Model Fantasy (14 page)

“Thank you,” she whispered, smoothing her hand over the soft leather. “You heard that?”

“Yeah, sorry.” He nodded. “You don’t deserve to be treated that way. You deserve someone who’ll treat you right and never hurt you. On purpose at least,” he amended. “Men do stupid things, but cheating on a woman just isn’t right. Don’t take him back.”

“I’m not going to,” she said in a low firm voice. “Thank you, Gerry.” She raised watery eyes to him. “I appreciate your kindness. I hope you find a woman who deserves you.”

Slinging her hobo bag over her shoulder, she left the studio. Gerry leaned against the wall and sighed.

****

The jazz theme echoed from the phone and Francine groaned. Stretching out her hand, she grabbed it off the nightstand. The clock told her it was four-thirty.

“Jasmine, I realize you’re just going to bed, but…”

“You haven’t heard?” came the breathless voice. “Shit, it’s all over the clubs!”

“What are you talking about? Jazzy, what did you do?”

“I didn’t do anything! You did!”

Francine bolted upright. Oh, shit, her brain froze. Someone had found out about that fantasy day.

“Me? What? What did I do?” she managed to ask, praying she was wrong.

“Word is all over the place that Kevin MacLauren caught you doing cocaine in his apartment and threw you out.”

“What?” she shrieked. “I’ve never done drugs in my life!”

“And Delilah is saying you tried to get her to do it with you.”

“You’ve got to be kidding me!” Francine trembled in rage. “I came home from Fiji and found the two of them in bed together! I left and checked into the Franklin. I came home Sunday and threw everything of his into the trash.”

“That’s not what everyone’s hearing,” Jasmine told her. “And, Frannie, it’s hit the press. It’s all over the tabloids and the internet.”

“Oh, my God,” breathed Francine. “It’s all a lie. Everyone knows that. I can’t even take an aspirin, for cryin’ out loud! People know me. It’s ridiculous that anyone can believe that shit!”

“I’m just telling you what I’m hearing.” Jasmine paused and a door closed. “Okay, I’m back in my place. I called Heather as soon as I found out. She’ll know what to do. Heather?” Her voice called out for her roommate. “We’ll figure something out.”

“Jasmine, there shouldn’t be anything to figure out! I’ve never done drugs! I caught the two of them literally in the act and…”

“There’s more.”

“More?” Francine gasped. “What more? How could there be more?”

“Kevin’s saying you were spying for a competitor and took all the money from your joint account.”

“What? What competitor? We never had a joint account! How? What…” She closed her eyes as her entire body trembled. “I don’t believe this. Jazzy, I… I—”

“Heather!” Jasmine yelled. “She’s hyperventilating.”

“Well, I don’t blame her one bit,” the calm voice replied. “Give me the phone.”

There was hushed whispering and then Heather’s voice came on the phone. “Francine, it’s Heather. You don’t worry about a thing. My cousin, Bronson Franklin, is a lawyer. I’ve already called and left messages for him on his cell and at his office. He specializes in dealing with assholes like Kevin. You get some more sleep…”

“Sleep?” Francine gasped. “How am I supposed to get back to sleep after this?”

“I know, sweetie,” she soothed. “As soon as Bronson gets back to me, I’ll call you and take you to his office. Now, the best defense is a frontal attack, or something like that,” she said. “You are going to continue your normal routine.”

“Okay.” Francine stared at the painting between her closet and bathroom doors. “I don’t have anything today except to get groceries. I was going to go to the gym, but…”

“And you’ll go to a club with us tomorrow,” Heather told her. “And on Friday, you’ll go to my grandmother’s charity ball for breast cancer research. The girls and I will be with you every step of the way—”

“No,” Francine shook her head frantically. “Not the charity ball! Kevin will be there!”

“Good,” Heather said stubbornly. “You are not going to hide from him. You’re going to hold your head up and dare him to repeat such trash to your face.”

“Heather, he’s your cousin.”

“Only by a strange, cruel twist of fate. It’s proof that God has a sense of humor,” she replied. “Really, Keith is the only one of my cousins on that side of the family I have any use for. Well, maybe Penny if she used her brain,” she muttered.

“Heather, I can’t go to the charity—”

“Yes, you will,” she insisted. “Now, you do have a gown, right?”

“Yes, fairy godmother,” Francine sighed. When Heather got like this it was like being steamrolled. And Francine didn’t have the energy to argue with her, or come up with anything else to counter what Kevin had done. “I can’t believe this.”

“I know,” sighed the other woman in sympathy. “But we’ll take care of him.”

After an hour on her treadmill, another hour pushing her body with weights, she started doing yoga. All she managed to accomplish was to exhaust her body, while leaving her mind spinning at what she knew was happening.

After a long hot shower, Francine pulled on a pair of jeans and a tee. She nibbled on some fruit and dared to turn the TV on. As she’d thought, the story was everywhere. More lurid and horrible than Jasmine or Heather had said. Snapping the set off, she tossed the remote back into its basket and tried to settle down with a book. Jane Austen had always been able to transport her to another world, but today the machinations of husband-seeking sisters didn’t do anything but remind her of what she was going through.

“This is ridiculous,” she said to her empty apartment. “I’m tired of hiding.”

