Wishing on a Dream Read online

  “Don’t fuck this up, Tobin.”

  I was hoping I already hadn’t as I waited for him to call back with Kiersten’s number.

  Chapter Fifteen

  “Kiersten Fellows.”

  “Kiersten, it’s Tobin Parks.”

  My heart skipped and my stomach tingled more than a little. Damn. I didn’t normally answer my cell at work, preferring to keep my personal life personal. “Good morning,” I said, for lack of anything more intelligent than that traveling from my brain and out my mouth.

  “How are you this morning?”

  I sensed something more than polite small talk in Tobin’s voice. The butterflies in my stomach went from fluttering to full-blown flapping.

  “I’m well, thanks,” I replied, equally cautious. I had no idea why she was calling. I didn’t even ask where she got my number. Tobin Parks probably got anything she wanted—or anybody she wanted. I was not going to be the next statistic.

  “Have you seen The Informer this morning?”

  I usually started my day reading on-line news sources. I skimmed the headlines and dove into the business section. “No. I don’t know what that is.” Now my gut was telling me I obviously had missed something important. I touched my mouse to wake up my computer and went straight to Google.

  “Did you see the headlines in the entertainment section?”

  “No.” I clicked the icon to the page she referenced.

  “You better, and I’m really sorry.”

  I didn’t hear anything else she was saying, my attention fully on the teasing headline below a photo. Tobin’s Latest Gal-Pal? Trouble in Paradise?

  Pictures obviously taken by one of the patrons at the restaurant yesterday accompanied the article. The first was of Tobin and me seated at her table, her hand on my arm. My body reacted as it had when it happened, and I looked at the place, expecting to see it there. The angle of the shot made it look like an intimate morning-after breakfast. The second showed Tobin and Brittney facing off against each other after Brittney had insulted her.

  “Oh, no.” I wasn’t sure if I said it out loud or just thought it.

  “I’m so sorry, Kiersten. I know better. I should have kept my mouth shut, and I never should have got in her face, definitely not in a public place.”

  I was listening to Tobin as I skimmed the article. I didn’t see my name or Brittney’s, which was a relief, if only momentarily. They’d ID me and Brittney by lunch.

  “Tobin, don’t worry about it. Nothing we can do about it now.” I had no idea why I was so calm about this. It was going to turn into a major shit storm with my mother.

  “But—”

  “But nothing. Brittney was way out of line, and it serves her right for her unforgivable behavior to have her name trashed.” My mother, on the other hand, would be horrified and mortified, and I’d hear about it by the end of the day.

  Daniel stuck his head in my doorway, and I waved him in. I swiveled my monitor around and pointed to the screen.

  “I’m sorry, Kiersten,” Tobin said again.

  “And I’m sorry for the way Brittney treated you. Now enough apologizing for something neither one of us did.” I glanced at Daniel, who was rubbing his temples and frowning. I could practically see the damage-control wheels in motion.

  “What do you want me to do?” Tobin asked.

  “Do?” I asked.

  “To help with this.”

  “Nothing.”

  “I have to do something. This isn’t right that they’re going to drag you through the mud.”

  “Nothing, Tobin.” Daniel’s head shot up. I nodded. “There’s nothing to do. You have your own PR person, who knows best. They’ll tell you what to do. I would just appreciate honesty and not spin.”

  “I’d never spin about you, Kiersten, and I’d fire anyone on my crew who did.”

  “I appreciate that, but what you do with your staff is your business. I have to go. I’ve got someone in my office.”

  “Oh, okay, I understand. Kiersten, I’m really sorry.”

  “Good-bye, Tobin.”

  I pushed the end button and tossed my phone onto a pile of papers on my desk. I closed my eyes and rubbed the back of my neck. When I opened them, Daniel was patiently waiting for my explanation.

