Authors: Thérèse
He was the father of her children. That had to be worth another shot. She determined she would try again, but there would have to be changes. She set out her terms and he agreed to them. She had to get back to work. She needed a life outside the family.
India’s about to discover that people in this town will wipe you out faster than you can blink, she thought. She sighed thinking of the friends who’d been ostracized from the social calendar before the ink had dried on their divorce papers. Had that stark reality been part of her own fear when she agreed to try again with Stan? Had it? Could she ever trust her own judgment again?
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“Where’s the other half of Double Trouble?” Joss said, striding into the kitchen at twice his usual speed, reaching into the chiller and pulling out a can of Stella Artois. “I just got off the phone with Andy Goldberg and he’s not happy.”
“I’m still trying to work out how serious this is,” Annabelle said, almost to herself, as she waited for the video to upload again. “Four hundred thousand downloads in the last twenty-four hours and I look goddamned awful. I’ll never work again.”
“It’s gone viral. That’s for sure,” Joss said, grabbing a packet of Cheetos off the workstation and sitting down next to her at the kitchen table. “Want one?”
Annabelle shook her head.
“I can remember the fight clearly. India had only been here a few days … it was after we’d all been down to Malibu, the morning after our dinner party, so that would have been just after Memorial Day, yes?”
“Yeah. I remember thinking you two were taking a while to shake down together.”
“She’d been having a rough time at school. She’s always been prone to rants when she’s unhappy or hormonal. Honestly she’s like a bloody teenager herself half the time. No wonder she’s so good at understanding them.”
“Okay,” Joss said, leaning back and running his hands through his hair. “Let’s work this out. Bella and Cindy were messing round with your iPhone, right?”
“Yes. India had a hangover and she kept telling them to get the damn thing out of her face.”
“So that’s how this got on camera, same day we went to the Marina. They’d been to some kid’s party the night before. You told me to watch they didn’t have any more sugar.”
Annie nodded. “Yes they were hyper, but they were just mucking around, and one things for sure, there’s no way they’d post it, is there?”
“Of course not,” Joss said, folding the empty chip packet into neat squares. “So where’s your phone? Let’s see if we can work out when it was downloaded.”
“That’s it. I don’t have it,” Annie said slowly. “I couldn’t find it the morning you drove me in for the surgery. I remember because India was joking about me not needing it because I’d be unconscious anyway.”
“Any idea when you lost it?”
Annabelle slumped back in the chair and folded her arms.
“I’m not sure…” she said tentatively. “Maybe the afternoon we went to the medical plaza for that first round of tests. I was distracted. There was all that shit going on with India and Max. It’s a bit hazy.”
Annabelle clasped her hands over her mouth. “Joss, someone must have found it. It could be anyone. It could be anywhere.”
“Tess would have canceled it when she ordered your new one, but they may have uploaded stuff onto a computer,” he answered steadily. “What else was on it?”
“Well, I don’t know … photographs, texts – you know, the usual crap, but it was new, so not all that much, I suppose. Oh, God! I hear what you’re saying, Joss. This could come out in installments. We’ll have to ask the girls. Please tell me it’s the only time they used it. There could be anything on it … anything … at all.”
“Annie, we don’t know that yet. I’ll ask Bella, but it’s really important you don’t get stressed,” he said, squeezing her hand. “This is embarrassing as hell for India, but you handled it like a pro. You didn’t fire back. This isn’t some Mel Gibson clusterfuck and there won’t be anything too awful – we’re not the Kardashians.”
“I know.” She sighed heavily. “You’re right. But for India this is one giant cock-up and just when she was starting to get it together. I mean, she must have been distraught when she found out. What happens now, do you think?”
“I’m not sure.” Joss hesitated. “How is she?”
“Not good. And it was all going so well for her,” Annabelle said into the air.
“I’ll get the girls from school. You stay with India,” he said, getting to his feet and kissing the top of her head.
“Thanks. I love you.” She smiled up at him.
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India dragged on a pair of Levi’s and a tee and climbed on top of the bed. She pulled her knees up to her chin and rolled onto her side. The physical discomfort was overpowering. Her stomach felt leaden, and she had a strange sense of detachment, as if her body belonged to someone else. She buried her head deep into the pillow, craving darkness, a deep dark hole where she would never wake up.
