June 23, 2017
Cut Beverly Hills
9500 Wilshire Boulevard
Beverly Hills, CA 90212
“Oh my gosh! Tad!”
“Tad! Tad! This way!”
“Tad! I love you! I LOVE YOU!”
Arms reach out, their photographs and magazines whacking various areas on my body as they wave around in the air, begging him for an autograph. He’s forced to stop every ten feet or so, gripping my hand with one of his and signing autographs with his free one, flashing his dimples as best he can without looking annoyed for the cameras. It’s been a lot for us, the move, the auditions he went out on, the missed dinners and the late nights I spent alone in our condo, and the shocking turn of events that literally made him an overnight celebrity. We can’t go anywhere in peace now. Paparazzi follow us down every block, around every street corner, and gaggles of women, young and old, await us outside of every place we go.
“Go on inside,” he tells me with a reassuring wink. “I’ll be right behind you.”
I do it, but only to get away from the crowd. The Maitre d’ greets me with a warm smile, knowing who I came with automatically, and soon enough I’m escorted to their best table, chair pulled out for me as I sit, with the reassurance that their head chef will be by just as soon as Tad is able to come inside.
I wait twenty minutes.
Thirty minutes.
I order a glass of wine, then another.
An hour.
“Sorry.” Tad sits down in the chair that is pulled out for him and flashes me that dimpled smile again. “A crowd gathered.”
I swig my wine and shrug. “It’s fine.”
“Look,” he sighs. “I have to be on set tomorrow morning, but we’re stopping by two the latest, and I’m off the next day. We should do something…get away overnight.” He reaches across the table for my hand and I give it to him.
“Yeah um…sure, we can.”
He’s smiling. He’s always smiling, but I can’t seem to make myself do it lately. Despite the ring, and the beautiful wedding we had last month, despite how happy my family is for me, each day it just seems to get harder and harder to be happy with him. He can be miles away from me sometimes, even when he’s sitting right here in front of me.
Tad was a last second pick for a new crime drama that became the biggest show on network television by its third episode. He plays the lead character, a slick detective that always gets his man, and his dimples are the co star. I’m happy for him.
I just wish he could put it all to bed when he gets home. He can’t seem to do it. His phone is constantly at his ear, and he’s always rushing off to some meeting with his agent. He gets booked on a different talk show every two weeks. In fact, next week we’re flying to New York for his first appearance on the Tonight Show. He’s overjoyed. Apparently Jimmy Fallon is planning some silly game for them to play which will go viral and make him even more famous.
Where does that leave me?
In the background, mostly.
I’ve quit my job as a lawyer. I tried very hard after the wedding to get back to work, but Tad made it clear that with his schedule, there was no way our relationship could work if I was being pulled away by my own career. I didn’t fight it.
I just gave it up.
I gave it up after fighting so hard for a prominent place in the legal world. I remember, initially, I pushed back. I told him that I still wanted to have a career, but…
“Hey.” Tad tugs my hand and squeezes it harshly, turning my fingers bright white.
I gasp slightly and the breath catches in my throat. “Tad…”
“Are you going to do this right now?” He leans in closer to me and sends me a dark look. “Ruin the nice dinner?”
“No,” I croak.
“It’s like you’re not happy for me or something,” he says harshly. “You don’t even have to work because of me, and what do you do when I take you out? Mope.”
“I’m not moping…”
“If we weren’t out right now, I swear to God…”
My eyes widen and my body goes rigid, waiting for it. His hand lets go of mine and he balls it into a tight, menacing fist.
“Good evening.”
The waiter appears, and I say a silent, thankful prayer as Tad’s dimples fly on and he begins to ramble off our dinner order without a care in the world.
He really is a son of a bitch.
I just wish I had realized it sooner.
The days of holding doors and pulling out chairs for me are mostly nonexistent now, except when we’re in public. I’m an object. The moment he married me, he made it clear that I was going to do what he wanted, what was best for our marriage, even if I didn’t have a say in it.
I should leave.
I tell myself that every single day.
But I’m so scared.
The first time he hit me, we were leaving a party at his directors house in Bel Air. He was drunk, and I wasn’t having it. I told him in the car that he was a sloppy drunk, and then he smacked me across the face. Hard. The bruise lasted for nearly a week, hidden under the guise of expensive concealer and sunglasses. He apologized, bought me flowers, and kissed my bruises, until they faded away completely.
But instead of turning back into that cute guy I married, Tad just got worse…
And worse.
