Glamour (2 page)

“Of course.”

“I want to go to Bahamas Fashion Week with you girls. I’ve really been looking forward to it. I don’t know what I’d do if I missed out on that …” She looks close to tears again. “It would feel like … like the cancer had won.”

I take in a slow breath. “Then you have to do everything you can to get well.” I think about the timeline. “But that gives you less than four weeks. Can you be healthy enough to travel by then?”

“That’s my goal.”

“And you won’t go if your doctor recommends against it?”

She pauses as if considering. “No, of course not. That would be foolish.”

“If there’s anything I can do to help,” I offer, “please, feel free to ask. I mean that, Fran. I wouldn’t say it if I didn’t mean it.”

“Thanks, Erin. I believe you. I’ll keep that in mind.” She flashes a funny grin. “So, how are you at holding a girlfriend’s hair back while she worships at the porcelain throne?”

“Huh?”

She chuckles. “You never were a party girl, were you?”

“Not so much.”

She pats my shoulder. “One of the things I admire about you. You are
so you.”
She slowly stands. “I think I need to get home now … I need to get some rest.”

We walk out to the parking lot together and, although Fran is quiet, my brain is buzzing like a caffeinated mosquito. Whether it makes sense or not, I am suddenly feeling very responsible. Not only for Fran’s well-being, but for how it might impact our show if she’s trying to direct us when she really should be home in bed. It’s got me very worried, and I think Helen should be informed. And yet I know I have to keep my promise to Fran.

“You take care now,” I say as I wait for her to get into her car. “Promise you’ll call me if you need anything.”

She gives me a weak smile as she puts her window down. “Yeah. And you promise not to worry about me. Okay?”

I nod, knowing that’s a promise I might not be able to keep.

“Leah will call with the details on the interview with Brogan. I’ll see you on Wednesday.”

“Get some rest,” I say as her window goes up. She makes another weak smile, then drives away. Suddenly I feel like crying.
Poor Fran!
Why is this happening to her? But instead of breaking down in the parking lot, I slowly walk over to Paige’s car, and as I walk, I pray. I ask God to do a miracle in Fran’s life. I’m not exactly sure what kind of a miracle I have in mind, although I’m trusting that God knows what’s best. But that’s what I’m expecting—a real honest-to-goodness miracle.

“Is there a better form of torture than this?”
Mollie drapes a little black-lace camisole over her huge, pregnant belly with a frown.

I have to control myself from laughing at the image. “I’m sorry,” I tell her, “but you’re the one who wanted to come to Victoria’s Secret tonight.”

Mollie puts the camisole back. “Why did Paige insist on having a personal shower for your mom anyway?”

“Because she’s seen my mom’s lingerie wardrobe, which is a stretch in terms, and it’s so sad that even my conservative underwear looks good in comparison.” I pull out a red-and-black silk kimono and hold it up.

“Can’t be any worse than the maternity undies I’m wearing these days.”

“Well, maybe after your baby comes, you can go underwear shopping for yourself.” I put the kimono back. “And like I told you,” I remind her, “you can just get her some shower gel or something like that.”

“No.” Mollie stubbornly shakes her head. “Your mom has been like a second mom to me and I want to get her something
really special.” She holds up a short, coral-colored satin robe. “How about this?”

I nod. “That actually looks like something she’d like. And that color would be good on her too.”

“Done.” Mollie heads for the cashier. It’s strange seeing my best friend so pregnant. She still has almost two months until her due date, but she’s gotten so huge that, thanks to her lack of height, she’s starting to look almost as wide as she is tall. Not that I’d ever say that to her, or anything else that might upset her. Mollie’s been extremely moody lately. I’m sure it has to do with hormones, but sometimes I feel like I’m walking on eggshells with her.

“Now that that’s done, I’m starving,” she announces as we’re leaving the store. “I’m craving ice cream. With hot fudge, I think.”

I know better than to question this or to suggest something healthier. “I guess so,” I tell her.

“I’ll treat,” she offers. “My thank you for you bringing me here, especially after you already got your shower present.”

I’m a little concerned about Mollie’s expenditures tonight. Usually she’s pretty frugal, and that robe was not cheap. But, again, I know better than to mention this. And, really, it’s none of my business.

