Last Night at Chateau Marmont
Page 87
By the time Rhonda said, “I do hope you understand this is only temporary, and it’s a last resort that none of us is happy about,” Brooke had mentally checked out. She didn’t suggest to Rhonda that the hostile mother currently holding court for press outside the school was the person drawing all the media attention, not her. She refrained from reminding her principal that she had never mentioned the school by name in a single interview and had never, ever compromised her students’ privacy by so much as explaining her responsibilities to anyone outside her immediate circle of friends and family. Instead, she forced herself into appropriate-response autopilot, assuring Rhonda she understood, that she knew it wasn’t her decision, that she’d be on her way as soon as she tied up a few loose ends. Less than an hour later, Brooke walked back into the anteroom with her coat on and bag slung over her shoulder and ran into Heather.
“Hey, are you done for the day already? I’m jealous.”
Brooke felt a lump growing in her throat and coughed. “More like done for the foreseeable future.”
“I heard what happened,” Heather whispered, although they were alone in the room. Brooke wondered how she already knew and then remembered how fast rumors spread in a high school.
Brooke shrugged. “Yeah, well, that’s part of the deal. If I were a parent paying forty grand a year for my daughter to go to school here, I guess I wouldn’t be thrilled to have her harassed by paparazzi every time she stepped outside. Rhonda told me that some of the girls had been contacted by tabloid reporters via their Facebook accounts, asking what I was like at school and if I ever talked about Julian. Can you imagine?” She sighed. “If that’s really the case, I probably should be dismissed.”
“Vile. They are absolutely vile people. Listen, Brooke, I really think you should meet my friend. The one I was telling you about whose husband won American Idol? I’m guessing not a lot of people know what you’re going through, but trust me, she gets it. . . .” Heather’s voice trailed off, and she looked anxious, like she was afraid she’d pushed too hard.
Brooke had less than zero interest in meeting Heather’s significantly younger friend from Alabama and comparing husband woes, but she nodded. “Sure, get me her e-mail and I’ll shoot her a note.”
“Oh, don’t worry about it. I’ll have her get in touch with you if that’s okay?”
It was absolutely not okay, but what could she say? She just wanted to get out of there before she ran into anyone else. “Sure, sounds good,” she said awkwardly.
Brooke forced a smile and a little wave and bolted for the front door. She passed a group of girls in the hall and one of them called her name. She thought about pretending she hadn’t heard, but she couldn’t just ignore it. When she turned around, Kaylie was walking toward her.
“Mrs. A? Where are you going? Don’t we have our appointment today? I heard there are a bunch of reporters outside.”
Brooke looked at the girl, who was, as usual, twisting frizzy strands of hair nervously around her fingers, and felt a surge of guilt. “Hey, sweetheart. It looks like I’m, well, I’m going to be taking a little time off.” When Kaylie’s face fell, she rushed on. “But don’t worry, it’s only temporary, I’m sure, and you’re doing so great.”
“But, Mrs. A., I don’t think that—”
Brooke interrupted her and leaned in closer to the girl, so none of the other students could hear them. “Kaylie, you’ve graduated beyond me,” she said with what she hoped was a reassuring smile. “You’re strong and healthy and you know—probably better than any girl here—how to take care of yourself. Not only do you fit in, but you’re one of the stars of the school play. You look great and you feel great . . . hell, I don’t know what more I could do with you.”
Kaylie smiled back at her and leaned in for a hug. “I won’t tell anyone you just cursed,” she said.
Brooke swatted the girl’s arm and grinned, although she could feel her throat constricting. “You take care. And call if you need anything. But trust me, you’re not getting rid of me that quickly. I’ll be back soon, okay?”
Kaylie nodded and Brooke tried not to cry. “And promise me: no more moronic cleanses, okay? We’re over that, right?”
“We’re over it,” Kaylie said with a smile.
Brooke gave a small wave and turned back toward the building’s exit, determined to keep moving past the handful of lingering photographers who launched into a shouting, questioning frenzy when they saw her, and she didn’t slow down until she hit Fifth Avenue. She checked to make sure no one had followed her and then tried to hail a cab, a completely fruitless endeavor at four in the afternoon. After twenty frustrating minutes, she hopped a crosstown bus on Eighty-sixth Street and rode west to the 1 train, where she was grateful to find a seat in the very last car.
She closed her eyes and sat back, not caring that her hair was touching the place on the wall where so many people had rubbed their greasy locks. So this was what it felt like to get fired not once but twice in the same week. She was just beginning to feel really sorry for herself when she opened her eyes and saw Julian smiling down at her from an advertisement.
It was the same publicity headshot she’d seen a thousand times, framed by a photo of his album cover and the line “For the Lost,” but she’d never seen it on the subway before, and she hadn’t noticed how his eyes seemed to stare directly into hers. The irony that he was there with her, on that subway, despite never being anywhere with her, did not go unnoticed. Brooke walked to the opposite end of the car and took a seat where the only advertisements were for cosmetic dentistry and ESL classes. She sneaked a look back toward Julian and felt her stomach roil when, once again, he stared back at her. No matter which way she turned her body or angled her head, his eyes always found hers and, combined with his dimpled smile, made her more miserable. At the next station, Brooke quickly switched cars, choosing one without her husband.