She had felt like this before. She had felt this same sense of humiliation, disgrace, and failure. When? Why? She opened her eyes then closed them again and remembered. The nun was standing over her; cold black eyes peering through her wimple, her face distorted with anger, rows of classmates watching in silence “India Butler, you will never amount to anything. You are contemptible, an aberration in the face of God.”
She began to tremble. What had she done? Yes, she had filled a sink with water, yes she had put her face in it, and yes she should have been in the playground… “But sister…” India winced at the memory. Yes. This was how it felt to be disgraced, to feel ex-posed, and still hear some inner voice screaming, “I didn’t mean any harm. I didn’t … I didn’t.”
She needed to cry, but the pain was lodged so deep inside no tears would come. But now, reliving the morning, she could remember only sadness etched on these women’s faces, not fury or contempt. Why was that? What was different? What?
She curled into a tighter ball.
They loved me, she thought. They were hurt. They risked opening themselves up to me. I let them down. I misjudged them all those weeks ago. All I saw was the shiny veneer, the extravagant lifestyles and the privilege. Annie’s right. I did have a huge chip on my shoulder. So what changed? What? When?
It was the night at the hospital and those days after, she thought. When I understood how vulnerable they were, when I realized they were just like me. For the first time in my life I felt like I belonged, I could be myself. I felt needed, that I had something to give.
India sat up slowly and climbed off the bed.
But this is not about me. It’s about them, she thought. They’re the ones who are hurt. I’ll find a way to explain to them. I have to. I will, because I was on the right path even though it’s all gone to shit. What was it Tony Robbins said? “Step up … be a force for good.” Yes, and I WAS a force for good. I was.
She went into the bathroom, splashed her face with cold water, and straightened her hair. She took a long look in the mirror. “Okay… STEP ONE – STEP UP…,” she said to her reflection.
India closed the gate tightly behind her before walking slowly across to the main house.
I have to find a way to make this right … but for now, I’ve made a decision…
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Joss and Annie looked up as Clooney yelped and ran cowering to the far corner of the kitchen.
“Even the dog’s not speaking to me now,” India said, dragging out the chair next to Annabelle, and slumping into it.
“Here, Cloon,” Joss shouted, throwing him a well-chewed rubber bone. “Catch.”
Coming round the table, he gave India’s shoulders a tight squeeze, then sat down next to her.
“Okay, guys. I want to make a speech,” India started. “Yes, please,” she nodded to Annabelle, who was pouring tea. “Thanks.”
She took a deep breath, a very deep breath.
“I can’t begin to thank you for all you’ve done for me, and I can’t even begin to tell you how awfully sorry I am for the chaos I’ve caused.”
Annabelle went to say something, but India put her hand up to stop her.
“I think it’d be best if I go back to London. I have no way of earning my living here now, and you guys have been more than generous to me. I’ll find a way to pay you back, but really I think after what you’ve been through you deserve a bit of calm.”
Annabelle took her hand. “Darling, I know none of this is your fault. I do know”
“Whose fault is it then?” India asked her, looking her straight in the eye.
“It’s nobody’s fault,” Joss interjected. “Shit happens. I’ve just spoken to Andy Goldberg again. He’s sure there’s no damage to Annie. He said if anything it’s good PR for her; she comes across as really together. We were worried what else they’d filmed, but Bella’s told me that’s the only time they messed with Annie’s phone.”
“Look, darling, there are two issues here. The first one was private lives getting played out in public. I’m a name. People are endlessly fascinated, that’s why the thing’s gone viral, but it’s about as interesting as watching paint dry. They’ll hit it, see you ranting on, and maybe they’ll try to spin it, but right now the press are more interested in all the red carpet crap.”
“What do you mean ‘spin it’?” India asked, taking a sip of Earl Grey, her hands trembling slightly.
“Well, there’s bound to be some little freelancer trying to sell the ‘true story’ behind the People magazine piece, but this is LA, and for as long as we’ve got Lindsay, or Travolta, there’s always going to be something juicier for them than that.”
