When You Least Expect It (23 page)

“Good for you!” I said cheerily while I spooned some cocoa into the mug.

I could hear myself—I sounded like some sort of a maniacal Stepford wife. What the hell I was doing? Why was I trying to convince Lainey of my perfection, even now after she’d seen me coming unglued? I stared down at the mug, gripping the handle in one hand, while fatigue rolled over me like a damp fog.

“Sweetheart?”

I looked up. Mom and Lainey were both staring at me. My mother’s eyebrows were drawn down in concern, and Lainey looked confused.

“Are you all right?” Mom asked gently.

“Yes.” But even as I said the word, my head began to shake from side to side. “No.”

“You’ve lost all of your color. Here, you sit down. I’ll make the cocoa. I wouldn’t mind a mug myself. Do you have any Bailey’s Irish Cream to put in it?”

I sat down woodenly, still clutching my wine. I could feel Lainey’s dark eyes watching me. I met her gaze and smiled weakly.

“Sorry,” I said. “I plead temporary insanity induced by my husband.”

To my surprise, Lainey’s face lit up with a smile. “I know how that goes,” she said. “I was once so pissed off at my ex I dropped his iPod in the toilet.”

My eyes went round with surprise. “Really? Wait, I thought you said you took his iPod when you moved out?”

“Oh, I did. I took the new one he bought to replace the one I flushed.”

My mother stirred the hot milk into the two coffee mugs, added a dollop of Bailey’s to her mug, and passed the virgin one to Lainey.

“You should be careful with revenge,” Mom advised. “Even if it’s justified, you can still create bad karma.”

Lainey and I looked at each other and we both smiled.

“What?” Mom asked indignantly. “It’s true.”

“Lainey, remind me to rub a crystal over your forehead later to dispel the bad karma,” I said.

Lainey giggled into her cocoa. With her face bare of makeup, her hair pulled back in a ponytail, and a genuine smile lighting her face, Lainey looked like a sixteen-year-old, hanging out after school.

Lainey stood. “I want more marshmallows,” she announced, retrieving the bag from the kitchen counter and grabbing a handful. She stopped to look into the pan. “India, I think something over here is burning.”

I jumped up and ran to the stove. “Oh, no! The squash!” I stared into the smoking pan. “Damn. I think it’s ruined. I had the heat up too high.”

“Were you doing that thing where you hide vegetables in my food?” Lainey asked.

“You know about that?”

Lainey rolled her eyes. “Duh,” she said. “There were orange blobs in the brownies you made the other day. So gross.”

I dropped the still-sizzling pan into the sink and ran cold water into it. “Well, dinner’s ruined. I vote we order a pizza.”

“Can we get it with pepperoni?” Lainey asked hopefully.

I hesitated only a moment, before deciding that if there was ever a time to relax my ban on processed meat products, this was it. “Absolutely. We’ll get it with
everything,”
I said, and reached for
the phone. “And for dessert, we’ll eat ice cream right out of the carton. The real stuff, not the low-fat yogurt I’m always pushing on you.”

Lainey cheered.

“Excellent,” my mother agreed. “I’m glad I decided to stay for dinner.” She tossed back the last of her spiked cocoa and then looked up. “You did invite me, right?”

Lainey was covering the phone and front desk at the studio while India was at a photo shoot at the beach. She sat perched on a tall stool behind the reception counter, slowly flipping through one of the black leather-bound portfolios of her work that India kept in the waiting room for clients to look at. This one featured pictures of babies. A tiny newborn asleep with one hand flung over his head. A little girl with plump cheeks wearing a fancy bonnet covered in flowers. A mother holding a naked baby up over her head.

Lainey’s cell phone rang. She checked the caller ID and blinked. It was her mother. Lainey hadn’t heard from Candace since the night Trav kicked her out of their apartment. She considered letting her mother’s call go to voice mail, but curiosity overcame her. She clicked the phone on.

“Hello,” Lainey said.

“Hi there, stranger,” Candace said. “Where’ve you been? I haven’t heard from you in ages.”

“I didn’t think you cared,” Lainey replied.

