Cheesecake and Teardrops (31 page)

She called him right back, but he refused to answer. His machine picked up. Heather hung up, vowing that Paula would pay for her lies. If Paula wanted to play dirty, then let the games begin.

 

Sinking her heels into its plush, ivory carpet, Heather sat in the reception area of Dr. Speller's Upper East Side office awaiting her consultation. She had completed the questionnaire as requested. She looked at the women with their perfect profiles sitting in the room along with her, tossing their perfect hair with their perfectly manicured fingers. Their diamond rings alone could choke a bull, not to mention their stud earrings.

Even with an appointment, Heather waited over half an hour for her consultation. When she finally did see Dr. Speller, he immediately made her uneasy. There was just something about him she couldn't put her finger on. He was a tall, well-tanned man with cold blue eyes. He shook her hand and motioned for her to have a seat. He briefly reviewed her answers to the questionnaire before giving her his full attention.

“So tell me about yourself, Miss Grey.”

Heather gave him the generic story of her life, ending with her recent thirty-eight pound weight loss.

Dr. Speller listened intensely. “I see,” he said, making notes as she spoke. He paused momentarily before continuing.

“How do you think rhinoplasty will change your life?”

Now it was Heather's turn to pause. “Well,” she began. “I have always been self-conscious about my nose. I know the bump isn't huge, but when I look at myself in the mirror, it's the first thing I see. I've recently started modeling, and my nose appears to be a hindrance. I think it's time that it's dealt with.”

He donned pair of latex gloves and walked over to Heather to examine her nose more closely. Dr. Speller gently held her face in his hands, viewing her nose from different angles before returning to his seat.

“Well, Miss Grey, you're a beautiful woman. Giving you a more flattering nose should not be a problem. It would be my pleasure. Of course, there are routine medical tests you need to undergo first, but barring any complications, I think you would be an excellent candidate.”

“Thank you, Doctor. I know this is an expensive operation.”

“Unfortunately, since this is a cosmetic procedure, it's not covered by insurance. However, we do have affordable payment plans.”

“How much are we talking?” she asked.

“Ten thousand,” he said with his fingers intertwined and both forefingers touching his chin. “But it's well worth it. Believe me.”

“Wow, that's a lot of money,” she sighed deeply. “Why don't I think it over, and I'll get back to you.”

“That'll be fine, Miss Grey.”

Heather stood to leave. She wouldn't be back.

 

As Heather sat in the reception area of Dr. Taylor's office in Jamaica Hospital, she thought about how having nurse for a mother had its privileges. Her mother was able to get her an appointment with the heavily booked plastic surgeon just by pulling a few strings. Thank goodness for small miracles. Heather had already done her homework, reviewing Dr. Taylor's credentials and making certain that she was board certified. She had a private practice in Manhasset, and was also affiliated with Mount Sinai.

Finally, the nurse came and escorted her into Dr. Taylor's office. Dr. Taylor stood and greeted her prospective patient, immediately putting her at ease. The first thing that struck Heather about the doctor was her looks. She was dropdead gorgeous with flawless brown skin, hazel eyes, and a thick mane of brown hair. She couldn't have been over forty. She reminded Heather of a Barbie doll with her perfect proportions and long, lean limbs. Noting her smile—a genuine smile—Heather instantly relaxed.

“Heather, if I could be your very own fairy godmother, what would you have me do for you?”

Heather put it bluntly. “I need a new nose.”

“And you think a different nose will . . . what?” Dr. Taylor asked.

“It'll make me feel better about myself.”

“In what way?” she delved.

“For one thing, I'd be able to look back at myself in the mirror.”

“And you're unable to do that now?” she asked, making notes.

“I would feel more attractive and have more confidence without this deviated septum.”

“I see.” She made more notes. “I've always wanted to be a plastic surgeon. I thought that if I could make people happy with their appearance, they'd accept themselves and begin to love themselves. Sometimes, it's not that simple. Do you love yourself, Heather?”

“Of course.”

“And do you like yourself?”

“Most of the time. I just lost thirty-eight pounds so it's a lot easier these days,” Heather admitted.

“Thirty-eight pounds? That's quite an accomplishment. How'd you do it?”

“Diet and exercise, mostly.”

“That's wonderful. You'll have to have a complete physical before I can determine if you're a good candidate for the surgery. Are you on any medication?”

Heather hesitated. “No, not really.”

“Is that a yes or a no, Heather?” Dr. Taylor asked. “Everything shows up in the lab work.”

“I . . . I've been taking diet pills—Z3Ks.”

“Z3Ks? They're not even FDA approved. How are you getting them?”

“Originally from a pharmacist but now off the Internet,” she admitted.

“You're jeopardizing your health, Heather. Do you realize that?”

