Another Mother Page 7

  “Mommy, I want to go home,” Emma whimpered.

  “It could’ve been me,” Autumn said. “Why are you being sexist?”

  “Oh, I don’t trust you either.” Katie scowled at her.

  “And cut!” Jim said. “Not bad, but let’s play up the emotions, okay? Emma, I want to feel like you’re absolutely terrified. Your dad is dead, and you’re afraid your mom’s going to go next.”

  Emma looked a little horrified at the idea, making my heart jump. I fought the urge to run over and comfort her, instead leaning against the wall as they went into the second take.

  This time around, I watched the interactions between Katie and Emma more than the others. For a young single woman, Katie did a great job of acting motherly toward a child who wasn’t actually hers. If I hadn’t given birth to Emma myself, I could’ve been fooled into thinking she had.

  I wondered if she wanted kids herself. How did that work for lesbians, anyway? I assumed they’d probably adopt, or one or the other could find a sperm donor if they wanted to go that route. How would they decide which one would bear the child?

  Maybe Katie could explain it to me over lunch. She probably wouldn’t think about becoming a mother for a long time, especially given her inexperience with relationships and the way she claimed to “not be a kid person”—even though I increasingly disagreed with that. I had a feeling she’d be a great mom one day.

  On set, Emma said “Mommy,” and I leapt to attention before remembering she was just acting. If I ever started to date again, I’d have to share her with another person. Would I ever find someone who’d love her as much as I did, or even anywhere close?

  What would happen if I dated a woman? Would Emma call both of us Mommy? The thought made me feel odd, and I tried to push it away. I wasn’t planning to date anyone, especially not a woman. Especially not Katie. Maybe once Emma moved out and went to college, I could start thinking about my love life again. I didn’t need to find her a stepdad, or a stepmom. I was doing just fine on my own.

  *

  For lunch, we picked a Caribbean spot that was supposed to have the best rotis in town. It was also a quick-service place, so we wouldn’t have to worry about the food delaying our return.

  After ordering at the counter, we sat down at the dilapidated table. “This place is pretty sketchy,” Katie said, checking out our rundown environment. “Which best-of list did you say it was on, again?”

  “I thought you were the one who’d heard about it.”

  She blinked at me, and I got up to check the food inspection sign in the front window. The place had received an A, so I gave her a thumbs-up.

  The server deposited a plate in front of each of us, giving me the stink-eye as she turned on her heel without a word. “Oh, could we have some water, please?”

  “Get it yourself.” She jabbed a thumb toward a sink and glasses by the wall.

  “Wow,” I murmured. “Won’t be coming here again.”

  “Me, either.” Katie sliced into her shrimp roti, and then her eyes rolled back in her head. “Never mind, I definitely will.”

  “Is it that good?” I forked up a piece of fried plantain, then immediately let out a moan. “Holy shit.”

  “Umyumyum.” She dug into her roti, taking huge mouthfuls in a way that shouldn’t have been as attractive as it was. “How is this so good?”

  “Let’s come back every day.”

  “The waitress could slap me in the face and I’d still want to come back.”

  “The owner could shit in my water and I’d still come back.”

  Katie choked on the bite she’d just taken. “Did you just say ‘shit’? Isn’t that word not supposed to be in your vocabulary?”

  “What, moms can’t swear?”

  “I thought you guys just yelled at other people for swearing,” she said with her mouth full before swallowing. “‘Language, language! There are children around!’”

  I snorted. “When have you heard me do that?”

  “So you’re saying you’re a cool mom, not a regular mom?”

  I got the Mean Girls reference. “I’m saying most moms are just fine with swearing, as long as their kids aren’t around to hear it.”

  Katie took a moment to consider her response, giving me time to stare into her lovely face. Of course she was attractive, I’d always known she was attractive. I’d never expected to joke around with her like this, to have the conversation flow so smoothly. It seemed like, as much as I’d denied it to Valerie, we really were becoming friends.

