“The producers needed to separate a few of us because of Amanda and Gary, and I volunteered.”
“Joey, we need—”
I don’t give him a chance to respond before I’m walking out the door and back down the hall. When I hear the door bust open, I quickly step into an alcove and wait, praying that he walks the other way. He calls my name, but his voice is distant, assuring me I’m in the clear.
When I get to my room, my personal assistant is sitting in the chair typing away on her phone. She looks up and smiles before pocketing her phone.
“Hi, I’m Lou,” she says as she stands to shake my hand. She’s average
height with long black hair pulled tight into a ponytail. “I took the liberty of packing your suitcase and the car is ready for us.”
“Great … oh by the way, I’m Joey.”
“Is that short for anything? My name is Louise, but I don’t look like a Louise, so I’m Lou.”
I like her already. “It’s long for Joe,” I say with a smile. She laughs at my joke, making her my best friend without even trying.
Lou grabs my suitcase and hers and figures out a way to get out the door without any help. “I can carry my bag,” I tell her, which really isn’t carrying, but pulling behind me.
“No worries, I’ve got it.”
I shrug and follow her to the elevator, praying that Josh isn’t on it, or waiting in the lobby for me. I shouldn’t have told him that my flight was leaving soon, but it was the only way to get him to ease up on the death grip he was holding.
When we get to the lobby, she rushes us right out. Even if Josh was waiting, I don’t think he would’ve seen me. Lou is barking orders at the driver as soon as we reach the car. She talks a mile a minute, but the driver seems to understand and wastes no time taking care of our luggage and getting us on the road.
When I flew into Los Angeles, I never looked at the sights. I didn’t want to be here and now that we’re driving along the freeway, I think I want to visit. I’d love to take in all that Hollywood has to offer and do a tour to see where Hugh Hefner lives and catch a show at the Hollywood Bowl. I suppose if Josh and I would’ve won, I’d be able to do just that. Maybe LA is where I need to move to. It’s big enough that I’d get lost, but I’d need a guarantee that I’d never see Josh and I don’t know if anyone can say that.
Celebrity status is something to relish. Instead of waiting in the terminal with the other travelers, we get to wait in the lounge. I immediately spot a few actors and quickly hide my inner fan-girl. I don’t want to embarrass Lou by jumping up and down. Sightings like this shouldn’t even bother me considering I’m friends with Bronx. He’s famous, and hell, as far as everyone knows I’m married to Joshua Wilson. Maybe that’s why I’m in this room … I’m an actor’s wife. Might as well run with it while I can.
When boarding is called for first class, Lou tells me “that’s us”. Lou and I walk side by side. She’s carrying a laptop bag and pulling both our suitcases behind her. I have my purse. I feel empty handed and useless.
“Please, let me take this.” I put my hand on my bag and give it a slight tug. “I get that you’re supposed to do stuff for me, but your hands are full. I can do this.”
Lou looks around, as if someone is watching, and finally lets go of the handle. I feel better knowing she’s no longer overexerting herself on my behalf.
“Would you like window or aisle?” she asks when we walk onto the plane.
“I’m fine with the window.” I’ll be able to look out and take in everything I missed when I landed here the first time.
Lou sets her laptop bag down and puts our luggage in the overhead bins. She signals to the seat and I slide in. No sooner do we sit, does the flight attendant appear to take our drink orders. I order a cocktail, while Lou orders a soda.
“I’m going to confirm your appearances.” She takes out her laptop and quickly goes to work. We aren’t even off the ground yet and she’s busy. Once I have my drink, I suck it down. Leaning my head back I close my eyes, and all I can see is Josh standing there with his eyes locked on mine, asking why I’m flying and he’s not.
Watching Joey run away from me sends a sharp pain right into my heart. I thought I knew heartache before, when I was with Jules, but it was nothing like this. My chest burns while my heart beats a bit slower, making time stand still. This feeling is new to me and I can honestly say I don’t like it. I like how I feel when she’s in the room: comforted, peaceful, and loved. I know she loves me, even though she tries to hide it and I know that my attorney, Jason, has hurt her. It’s not just Jason, but her ex as well. Hell, even I hurt her while we were in the house. Fixing the situation is going to take some ingenious planning. Its times like this when I wish I had a sister, or a mother who gave a shit. I need some womanly advice.
It occurs to me that Joey mentioned flights and I assumed we’d be staying in LA. I dig through my packet and only see information on car services. The itinerary tells me what time the car will be at my apartment to pick me up. This doesn’t make sense. Joey clearly mentioned flights, yet I’m staying in California.
“You’ve got to be kidding me,” I mutter under my breath. I have to know why they allowed Joey and me to be separated. I’m not buying this bullshit about Amanda and Gary. They’ve never done this in the past, so why now? Sadly, I wouldn’t put it past my I’m-starting-to-think-he’s-a-slime-ball agent, Matt, to have arranged this, and the more I think about him being with Jules, the more I’m starting to wonder if something is going on there. He wouldn’t be the first Hollywood agent to screw off his client, or screw his client.
I pull out my cell phone and call Matt. He’ll have Barry’s number. I know there’s a PA waiting for me, somewhere, but this is important. I have to know why they would send Joey someplace without me. I’m her husband, damn it. We’re supposed to be a team, a united front and an example that, it doesn’t matter who you are, love is out there. I don’t know where my last thought came from, but I like it and need to make sure Joey fully grasps that I don’t want this divorce.
“Matt, I need Barry’s number,” I tell him as soon as he picks up. There’s no need for pleasantries, he knows who’s calling.
“Why, what’s up?” he asks. Normally I’d have no problem telling him what my issues are, but right now I don’t trust him. He doesn’t need to know that Joey isn’t with me.
“Nothing I can’t take care of with a quick phone call.” I turn on the confidence factor and pray that Matt buys it. I don’t want his help, not with this. Matt is the perpetual bachelor and sees wives only as a trophy or a cover, neither of which Joey is to me. He hems and haws, makes a few unintelligible sounds before finally rattling off the name and number of one of the producers. I mutter a quick ‘thanks’ and hang up and recall the number from memory.
On the third ring I hear, “Yo, this is Barry.” I pause wondering, if this is his voicemail, but the voices in the background finally register causing me to clear my throat.