This Life: A Novel (21 page)

About
nine o’clock
in the evening, Tanaya
refilled their wineglasses and said, “I’ve had a wonderful time today, Blake.
You’re worth every penny I paid to meet you.”

“Thanks.” Blake smiled,
and didn’t know what else to say. Drunk and getting sleepy, her shyness of
being with someone like Tanaya was coming back.

“I don’t really want it
to end. Why don’t we get a hotel room and have a sleepover? It will be like we’re
a couple of teenage girls. We can try on clothes and drink and snack and stay
up all night if we feel like it.”

Blake chuckled. She had
never done a sleepover like most teenage girls. “I don’t know about staying up
all night—I’m half asleep already from all the wine. But it sounds fun.”

“Well, all right then,
I’ll call for a room.” Tanaya took out her phone and dialed information,
requested transfer to her favorite hotel in
Manhattan
, and arranged for a room to be waiting for
them.

Suki halted outside the
hotel room and said, “Enjoy the sleepover, Boss. If you need me, I’ll be in the
hallway.”

“Aren’t you joining us?”
Blake wished she’d thought to ask Tanaya for a second room, for Suki.

“No, I’ll just call
Matt and tell him he’s taking my shift tomorrow because I’m taking his tonight.
Third-shift bodyguards are used to entertaining themselves while the boss
sleeps.” Suki shrugged and seated herself cross-legged by the hotel room door.

Drunk as she was, at
first Blake wasn’t sure what seemed strange about the hotel room. It was
luxurious, as everything about her day with Tanaya had been. Thick carpet was
gentle on her feet, which ached from walking around all day. A basket of
gourmet chocolates, cheeses, and crackers awaited them, along with a bucket of
chilled champagne. In the bathroom was a hot tub as well as shower, and the
towels and washcloths were decadently soft.

And there was only one
bed, she finally realized as she sat on it to kick off her shoes. Tanaya sat
next to her and said, “Why don’t we show off our new clothes for each other?”

Blake’s heart raced.
She met Tanaya’s eyes and asked, “Even the lingerie?”

“Especially the
lingerie,” answered Tanaya, and she cupped Blake’s face in her cool, dark,
neatly manicured hands and touched her lips to Blake’s.

For a moment Blake didn’t
respond, shocked into paralysis. Memories of fooling around with other models
in her younger years filled her head. That had been fun, undeniably, but also…unfulfilling.
She’d always thought that meant she was purely heterosexual.

Now, as Tanaya traced
Blake’s lips with the tip of her warm, wet tongue, all the nerve endings in
Blake’s nipples and that magic spot between her legs shrieked for more, More,
MORE. She grabbed Tanaya’s hips and caught her idol’s tongue with her own, and
moaned ecstatically when Tanaya dropped her hands to Blake’s breasts and
circled her thumbs around Blake’s nipples.

“Have you ever been
with a woman before?” purred Tanaya, beginning to slide Blake’s blouse off.

“When I was a model
some of the girls and I played around,” Blake whispered, shivering a little as
the air conditioning touched her chest and back, bare except for a bra that
Tanaya was already unhooking. “It wasn’t like…THIS.” At the last word, Tanaya
whisked Blake’s bra off and gave her left nipple a suckling kiss.

“Oh yeah? Why not?”
Tanaya turned her attention to Blake’s right nipple, and the love button
between Blake’s legs got hard and sore with need.

“We didn’t know what we
were doing,” Blake gasped.

Tanaya raised her eyes
to Blake’s and gave a hushed laugh. And then she laid Blake back on the fluffy
covers and pressed her breasts together and sucked both nipples at once, hard—at
the same time her hand brushed Blake’s hot zone.

Blake hoped third-shift
bodyguards were used to listening to their boss scream.

#

She awakened to Suki
standing over her, looking embarrassed. “I’m sorry, Boss. When she left just
now, I thought you must be up and ready to go.”

“What?” Blake sat up,
realized she was naked, and pulled the covers up to her neck. “Tanaya is gone?”

Suki nodded, then
mumbled, “Uh, you want to sleep some more?”

A sadness filled Blake’s
chest, so overfull she thought her heart was trying to burst. “No. I’ll get
dressed.”

Going through the
clothes Tanaya bought for her when she was back in her penthouse apartment, Blake
found a note from Tanaya scribbled on hotel stationery: “Fun day and fun
sleepover! Wishing you best of luck, Blake. –Tanaya”

Love ’em and leave ’em—not
just for men anymore
, Blake thought, and smiled.

Chapter Thirty-Three

July 5

New York
,
New York

While the rest of the
country had celebrated Independence Day on Saturday, Blake spent the day
listening to jazz records on her turntable and drinking Jack and Coke. Before
night she’d fallen asleep on her bed, at least twice as drunk as the night before
and lost in a melancholy she felt through to the core of her bones.