“So you’re not just saying this?” India said, turning to Joss. “Is Annie right? I’ve not caused her too much damage? She’s not just saying that, right?”
“It’s all cool,” he said leaning across and grabbing a chocolate cookie. “Annie’s not working right now. It’ll blow over.”
“But the other issue,” Annabelle interrupted, “is how this impacts our friends and what we do about that.”
“I know,” India said, her eyes welling with tears again. “I know, and I will find a way, I’ll write an apology to each one of them separately. I will do anything it takes, but Annie, I need to leave. It may be the cowardly thing to do but I can’t stay. I can’t. I’m too ashamed and it’s not fair to you. I need time to think this through, put some distance on what’s happened.”
She swallowed hard. “I have to make some calls,” she said, stifling an almost overpowering urge to cry and lurching to her feet. “Love you…,” she mumbled.
And Adam…, she thought, closing the bedroom door behind her. Her stomach muscles tightened like a tourniquet at the thought of speaking to him. Would he have seen it already? She could barely breathe. She picked up the bedside phone and called; he didn’t pick up. When she tried to leave a message, she had no words. She hung up.
Moving over to the desk she booked her flight to London online and sent an e-mail to Sarah, who responded on her BlackBerry.
To: [email protected]
From: [email protected]
SUBJECT: Hang on in there girl!I’ll be there to pick you up. (In more ways than one.) Can’t wait to see you. Love you. See you Friday. Can’t wait.
Hugs. Sarah xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx
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Robert pulled the car around and lifted India’s three heavy suitcases into the trunk. India climbed into the back of the Lincoln quickly. She wanted this part over with fast. She waved to Annie, Joss, and the girls until the car turned into the curve of the driveway and the trees blocked her view. Then she sat back and hid behind her Oliver Peoples sunglasses. She could see the expression of concern on Robert’s face as he looked at her through the rearview mirror.
“It’s a bad time of day for traffic, Miss Butler, but we’ll get you there in plenty of time.”
“Thank you, Robert,” India mumbled, choking back tears. In time for what? she thought. For the plane that’ll take me back … to what? Scrambling around in her purse she found a squeezed up tissue and blew her nose. She felt worn out. Her head was throbbing from lack of sleep and lack of food. Her stomach had been in a tight knot for days now. She felt numb.
This is all so wrong. It wasn’t supposed to be like this.
She checked her phone one more time. There was still nothing from Adam. She’d texted to say she was going out of town and still no response. Maybe Angel was easing him into a Down-ward Dog right this moment.
The security line at LAX seemed endless and unnecessarily intimidating.
Now I come to think of it, they really do treat you like an alien, she thought, edging alongside the conveyor belt while an obese gum-chewing official barked unnecessary instructions. “Shoes off.” Okay, I know, give me a second. India struggled to unzip her knee-length Prada boots, then flung them into the plastic tray.
Thank goodness Joss had upgraded her again. She took her wine voucher to the bar in the business-class lounge and traded it for a plastic cupful of lukewarm Chardonnay, two cubes of Day-Glo “American cheese” and a packet of saltines.
A hell of a lot different from the lounge at Heathrow, she thought, remembering how exciting it had been waiting for her flight only two months earlier, tucking into salads and pasta, sipping champagne and stretching out in a cabana. How excited she’d been, how hopeful. After the firewalk, she really had believed that she could create a whole new life if she could focus clearly on what she really, really wanted. And now. Now what? Would she ever be able to believe in herself again? Would she be single forever?
After cramming her carry-on into the overhead locker and handing the attendant her coat, India sat down wearily and fastened her seat belt. She declined the “sparkling water with citrus garnish” and accepted a thimble-size glass of sparkling wine instead. Gripping the sides of her seat, she closed her eyes as the plane tore down the runway. As it tipped sharply sideways she peered out of the window. Catalina Island was shimmering in the distance, outlined against the silvery light of the rippling ocean; stretched out beneath her were the yellow sands of Malibu. Adam might be there right now, she thought. I wonder if I’ll ever see him again…
India closed her eyes. She was too exhausted to think. She drifted into a foggy sleep as the captain switched off the seat belt sign and the Boeing 747 headed for London.