  “I doubt my mom ever felt that way,” she said. “She didn’t mind anyone doing anything in front of me, as long as I brought home my paycheck.”

  “Right… I forgot you didn’t have the most loving family experience.”

  She must’ve heard the pity in my voice, because she waved her fork at me. “Oh, don’t start feeling sorry for me. I’ve been no-contact with both of my parents for a few years now, and I’m quite happy that way.”

  “You don’t hope you’ll reconcile one day?”

  “After they sold out my childhood for a buck? Nah.” Her face tightened. “They milked me for money until I turned eighteen, but now this cow has left the barn.”

  I didn’t know if I should laugh or cry. “I’m happy for you.” I reached out and put my hand over hers.

  Just a friendly touch, a comforting reassurance. At least I meant it that way, because I wasn’t expecting shivers to go down my spine, making me tremble and twitch.

  She gave me a sharp glance, and I quickly looked away.

  I was certain she’d seen through me… so where did we go from here?

  Twelve – Katie

  Katie Days, queen of the gays, we need to see you in so many ways! Will you lead us out of this maze?!

  I smiled at the text from Jennie, one of the girls I went out drinking with. I hadn’t seen the crew in a solid two months now, ever since Wrong Headed had started filming.

  I slipped off to the side of the studio so I could text her back. What’s happening this weekend?

  Her reply was immediate. Drink. Drink. Party. Party.

  A while ago, that message would’ve thrilled me. I’d loved to go out and dance since the moment I was legal—all right, since a few moments before I’d become legal. Even though I used to go out every weekend and sometimes a couple of times during the week, it never got old.

  Now, though? I wasn’t sure if it’d be worth it. Not only were the inevitable hangovers not fun to suffer through, I worried it’d make me give a worse performance on Monday. If it’d been another show, that might’ve been fine, but I could tell this one was going to be a critical success, and I wasn’t going to be the weak link holding it back from getting an Emmy.

  I could just imagine the online reviews. Wrong Headed is a terrifying thrill ride, bolstered by a brilliant performance by breakout child star Emma Parker. The only downside is the phoned-in acting of Katie Days, a former child star herself, who should’ve left her drama career behind when she exited adolescence. I had to put in the absolute best effort I could for this show.

  Another message from Jennie arrived. KATIE! I can see you saw my last message! You in or not?!?

  Fuck… I was going to have to let her down. Too much work, I’m sorry! You guys want to chill, though? Get some food and make an early night of it?

  When she replied, I could practically hear her scoffing through the screen. Sounds boring! We have fun shit to do.

  So much for missing me. If they really wanted to see me, they would’ve been fine hanging out without alcohol involved. Of course, that would’ve changed the whole terms of our relationship. I’d never spent time with that group without drinking in all the years I’d known them.

  I set my phone on the snack table as Jim called me up for the next scene. “Mind getting that sour look off your face before we start?” he asked.

  I took a breath, consciously forming my features into a neutral expression. I read my lines fluidly, forcing Katie ou
t of my mind for the length of the scene and becoming Ivy instead. When Jim yelled “cut,” it took me a moment to remember what I’d been doing before.

  They needed to do a close-up on Aaron, so I moved off to the side and dug my phone out again. Sarah was at the edge of the room, her arms crossed, her eyes on me. “Setting up a hot date for tonight?” she asked in a whisper as the camera operators set up.

  “I wish.”

  The scene started, meaning we had to be quiet, and I wondered why I’d lied. I didn’t wish I had a date—I could’ve easily had one if I’d wanted one. These days, the thought of hooking up didn’t tempt me. I hadn’t been with anyone in a while, and that was at least partly due to Sarah.

  Not that I was madly in love with her or anything—although I certainly wouldn’t have kicked her out of bed. No, it was just that when I compared us and the lives we were living, I didn’t want to be that drunk hook-up chick anymore. She was so much more mature than me, with such a quiet confidence. The years between us didn’t explain the difference between us, and neither did the fact that she had a daughter.