His fist has been much looser since the first time. I guess…because he knows he can get away with it. My family is all the way across the country, and I have too much pride to break down and tell them what Tad has turned into. I’m sure…I’m sure Hannah would tell me I deserved it. She’s made out well, Hannah, got the Live! gig a few weeks back, and hosts daily in place of Kelly Ripa as Live! With Hannah and Michael. Sometimes I watch, selfishly. She’s got a brand new fat diamond engagement ring on her finger.
She’ll be giving birth in a couple of months too. Lately all of her segments have been about women’s pregnancy health and fun activities with baby. The media and housewives alike are eating it up. Last I heard from a friend back at the firm, ratings had skyrocketed and she had been resigned for four more years.
I hate watching. I think about him. I think about what I ran away from that night at the W, and how he probably felt so lost that he ran back to Hannah for comfort, because that’s all he knew. She saw all of that vulnerability, and made it a point to trap him for good. Even so, Hannah has never been that horrible to Justin. She’s just very needy, very holier than thou, and won’t accept anything less from Justin than flashy law career, vegetarian meals, yoga, and his millions. She molds him into what she wants him to be, and he goes along with it.
It’s a life that at one time, he was desperately trying to escape. Maybe he would have, if things had worked out differently with Fay…
If I’d had a little more faith in him the second time around.
I wish I knew how he felt, but I seriously doubt he ever wants to see me again, and I can’t blame him.
The waiter leaves us. I have no clue what I’m about to eat.
“Now,” Tad continues. “Are you going to snap out of this?”
I stare at him for a moment, waiting for my heartbeat to slow back down before I answer. “Yes…I’m…” I pull out my smile. The one I reserve only for when I’m most desperate. “Tad, I’m sorry. I just get overwhelmed sometimes…you know.”
A soft dimple emerges, and I know I’m in the clear for now. “That’s more like it, babe. You know, I don’t…I don’t like to get so angry at you. You just…you make me so crazy sometimes. You just don’t get it…I love you.”
r32;His fingers begin to curl into a fist again.
“Tad,” I whisper. “Just…please, okay? Please? I said I was sorry.” I glance around nervously, but he’s been quiet enough that no one has noticed.
He takes in a deep breath, and laughs a little as he lets it back out again. It sounds bitter, and resentful. Like he hates me.
“We’ll finish talking about this later.”
I swallow hard.
Dinner arrives and Tad seems to slip back to his better side. We talk about him, about the set and his upcoming schedule. He talks about New York a lot, and all the things he can’t wait to experience. I force myself to smile, comment on everything with an excited tone, and never forget to tell him how much that I love him. He downs wine glass after wine glass, and by the time we finish dinner, I’m terrified about his level of intoxication.
The valet pulls the car up as we walk out of the restaurant. The crowd is still there, and flashes burst in my face the moment we set foot onto the sidewalk. They scream for him, nearly knock me over trying to get what they want from him, and he barely checks to see if I’m all right. He’s staggering slightly, concentrating too hard on his dimpled smile as he sloppily scrawls out autographs for the fans and poses for pictures.
“Baby, I can drive.”
“I’m driving.” He puts the pen cap on his Sharpie and waves to the crowd while the valet hands him the keys back.
He stinks of wine.
“I’m just…I mean, you’re tired and…”
He yanks me by the arm and opens the passenger door, tossing me down into the seat. I hear gasps, more flashes go off, and I stare up at him, terrified.
“I said that I’m driving.” He gives me a dark look.
I say nothing, just swing my legs in the car the rest of the way, and cringe when the door is slammed shut on me.
He’s too drunk to drive, I know he is, but it’s not the first time he’s pulled this.
I should get out and call home. Every logical part of me is screaming at me to do it.
He gets in the drivers seat, slams the door behind him.
I can’t move. “Tad…are you sure…”
He backhands me across the face before I can stop him. “I said…I TOLD you…I’m driving the fucking car.”
“Okay.” I whimper and cower in my seat with my hands raised in a surrender motion. “Okay… Tad.”
He peels away from the curb at a frightening speed, and no one stops him. I clutch the sides of my seat the whole way home, my face throbbing, the tears pushing from behind my eyes until they are literally aching. When I see our complex, I start to thank God for getting us back safe, but that all stops when he parks. I’m not even half way out of the car before he grabs me by the hair and starts to drag me up to our front door. I scream, but he barely hears me, just tosses me through the door when he gets it open. I land on my backside, hard, and I cry out again as the door closes.
“You think you can order me around huh?”
“No…No I…I wouldn’t…Tad!”
He backhands me again, and again.
My face is bruised and bloody by the time he’s finished. He slumps against the wall, too drunk to continue, and it’s only then that I manage to escape to the bathroom and barricade myself inside. I cry for what seems like hours, holding myself, clutching my face and pressing a towel to my split lip.