  “I was having brunch with my mother in Boston yesterday when Tobin came in. We said hello, and she went her way and we finished eating. My sister-in-law came in, and when she and my mother started cackling about something I had to get out of there before I pulled my hair out right there at the table. I was sitting with Tobin when Brittney came over and completely insulted her. I mean her words were like a slap in her face. Tobin was just standing up for herself. End of story. Obviously somebody in the restaurant wanted to make a few bucks at our expense and sold the photos.”

  “I didn’t see your name anywhere, but you know it won’t take long before they ID you.”

  “I know.”

  “I texted Marcia to come over so she can get right on it. We need to issue a statement.”

  “No.”

  “No?”

  “No. This is a personal matter between me and my family. Tobin just got caught in the crossfire.”

  “But this implies you’re the other woman.” Daniel hesitated. “Are you the other woman?”

  “No. I am not the other woman or the woman.”

  “I hope I didn’t walk into what it sounded like I walked into.” Marcia Lindstrom, my public relations director, came into my office and closed the door behind her.

  Marcia, a petite redhead, stood no taller than five feet zero but was a powerhouse PR expert.

  “No,” I said, and three minutes later Marcia was up to speed on the situation.

  “I agree with Kiersten,” she said. We need to be prepared with a statement, but we don’t need to justify the article with a response. We’ll say something about a business discussion and nothing more. You, however,” she pointed her well-manicured finger at me, “are going to be in deep shit from your mother.”

  *

  “Your father and I will expect you by seven.”

  Even though I was thirty-six years old, college-educated, and a successful businesswoman, my mother still had a way of making me feel like I was twelve.

  Her words echoed in my head as I pulled into their driveway. My stomach clenched when I saw Harrison’s Mercedes parked in front of the door. It was too late to turn back, so I locked my car and walked up the front steps.

  Dinner at my parents’ house is always a formal affair, meaning nice pants or a dress for women and khakis and a collared shirt for the men. Since I was coming directly from work that was one less thing I had to worry about.

  I heard voices in the front room, and they didn’t sound happy. It had taken the media less than thirty minutes from the time Tobin called to identify me and another five for Brittney. Always needing to face the unpleasant head-on, I squared my shoulders and walked confidently into the room.

  Conversation stopped and four sets of eyes turned my way. My parents were sitting in matching Queen Anne chairs, and Harrison and Brittney perched on the couch across from them. Brittney wore a self-satisfied smirk, Harrison looked resigned, my mother furious, and my father fidgeted in his chair.

  “It’s about time,” Brittney said sarcastically.

  “Were you expecting someone else, Brittney? It’s only six fifty,” I said, not looking at my watch.

  “Sit down, Kiersten,” my mother commanded. She pointed to a flower-print chair sitting alone to the side. It looked like an inquisition chair.

  In a fit of defiance, I sat in the overstuffed love seat to her left. Her eyes narrowed, and I knew my action wouldn’t help my case.

  “What do you have to say for yourself?” my mother asked, never one to mince words.

  “About?”

  “Don’t be smart,” my father said harshly, surprising me. Rarely did he scold or reprimand. That was my mother’s job.

  “I have no control
over what the media chooses to print.”

  “But you do have control over who you associate with.”

  “Yes, I do, and I choose who that is.”

  “That woman—”

  “Is Tobin Parks, and she is a business acquaintance to whom I was simply saying hello.” I interrupted my mother before she could malign Tobin.

  “You had no right to insult me like you did by telling me to shut up,” Brittney said angrily, jumping in.

  “You had it coming. You were horrible to her when she did nothing to you.”

  “You made a scene,” my mother said, which was the crux of this entire summons.

  “And you humiliated me on the Internet. Now everyone thinks I’m queer.” Brittney looked horrified.

  I had to laugh at the absurdity of her statement. Daggers shot across the room, and I mentally sidestepped them. “First of all, Brittney, I didn’t do anything. You,” I said, pointing my finger at her, “brought this on yourself. Second, no lesbian, and I mean no lesbian would claim you. Maybe you’ll think twice before you open your mouth and spew hate, especially to people you know nothing about. Now if you’ll excuse me,” I said, starting to get up.

