Anwara seemed quite confused now. “Then ... we’re not going to go after him either?” she asked.
“Not unless he goes after me first,” she said. “And he’s already told me he won’t do that. This is not likely to be a contested divorce unless his lawyer manages to talk him into a really bad move. He has the two houses, both of which he bought before we were married, and I don’t want any part of either one of them. I have KVA Records and all of the money I’ve made from it since we started it. He has his golf course project up in Coos Bay and I have no financial interest in that. This whole process will just be a matter of us taking back what is already ours and making it nice and legal.”
“You don’t want a cut of his golf course project?” Anwara said, appalled. “But ... but ... that was purchased after you were married. You could have a reasonable claim on half of it.”
“It was purchased with his money,” Celia said. “We have always kept our accounts separate. No, the golf course is his project paid for with his income. He can keep it.”
“He can keep it?” Anwara asked, shaking her head in disbelief, as if the entire fabric of what she believed in and held sacred had suddenly torn right before her eyes.
Celia simply shrugged. “He can keep it,” she confirmed. “What the hell do I want with a golf course that isn’t even built yet? For now, I just need to get the initial paperwork filed. It’s very important that that be done before the close of business hours today.”
“Why is that so important?” she wanted to know. “Once we file, the story is as good as broken. You do know that, right? Whatever clerk I file the paperwork with will be on the phone to Entertainment Weekly or the American Watcher before I’m even back in my car.”
“I do know that,” Celia said with a smile. “In fact, I’m counting on it.”
Anwar raised her eyebrows. “You’re counting on it?”
“Indeed,” Celia said. “I want the story to break. So does Greg. We want it to be public knowledge that we’re divorcing before Mindy Snow gets a chance to tell her version of events.”
“Her version of events? What is that?”
“God only knows,” Celia said, “but it will be a version that serves Mindy Snow’s interests, which are very unlikely to coincide with the interests of Greg and I, and are likely to be detrimental to them.”
The lawyer shook her head again. “I’m afraid I don’t understand.”
“Because you don’t know Mindy Snow,” Celia said. “How about I tell you about her?”
“Please do,” Anwara said.
“And this remains confidential, right?”
“Of course,” she said. “Attorney-client privilege is in effect as of the moment you signed those papers retaining this firm.”
Celia thought this over for a moment and then nodded. “All right then,” she said. “Let me tell you a story.”
She told the tale. And her high-priced lawyer, who had lived through the brutal, bloody war of independence in Bangladesh as a child, who had fought and struggled her way through years of prejudice and indifference after her family emigrated to the United States after that war, who had managed to educate herself, gain acceptance to and graduation from one of the most prestigious schools of law in her new country, and, who had represented dozens upon dozens of upper-class divorce clients during her tenure at BR&J, was shocked.
The papers were filed at the Los Angeles County Superior Court building at one o’clock that same afternoon. At 3:30, only an hour and a half later, Pauline’s business phone began to ring on her desk at the KVA studio building. She picked it up.
“What’s up?” she asked.
“I have Bernadette Tapp from the Los Angeles Times on the line,” said her secretary. “You said to let you know if any reporters called.”
“That’s right,” Pauline said, smiling. “I’ll talk to her.”
“Line one,” she said and then broke the connection.
Bernadette Tapp, Pauline thought with satisfaction. That clerk down at the courthouse has a good connection. Tapp was the lead writer and investigator for the Times’ entertainment department, which was mostly concerned with celebrity gossip. Pauline had ‘no comment’ed her many times in the past. I wonder how much Bernadette pays for information like this. A hundred dollars? Maybe two hundred?
She picked up the phone and punched the flashing button for line one. “This is Pauline Kingsley,” she said pleasantly. “How can I help you?”
“Pauline!” Tapp’s voice crooned in her ear, as if they were old friends who had not seen each other in a long time. “Thanks for taking my call.”
“No problem. What can I do for you today?”
“Well, it has to do with Celia Valdez. You are still her manager and spokesperson, correct?”
“Correct,” Pauline confirmed. “What about her?”
“I have developed some information that Celia has filed for divorce from Greg Oldfellow today in LA County Superior court.”
“Really?” Pauline said, with no hint of surprise in her voice. “Where might you have developed information like that?”
“An anonymous source,” Tapp said.
“Of course,” Pauline said. “And you’re calling me to confirm this allegation?”
“Well ... yes and no,” Tapp said. “I already know it’s not an allegation. I’m holding a copy of the filing in my hand as we speak.”
“Perhaps it’s a forgery?” Pauline enquired. “Have you considered that?”
“No, I have not,” Tapp said blandly. “I am quite confident that this is a legitimate copy of an initial divorce filing.”
“Because of the source that gave it to you?”
“Right,” Tapp said. “Because of the anonymous source that gave it to me. Still, it would be nice to confirm this information with an official source; namely, you.”
“Well ... since it would be nice, I guess I can do that for you. It’s true. Celia has filed for divorce from Greg Oldfellow.”
“For what reason?” Tapp asked, her voice a little hungry now.
“Just what it says on the form,” Pauline told her. “Irreconcilable differences.”
“That is a catch-all phrase. It does not tell a story. The only other options on the form are incest, bigamy, or decreased mental capacity.”
“Then you know it’s not any of those things, right? That’s a story.”
“Not really,” Tapp said. “Details are what makes a story. That’s what I’m looking for here.”
“I have not been authorized to release any details of the situation between Celia and Greg,” Pauline told her. “All I will do is confirm information that is on the form you have.”
“Well ... if that’s the way you want to play it,” Tapp said, disappointed.
“That’s the way I’m playing it.”
“In that case, let me go to Box 3 of the form, the part labeled statistical facts. It lists the date of the marriage as June 14, 1989. Is that correct?”
“It is correct,” Pauline confirmed. “At Martha’s Vineyard, Massachusetts.”
“I covered the event back then,” Tapp said. “Just confirming my facts. Now, on the same line, it lists the date of separation as October 10, 1995.”
“That too is correct,” Pauline said.
“That’s almost four months ago. They’ve been separated all that time?”
“They have,” Pauline said. “This is not an overnight thing. It has been in the works for some time now.”
“But they were together at the Los Angeles premier of Us and Them on October 19,” Tapp said. “I was there. I talked to both of them. They seemed quite happy together.”