Sunday morning she was
awakened by a hammering on the apartment door echoed by the hammering in her
head.
Matt or one of the others will handle it
, she promised herself,
and pulled the covers over her head to try to mute the noise.

It was a futile effort.
As soon as the knocking stopped, the voice of Margot Mills lifted in a shout
that bounced around in the apartment walls and Blake’s skull. “BLAKE BERTRAND!
I haven’t slept in two nights and it’s your fault, so you’d better get your ass
out of bed and talk to me!”

Blake added the pillow
to the padding protecting her ears from the cruel world outside. That, too, was
in vain. Margot yanked the pillow away in one direction and the covers in
another.

“You know I’m old
enough to be your mother, and right now I’m tempted to whip your butt,” Margot
said, much too loud. Blake could’ve sworn her best friend’s words were nails
she was banging into Blake’s head.

“Go away,” Blake
moaned, reaching for her other pillow.

“Oh, no you don’t.”
Margot raced around the bed and snatched away the second pillow, as well. “Now,
just you sit up and listen to me.”

Blake looked at Antonio
and Matt, standing in her doorway and watching the performance with matching
grins. “Make her stop.”

“No, ma’am,” said Matt.
“I never tangle with a woman in a mood like that.”

“Me neither,” agreed
Antonio.

“Why did I have to hear
from your Uncle Thorne that you’ve got no money?” Margot dumped pillows and
covers in a heap on the floor and glared at Blake, her hands on her hips.

“I thought you were in
the hospital.” Blake’s thoughts crawled through a swampland of hangover, and
after a time she remembered and added, “And I thought you might hate me.”

“You saved my life.”
Margot’s face softened and she sat at Blake’s feet and reached for Blake’s
nearer hand. “I was angry at you. Hell, I was angry at the whole world. But I
could never hate you, Blake.”

Blake shook her head
and mumbled, “Even if I thought we were okay, you’ve got your own troubles to
deal with.”

“And you have troubles
you can’t deal with alone.” Margot squeezed Blake’s hand. “Besides, since
getting out of the hospital Wednesday, I’ve been fine. I’ve even filed for
divorce. When Edith told me you’ve laid off everyone who worked for you, I
thought I’d have a heart attack.”

“I would have welcomed
one when the FBI froze all my assets.” Blake stared at her bare knees. Her legs
needed shaving in the worst way, and she wondered if she could do it when she
felt like someone had beat her from head to toe with a baseball bat.

“Well, they’re going to
have to unfreeze them, because I know my Blake wouldn’t screw around with the
Mafia.” Margot gave Blake’s hand another squeeze, then released it to shrug her
purse off her shoulder. “Now, first, how much do you need for rent?”

“Uncle Thorne sent me
some money. I’m okay.”

“Define okay.”

“I’ve got the rent for
this place paid until the lease expires. I can eat, as long as it’s nothing
fancy. I already have a ticket back to
Miami
and a moving company hired to take all my stuff back to
Fisher
Island
. Mom and I have our
condos paid through December.”

“You didn’t say
anything about an attorney. Or your mom’s nurses and physical therapy. Or maybe
even a detective to prove you’re innocent.”

“Uncle Thorne couldn’t
afford all that.”

“Well, honey, Thomas
owes me half of all the millions he’s earned during our marriage. I can afford
all that and more.” Margot took out her checkbook and poised a pen over it. “Name
an amount, or I’ll just guess.”

#

August 18

New York
,
New York

Weeks passed. Much
happened in that time, and yet time seemed to crawl.

One week at a time,
Blake eliminated six more contestants from
The Takeover
: Sierra Willis,
Chase Painter, Eric Schroeder, Vin Guevara, Danny Sun, and Ray Fisher each in
turn punched out the clock. Each week, Vanessa and Jerome urged Blake to name
Gabby Truitt as the winner at the show’s end. Barbara Santers contacted Blake,
asking her to appear on
The Scene
the day after broadcast of the final
episode of
The Takeover
, so that Santers could make a one-time return to
the show to interview Blake. It was Blake’s pleasure to say yes to the
invitation, because it meant a lifelong dream would actually come true.

Kenton Rhodes sent
Blake at least one video per week of Lionel’s jazz band rehearsing, and shared
with her the boy’s desire to start performing in public venues and Kenton’s
reluctance to let him begin living the show business life so young. Blake didn’t
share with Kenton how each video made her heart ache to be a mother to her son,
and how each conversation made her yearn to feel Kenton’s arms around her
again.

