The Trophy Wives Club Page 10

  The alarm sounds, and I quickly punch in the code and turn it off before the whole house system sounds. Jay always did miss the details. Change the locks, but not the codes and leave the front door unlocked. It’s all the same scenario. Get married, tell the wife how to act and be, ignore any form of relationship.

  Rosario instantly appears, shaking her head. “No, no. You shouldn’t be here,” she says, wagging her forefinger at me. “Go home.”

  “I have no home. Is he here, Rosario?” I scan around her.

  She comes beside me and lowers her voice, “No, he’s not here, but she is here. Very messy girl.” Rosario gives her tsk-tsk sound. “Why do you want to come here?”

  I hold up the ring box. “I have something that belongs to Jay.”

  “Go home, sweetie.”

  I feel the fight rise within me, and when I stop to realize she’s in my house, this ugly, jealous green monster comes bubbling up as well. “Is he going to marry her?”

  “I think so, yes.” She says this as gently as possible, but I feel it like a knock to the gut. The woman who stole my husband and my life is in my home and I’m being asked to leave. “She has left bridal magazines all over the house. She is very valuable to him right now. It will pass, Haley. You know it will.”

  “Where’s Darcy?” I ask, looking for my cat. “He didn’t even let me get her, you know.”

  “Mr. Cutler put her outside.”

  “Just like me. She can’t live outside. She’s an indoor cat! She’s been pampered her whole life, and he had her declawed.”

  “You are surviving. Darcy will too. You’re both tougher than you look.”

  “Rosario, I think I’ve been reclawed, not declawed. Will you find the cat for me before I leave?” I walk toward the family room. “I’ll be nice.”

  Rosario tugs at my arm. “He’ll arrest you, Mrs. Haley, and fight for what little he gave you.”

  I turn on my heel. “How do you know he gave me little?”

  She purses her lips. “He signs my paychecks, doesn’t he?”

  I run my finger along the foyer marble table. “Do you like her?”

  “In my country, we have names for women like her, and they are not welcome in good society, not that my town has much good society, but she wouldn’t be welcome there, regardless. But I need this job, so I smile and clean up after her dirty self. Does that answer your question?”

  “I want to see her.” I try to pull my arm away.

  Rosario shakes her head. “Why, Miss Haley? She’s not a nice person. She’ll only hurt you more. You just need to move on and be happy. You weren’t happy here. I’ll get Darcy, and you two go and be happy.” I keep walking, and Rosario tugs again. “She has to stay here with him, do you really think she’ll find happiness?”

  I square my shoulders. “Not if I can help it. I’ll leave, Rosario. After I see her. I don’t know why I want to look in the casket either, but it provides closure, I suppose. I want to see her.” I march resolutely into the family room. It looks the same, its bleached wood beams and the casual elegance of the buff colors against the backdrop of a huge fireplace. The designer charged us a fortune to make the room look as nondescript as a psychologist’s office.

  “That’s not beige, Mr. Cutler. It’s Sahara sand,” she’d said.

  “It’s ugly,” I said.

  “Mr. Cutler”—the designer took him aside—“no offense to you, sir, but your wife is young and I am a professional with twenty years’ experience.”

  “And yet still only twenty yourself,” I snapped back at her. But I have to give her credit, she realized who was boss.

  I was excused about then. To brighten up the Sahara sand, our professional also brought in Burnt Ivory and Tawny Amber. Also known to you and me as beige number two and three. There’s a giant screen that comes down from the ceiling. Jay has used it many times to screen his new movies for friends. Colleagues. I’m not sure we had what you would call friends. So why am I here, like a stupid lab rat who knows the way out?

  “I don’t think we ever lit that fireplace,” I say absently, as I see Rachel sitting on the custom-made down sofa. It looks thirty years old already and it’s only been here about three years. So much for quality. “I suppose there’s not much use for fireplaces in Brentwood, is there? Odd that this place has four of them.”

  Rachel, my nemesis, stands and yarn drops on the sofa. She knits. How cozy. I have to admit, it gives me a little pleasure to see her keeping herself busy, like I always had to do because Jay was never around. That scarf will grow mighty long.

