He turned his attention back to the window, and Julia tried to make the most of the situation. It's good to know your limits, she thought, scrolling through a list of all she'd learned since meeting Lance: Paparazzi attacks equal prison. Fictional babies equal fainting. Now, if I only knew what it would take for me to develop selective amnesia, I'd be set.
"I've never seen so many lights in my life!" Nina said as she fought with Caroline for position at the window. "I bet every TV crew in the state is camped out there."
Something snapped inside of Julia. Everything came into sharp, clear focus. She jumped up and started down the stairs but stopped suddenly and looked around the landing where they'd been working all afternoon. "Nina, where'd you put that hammer?"
"Julia," Lance soothed as if she were a wild animal. His movements were slow and steady as he slid onto the stair beneath her.
"I am gonna kill that man, Lance!" She looked around once more, then yelled, "Screw the hammer!" and started to push past him.
Unfortunately, it's hard to walk toward vengeance when both your feet are off the floor and the room is suddenly upside down. Julia recognized Lance's terrific rear end staring her in the face. She clawed at his back and kicked, but he didn't let her off his shoulder. He had one arm wrapped around the bend in her knees and the other arm perched way too comfortably on her rear end.
"Put me down this instant!"
"Come on, Lance," Julia heard Nina say through the curtain of hair that had fallen over her face. "You don't want to hurt the baby."
Julia put her hands on Lance's butt and pushed herself upright enough to face her sister and best friend.
"Nina, this is so not funny! People who used to respect me are currently under the impression that I am shacked up! And knocked up and . . . many kinds of up!" Blood rushed to her head. "I don't feel so good," she said, and Lance dropped her onto the mattress.
"Stay there," he ordered, and for once, Julia did exactly as she was told.
"Come on, Julia," Caroline said. "No one is going to believe that about you."
Just then the phone rang. Nina picked it up and looked at the caller ID. "It's Ro-Ro," she said, handing the receiver to Julia, who turned the ringer off. She used the phone to point at her sister.
"Ro-Ro just made a long-distance call, Caroline. Do you still think it's so unbelievable?"
Lance's legs appeared in Julia's peripheral vision. He leaned down and held out a glass of water for her to take. "Thanks," she said, grateful for something to do with her hands. She drank the whole glass before looking back up at him. "And not just for the water," she said sheepishly.
"Oh . . . well." Lance eased down beside her. She felt his weight and sensed his guilt. "Do I have a great agent or what?"
"He is pretty resourceful," Nina added, not helping.
Someone had left the television on downstairs. Julia heard a reporter's voice saying, "Tonight the debate rages on. ..." and the distant cries of picketers: "Give Lance a chance! Give Lance a chance!" The story continued, but Julia could listen no more.
She stood and gathered her composure. She brushed herself off and said, "I'm going to have to issue a statement. I'll walk down there right now and address them myself. I'll pee on a stick in front of them if that's what it takes, but ..."
"Julia." Lance stood and held her arms. His voice was cool and steady, with no hint of sarcasm or ridicule, just stability and truth. "The last time you addressed these people, it involved a hard-sided suitcase and a night in jail. I don't really think public urination would be a step up. Do you?" She pondered this, maybe longer than she'd intended, because she felt Lance's grip on her arms tighten. "Julia, you're exhausted. Let's sleep on it. In the morning, we can make a statement or maybe meet with an attorney. But it's getting late. Let's not try to accomplish anything tonight."
Reluctantly, Julia nodded her agreement. "At least there aren't any more pictures. Without pictures, there isn't much fuel for the fire."
Lance smiled, dimples and all, and said, "Exactly."
Halfway down the stairs, Julia hid her face in her hands and yelled, "Oh, what a mess!" Then she decided that if she wasn't going to get to kill Richard Stone with a hammer, she could at least attack the pile of garbage they'd cleaned out of the guest room. She headed to the mountain of boxes and bags, and began hauling them toward the back door, wishing all of life's garbage could disappear so easily. But before she could hurl the first bag into the backyard, Nina grabbed it from her.
"Don't do that!" she exclaimed, clutching the trash bag to her chest. "Don't you watch TV? They'll go through it! They have no pride."
"Nina, I have to do something! This whole night is driving me crazy!"
"Give the trash to me," Caroline said. "Tomorrow's trash day. I'll put everything out with my stuff. And Julia"—she pointed at her sister—"listen to Nina. Until this is over, nothing goes out that door, okay? Not you. Not him. Not even the trash."
Julia whipped off a little salute to her take-no-prisoners sister. "Fine."
"It will be okay," Caroline said with a hug. "We'll work it all out tomorrow."
Julia picked up the red eight and tried to find a place for it to go. Nowhere. She looked back through the loose cards to the side of the seven stacks and remembered that there had been a black nine in there somewhere. She flipped through the cards until she found it, then she placed it on the red ten and laid the eight down in order. There. Great. Crisis averted.
"Now that's cheating," Lance said from the doorway of her bedroom.