genuine,” he had told us. “For once,” he had said to me.

Maybe that was why I went downstairs on January 12
^th
, to get a good seat for the concert. We were already packed, standing room only, with a line around the block. We erected a big screen to share with everyone who couldn’t get in, just like we had done before. He started with his classics, getting everyone on their feet. I disappeared to the bar for a drink during “
Glitter on the Web
,” which still hurt to hear.

Finally Julie took the stage. She had grown a lot in the last few months, but being Eli’s paramour had that sort of effect. “Okay, everyone. We’re almost ready to tape this video. I want everyone to forget the cameras and concentrate on the action on the stage. I’ve had the special privilege of working closely with Eli to finish this song and I can tell you. You’re not going to want to miss a minute of this.”

Despite how my heart was breaking, I found myself swimming through the sea of bodies to get closer to the stage. A lone spotlight fell on Laverne. When Eli emerged from the shadows after his costume change, everyone went bananas. He wore a suit with no tie, and his shirt opened down to the third button. His dirty blonde hair was mussed, as though he had just got out of bed.