Devil in Disguise (3 page)

“Tell me about yourself,” Springsteen said, interrupting her rueful reverie.

“There isn’t much exciting to tell.” Rachel took a sip of her beer.

“I doubt that.”

Their conversation was interrupted by an eager young woman wanting her picture taken with Bruce. Rachel obliged, taking the picture before returning to the previous discussion and assuring him she was rather dull.

“Are you married? Have a boyfriend? Girlfriend? Cat?”

“Sadly, the answer to that one is that I do happen to have a cat.”
Rachel didn’t want to think about the man who’d bought her that cat.

“Ah, but you’ve been in love before. I can see it all over your
face.”

“I have,” she admitted softly. “But we wanted very different things out of life.”

“I don’t know. I don’t know.” He shook his head, a twinkle in
his eye and a half-cocked grin on his face. “From the look in your eyes, I think you still have a thing for this guy. You’ve gotta call him.”

“I am not going to throw myself at him. Not after all this time. Not after I chose my career over him.”

“Ouch.” He winced. “That had to have hurt. But you don’t have to throw yourself at him. Just a call. Two completely different things if the one is done correctly.”

“I’ll think about it,” she promised, surprised to realize she wasn’t lying. “Hey, could we grab a few shots on the boardwalk
before your appointment with Stewart?”

“I’m not meeting him today.” Bruce’s grin was reminiscent of a small boy who’d pulled off a great prank.

“You’re not?”

“Nah. One of your co-workers called and asked me to tell you that. Said it would really get your goat.”

Rachel knew without asking it had been Brian. She would have been irritated, but the look on Bruce’s face was so ridiculously endearing, she couldn’t help but share his amusement.

They spent the next half hour wandering up and down the boardwalk, Rachel grabbing random shots of Bruce as the mood struck. She wanted to capture the essence of him and this place that was so integral to his rise to fame. When they parted ways, he urged her one last time to reach out to Conrad.

“You love the guy; at least make a gesture, in some fashion.”

“I promise.” She nodded and thanked him again for everything.

It wasn’t until much later, when she was curled up in her favorite easy chair with a glass of wine and her Russian Blue cat stretched across her lap, that she admitted to herself there might be
some small piece of her that longed for what Neena and Charlie Russell had.

If she weren’t such a chicken, she’d take Bruce Springsteen’s advice and call Conrad. Rachel poured herself another glass of wine and debated dialing the phone. At long last, America’s sweetheart crawled into bed, slightly tipsy, with loneliness squeezing her heart.

The weakness she’d felt the night before vanished with the bright light of a new day. Rachel’s cheerful countenance was once
again in
place. She’d faced down oil cartels, dirty politicians and human trafficking rings; surely she could get through one Fourth of July
celebration with her mother and half-sister.

That resolve got her through the process of getting ready and
loading an overnight bag into her mint-condition ’66 Mustang. She poured a large bowl of cat food for Darcy, enough to get him through a late night.

She plugged her iPod into the radio and cranked up the volume, singing along with Elvis for all she was worth. It kept her mind off of anything too deep and made the trip go by a little faster. She pulled up in front of the small house she’d bought her mother years ago, put her car in park, and paused to give herself a pep talk.

Rachel could see her mother peeking through the curtains and
knew the longer she delayed stepping into the lion’s den, the
hungrier the lion would be. With a deep breath, Rachel plunged in.

As expected, the awkward weight of strained family relations
followed them all the way to the dinner table. Stiff hugs were given. Polite conversation came in spurts. Rosemary Phelps took it personally when her eldest daughter politely declined second
helpings, despite Rachel’s insistence that it had nothing to do with
her appreciation of the meal and everything to do with portion control.

Rachel had been pleased to find her mom was in between men, which meant she wouldn’t have to make polite conversation with a complete stranger. Still, she struggled to make polite conversation with the woman who gave birth to her.

“Did you hear that Uncle Jack just had a son?” It was a risky conversation topic, but Rachel was running out of things to say.

Rosemary frowned. “Isn’t he about to become a grandfather?”