“So are you guys going to do the interview with Brogan Braxton tomorrow?” she asks after we’re seated with our sundaes. I really didn’t want a whole sundae, but Mollie wouldn’t take no for an answer.

“I think so.” I dip my spoon and swirl it around.

“Is Paige okay with it?”

“Cautiously okay,” I admit. “We devised a cue system in case we want to cut it short.”

“What is it?” She licks the chocolate from her spoon.

“Paige will say
polka-dot bikini
to tip me off.”

“How do you use
polka-dot bikini
in a normal conversation?”

I shrug. “Paige will manage. Besides, Brogan’s line is beachwear.”

“Beachwear.” Mollie dips her spoon again. “There’s something I don’t need to worry about this summer. Unless someone has a beached whale beachwear line.”

“You’re not going to be this big forever, Moll.”

“That’s what they say.” She looks down at her enormous midsection. “I’m just finding it hard to believe.”

“August isn’t that far off either,” I point out.

“That reminds me,” she says a bit more brightly. “My obstetrician thinks my due date might be off.”

“Off?”

“Yeah. At the last ultrasound, she said it looks like the baby is more developed, like maybe I was off. She said it could be more like mid-July.”

“Hey, that’s great. The baby will be here even sooner.”

“Yeah, but now I’m worried you won’t be back from the Bahamas when it comes.”

“Oh … yeah.” Mollie has coerced me into being her birthing coach. “Do you still want me to go to the childbirth classes with you?”

“Yeah, but maybe I’ll reschedule for the end of June. Is that okay?”

“Sure.” I don’t want to make her feel bad, but I know I need to ask. “Do you have a backup plan? I mean, if I’m still in the Bahamas when you go into labor?”

“My mom will help.”

“Oh, good.” I try not to look too relieved. “So, she’s coming
around more?” I don’t want to say too much, because Mollie’s mom has been kind of up and down in regard to this baby. Some days she’s happy she’ll be a grandma. Other times, especially if she’s been talking to Mollie’s dad too much, she can be extremely negative. Mollie’s dad has made no secret that he wants Mollie to give the baby up for adoption. But Mollie seems firm in her choice to keep and raise her child.

“Yeah, Mom’s been pretty cool lately. She’s so certain it’s going to be a girl that she’s even bought some clothes.”

“And you’re sticking with your resolve … not to find out the sex of the baby until it arrives.”

Mollie nods as she dips her spoon into the ice cream.

“Well, I hope that I’m here for you when the time comes.”

“Me too.” She frowns and pushes her half-eaten ice cream away. “Now I’m stuffed.”

As I drive Mollie home, I think, not for the first time, that it’s not easy being a best friend to an unmarried pregnant girl. For one thing, I can’t speak my mind openly … not like I used to anyway. I want to ask Mollie if she’s heard from Tony lately, or whether he ever plans to step up and accept some responsibility for this child. But I know that usually just upsets her. I also want to ask if he’s quit pressuring her to give the baby up for adoption. Last I heard, he was getting legal advice. I think he needs mental advice. Of course, I also want to ask if she has given her decision enough thought. But I know where that will get us—and I just don’t want to go there.

Still, after I drop her at home, I try to imagine what her life’s going to be like with a baby, not in her tummy, but in her arms. A baby that wants to be fed and burped and changed and cared for 24/7. Has she really taken this into consideration? I also wonder how that’s going to affect our friendship.
I know it’s selfish of me to think this, but I’m not sure I want to be hanging with Mollie and her baby all the time. And that makes me feel seriously guilty.

It also makes me feel like I need another best friend. Not to replace Mollie, because I think we will always be best friends, but just someone to fill in the gap when she’s busy being a mommy. I wonder if it’s wrong to feel that way.

As I go up to the condo, I’m thinking of Blake. He’s kind of like an alternative best friend, but for some reason he’s been a little out of touch lately. In fact, I think it’s time to give my old buddy a call. But when I try, I get his voicemail and so I leave a message.

“Hey, Blake. I’m missing you. What’s up? Maybe this is dead week. Or maybe you’re having finals. If so, good luck. Call me when you’re not busy.” As I hang up, I realize I probably nailed it. This is the first week of June, so he’s probably ending the school year. But as I get ready for bed, I’m questioning this. Even if it’s dead week or if he’s having finals, he could call me. And now I wonder if he might be avoiding me for some other reason. I wonder if I offended him the last time we talked, when we went to see a movie.