  Jennie had texted me again while I was acting. We can pre-drink before we go out, if you want. You don’t have to drink. Her tone was flat, as if she was only extending the offer out of obligation.

  I tucked my phone away, figuring I’d wait until later to decide whether I wanted to go. Even if I made it an early night, hanging out with that group without going out didn’t sound like too much fun.

  What did someone like Sarah do on a Friday night? I looked over at her, noticing the way her new haircut made her hair fall in gentle waves. She’d never do anything so hedonistic as going to a nightclub. She’d probably be at home with Emma, watching Frozen or baking an apple pie. I had half a mind to invite myself along.

  I wasn’t going to, obviously. Even if we’d had lunch together a few times, that wasn’t the same as hanging out at her place on a Friday night. Did platonic friends even do that? I only went to the homes of girls I was about to sleep with, and clearly that wasn’t Sarah.

  When the close-ups were over, she turned her attention to me again. “So what are you doing tonight, then?”

  “Nothing, probably. I’ll curl up with a bottle of wine and order in a pizza.”

  “Sounds lonely,” she said.

  “I’ll cry into the piles of money I’m making.”

  She snorted out a laugh.

  “What about you, anyway?” I asked.

  “Not a whole lot. Emma’s going to her friend’s place, so I’ll get some ‘me time,’ for once.” She gave me a meaningful look.

  I stared back at her. She meant she wanted some time to herself, right? She didn’t mean she wanted company. She definitely wasn’t implying she wanted to see me tonight… did she?

  And even if she did, I didn’t want that—right?

  I picked up my purse, jamming my phone inside. “Enjoy yourself,” I said. “I’ll see you Monday.”

  *

  On Saturday, I lay in bed until past twelve o’clock. I’d never appreciated sleeping in before, and now it was a luxury. I only got up because my stomach’s rumbling was more urgent than my desire to stay in my warm bed.

  Stepping into my slippers, I padded downstairs to the living room. I’d left my pizza on the coffee table last night, and now I opened the box and dug in without reheating it.

  I wondered what Sarah was doing right now. Something with Emma, probably. A kid would be like a dog, forcing you to leave the house whether you wanted to or not. Maybe I needed a dog. Or a kid… a step-kid.

  Taking another bite, I told myself I was being crazy. It’d be years before I was ready for anything of the sort. I still felt like a child half the time myself. I didn’t have a degree, I’d never had any major responsibilities… Home-ownership was kind of one, but I just hired help when I needed it, whether it was housekeeping or legal advice.

  After dropping the crust into the box, I flipped on the TV and proceeded to ignore the show in favor of Tinder. There were some pretty girls on here today, and as I swiped, I recognized one I’d already met up with, Ophelia. She must’ve made a new account. I swiped right again just to see if she remembered me, and was immediately rewarded with a match.

  She messaged me right away. Hey beautiful. Still as sexy as ever, I see. ;)

  Same to you, I wrote back, and grabbed another slice of pizza.

  A news item on TV caught my attention, and I’d almost forgotten about Ophelia by the time I picked my phone up again. This timing is such a coincidence, she’d written. I was just thinking about you.

  Only good things, I hope. I dropped my phone again and took the pizza box to the recycling bin, then grabbed a bottle of sparkling orange juice and sprawled onto the couch again.

  Ophelia had messaged me again. The best things, she said. We should get together again. Are you free today? There’s so much I’d love to try with you.

  Hmm… I definitely was free, but was I really in the mood for meaningless sex with some random girl I’d forgotten about until a few minutes ago? I’d never been the kind of girl who required emotions to have orgasms, and yet my body wasn’t responding like it should’ve. There was no ache in my low belly, no flutter in my core. Ophelia’s suggestion didn’t make me feel anything at all.

  Wouldn’t seeing her be more enjoyable than sitting alone at home, though? I had nothing to do, other than review my lines for the next two weeks’ episodes, and they’d only take me an hour or two to memorize tomorrow night.