“Yes. Kate and Gavin are expecting in the fall.” Rachel realized with a sinking feeling that she wouldn’t get out of that baby gift by sending an intern. Kate already had one of those.

Rosemary snorted.

Rachel let it drop. She adored her Uncle Jack. After her own father had passed away and her mother had begun her downward spiral, summers spent with Uncle Jack had kept her sane and grounded. She didn’t feel inclined to debate his life choices with Rosemary at the moment. Venturing down a safer path, she said, “Neena and Charlie just had their second baby. A girl. They named her Janey, after one
of Charlie’s cousins. I guess they were really close as kids.”

“What is it with you and babies? You aren’t pregnant, are you?” Rosemary eyed her shrewdly.

“No, Mom. I’m not pregnant.” Rachel sighed. Maybe it wasn’t a
safer subject after all. Giving up on her mom, she turned her
attention to her sister.

“So, Julia, how’s school?”

“It sucks.”

“I’m sorry. Is there anything I can do?”

Julia’s snort was reminiscent of Rosemary’s.

“Maybe you’d enjoy school more if you would spend less time in chat rooms and more time with real people,” Rosemary admonished.

“My friends in Chatspace are real people.”

“Real people you’ve never met,” Rosemary muttered under her breath.

“Just be careful on the Internet, sweetie,” Rachel warned softly.

“You’re as bad as Mom.” Julia’s glare was mutinous.

Rachel tried a new tactic. “You know, Neena and Charlie’s
oldest daughter is about your age. Maybe both of you could come visit me in New York on your next break.”

“I’m busy.”

Julia was lying and Rachel knew it, but she gave up. Instead, she picked absently at the key lime pie on her plate. She hated key lime. Did these people not believe in good old apple pie?

The instant she’d visited long enough to be polite, she suggested Rosemary open the birthday gift Rachel had brought along. Her mother’s birthday was still a week away, but no force on earth could bring Rachel back again that soon. “Oh, and Julia, I brought you a little something just because.”

Julia softened considerably toward her older sister after trying on the outfit from Rachel’s favorite boutique in Manhattan.
Rachel had to pat herself on the back for that one. They were ridiculously darling clothes. The blue-and-white sundress
complemented Julia’s exotic complexion perfectly. Most days, Rachel didn’t mind looking like her English father while her half-sister claimed the stunning beauty of her fully Italian heritage, but as Julia modeled the trendy little dress, Rachel had to admit she was a bit envious.

“What’s she going to do with a dress that expensive?” Rosemary demanded.

“Feel pretty in it,” Rachel shrugged. “Open your gift, Mom.”

Rosemary and Rachel might have been polar opposites, but they had one common ground: like any good Jersey girls, they were both
die-hard Springsteen fans
—
which meant the autographed copy of
his new CD was a definite win. God bless that man for being
sympathetic to her cause; he’d even tossed in a couple of tickets to see him at the Meadowlands.

With Rosemary truly beaming for the first time in a very long while, Rachel sighed and leaned back, thinking that Bruce was good
people. Rosemary ran like a schoolgirl to put on her new CD,
turning the volume up and insisting her daughters dance with her.

Rachel kicked off her shoes and jumped up on the couch with her mom and little sister. All the weirdness melted away as the three of them bounced around the living room until their skin glistened from the exertion and all three collapsed in a happy heap on the couch, allowing the last strains of the music to wash over them.

“That was fantastic,” Rachel giggled.

“What was it like meeting him?” Rosemary wondered, a childlike wonder creeping into her voice.

“Completely unreal,” Rachel admitted. It didn’t matter how
many celebrities she knew; this one was different. “You know, he gave me dating advice.”

“Did you tell him he was wasting precious breath?” Julia teased. Rosemary guffawed.

Rachel sighed. “He told me to call Conrad.”

“I liked Conrad,” Julia commented in a rare moment of sincerity.

“Me too.” Rachel pursed her lips in thought.

“We’d better head out if we’re going to make it to fireworks, girls,” Rosemary said, not allowing Rachel time to put a finer point on the thought nagging at the back of her brain.