  “What are you doing here?” She bolts away from the sofa, holding her knitting needles out like tiny swords.

  “Great moves. Did you learn that as an extra on that Korean soap opera?”

  “Did Rosario let you in? I knew I should have fired that girl. Of course she’d be loyal to you and betray me!”

  “Betray you? Rosario? I think if you want to look for betrayal, you might think about calling here late at night asking my husband for assistance. Then, luring him to a foreign country into your lair. Is that the kind of betrayal you’re speaking of? I was nice to you, Rachel. When everyone told me you were a no-talent hack, I stood up for you. I told Jay you deserved a second chance.”

  “It’s not like that. You make it sound cheap!”

  “No, cheap is posing topless on free Web sites. Plotting to take someone’s husband borders on psychotic.” I look over and see my picture is still on the mantel. “He’ll never notice these pictures, you’ll have to remove them yourself if you want them gone. I can’t say I’d want to stare at a picture of you, so go ahead, take them down. You took the real thing down without much guilt. I don’t see why you’d be stymied by a photograph.”

  “I do want them gone. Rosario!” she yells. Her voice is trembling. Her reaction calms me.

  “Rosario didn’t let me in; you haven’t changed the codes, and the front door was unlocked. You’ll have to do all that, you know. Jay just works. That’s what he does. This house is your job. The parties are your job. He’s missing the protective gene, so if you think he’ll shelter you in any way, shape, or form, you’re in for a world of hurt.”

  She backs up. I like that I scare her. For a brief blip in time, I feel powerful. “What do you want? If you want the pictures, take them!” she says in a panicked voice.

  “I don’t want anything,” I reply in monotone, running my fingers along the mantel. “I actually came to give back something that belongs to Jay.”

  “Then leave it and get out.” Her eyes go panic-stricken again. “Wait a minute, what is it?”

  “Tsk. Tsk. One of the first things you’ll have to learn as Mrs. Cutler is how to be sweet, even when people are rude to you, or you don’t like them. It’s simply not your right to have an opinion on someone. You probably haven’t learned that being in the movies.”

  “Why would you come here?”

  “I wanted to congratulate you on your Golden Globe,” I quip, as I take the coveted statue in my hand.

  “Put that down,” she says with an outstretched arm. “It just happened. I never meant to end up with a married man. Sometimes, things are meant to be. Jay and I we’re just—we’re just soul mates, all right?”

  “Jay doesn’t have a soul. Maybe you don’t either, and you’re right, huh? Two soul mates without souls. How touching.” I sigh, putting the coveted statue back on the mantel. “People are such victims these days. No personal responsibility. They can’t help themselves.” I look down at the coffee table. “You have to change the magazines out to keep them current. Rosario won’t get rid of them unless you tell her to, in case you’re saving an article. Sometimes Jay gets ideas for films from articles.”

  “Thanks for the tip.” She’s walking toward the phone as though she’s invisible, and I can’t see her.

  “Who are you going to call, Rachel? Technically, you’re in my husband’s house, and I’m not going to hurt you, though I have to admit that would make ve
ry good tabloid material. A right pretty penny in my pocket. Go ahead, call. Personally, I think I could take you down pretty easily. You keep your figure by being twenty, I work for mine.” I curl up my biceps for her perusal.

  “Rosario!” Rachel calls. “Rosario!”

  “Paparazzi are like vultures, and they’re only around when you don’t want them. I’ll hold up the statue like I’m going to hit you with it. That is supermarket cover material!”

  “You’re legally separated, getting a divorce, whatever. Don’t worry about me handling things, all right? I’m not like you, Haley. I have a career.” She shakes her dark hair. “I have the intellect you lacked. That’s why he left you, you know. He said you never thought for yourself, and he couldn’t think for two any longer.”

  “Because every time I did think for myself, it ended up in three rounds. I’m not really much for conflict. And please. You’re not trying to tell me you have the IQ of a genius, are you? I would think most geniuses know better than to take their clothes off on Web sites and call it a career.”