“I haven't had any side effects.”

“That you know of,” Dr. Taylor reminded her. “You don't know what those pills are doing to your body. Why do you think they're not FDA approved? As a physician, it's my responsibility to report this pharmacist. What's his name?”

“I never should have told you.”

“You could be saving someone's life. Maybe even your own. Do you realize that?”

Heather thought for a moment. Paula never ever mentioned his name, but Jamal did once or twice. “His last name is Little. Jay Little? Jack Little? No, I'm pretty sure it's Jay. Jay Little. If this gets out, I'm toast.”

“Don't worry, Heather. This conversation is strictly confidential. You have my word. In the meantime, I want you to begin taking this supplement to prep your body for surgery.” She picked up her pad and began to write. “You can find it in any health food store. Set up another appointe-ment with my nurse. You'll need to take the physical after you've finished your thirty-day supply of the supplement. Your deviated septum is very slight. It shouldn't be a problem to correct.” She tore off the sheet from the pad and handed it to Heather.

 

A few days later Heather stopped by the health food store after work for the prescribed supplement. The salesperson said he had never heard of it. She made him double-check.

He did. There was no such drug listed in the computer.

Heather was stumped.

“Mother?”

“Charisma, what's wrong?” Jena could hear the tears in her daughter's voice.

“Mother, I left Nate.”

“What happened? Where are you?”

“I'm on my way over. I'll see you in a few.” She wiped her face with the back of one hand while driving with the other.

Twenty minutes later, Charisma was in her mother's kitchen, snotting like there was no tomorrow. Jena managed to put the story together between the near hysterics.

“Charisma, I can only imagine the pain you must feel with another woman carrying your husband's child. You have every right to feel angry and bitter and enraged. But when all is said and done, if Nate got her pregnant before you two got together and it was a one-night stand . . .”

“Are you taking his side?”

“No, but you're a married woman, and you need to start thinking like one. Marriage is a grown woman's game. Life is hard sometimes, honey. Lord knows it's not easy being a woman. But you can't leave your husband every time he does something wrong, especially if it was before he married you. Your father and I were married nearly thirty-five years, Charisma. If I left him every time he did something stupid, we wouldn't have lasted a month. Do you understand? What do you want? Do you want to be right or do you want to be married? The choice is yours. What price are you willing to pay?”

Charisma was so angry. She barely had time to wipe away one batch of tears before a fresh batch replaced them. She almost hated to admit it, but she wanted to save her marriage.

The phone rang and she jumped.

“Hello?” Jena answered, pausing ever so slightly. “Hi, Nate, how are you?” She looked at Charisma.

Charisma shook her head vehemently.

“No, Nate, she's not here. I certainly will. Okay then. Bye.”

“Whew,” Charisma exhaled. “Thank you, Mother.”

“Charisma, you can stay here for a couple of days. After that I want you to go home and see about your marriage.”

 

 

Nate was miserable without his wife. He went to bed alone and he woke up alone. Days were long. Nights were even longer. He blew up Charisma's cell phone, leaving a bunch of messages, but he knew she needed her space right now. He was tempted to call her at work just to hear her voice, but thought better of it.

By the end of the week, when he couldn't stand it anymore, he and the fellas went drinking after work at a Manhattan sports bar. They watched a couple of baseball games and talked smack. There was no rush to go home to an empty house and a cold bed. Around midnight his married buddies started packing it in. They had to get home to their wives. Nate stayed another hour then headed to Penn Station to catch his train. He got to Lynbrook, picked up his car, and drove home.

Nate unlocked the front door with his key, letting himself in to the dark, quiet foyer. He missed Charisma so much that he could almost smell her perfume. He flipped on the light switch and nearly jumped out of his skin. Charisma was sitting on the sofa in the dark. For a moment, neither spoke.

“Hi,” he said simply.

“Hi.”

“How long have you been here?”

“A couple of hours, I guess,” she told him.

“In the dark?”

“I think better in the dark.”

“I see,” he said. Exhausted, Nate sat on the couch next to Charisma. “I missed you so much,” he said simply.

“I missed you too, babe. I couldn't bear staying away from you another day. That's why I came back, but we still have a lot to work through, Nate.”

“I know.”

“It won't be fixed overnight, but I'm willing to do what it takes to save our marriage.”

He planted a kiss on her forehead, then on her right cheek, and then on her lips. She kissed him back hard. He loved the scent and the warmth of her skin. He had missed his wife. It was good to have her home again. He swooped her up in his arms and carried her into the bedroom.

They made love tenderly that night, and this time she was the first to doze off. He watched her sleep, nestled in his arms. Whatever it took. He'd make it up to her.