“Sorry, Mom. I’m headed out tonight.”

Rachel brightened. “With a real live human being?”

“Yes, with a real live human being.” Julia punched her sister in the arm.

“It’s a valid question. What’s his name?”

“Kevin.”

“Cool. Have you met this guy, Mom?” Rachel asked.

Rosemary shrugged, nonplussed. “First I’ve heard of him.”

“Maybe I should stick around to meet him.”

Julia shot up. “Not a chance in hell.”

“It’s not unreasonable,” Rachel argued.

Rosemary intervened. “Oh, leave her alone. First you want her to date a real person; then you complain when she does.”

“I’m not complaining. Just concerned. Don’t you at least want to meet this guy?”

“Just because you’re some big, fancy journalist now doesn’t
mean you know how to be a mother. Last I checked, I’m the only one who can actually lay claim to that one.”

“Wow. Just wow.” Rachel felt like the wind had been knocked out of her. “That’s fantastic, Mom. I’ll be sure to save that line for when I have kids. That’s mom-of-the-year stuff right there.”

“You mean
if
you have kids,” Rosemary interjected.

“Alright, that’s it. I’m going home now. Julia, have fun tonight.”

Rachel was proud to hold the tears at bay until she was in her car and away from her mother’s house. She had no clue how the evening had spiraled so out of control.

Part of her railed that this was exactly why she should never get married and have children. Who in their right mind would pass on
genetics like hers? Another part of her kept going back to
Springsteen’s words earlier that night. She didn’t question whether or not she still loved Conrad. She did, however, question the sanity in calling him.

As if looking for more advice, she flipped on E-Street radio and drove on autopilot over to the Atlantic City Marina District. If traffic cooperated, she might even make it in time to watch the fireworks display over the water.

The lyrics to a favorite song drifted through the car, urging her thoughts down a dangerous path. Bruce and Patti were singing to each other. Rachel yearned for the kind of love they shared. He was telling her that he could pass the test. Rachel thought of Conrad; she wanted him to be tougher than the rest.

“This is ridiculous!” she shouted to the night air, forgetting for a moment that her ragtop was down and earning stares from the couple in the car next to hers. Sinking a little lower in her seat, she grabbed her phone and dialed a number she still knew by heart.

He picked up on the first ring, before she could worry he’d
changed phones.

“Hello.” His voice rumbled low and quiet over the line.

“Bruce Springsteen told me to call you,” she blurted.

“Are you listening to E-Street radio?”

“Well, yes, but that wasn’t what I was referring to.
The
Bruce
Springsteen told me to call you today. The more I thought about it, the more I wondered why not, so this is me, calling you.”

“Okay.” His response was measured. “I would really like to take this call, but I’m not alone at the moment.”

She was mortified. “I am so sorry.” Her cheeks burned — thank God he couldn’t see through the phone. “I should have thought you might be out with your girlfriend tonight.”

“No, look, it’s not like that. Hold on.” His voice became muffled as she heard him excusing himself from another conversation before returning to her, his voice barely above a whisper. “I’m not with a girl. I’m at work; I guess I just answered because I was so surprised to see your number on my caller ID.”

“Oh.” She was infinitely pleased to hear that. “I’m sorry to
bother you at work. Maybe you could give me a call when your shift ends.”

“I don’t know if that’s such a good idea.”

She clutched the phone close to her ear, partially so she could
hear him, partially because the death grip on the phone somehow seemed to be keeping her heart from shattering.

“If there was any way I could change things, I would. Trust me, I would,” he promised.

“Okay.” Sure, it was a lame response, but it was better than
sobbing and begging him to rewind the clock for her, to go back to who they were before she chose the wrong door.

His voice was soft and low. “Tonight, when you go to sleep,
imagine me there with you. When I go to sleep, I’ll imagine you in my arms again. We’ll share one last dance, okay?”

Someone was cursing Conrad in the background. Rachel winced
at the venom in the stranger’s voice and didn’t recover quickly
enough to respond to Conrad’s words.

“I’ve got to go.
Je t'aime, ma bichette
.”