  “We’re not finished,” my mother said.

  “Well, I am,” I said, and every mouth dropped open. I don’t think anyone has ever spoken to my mother like I did, and never, ever, one of her children. Well, I always was the odd one in the family.

  “Brittney was despicable, and I don’t care if she is married to your son. I will not let her get away with it. She embarrassed me and humiliated Tobin, and if the tables turn on her because of it, then so be it.”

  I looked at Harrison. “I love you, Harrison. I always will, and I will always support you no matter what, because I do love you. But the woman you have chosen to spend the rest of your life with is mean, ugly, and homophobic, and I will not sit quietly any longer.” I looked at each of my parents, then Brittney.

  “Good night.” I walked out the front door calmer than when I walked in.

  Chapter Sixteen

  “Oh, man, Kiersten, you are really not getting a Christmas gift this year,” Courtney said, signaling the bartender for another round. I’d called her after I left my parents, and we’d met at Caruso’s, our favorite gay bar on 52nd Street, where we could have a drink or two and not get hassled.

  “I should be so lucky. Maybe that means I won’t be expected for Christmas dinner either.”

  “What were you thinking?” Courtney asked. She’d been to my parents’ house several times and had heard more than a few dozen other stories.

  “I wasn’t,” I said, confused.

  “That’s not like you, Kiersten. You never do anything without thinking it through.”

  “The whole thing just pissed me off.” I took another swallow of my drink. Was this one stronger than the last? “How dare they think they have a say in who I see or do business with? And Brittney was nothing short of a completely inexcusable bitch.” I shook my head, the familiar anger starting to boil in me again. “No way is she going to get away with it. She can’t stand me, and I know she thinks being a lesbian is a capital sin and contagious, but she had no right to do that to Tobin.”

  Courtney was looking at me, a strange expression on her face.

  “What?”

  “I’ve never seen you like this, K.”

  “Well, I’ve never been here before,” I answered, finishing my drink and signaling the waiter to pour faster. I’d already decided I’d be calling a car service to take me home.

  “Is she as hot in person as she was onstage?”

  “Yes, both times I saw her,” the two cocktails inside me said.

  Courtney choked on her beer and gasped for breath. I patted her on the back a few times and signaled the bartender that there was no need to call 9-1-1.

  “What both times?”

  “I had dinner with her.”

  “When?” Courtney asked, shocked.

  “When I was in Bozeman.”

  “That was two weeks ago, and you’re just now telling me? You’re supposed to let me know these things. It’s in the BFF handbook. What the fuck, K?”

  Courtney was pissed at me for not telling her and hurt for the same reason. I told her how we came to have dinner and about our conversation. I don’t think she blinked during my entire monologue. Finally, she said, “And you walked away? You were in a place where nobody knows you, in a hotel with a hot tub in every room, with Tobin Parks hitting on you, and you walked away?”

  “Well, when you phrase it that way,” I replied sarcastically. “Yes, Courtney, I walked away.”

  “And yesterday at brunch you walked away again?”

  “Did you actually expect me to leave my mother and bitch Brittney and go upstairs and have sex with Tobin?”

  Courtney looked at me with an expression on her face that clearly said DUH!

  “I am not going to have sex with Tobin Parks.”

  The bartender set my drink down in front of me. “I’d have sex with Tobin Parks,” he said, fanning himself with this little white bar towel. We scowled at him.

  “Why not?” Courtney asked after the bartender moved to the other end of the bar.

  “Why not?” I mimicked. “I don’t even know her.”

  “So, it’s Tobin Parks.”

  “And because it’s Tobin Parks I’m supposed to just jump into bed with her?”

  “Well, yes,” Courtney said seriously.

  “Well, no.”

