“You can't go,” Jean said matter-of-factly, handing her four sheets of schedules. “You're doing a benefit tomorrow night, and you have rehearsal for two days after that. And you have to meet with Bennett about the lawsuit over the weekend.”
“Tell him I can't,” Tanya said unhappily. “I need a couple of days off.” She would never have welched on a benefit or skipped rehearsals. But she was not about to spend her weekend with Bennett Pearson, preparing for depositions.
“I think that's pretty firm. They're already scheduling you for depositions in the Leo Turner case, and Bennett said he got a call from Tony's lawyer this morning.”
“That was fast,” Tanya said, dropping into a large, comfortable, pink satin chair in her bedroom. “He sure didn't waste much time.” It was as though three years had vanished into thin air overnight, and now they had to get down to business. Sometimes she wondered if that was all everything was. It was all about money, greed, and business. The agents, the lawyers, the people selling stories about her, those who wanted to be paid off so they wouldn't sue, the endless number of people who thought she owed them for her success, because she'd been fortunate and they'd been less so.
“I need a day to myself,” she said to her secretary quietly, and no one in her world had any idea how much she meant it. She just couldn't do it anymore, couldn't go on, couldn't keep plugging and smiling and singing and working, for all of them. Sometimes she felt as though she worked only to pay them. There was no life left anymore. It was just work and payments.
“He thinks he can buy Leo off for five hundred grand,” Jean said, pressing on, and she still had an armful of appointments and clippings, but Tanya was looking grim, and the secretary hadn't noticed.
“Fuck Leo. And you can tell Bennett I said so.”
Jean nodded and went on, while Tanya wished she would drop through the floor, but Jean was not only thorough, she was relentless. “We got a call from the L.A. Times today. They want to know the details of the divorce, if Tony wants alimony or a settlement or both, and if you're going to give it to him.”
“Was that from his lawyer or the paper?” Tanya looked confused and upset. There was certainly no such thing as privacy in her life, or decency, or anything even remotely human.
“It was the paper, and Tony called. He wants to talk to you about the children.”
“What about them?” She lay her head back against the chair and closed her eyes, as Jean sat down across from her and went on. She never missed a beat. And she still had to tell Tanya about all her new appointments. An attorney, an accountant, a decorator who thought she should redo the house, an architect who was going to help her alter the kitchen at the beach house. Everyone had to be paid and met with and listened to, and if they somehow decided she had fallen short of their expectations of her, they would sue her. It was just the way things were, and Tanya knew it. And it didn't matter that Tanya's lawyer made them all sign confidentiality agreements, assuring her that they would not sell information to the tabloids. “Why does Tony want to talk to me about the kids?” she asked Jean again, who went back in her notes and checked. She worked a ten-or twelve-hour day sometimes. It was not an easy job, but she was well paid, and most of the time Tanya was nice to work for. And Jean liked the glory of it, going to concerts with her, being seen with her, wearing her old clothes, and living an odd kind of half-life in her shadow. She had wanted to sing too, but she didn't have the voice, the luck, or the talent. Tanya did, and she was happy just to stand beside it.
“I'm not sure,” Jean answered her about the kids. “He didn't say. But he asked you to call him.”
She had another half hour of business to listen to, and Jean pointed out that the housekeeper had left dinner for her in the kitchen. Tanya poured herself a glass of wine instead, went over some notes, took a file of contracts from Jean. They had been dropped off by her lawyers and were all from the promoters of the concert tour. And when Jean finally left at nine o'clock, Tanya picked up the phone and called Tony.
“Hi,” she said, sounding utterly exhausted. It had been a long day from her start in New York early that morning, and there was so much waiting for her here. Sometimes she wondered if she'd survive it. “Jean said you wanted me to call.”
“Yes, I did,” he said, sounding uncomfortable and distant. “How was New York?”
“Nice, more or less. I saw Mary Stuart Walker, it was worth it just for that, and Felicia Davenport, They screwed me on the morning show I did, and hit me full face with all the garbage from the tabloids.” She'd been through it before, nothing surprised her anymore, but she still never liked it. “And seeing the literary guy was a waste of time.” But she realized as she listened to herself that she was getting sidetracked. He wasn't interested in her life anymore. “That's beside the point, isn't it, right now? Or is that all that's left, just business?”
“That's all there ever was, wasn't it? What else was there, Tanya? Your work, your concerts, your career, your benefits, your rehearsals, your music.”
“Is that how you see it now? I think you've left out a few things. The things we did together… the trips we took… the kids…” There had been more in their life than just her career and her music. It wasn't fair of him now to say that, just to absolve himself for leaving her, but she was beyond arguing with him. It wasn't just her work and the pressures that got to him, she knew she had lost him because he was so humiliated over the tabloids. You had to have a thick skin to love someone with a show business career, and apparently he didn't. “What have you told the kids, by the way?” She was worried about that. She had wanted to call them from New York, but she didn't want to talk to them before Tony told them.
“Their mother took care of it for me,” he said, sounding angry. “She showed them everything they ran in the tabloids.”
“I'm sorry,” Tanya said with genuine humility. It was so hurtful for all of them, especially the children.
“Yeah, me too,” he said without sincerity. He sounded more relieved than unhappy. And then, suddenly, he sounded awkward. “In fact, Nancy wanted me to talk to you. With everything they're writing about us, she doesn't think… she thought the kids… she doesn't want to expose them to your lifestyle at the moment.” He spat out the words like bad oysters.
“My lifestyle?” Tanya was totally baffled by his comment. “What lifestyle? What's changed since last week?” And then she understood. Nancy had read all the stories, and all of Leo's claims about her harassing him sexually and walking around naked. “Tony, your kids have nearly lived with us for the past three years. Has any harm ever come to them? Have I done anything wrong? What does she think I'm going to do now? What could possibly be different?”
“I'm not there anymore. She doesn't see why they should stay with you if I'm gone. They can visit you, if I'm along,” he said, nearly choking on the words, even he was embarrassed by what Nancy had told him. “But she doesn't want them to stay there.”
“Are we talking about visitation?” Were they already there? Was she already negotiating her divorce? And where were their lawyers?
“Eventually we will be,” he explained, and they'd be talking about other things too, like the house in Malibu she'd bought with her own funds after she married Tony, but he was extremely fond of. He was the only one who used it. She never had time to, “Right now, she's talking about Wyoming.”
There was a long silence on Tanya's end as the light began to dawn. Nancy was not willing to let Tanya take her stepchildren to Wyoming. “Can this be negotiated?” she asked, sounding bitterly disappointed. It was going to be such fun, and she had looked forward to it for months. Now everything had gone wrong. Tony had left her, and the kids were being kept home by their mother. “It's a great place, Tony. Everyone says it's fabulous and the kids would love it.” He hadn't even wanted to go at first. None of them had. And she had a huge, luxurious three-bedroom cabin reserved for two weeks. “What am I supposed to do with my reservations?”