16
Boyfriend with a Villa and a Son
“BROOKE, if you hear nothing else I say tonight, please hear this: I think this is worth fighting for.” Julian reached across the couch and took her hand in his. “I am going to fight for our marriage.”
“Strong opening move,” Brooke said. “Well done.”
“Hey, are you done for the day already? I’m jealous.”
Brooke felt a lump growing in her throat and coughed. “More like done for the foreseeable future.”
“I heard what happened,” Heather whispered, although they were alone in the room. Brooke wondered how she already knew and then remembered how fast rumors spread in a high school.
Brooke shrugged. “Yeah, well, that’s part of the deal. If I were a parent paying forty grand a year for my daughter to go to school here, I guess I wouldn’t be thrilled to have her harassed by paparazzi every time she stepped outside. Rhonda told me that some of the girls had been contacted by tabloid reporters via their Facebook accounts, asking what I was like at school and if I ever talked about Julian. Can you imagine?” She sighed. “If that’s really the case, I probably should be dismissed.”
“Vile. They are absolutely vile people. Listen, Brooke, I really think you should meet my friend. The one I was telling you about whose husband won American Idol? I’m guessing not a lot of people know what you’re going through, but trust me, she gets it. . . .” Heather’s voice trailed off, and she looked anxious, like she was afraid she’d pushed too hard.
Brooke had less than zero interest in meeting Heather’s significantly younger friend from Alabama and comparing husband woes, but she nodded. “Sure, get me her e-mail and I’ll shoot her a note.”
“Oh, don’t worry about it. I’ll have her get in touch with you if that’s okay?”
It was absolutely not okay, but what could she say? She just wanted to get out of there before she ran into anyone else. “Sure, sounds good,” she said awkwardly.
Brooke forced a smile and a little wave and bolted for the front door. She passed a group of girls in the hall and one of them called her name. She thought about pretending she hadn’t heard, but she couldn’t just ignore it. When she turned around, Kaylie was walking toward her.
“Mrs. A? Where are you going? Don’t we have our appointment today? I heard there are a bunch of reporters outside.”
Brooke looked at the girl, who was, as usual, twisting frizzy strands of hair nervously around her fingers, and felt a surge of guilt. “Hey, sweetheart. It looks like I’m, well, I’m going to be taking a little time off.” When Kaylie’s face fell, she rushed on. “But don’t worry, it’s only temporary, I’m sure, and you’re doing so great.”
“But, Mrs. A., I don’t think that—”
Brooke interrupted her and leaned in closer to the girl, so none of the other students could hear them. “Kaylie, you’ve graduated beyond me,” she said with what she hoped was a reassuring smile. “You’re strong and healthy and you know—probably better than any girl here—how to take care of yourself. Not only do you fit in, but you’re one of the stars of the school play. You look great and you feel great . . . hell, I don’t know what more I could do with you.”
Kaylie smiled back at her and leaned in for a hug. “I won’t tell anyone you just cursed,” she said.
Brooke swatted the girl’s arm and grinned, although she could feel her throat constricting. “You take care. And call if you need anything. But trust me, you’re not getting rid of me that quickly. I’ll be back soon, okay?”
Kaylie nodded and Brooke tried not to cry. “And promise me: no more moronic cleanses, okay? We’re over that, right?”
“We’re over it,” Kaylie said with a smile.
Brooke gave a small wave and turned back toward the building’s exit, determined to keep moving past the handful of lingering photographers who launched into a shouting, questioning frenzy when they saw her, and she didn’t slow down until she hit Fifth Avenue. She checked to make sure no one had followed her and then tried to hail a cab, a completely fruitless endeavor at four in the afternoon. After twenty frustrating minutes, she hopped a crosstown bus on Eighty-sixth Street and rode west to the 1 train, where she was grateful to find a seat in the very last car.
She closed her eyes and sat back, not caring that her hair was touching the place on the wall where so many people had rubbed their greasy locks. So this was what it felt like to get fired not once but twice in the same week. She was just beginning to feel really sorry for herself when she opened her eyes and saw Julian smiling down at her from an advertisement.
It was the same publicity headshot she’d seen a thousand times, framed by a photo of his album cover and the line “For the Lost,” but she’d never seen it on the subway before, and she hadn’t noticed how his eyes seemed to stare directly into hers. The irony that he was there with her, on that subway, despite never being anywhere with her, did not go unnoticed. Brooke walked to the opposite end of the car and took a seat where the only advertisements were for cosmetic dentistry and ESL classes. She sneaked a look back toward Julian and felt her stomach roil when, once again, he stared back at her. No matter which way she turned her body or angled her head, his eyes always found hers and, combined with his dimpled smile, made her more miserable. At the next station, Brooke quickly switched cars, choosing one without her husband.
16
Boyfriend with a Villa and a Son
“BROOKE, if you hear nothing else I say tonight, please hear this: I think this is worth fighting for.” Julian reached across the couch and took her hand in his. “I am going to fight for our marriage.”
“Strong opening move,” Brooke said. “Well done.”