  “Why not?” Courtney asked again.

  “I am not going to be another notch on Tobin Parks’s guitar.”

  “Why not?”

  “Did you hit your head, Courtney? You’re starting to repeat yourself.”

  “I just can’t understand why you don’t jump at it.”

  If she only knew. “Can we change the subject?”

  “No, we can’t,” Courtney said forcefully. “K, when was the last time you got laid?”

  I didn’t answer because that was the answer.

  “Obviously it’s been too long,” Courtney said, and I didn’t bother to correct her. “She’s perfect.”

  “How so?” I found myself asking.

  “No need to wine and dine and all that foreplay shit you don’t have time for. And no strings after. I mean it’s not like she’s going to call you the next day.”

  I looked at Courtney like she was an alien. “What the fuck, Courtney? You make her and me sound like sluts.” I should probably be insulted, but I wasn’t.

  “I didn’t mean it like that, K. It’s just that that’s the excuse you use every time I ask who you’re dating. No time or not interested in a relationship. So if Tobin fits that description, why not?”

  Courtney was the most pragmatic person at times, and this was one of them. “It wasn’t the right time.”

  “What does that mean? Were you on your period?”

  “What? No. Jeez, Courtney, just let it go, will you?” I said shortly, my patience wearing thin. That and it was getting harder to dodge her questions. Courtney, my BFF, had no idea that, other than a few clumsy, embarrassing gropings, I was still a virgin.

  It started out innocently enough. She just assumed I had an active sex life, like any normal, adult, attractive lesbian. The thing is, up until the year before we met, I was anything but attractive and, truth be told, still had a hard time seeing myself as such. When puberty hit, the weight piled on, much to the horror of my mother. She tried to guilt me into what she called a balanced diet, and when that didn’t work she resorted to near starvation. The more she pressured, the more I pushed back and the more the weight also refused to budge. She never said as much, but I knew I was an embarrassment to her. Braces were the first in my mother’s carefully planned makeover. Then came contacts and a hair and makeup stylist. But all that on a frame that carried at least an extra sixty pounds just didn’t work for her. She was, and still is, all about image and is proprietary, so an overweight adolescent was just not a
cceptable. I melted into the background and made myself as invisible as I could.

  I didn’t join any clubs in school, go to sporting events, and certainly never had a boyfriend. That part didn’t bother me because, in addition to being overweight, I knew a boyfriend was not in my future. The direction my weight was going, a girlfriend wouldn’t be either.

  My senior year in college I had finally had enough. I pawned my grandmother’s brooch that my mother gave me on my sixteenth birthday and hired a personal trainer. Eighteen months and one hundred and twelve pounds later, the new me made her debut. Courtney never knew the old me, and I was very successful in leaving that girl behind when I entered grad school. What I couldn’t leave behind was my insecurity. I hated it and considered that element of my transformation as a work in progress. So I blustered my way through that part of my life, letting people believe what they thought they saw.

  “Are you happy, K?”

  Either her change of subject, the third drink, or my trip down memory lane had slowed down my brain. “What?”

  “Are you happy?” She held up her hand, stopping me from answering. “I mean, really happy. I know you love your job, it’s your dream, but there’s more to life than JOLT.”

  “Now you sound like my mother,” I said sharply. She ignored that comment.

  “I have Tom and the kids. As much as I bitch about my boring middle-class life, I don’t know what I’d do without them. I thought I had it all, was happy, till I met Tom. I didn’t even know anything was missing until then. And my boys. I’d give my life for them. I want the same for you, K.”

  Now she was getting maudlin, and it was making me nervous, because she was getting close to what I wanted too. And I was tipsy enough to confess it. They say confession is good for the soul, but if I did, then that would make it real. I took the offense instead.

  “And I’m going to find it by fucking Tobin Parks?”

  “No, but it’ll be a hell of a lot of fun until you do.” Courtney started giggling and I reached for my phone.