Acting on the tip Brett
Skeet had given her, attorney Enrico Torres and his consulting partner
Stephanie Chesser hired a forensic accountant to examine the copy of the
Bertrand bookkeeping that Blake got as part of her divorce. Within a few days
of being hired, the forensic accountant reported that the Bertrand books were “cooked
to a crisp.” He added that an expert could easily decipher how Lang had
concealed his work for the Mafia from Blake throughout their marriage,
including paying their shared accountant to keep an accurate set of records for
Lang and present carefully doctored records to Blake. Torres and Chesser
provided a partial copy of the forensic accountant’s final report to the FBI,
who promised to do as requested and announce a formal public declaration that
Blake Bertrand was no longer suspected of any wrongdoing.

She was still waiting
for that, and for the rest of her money to be taken off hold. Meanwhile, she
had only this last week of filming, and then she could prepare for her move
back to
Miami
. She wasn’t sorry that
she’d be leaving
New
York
.
Miami
was home, where her
courageous mother Jacinta no longer needed a cane to climb stairs or walk long
distances, where Margot was building a new life, where her son Lionel was
growing up fast, and where Kenton loved her in her dreams and in the waking
world had just declared himself a candidate for the U.S. House of Representatives.

On this Tuesday
afternoon, Blake sat in a meeting with Vanessa, Jerome, and some NBC executives
and representatives of major advertisers, comparing how Gabby Truitt and Eve
Womack had performed on the final challenge of
The Takeover
. “
Entertainment
Weekly
,
Wall Street Journal
, and
TMZ
have all predicted Gabby
to win,” observed one of the advertising reps.

“They should fire their
fortune tellers,” Blake replied. “Gabby hasn’t earned the win.”

“How can you say that?
Their final projects were equally well done,” Vanessa protested.

“In some other
universe, maybe, but not in this one.” Blake sat up straight and met each
person’s gaze in turn. “Eve’s marketing strategy for her pediatric recreation
center is simply brilliant. She made a TV commercial that moves viewers to both
tears and laughter, and her proposal to hospital management makes such a good
argument for the business value of adding a pediatric rec center that I can’t
imagine anyone saying no to her. Gabby’s TV commercial is cute but a half hour
later viewers can’t tell you the name of her company, and her proposal to movie
studios doesn’t really convince me that they should use her production company
rather than anyone else’s.”

“Viewers consistently
rate Gabby higher for likability than Eve,” Jerome mentioned, and then withdrew
inside his shell.

“I suppose that would
be paramount in importance, if they both wanted to live their lives on film
stages. This show is about who’s the most promising entrepreneur. Or at least,
that’s what I was told when I was asked to host it. I never would have agreed
to do this if I’d been told it’s only about who viewers would rather go out for
drinks with.”

Nobody spoke. Blake
nodded, more to herself than anyone else. “Tomorrow I declare Eve Womack winner
of
The Takeover
. I suggest you all get used to the idea.” She stood, as
did Antonio, and since it was then
half past four o’clock
, she returned to her apartment early.

#

August 19

New York
,
New York

Lights. Cameras.
Action:

Seated at the long
conference table on the set of
The Takeover
, Blake faced Gabby Truitt
and Eve Womack for the last time. Both women were jittery with anticipation,
Eve frequently flexing her hands and Gabby bouncing one foot on the floor at
rapid speed.

“As always, your work
on this challenge was reviewed by experts. In this case, professional marketing
agencies rated your promotional strategies and materials by the same criteria
they use for their own employees. They also brought in test viewers for your TV
commercials, and panels whose members were recruited from the professions you’d
need to sell your business to in competition with rival businesses. You were
both considered to have done good work.”

Blake stood before she
said, “In business, being good isn’t enough. You’ve got to convince the world
you’re the best.”

She moved to stand by
the plush clock, and looked back at the two anxious women still sitting at the
table. “Two-thirds of the marketing agencies, test viewers, and panels of
professionals agreed on one of you as the winner. And I agree with their
reasoning. So…Gabby Truitt, punch out the clock. Eve Womack, congratulations on
being the first winner of
The Takeover
.”

Melodrama:

“This is a joke, right?”
Gabby continued to sit at the table, looking around with a dazed expression on
her face. Meanwhile, Eve’s family and significant other rushed onto the stage
to hug and cheer for her.

Nobody replied to her,
so Gabby shouted, “I was promised I’d win!”

Vanessa flapped an
urgent hand at the director, who motioned the cameraman to cut the recording. “Now,
Gabby, we talked about this—”

“YOU PROMISED!” Gabby
burst into a flood of tears and choking sobs, and ran off the stage.

Blake felt a knot rise
in her throat. She marched toward Vanessa and demanded, “Was she telling the
truth? Did you promise her she’d win?”

“We thought we could
persuade you,” said Jerome, behind Vanessa. He cowered as Vanessa whirled
around and leveled a piercing glare at him.

“So this is reality TV,”
Blake said, looking at another camera that appeared to be still recording. “But
whose reality is it?”

She walked off the
stage and tried to find Gabby, Matt following her. But Gabby and Lang were
nowhere to be found.