“What sort of a thing is that to say to your mother?” Candace asked. “Especially since I just called to see how you are.”

“I’m fine,” Lainey said. “Still pregnant, but otherwise fine.”

“That’s why I called. How are you feeling?”

“Better,” Lainey admitted. “I was really sick in the beginning. It felt like I threw up for four months straight.”

“It was the same way for me when I was carrying you,” Candace said. “How far along are you now?”

“Almost seven months,” Lainey said.

“Have you been to the doctor?”

“Yep. I go every month.”

“Good. That’s real important,” Candace said.

Lainey rolled her eyes. Knowing her mother, Candace probably drank and smoked throughout her pregnancy. What did she know about the importance of prenatal care?

“Have you heard from Trav?” Candace asked.

“No. And I don’t want to.”

“He wasn’t that bad.”

“He kicked me out of our apartment because I wouldn’t get an abortion,” Lainey said flatly.

“Well, yeah, that wasn’t his best moment. But the problem with you, Lainey, is that you get in a temper, and you don’t give people a chance to make up with you,” Candace said.

“I don’t want Trav to make up with me. I want him to die a painful death.”

“Why? Are you seeing someone else?”

“No. But if the choice is between Trav and being alone, I’d rather be alone,” Lainey said, knowing as she said it that this was something her mother would never understand.

There was a long pause. Lainey could hear Candace inhale deeply on a cigarette.

“Is there anything you need?” Candace finally asked. “Diapers or anything?”

“No. I’m fine,” Lainey said. “Look, I have to go.”

“But you’ve hardly told me anything. Where are you staying? What have you been doing?”

“I can’t talk right now. I’m at work,” Lainey said.

“Oh, okay. I guess we’ll catch up later,” Candace said.

“Bye, Mom.”

Lainey ended the call. Resting her hand on her stomach, she drew in a few deep breaths, feeling suddenly dizzy. Her phone rang again.
Please don’t let it be my mother again
, Lainey thought. But no. It was Flaca.

“Hey,” Lainey said, relieved. “Guess who just called?”

“Trav?” Flaca guessed.

“God, no. It was the Mother of the Year.”

“Oh,” Flaca said sympathetically. “My mom ran into your mom at Publix a few weeks ago. Mom said Candace looked terrible.”

Worry flickered through Lainey. Was Candace drinking? She always drank to some degree, of course, but there had been a few bad episodes over the years—usually precipitated by a bad breakup—where Candace had lost control of her drinking.

“Maybe I should stop by her house and check on her,” Lainey said.

“You know what I’m going to say to that, right?”

“You’re going to tell me that it’s not my job to take care of my mother,” Lainey said. Over the years, Flaca had given her many speeches about how she should not enable Candace’s alcoholism.

“Exactly,” Flaca said. “Anyway, I called for a reason. Are you at work? Can you get on the Internet?”

“Sure,” Lainey said. “Why?”

“Check out the website for DiCosta Casting.”

“Why?”

“I’m telling you, girl, just look at the website,” Flaca said over the phone. “You’re not going to believe it.”

Lainey tucked the phone between her ear and shoulder. “Hold on, I’m looking it up right now,” she said, typing
DiCosta Casting
into the search engine. “Wait, I think I found it. Yeah, here it is.”

Lainey clicked through to the website.
DICOSTA CASTING
was featured at the top in bubbly, neon pink lettering, and below that, it read,
THE MOST EXPERIENCED CASTING AGENCY IN MIAMI! SEE WHAT FIFTEEN YEARS OF KNOW-HOW CAN DO FOR YOU!

“Look at the list of casting calls. There’s one for a reality show,” Flaca said.

“Are you serious?”

Lainey clicked on the link to current casting calls. She scanned over the list; it was mostly for commercials. But then she saw what Flaca had called to tell her about:

Lainey’s pulse picked up, and a warm flush prickled over her body. This was it! This was the opportunity she’d been waiting for! And she didn’t even have to go to Los Angeles—the audition was actually within driving distance. As though it sensed her
excitement, the baby began to squirm. Lainey didn’t think she’d ever get used to the odd, fluttering sensation this gave her, and she absentmindedly dropped one hand to rest on her rounded belly.