So as I get into bed, I replay our last conversation. It took place more than a week ago and it had to do with our relationship.

“So, now that Paige is engaged,” he had begun, “I assume your agreement with her—to lay off dating relationships—is kind of moot?”

I told him that Paige could make her own decisions, but I still felt like I wasn’t ready for a serious relationship.

“Define a serious relationship,” he challenged me.

“You know, steady, committed, exclusive.”

He had just nodded, but now that I think about it, it seems like his eyes were troubled. Or maybe I’m imagining it.

“Don’t you agree with that?” I asked him.

“I guess so.”

“So we’re on the same page then?”

“Sure. If you don’t want our relationship to be steady, committed, or exclusive, how can I not agree?”

“But you really are my best guy friend,” I assured him. “And I’m thankful for you.”

As I recall, he had smiled. We held hands as we went into the theater, and everything seemed pretty much the same as it’s been for the past few months. But maybe something changed that night. When I consider his goodnight kiss, I feel even more certain of this.

“You’re a great girl,” he told me that night. “And you’ve been a good friend to me.”

“Same back at you,” I said to him.

Then we had kissed. And when he stopped kissing me, he had this sad expression. “See you around, Erin.”

At the time I remember thinking it was a weird way to say goodnight. Then I got busy with life and work and helping get things ready for Mom’s upcoming wedding, and I didn’t think too hard about it. Until now.

It’s possible I could be over-thinking this, like Paige is always accusing me of doing. And lately, it seems there is plenty to think about. So, as I open my Bible, my regular bedtime routine, I tell myself that everything between Blake and me is just fine. Same old, same old. I’m guessing that by the end of the week, Blake will call. If he doesn’t, I’ll call him and invite
him to the BBB fashion show. Knowing Blake, that’s an invite he will not refuse.

On Wednesday morning, Paige and I go to the studio, where Paige spends about an hour in wardrobe, putting together our outfits.

“I want us to look impeccable,” she tells me as she holds the white Michael Kors jacket in front of me, studying me and it carefully as if she’s about to change her mind again.

She has just decided to stick with Michael Kors for me when Fran and Leah arrive. Although I try not to stare, I can’t help noticing how weak and pale Fran looks. Paige shows her selections to Fran, and naturally Fran approves. Who would dare disapprove Paige’s fashion sense? Certainly not anyone who’s not feeling her best.

“Let’s get you girls started in hair and makeup,” Fran tells us. “We’ll go over some of the show details on the way there.” She gives Leah instructions and says she’ll be in her office. Hopefully not throwing up.

“What’s troubling you?” Shauna asks as I sit in the chair for makeup.

“Nothing.”

She reaches for a sponge. “Well, for a moment you looked like you lost your best friend.”

I force a smile.

“See.” She points to the mirror. “You know what they say about a smile? It increases your face value.”

“Yeah, I think you’ve told me that one before, Shauna.”

“Apparently it didn’t take then either.” She chuckles. “Now close your eyes.” As she works, she rattles on about how a positive attitude is life changing. “It’s like an internal makeover,” she says as she applies eyeliner.

“I agree,” I mumble. I know she doesn’t like us to talk much while she’s working on our faces. “Thanks for the reminder.”

After a bit, Paige and I switch chairs, and by twelve thirty we’re ready to get dressed, but Leah has brought in some lunch, and so we all sit around and eat and talk instead.

“I told the camera guys about the polka-dot bikini line,” Leah informs Paige. “Hopefully, you won’t need to use it.”

“Hopefully.” Paige forks a piece of pineapple.

By one fifteen we’re dressed and on our way to the studio where the interview will be shot. Leah informs us it’s a studio Brogan picked.

“We did suggest a neutral location,” Fran tells us.

“But Brogan insisted this was better,” Leah says.

“Naturally, the studio is owned by the same network that produces
Malibu Beach.”
Fran leans back in the seat and sighs. I wonder how she’s feeling, but don’t dare ask.

Paige wrinkles her nose as we get out of the car. “It feels like we’re going into enemy territory.”