  What were my other options for today? Text Jennie, maybe? Anything sounded more enjoyable than trying to work up a sexual appetite for someone I didn’t actually want, so I sent Ophelia a gentle rejection and texted Jennie to see if she was around.

  *

  Jennie was still hung over from the night before, but she intended to go out tonight as well. We met up at a chic downtown bar for predrinks, having agreed I’d leave before she met up with the others to go to a club.

  “There you are,” she said when she saw me, wrapping me in a heavily-perfumed hug. “So you haven’t dropped off the face of the earth, after all.”

  “Not quite. I’ve just been working hard.” I hugged her back, and the maître d’ led us to a table.

  Heads turned for Jennie, as they always did. She was around twenty-two and primarily worked as a runway model, which was why she stood five foot eleven and weighed around a hundred pounds. She had the exact look that men went crazy for, which was a waste because she was completely and utterly homosexual.

  We’d run into each other at a gay bar last year and quickly realized we were both fans of each other’s work. Surprisingly, there’d been no sexual tension between us. While she was beautiful, our friendship tended to be surface-level, which was why this was the first time we’d gotten together without our whole crowd and a few bottles of alcohol.

  “How’s the show going?” she asked after we’d ordered drinks.

  “It’s good. I think it’s going to be really good.”

  “When will I get to see it?”

  “We’re filming until December, and then I think they’ll be editing until the summer.”

  “Too long.” She twitched her aquiline nose at me.

  “Sorry I can’t make it go faster for you,” I laughed. “What are you up to lately? Are you doing the Victoria’s Secret show again this year?”

  “As if they could go on without me.” She accepted her drink from the waiter, who’d gone all googly-eyed as soon as he laid eyes on her. He hovered by the table as if he’d forgotten how to walk until she shooed him away like a mildly annoying fly.

  I sipped my glass of wine, trying to think of what else I could talk about. I always forgot how little Jennie and I had in common because we were too busy dancing and taking shots when we got together. With Sarah, by comparison, we could talk for hours without any outside help. I loved trying to get inside her head, and to show her the inside of mine.

  But I wasn’t here to think about Sara
h. Why was I here, again? Right, to get out of the house. I’d needed a reason to shower and put on clean clothes today.

  Maybe I should’ve met up with Ophelia instead. At least there would’ve been an orgasm or two in the bargain.

  “Earth to Katie,” Jennie said, waving a hand in front of my face. “Where’d you go? I was asking if you haven’t been out at all lately.”

  I tried not to sigh. Going out, drinking, and clubbing was really all Jennie thought about. “Not even once,” I said. “I think I might be growing out of it. The hangovers just aren’t worth it anymore.”

  “Oh, you should’ve told me sooner! I have the most amazing remedy. It just takes Red Bull, whiskey, and oat milk.”

  “Great, I already want to puke.” I made a face. “I just don’t like being out that late anymore, especially when I’m working on Monday.”

  “It’s only Saturday!” Jennie said. “Stay out tonight and try my hangover cure in the morning. It’ll be so much fun, you’ll see.”

  I shook my head without even considering it. “No, I don’t think so.” I already missed my bed.

  “Everyone’s dying to see you, you know.”

  Why did she even bother to lie like that? We both knew they didn’t care if I was there or not as long as someone was buying bottles. Maybe they missed the tiny bit of star power I added to the group. Several of the others were also minor celebrities, but it always helped to have one more. Sometimes we got special treatment at clubs due to our moderate level of fame.

  “Is this about a girl?” she asked, biting her cherry off her martini stick.

  I couldn’t help but watch as her glossy red lips closed around it. “No, of course not.” I thought of Sarah’s lips.

  “You’re telling me there’s no one waiting for you at your place?”

  I snorted. “If there was, I wouldn’t have come out here at all.”

  She shrugged, taking a sip of her martini to wash the cherry down. “I’m just trying to figure this out. You never vanished like this before.”