  “Get out of this house now! In case that statue doesn’t tell you, I’m a serious actor!”

  “Right. I could tell.” At the moment, I feel like I could step into any heel and not come within a square mile of a wall! “You could have any man you wanted, why him? Did he write a big check to your favorite charity, make you think he’d meet your every need?” I flop on the couch and casually stretch out my arms. “He will, you know. He’ll meet absolutely every need. Your wish is his command until he gets what he wants. You’re nothing more than a conquest to him. Do you see that chair over there?” I point to the King Louis replica. “He’ll look at you soon, just like he looks at that chair. An inanimate object.”

  “It’s like Jay says, you didn’t appreciate him.” Rachel sounds more desperate than ever. “He wants to be needed, appreciated. All men do. You were too busy running off to the gym or getting your nails done. What kind of woman cares more about her appearance than her own husband?”

  I let out a laugh. “I suppose the same kind who is told she’s only valuable for her looks.”

  “When that’s all you’ve got—what else is he supposed to compliment you on?”

  “Didn’t they teach you anything in that modeling school about men like Jay? It’s always someone else’s fault. Soon, he’ll have you to blame, and I’ll look like the sainted ex-wife. Mark my words, Rachel. You’ll envy me one day because I’m free.”

  “Stop it.” She points to the door. “I want you out of here. Jay said you were a psycho, and he’s right.”

  “He probably is, but he had a good part in making me that way. Just like Norman Bates’s mother.”

  “Why would you want to be with a man who doesn’t want you? You come around here like a lovesick puppy. This isn’t your house!”

  “I’ll ask you the same question in a year, Rachel. Some days I feel happy to have escaped, and others I think about how I have nowhere to go because I slowly lost all my real friends to this life. If I can give you one piece of advice, it would be to keep your life.”

  “That’s not Jay’s fault that you have no life.”

  I look her straight in the eye. “I suppose it isn’t.” I study my fingernails and focus on the red dent where my wedding ring used to be. “You’re very beautiful, Rachel, even in person. I’m sorry for you that it won’t be enough. Although why you would pick such an older man, a B-list producer by tabloid standards.” Sure, he makes money hand over fist, but the culture he brings is worse than what you find in yogurt.

  “Jay said if you talk to them, the settlement is over. He told me, and he prepared for your games.”

  “Only because he doesn’t trust his own shadow. The settlement is half what I’d get from the tabloids, by the way. That’s hardly a threat. Do you realize that? That he offered less than the tabloids would pay for even a pseudosalacious story. For such a brilliant man, he could use a little help in the math department.”

  Her face stiffens, like she’s been Botoxed. She’s way too young to be Botoxed. The doctor who started that, saying young women could ward off aging, ought to be shot. I realize that I want her to experience a little terror, and I don’t like that I’m capable of such emotions. But, I want her to feel what she’s done to my security.

  I pull Jay’s wedding ring out of my pocket. “Jay lost this, and I found it for him. I thought he might want it back.” I put it on the coffee table, and Rachel picks it up and throws it at me. I catch it like a second baseman.

  “Get out!”

  Rosario comes in the room, her voice stern. “You no belong here, Mrs. Cutler.” Rosario always puts on the deep accent when it’s convenient for her, but the truth is, she speaks perfect English without the slightest hint of an accent. She only uses it to her benefit and always around Jay. I smile subtly at her, grateful she’s giving me the opportunity for a smooth exit.

  “I’m leaving.” I pick up the ring and glance at Rachel. “By the way, you can ask Martin how to change the code on the gates and the house, and it will be done before dark. Not that I’m coming back, but that might make you feel safer. You know what they say about a woman scorned.” I allow my eyes to flash.

  “He’s mine now!” she hisses. “We’ll be married the day he’s free of you!”

  “Gosh, I hope you can act better than that in the movies.” I shake my head. “Pathetic, really. Not believable at all.” I know she can act. I’m the one who cast her. Dang, I’m stupid.

