“I’d love to go back and spent a little time in Venezuela,” Laura said. “A few other places down that way as well.”
“Let’s do it!” Celia said. “We could spend a few days in Caracas and I could show you two the places the tourists don’t know about. After that, we can go see my family in Barquisimeto. Madres de Dios, it’s been a long time since I’ve seen mama and papa. Not since the wedding.”
“I’m up for it anytime,” Laura told her. “I seem to be between gigs at the moment.”
“Savor it,” Celia advised. “Breaks are heavenly.”
“That’s what I’m doing,” Laura assured her.
“Me too. As of the end of that encore song, I am officially on hiatus until it’s time to hit the road. Hey, what are you doing tomorrow?”
“Tomorrow?” Laura said. “I have no plans at the moment.”
“How’s this sound? Girls day in Beverly Hills. We hit Rodeo Drive and burn a hole in some credit cards, go to the spa for a mani-pedi and some of those cucumber slices on our eyeballs, and then go grab some food—either late lunch, or early dinner, depending on how much shopping we do.”
Laura was a bit taken aback. She and Celia were friends, but their relationship had always been primarily professional. The few times they’d socialized it had always been a couples thing, with Jake and Greg present. And even on those occasions, the gathering had always been business related in some way. Still, a girls shopping trip with Celia Valdez sounded like fun. It sounded like a very Hollywood celebrity thing to do. “Sure,” she told the singer. “I’m up for it. What time?”
“Ten o’clock,” Celia told her. “I’ll get a limo and pick you up at your place. That way we can ... you know ... enjoy a few drinks while we’re doing our thing.”
Laura smiled widely. “I’m looking forward to it,” she said.
The two ladies did indeed enjoy a few drinks on their outing, and then a few more. It started with mimosas in the limousine as they made the trip to Beverly Hills. After that, it was bloody Marys to wash down a couple of breakfast crepes in one of the restaurants. They then spent the better part of two hours wandering in and out of shops on Rodeo drive, looking at pants, skirts, dresses, shoes, jewelry, and more shoes. Their credit cards were put into action in most of these places and by the time they decided to hit the spa for their pampering, they had a combined total of four thousand dollars worth of merchandise in the trunk of the limo. In the spa, they refreshed their fading buzzes with glasses of chardonnay while their fingernails and toenails were clipped and filed, painted and buffed.
Celia genuinely enjoyed hanging out with the redheaded saxophonist. She was glad to discover this because she had been extremely nervous about coming face to face with her the night before. Only her own acting ability—much of which she had learned from her husband—had allowed her to avoid projecting that nervousness and guilt to a level that Laura might have picked up on it.
I slept with the man this woman loves! her mind kept screaming at her as she’d walked across the room to embrace her, to talk to her. Not only did I sleep with him, but I’m in love with him as well. She understood at that moment how awkward it must have been for Jake when he’d first come face to face with Greg after the deed.
The invitation for the girls shopping trip today had come out of her mouth spontaneously, from well out in left field. She had had no idea she was going to invite Laura on this outing until the words were already spoken.
What the hell? she’d asked herself in the moment. Where did that come from? She actually tried a few times to come up with a reason to cancel the trip—a family emergency, a sudden illness, a twisted ankle—but the fact was, while she was a decent enough actress, she was a terrible liar and didn’t think she’d be able to pull off such a falsehood.
Now, however, after spending hours in Laura’s company, going from shop to shop, trying on clothes with her, judging shoes with her, and having their toes and fingers done up, she was glad she’d made the invite, glad that Laura had accepted. Laura really was a fun and likable soul, someone she really did feel a kindred spirit with. They were having a blast, and although their camaraderie of the day had served to smooth over the awkwardness of the hidden and not-to-be-discussed infidelity that she and Jake had shared one snowy night, the guilt at what she had done was not assuaged. In fact, that guilt had ramped up a few notches.
Laura would just die if she knew what Jake and I did, she thought as they walked out of the spa and back out onto Rodeo Drive. I wouldn’t trade the experience for anything, but I must never let her find out it happened—for her sake, not for mine or Jake’s.
“Where to now?” Laura asked as they made their way back to the waiting limo.
“Let’s get some food in us,” Celia suggested.
“Let’s do it,” Laura said. “Where shall we eat?”
“I’m thinking that French place just past the shops,” Celia said. “Nourriture Chere.”
“Nourriture Chere?” Laura said. “Are you kidding? I hear the waiting list for that place is months long.”
Celia smiled at her warmly. She was just so adorably naïve sometimes. It was part of her charm. “Have a little faith in me,” she told her as they stepped into the limousine.
“You already made a reservation?” Laura asked.
“No,” Celia said. “I won’t need one.”
“You won’t?”
“I won’t.”
She didn’t. They arrived at the small eatery less than five minutes later, both wearing some of their new clothes they had changed into after the spa. They approached the maître’ d’s desk and listened as he explained to a well-dressed older couple (in a voice that was quite condescending) that there was simply no way he could seat them at any time today. And no, there was no possibility of a cancellation later on allowing them to slip in. Nourriture Chere simply did not work that way. The couple went away disappointed and Celia stepped forward, dragging Laura with her.
“Can I help you, madam?” the maître d asked, his eyes showing a hint of recognition as he looked at Celia’s face.
“I think you probably can,” Celia replied. “I’m Celia Valdez. This is my friend, Laura Best. We were hoping you could find an open table for us so we could grab a little bite.”
That hint of recognition became full-fledged. The little smile on his face turned instantly from pretentious to subservient. “Why yes, of course, Ms. Valdez,” he said at once. “We can certainly accommodate you and your friend.” He looked down at his master list, perused it for a few moments, and then scratched one of the entries off. “It looks like table seventeen is open. We’ll get you right in.”
“Thank you,” Celia said with a smile. She took a couple of twenties from her purse and laid it on him. He made the bills disappear.
Two minutes later they were sitting at a circular table, glasses of ice water with lemon slices sitting before them, a plate of goose liver pate and little bread crusts between them.
“That was amazing,” Laura said, looking around the place. “You name dropped and they let us in ... just like that.”
“Well sure,” Celia said. “It’s one of the perks of being a celebrity—a little something to offset the stalking by paparazzi and the publishing of pictures of your ass in the National Watcher with headlines proclaiming how much weight you’ve put on. Doesn’t Jake ever do things like that?”