still have, Laura rose from her chair and wrapped her arms around me.
“It’s okay,” she told me, feeling like a mother bear, warm, soft, and real. “I’ll be fine. Ricky Dean is going to help me—I just know it.”
Early the next morning, things quickly began deteriorating:
Wake up call 5:30 a.m., five lousy hours of sleep after dinner of M&M’s and cheese pretzels from mini-bar
Get in taxi at 6:15 a.m.—running late—buckling over from strange new pain in lower gut. Cramps?
15 minutes later, taxi breaks down 3 miles from airport, won’t start
Begins pouring rain—it NEVER rains in Vegas!
Abdul stands on roadside attempting to wave down car. No one stops
He’s soaked. I freak out—plane departs in 38 minutes
Airport bus pulls over
Bus driver motions me onto the bus, asks which terminal—I can’t remember
He smiles—I’m drenched, caught off guard, try to smile back, forgot how
Enter terminal, trip over piece of tape stock, break sandal
Scrounge, do E-ticket check-in, and forgo 45-person line-up
Barely make flight
Alex picked me up at the airport. He insisted. We went back to his place and had sex in the middle of the afternoon. I couldn’t say “no” anymore. There was no reason to. It was time to let our relationship go where it needed to go. My period had mysteriously disappeared—sometime between my day from hell and being starved for 32 hours. Alex was pleased to finally have his way. The morning’s cramps, unfortunately, remained. I didn’t bother to tell him.
It was a tremendous release to finally give him what he wanted and just be together, as a couple. Nevertheless, and in spite of my gallant effort to perform physically, I wasn’t there. I couldn’t stop thinking about work, and that’s a sexual-barbiturate if ever there was one.
But Alex somehow was satiated. That was reward enough for me. In my head, we were the new power team: ultra-successful TV host/model-boy meets ultra-successful producer and soon-to-be supervisor/executive producer. Alex liked to push me. He wanted me to be better. I liked that about him. He cared.
Around three-ish, he drove me home. I’d planned on spending the weekend with him. It was Saturday, after all, and for the first time since my day off long ago with Grant, I had no shoot scheduled for the weekend. In fact, I had nothing at all scheduled until the office on Monday. It was as if I had a weekend pass from prison.
I was thrilled at the possibilities: lie in bed, snuggle, watch movies, get a massage, eat take-out, have dinner with Alex. Instead, Alex had to meet his agent for dinner. Ah, Hollywood.
When I returned home, I found a note on my bed:
The check you wrote me for your share of rent bounced. That sucks! Sorry. Just wondering when you can pay me. I really need the money!!
Love, Toni.
PS – The Single Guy aired on Thursday night with Craig. Yuck! It’s Tivo’d. Let’s watch it later and rip on him—L-O-S-E-R. :-)
I couldn’t believe my money problems, and checked the account online. I now felt as if I was on the receiving end of a powerful one-two punch combination: first, my bank account was mysteriously empty when it should have had over $6,000 in it—the studio obviously hadn’t paid my expenses, and my student loans were sucking me dry; second, The Craig was suddenly world famous for being a complete tool!
I tossed the note in the garbage, unable to handle the mounting pile of loose ends that had become my personal life. I nearly erased The Single Guy that Toni had Tivo’d—not at all ready to see Craig procure the easy ride to fame, or have the time of his life with 10 way-too-hot chicks handpicked for his own TV show.
Water spat from behind the shower curtain as I stood naked in front of the bathroom mirror. The sun powered through the window, making the dust particles glimmer. My breasts had shrunk to the size of raisins, from a solid B to barely an A. I longed for clouds and rain. Not the angry rain from this morning in Vegas, but a tranquil, gentle, soothing rain. I used the tips of my fingers to feel around the edge of my breasts for lumps, but gave up after a thorough squishing. They felt like miniature sacks of pebbles.
My organs began twisting and turning, and I was reminded of my nasty cramps. They had been there all along. I was just too distracted to notice.
Oh my God! Did I? Could I? Had a miscarriage occurred two nights ago?
The thought