  I see the corner of Rosario’s lip curve, and I make my way toward the front door. It’s over. For some reason, I just needed to know that and feel it for myself. Okay, I’m good. Time to move on.

  Apparently, Rachel isn’t quite as ready. She lifts up a crystal globe that we picked up in Mexico and hurls at me. It hits the doorjamb and, rather than shattering, leaves a dent in the wall and bounces back onto the carpet, unfazed. “I knew that guy wasn’t really selling us crystal. Jay paid $400 for a glorified paperweight.”

  “He’s Oscar worthy, you know. You held him back. I’m going to take him to the top.”

  I feel like my heart, once clutched in pain, is free to beat again. Rachel’s words go for the throat, but in actuality, they only highlight the truth that I ignored for so long. First, that without a writer, Rachel’s an idiot, and second, that Jay never truly thought of me as a person. Naturally, he would think nothing of kicking me out on the street. In his mind, I was never actually here to begin with.

  “Good luck, Rachel. I mean that.”

  “Luck has nothing to do with it, girlfriend.” She snaps her fingers like she’s watched one too many rap videos. “Rosario, call the police.” She looks at me again. “You’re not getting away with this. You just can’t walk into a house in Brentwood and call the shots. Rosario, now.”

  Rosario stands there like she doesn’t understand. I almost expect her to say, “No Ingles.” Eventually, she makes her way to the phone and picks it up, giving me ample time to walk out.

  I jump into my car and dial Anna to tell her what I think of her. Once again, she won’t take my calls, so I dial Lindsay. As sarcastic and bitter as she may be, she’s also all that I’ve got. If you’re judged by the company you keep, this is not a good sign for me.

  “It’s Haley Cutler. I went by the house,” I confess.

  “You went by, or you went in?” she asks. I thought she might say who is this, but like any good sponsor, she knows me immediately.

  “I went in,” I admit.

  “Did you sneak in, or ring the doorbell?”

  I pull the phone away and look at it. How does she know this stuff? “I snuck in. Turned the alarm off and everything.”

  She gasps. “Did you see him?”

  “No, but I saw her, and I left his wedding ring there. I found it in a shop when I went in to sell mine.”

  “Did you get a good price?”

  “Not really, but it’s gone now and I’m happy about that. Emotionally it was weighing
me down.”

  “Haley, that’s exactly what we were talking about last night. You can’t make rash decisions!”

  “It wasn’t rash. It was for the cash. That shows forethought.”

  “I’ll loan you the money until you sell it at auction. Go get it back!”

  I ignore her. “I’ve stockpiled a lot. I just need to spend some now. It’s disheartening. She’s really a dim bulb, and she told me Jay left me because I wasn’t smart enough for him.”

  “What did you expect her to say? You probably scared the life out of her.”

  “I wonder if that’s what everyone thought about me, too.”

  “You sound different. You don’t sound angry today.”

  “I just realized something.”

  “That you don’t walk into ex-husband’s houses unexpected?”

  “Well, that too, but I realized I’ve been waiting my whole life for Prince Charming to rescue me.”

  “Uh-huh?”

  “Today, I walked into a jewelry store, sold my ring, snuck into my old house, confronted the other woman, and I survived it all. I can do this myself. Rachel didn’t wait for anyone to make her a princess.” I feel my stomach roil as I envy Rachel. Not only because she’s taken over my life, but that she had her own to begin with.

  “Oh, I think she did let someone make her a princess,” Lindsay quips. “It’s better known in contemporary terms as the casting couch.”

  “It never dawned on me. I can do it myself. It’s my mother’s fault. Yes, I’m definitely blaming my mother. She brought me up believing that a man would make everything all better, and you know, I really love my father, but my mother is still dysfunctional with him in her life. She makes teddy bears out of old clothes and goes to a church where they talk to rocks—okay cement statues of saints, but still. Someone else is not going to fix my life.”

  “Oh Haley.” Lindsay exhales in exaggerated form; it sounds like a whale coming up for air. “I thought you had a God moment. I’d hoped you were ready to be a daughter of the King. You know, a true princess.”