I have my clutch with me still, by some miracle, and snap it open, pulling my phone out with shaking hands. I pull up my sister’s number and my parents number, but I can’t bring myself to dial either of them. I’m just…
I’m so embarrassed and ashamed of what I let him do to me.
Fink & Harrison- Timberlake business cell (anytime)
The number shines back at me on the screen like some sort of heavenly omen. I don’t know what it is…I just feel like I could reach out to him for something this drastic, and he would give me the answer I needed. He’s always been that way, no matter what was going on, and I was always there for him…
At least up until a certain point in our lives.
“Maggie.” I can hear Tad groaning from the hallway. “Maggie…baby, I’m sorry.”
I press my lips together, but can’t suppress the tears rolling down my face. They sting the cuts there, reminding me of what just took place…
Of what’s been taking place for months.
I can’t live this way anymore.
I press send.
********************
July 23, 2017
Buy Buy Baby
270 7th Ave, New York, NY 10001
“What do you think?”
I run my hand along the smooth wooden railing, feeling a hint of a smile pulling on my lips at the thought of why we’re here today.
A little girl. We’ll call her Mackayla Brianne. A decision, not a compromise, that we made with smiles instead of resentment.
“It’s all right.” I turn and lean against the crib, staring her in the eyes. “I still like the other set better.”
“God, that’s so boring.” Hannah wrinkles her nose and rolls her eyes. “Brown.”
“It’s neutral,” I shrug. “What’s wrong with that?”
“Girls are supposed to have pinks and pastel purples. I want the nursery themed to those colors.”
I chuckle slightly, and begin to rub her shoulders when she braces her back from the pressure of her belly. “Do you like it, Hannah?”
“I love this one.”
I kiss the nape of her neck gently. “Then we’ll get it. Simple. I told you I would have just given you the card.”
“You’re supposed to be around for all of this!” She whines and pulls away from me. “Justin…”
“Hey…all right,” I pull her closer to me and hold her face in my hands when she turns around again. “I’m here aren’t I?”
“Barely.”
She’s right.
“I’m excited, you know that,” I tell her gently. “This part just isn’t my thing, that’s all.”
The heart surgery has become all but a distant memory. I’m walking normally again, and I barely use my inhaler. I’ve turned back into myself, minus Fay, but I’ve found a lot of great ways to cope. I go visit her with Tyler every Saturday, and Hannah fully supports it. Sometimes she comes, but often times she likes for me to go by myself, because she knows that I need that solitude to be at peace with Fay’s absence. Hannah has learned to compromise a lot with me since we found out she was pregnant. She doesn’t nag me as much, and if nothing else, we’ve learned how to become great friends who can nurture each other through all of life's challenges.
In two weeks we’ll be married. She’s hardly complained that she’ll be walking down the aisle seven months pregnant. I think she’s too happy about our baby’s arrival to care.
So am I.
I admit, for the first few months I was scared shitless about the idea of a baby coming into my life. Tyler was one thing. He was practically a teenager and had developed his own set of friends that he wanted to spend most of his free time with, but a baby? A baby that was going to be mine? With my career, I didn’t know how the hell I’d never make the time. I convinced myself that Hannah would have to do most of that work for me. I guess things started to change after that second ultrasound. We could really see her then, and when they told us it was a girl well…my heart melted. From that point on things were different. All I thought about was that baby; names, places I wanted to show her, all the things I wanted to teach her. I thought about Hannah and I, how we would raise her together and be the best parents possible.
Things have changed…they’ve changed a lot. I put a ring on her finger so quick after that even my parents were surprised. I wanted to do it though. I just…I didn’t love her, but I wanted to be her husband. I wanted us to be a family. I still do, despite her flaws, and my frustrations. None of it seems to matter anymore.
I swore to myself that my daughter would come before my job, and I knew that Hannah felt the same way. She’s gotten the gig of a lifetime with Live!, but swears that she’s taking at least six months before she’ll think about going back, and even then, she only wants to do a couple of shows a week. I’m fine with that, because I can take care of her, and to be honest, I’d rather be the one to take care of Hannah than see some nanny raise our daughter while she goes and has a full time career.
For the first time since we met, we we’re on the same page, have the same goals, and cater to each others desires naturally, not out of desperate obligation. I kiss her without forcing myself, I watch movies and fall asleep on the couch with her because I want to spend that time with her. I run out for Breyers Gelato at 3am at least four times a week because I care about her…because she’s my best friend.
I never thought I’d say that, but she was there when no one else was. I’ve made mistakes, but she’s seen me at my lowest, and she loves me anyway. I don’t deserve it, and because of that, I’m going to do everything in my power to make it work.