Putting on her boots, heavy coat and gloves, she grabbed her purse and headed for the corner market. Three paparazzi were waiting for her on the sidewalk. A feeling of dread knotted her stomach. Quickening her stride, she whisked through the store getting her produce, yogurt, and milk. As she reached the cereal aisle, there was a commotion outside. She nearly dropped the box in her hand. The front window was blocked by the crowds outside.

“Oh, my God,” she whispered. “This isn’t happening.”

As she reached the cash register, the owner and manager appeared at her side.

“We’ll make sure you get home, Francine,” he said quietly.

“You know why they’re here?” she asked.

He nodded.

“My daughter called a few minutes ago. It’s all right. The people in the neighborhood know you better than that. We’ll take care of you.”

“Thank you,” she whispered.

“Jack, maybe we better take her through the back,” the manager suggested.

“No.” She shook her head. “I’m not hiding. I haven’t done anything wrong.”

“You heard the lady, Will.”

It was a madhouse scramble walking the half block to her brownstone. A couple of teenage boys came to help the grocer and manager protect her. The doorman had seen the crowd and called two other staff members to hold the press back as she reached them. Safely inside her home, she put the food away and called Heather.

“Maybe I should just hide?” she suggested. “They were like piranha just when I went to the grocery store!”

“I saw,” Heather told her. “No quitting, Francine.”

“I might not have a choice,” she said bitterly. “My agent, Priscilla Adams, left a voice mail. She said the cosmetic company was considering dropping me and the soda company wasn’t sure if they would air or print the work we did yesterday.”

“That’s nonsense,” Heather said briskly. “Now, we’ll be there in thirty minutes to go to my cousin’s office.”

“Okay,” Francine replied weakly. “I can just imagine how this will look.”

“You’re fighting back, Francine. You have to stand up to lies. I learned that from my cousin Grant years ago. If you don’t fight back, then the assholes of the world win. And you are not letting them win, do you hear me?”

“Heather, why are you so adamant about this? Is this about me? Or you?” Francine frowned.

There was a silence over the line and then a heavy sigh.

“Yeah, it might be a little personal,” Heather admitted. “I’ve seen Kevin pull this shit too many times in my life. The fact that he’s doing it to a friend of mine just hits a little too close to home. You’re not alone in this, Francine. Your friends know the truth. And they’re defending you. I think Jasmine has done interviews with everyone she can get hold of. Some photo shoot assistant named Gerry said you were the most real celebrity he’d ever worked with and there was no way a lady, his words, could ever do what Kevin and Delilah are saying about you.”

“Bless his heart.” Francine smiled, relaxing slightly.

“Don’t bless ’em too soon,” Heather warned. “He said he overheard a phone conversation you had with Kevin yesterday afternoon. Gerry said that while you didn’t name the other woman that you were saying you’d found Kevin in bed with ‘her’ and you wouldn’t put up with it.”

“I don’t believe this,” she groaned.

“Hey, I’m not crazy about personal arguments getting out like that, but in this case, it works out in your favor.” Heather paused. “Okay, Jasmine and I are leaving now to pick you up. Lily and Rose are going to meet us there.”

“What?” Francine blinked.

“I told you,” she said patiently. “You’re not going through this alone. Bronson’s already rallied his legal assistants to the case. I’ll call him and tell him to get hold of Priscilla. Now, change into a suit and we’ll be there in twenty to pick you up.”

“Okay.”

Francine closed the cell phone. Frowning, she felt like she was missing something. Why did those names sound familiar? She glared at the innocent sunflower painting as if it was hiding the answer. Dammit! She knew the answer was just out of reach if she could just have time to think.

Knowing she barely had time to get ready, she hurried to her closet. Just what did one wear to a lawyer’s office to discuss legal strategy regarding libel and such? Something serious and classic, she decided. Now, where the hell was her grey silk suit? Hoping like crazy it wasn’t at the cleaner’s, she flipped through the hangers. Bingo! Triumphantly, she plucked it off the rack and studied her blouses. Something ladylike and soft? Pink always looked good on her, she mused, examining her favorite blouses. The small ruffles would do.

Dressing swiftly, she went to her vanity and sat down. For once, she couldn’t decide what to do with her hair. Up or down? Braided? Or loose? Exasperated, she pulled it back into a ponytail secured at her nape and began to carefully apply her cosmetics. She would be the epitome of gentility, grace, strength, and serenity, she decided. Grace Kelly would be her role model. If the paparazzi followed her, she would say ‘no comment’, as she had coming home from the grocer’s, but her face... She smiled at her reflection. Her face would show hurt, dignified hurt and shock that such things were being said about her. That her ex-fiancé had betrayed her. That she was being so vilified.

Taking a deep breath, she stepped into the closet, putting her wallet, cell phone, and lipstick in her grey Chanel purse. Pulling on her black wool coat and the colorful scarf her eight-year-old niece had made her for Christmas, she went to meet Heather and Jasmine.

Francine was relieved to see that Heather was behind the wheel. Jasmine seemed to take great delight in giving her passengers heart attacks by driving like a bat out of hell. She also used driving to vent her emotions. Given that sparks were flying out of the brown eyes as the paparazzi swarmed the car, Francine had a feeling there would be bodies in the street if her fellow model was driving.