“Where did you hear about this?” she asked.

“The radio. They were talking about it on the morning show. Are you going to try out?”

“Absolutely!” Lainey said excitedly. “I have to get one of these spots!” The baby did another back flip—this one so strong she could feel the ripple of movement against her hand—and Lainey’s hopes suddenly plummeted. “Wait … April fifteenth? That’s two weeks from now.”

“I know. It’s the day of my wedding.”

“Then I can’t go,” Lainey said, deflating.

“Of course you can. The wedding’s not until five o’clock. You’ll have plenty of time to get to Miami and back.”

“But don’t I have maid-of-honor duties?”

“I have five sisters. They can cover it,” Flaca said.

Lainey hesitated. “Are you sure? I don’t want to let you down.”

“I know. And I’m absolutely sure,” Flaca said.

“The other problem is that I’ll still be the size of a baby elephant,” Lainey said.

“I think it will make you more interesting—the beautiful young woman who’s still fragile after bravely giving her baby up for adoption.”

Lainey made a face into the phone. “Me? Fragile? No one’s going to buy that.”

“It’s just your character. That’s what they want—people who make good television. And there’s also no way they’d cast you as the evil girl that way.”

“The evil girl normally gets more airtime,” Lainey pointed out.

“Yeah, but everyone hates her forever,” Flaca said.

Lainey’s enthusiasm began to hum again. “I’m totally going to get this. I can feel it. It’s perfect for me.”

“I know what you mean. As soon as I heard it, I had this weird, like, sixth sense about it.”

“Thanks, Flaca,” Lainey said gratefully.

“What have you been up to, girl? I haven’t talked to you in forever.”

“Same old crap. Still pregnant. Did I tell you India’s teaching me how to take pictures? She gave me a camera to practice with.”

“You said she was buying you all kinds of stuff.”

“She didn’t buy it for me. It’s an old one she had around here.”

“That’s pretty lame,” Flaca said, clearly unimpressed with this haul. “You’re giving her a kid. The least she could do is give you a new camera.”

“No, I like it. It’s the one India used while she was in school. She said it’s a good camera to learn on,” Lainey said.

“Now you’re going to be a photographer?” Flaca asked.

“I don’t know. Why?”

“It’s just kind of weird, don’t you think? It’s not like you’ve ever been interested in cameras before.”

“So?” Lainey asked defensively. “I can’t try something new?”

Flaca sighed. “I know you like this chick, but don’t forget, you’re probably never going to hear from her again after you have the baby.”

“What are you saying? That you think she’s just using me?” Lainey asked aggressively.

The truth was, she had wondered if this was just what India was doing. Or if not using her, exactly, then humoring her. But it was one thing for her to harbor suspicions, and another altogether for Flaca to give voice to them. It made Lainey feel foolish.

Flaca was not put off by the hostility in Lainey’s voice. She snorted. “Of course she’s using you. Just like you’re using her. I’m not saying it’s bad, but don’t be stupid. Don’t pretend that it’s something it’s not.”

“Look, I have to go,” Lainey said abruptly.

“What, now you’re pissed at me?”

“No. I just have some work to do.” Lainey didn’t bother telling Flaca about the four rolls of film she’d taken with her borrowed camera when she’d accompanied India to a wedding two days earlier. India had explained that her favorite shots were candid ones taken in natural light—the bride turning to make sure her veil was straight, the groomsmen laughing over their drinks, the flower girl spinning in circles until her skirt ballooned out around her. Lainey had loaded her camera with black-and-white film, and in between helping India keep track of all her cameras and lenses and organizing the wedding party for their formal portraits, Lainey snapped pictures whenever something caught her eye. India didn’t keep a darkroom at the studio, particularly now that so much of her work was done digitally, so they’d dropped off the rolls of film at a local lab that morning. The guy manning the counter had promised her the film would be ready by four.

Then, remembering the original purpose of her friend’s call, Lainey softened. “Thanks for the info about the casting call.”

“No problem,” Flaca said. She hesitated. “So you’re really not pissed at me? Because I just don’t want you to get hurt.”