I was asleep when the call came through that night. It’s been about a month now that I think about it. There was no voicemail, just her number, and I was bewildered the entire morning. At least until I got to the office and started to focus on my normal routine, and the things that mattered.
I didn’t call her back, and I didn’t mention it to Hannah. I just let it go.
I hope that bitch never calls me again. Something inside had pulled at me, told me that she wouldn’t have called me for an insignificant reason, but I forced those feelings away. Maggie couldn’t play a part in my life, no matter how small. If I didn’t have so many contacts, I probably would have changed my number. I’m bitter enough.
I’ll always be.
We purchase the nursery furniture, and I take Hannah to her favorite restaurant for lunch. I try to focus on our plans, on the wedding, and Mackayla. The baby starts to kick at one point and Hannah excitedly pulls my hand down so I can feel, and my smile grows a mile wide. Still though, I can’t completely concentrate on the moment and it’s making me angry.
Something is just off…I can feel it, even though I don’t want to.
I take Hannah to Lamaze and do techniques with her for about an hour, before I take her back home again and get ready for the Knicks game that Barry and Benjamin invited me to over a month ago. I’ve been looking forward to the night out, surprisingly enough, even if it is with my father and my boss.
“Have fun.” Hannah smiles at me once I give her a kiss goodbye. “Can you bring me some gelato on your way back?”
“Sure thing.” I caress her face gently. “You sure you’ll be okay?”
She reclines back in the chair and flicks the tv on. “I’m pretty set here. This little one is still cooking inside of me and I have enough to watch on Netflix to last me a millennia. Go on and have fun, would you?”
“All right.” I smile for her. “I probably won’t stay the whole time…”
“Just go! My God, Justin!”
I just laugh, and walk out of the house before I can ramble on anymore. I walk the three blocks to the subway, and just as I’m about to walk down the stairs, my phone starts to ring. I pull it out quickly, thinking it’s Hannah going into labor. “Baby? You okay?”
It’s a recording. Something about an incoming call from a correctional facility, and all I can think is that one of our clients has gotten themselves into a bind over the weekend. I sigh harshly and take a couple of seconds to decide if I want to deal with this right now. But Barry would want me to, so I do it. “I accept.”
“Justin?”
The voice is weak, and terrified. Still, I would know it anywhere, but…it just can’t be. “Maggie?”
“Yes.”
I stop dead in my tracks. I’m ready to rip her apart and I guess…if she wasn’t in jail maybe…
Wait a minute.
She’s in jail?
“Are you in jail?”
“It’s…yea…” She chokes back a sob. “Justin I…I asked for a lawyer and so they gave me the phone and…I just…I called you.”
“What the hell happened? Where are you?”
“I’m in Los Angeles County Jail. It’s…things have been going on and Tad he…he’s in the hospital and they’re saying…”
“The hospital?”
“They said he’s brain dead and they think that I…”
“Shut up.” I say it swiftly and firmly. “Don’t…just don’t say anything else, they could be recording this. Don’t talk to anyone until I get there. You haven’t given a formal statement or confessed one way or the other have you?”
“No…no I didn’t do anything like that. But are you…you’re coming?”
I pause for a long time. Oh right. What the fuck am I doing? I should be passing this to someone else, not taking this, not focusing on whatever fucked up predicament she’s gotten herself into. I’m getting married in a couple of weeks and my daughter is two months away from being in my arms.
But this is Maggie. Maggie…she’s just not the ‘getting arrested’ type.
“Yeah. I’m on the next flight out. Don’t say another word until I get there.”
I hang up on her, lean back against the railing and take a few deep breaths to regulate myself.
Holy fuck.
A text chimes through my phone and I glance at it. Hannah.
Oh my god. Tad’s in the hospital! He’s in a coma or something! They’re saying Maggie tried to kill him! I just saw it on the news!
Shit.
Barry wants me to take the case
I shouldn’t lie. I’ve made promises. I was changing for her. But telling the truth will probably make her cancel the wedding and take my baby away.
Are you fucking serious? Tell him no.
I have to go, Hannah. Call your mom and have her come stay at the house. I’m catching the first flight out and I promise I’ll be home in a couple of days. I’ll get whatever I need for the trip once I land. I love you, all right?
She never responds and I know how angry she is. I should turn back, go home to her and reassure her about this, but I don’t. There’s no time to waste. I hail a taxi instead and tell the driver to take me straight to Kennedy Airport. I make sure to call Barry on the way to let him know what’s happening. He doesn’t get excited, but he never does. He tells me to treat the case like any other, and try to keep the media circus at bay if I can.
That’s all he says.
The rest is all up to me.
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