 

Charisma needed a big favor from Tangie. She needed to know where Chase's grandfather, Stone Canyon, would be lunching that afternoon or maybe Tangie knew someone who knew someone who knew. Charisma called her on her cell.

“Hey, girl, what's up?” Tangie asked.

“I need a favor.”

“What's that?”

“I need you to find out where Stone Canyon'll be lunching tomorrow.”

“He doesn't always touch bases with the staff here, but I overheard the manager say that he usually lunches at O'Neil's, but let me put out a few feelers, and I'll get back to you.”

“Cool.”

Two hours later Tangie called Charisma on her cell. “Today and tomorrow he has a one o'clock reservation at O'Neil's and Friday he'll be at Fox's.”

“I knew you'd come through for me.”

“Are you sure you wanna do this?”

“Positive,” Charisma said. “Payback's a bitch.”

“Then, handle your business, girl.” Tangie said simply.

“Handle your business.”

 

Thursday afternoon Charisma walked into O'Neil's. Luckily, the maître d' seated her in the center of the room, and she had a panoramic view of her surroundings. The clinking of the silverware only made her more nervous. A waiter came by, filled her water glass, and left a menu.

Stone walked in alone promptly at 1:00
P.M.
His freshly coiffed white hair made his blue eyes pop, and his blue tie only complemented them.

The maître d' seated him at a table not far from Charisma's. Charisma took a deep breath, a sip of water, and walked over to Stone's table. He was examining the menu, but looked up, sensing her intrusion.

“Stone Canyon? I'm Charisma Arquette.”

“Have we met?”

“Not exactly.”

“Mrs. Arquette, I don't have time for guessing games. My time is very important.”

She refused to be intimidated. “This won't take long.” She sat without waiting to be asked. “I'll make this short and sweet.”

“I don't know what you're offering, Mrs. Arquette,” he said, looking her over. “But trust me, I'm not interested.”

Charisma ignored the remark. “Let me get straight to the point. Your granddaughter, Chase, is carrying my husband's child.”

“You have my condolences.”

“And you must feel as betrayed as I do.”

“I have nothing against you people personally. I'd just rather avoid complications. You understand.”

“Absolutely, but unfortunately, Mr. Canyon, it's not that simple.”

“What are you talking about?”

“You thought that by forcing Chase to get rid of the baby, your lily-white family would be left intact, but guess what? You were wrong.”

“I think your husband's infidelity has gone to your brain, and that's understandable. You have my sympathy, but my attorney is due any minute. We're through here.”

“All that blackness you've tried to dodge has found its way back to you. Life's funny like that.” She leaned in closer to Canyon, speaking barely above a whisper. “Did you know Ellis Dearborn?”

“The loan officer? My loan didn't get approved because of his ass.”

“Well, he was my father. I did my homework, Mr. Canyon. You received your new heart on the same day my father passed away. You do the math. There's a chance that the heart ticking in your chest belonged to him. It's a scary thought, isn't it?”

The look of horror on Canyon's colorless face told Charisma that he would rather have been dead.

“So the next time you take a breath, maybe you should thank a black man.

“Let me leave you with this tidbit, Mr. Canyon, seeing that you're so thrilled to be alive. Most transplants last ten years, but who knows. Maybe you'll get lucky.” She walked out of the restaurant and smack-dab into Nico Antonelli. “I think you should check on your client.”

 

Nate noticed a slight change in his wife's disposition. It was a subtle change, but it was a change nonetheless. She was softening toward him, becoming more gracious. About a week later she stopped wearing her granny gowns to bed. It was a sure sign that she was allowing him back in their bed.

That night Charisma lay wide-awake as Nate slept evenly beside her. She thought about the predicament, the triangle, that she, Nate, and Chase were in. Too bad life's problems couldn't be resolved with the wave of a magic wand. It was as if they were bound to Chase against their will. Maybe there was a way to make it work for all of them. So there'd be no losers. Charisma stayed awake until the wee hours of the morning, looking at the situation from every possible angle. Somewhere around 5:00
A.M.
, she came up with an idea.

Charisma, Tangie, and Heather enjoyed a much-needed girls' night out. Once again, Heather's car was on the blink. Tangie picked her up en route to Applebee's. They ordered drinks at the bar as they waited for a table. It was a Thursday night and luckily the wait was not too long.

As they settled into their booth, Tangie asked Charisma, “So, how did your power lunch go with Stone Canyon?”

“It went as planned.”

“So what was his reaction?” Heather took a sip of her mudslide.

“You should have been a fly on the wall. The color completely left his face, and he looked like he'd seen a ghost. I waltzed out feeling like Daddy had gotten the last laugh. I was in seventh heaven until I ran smack-dab into Nico.”

“Get outta here! When's the last time you saw him?” Heather asked.

“That night in his apartment. And I dodged him for about a week after that until eventually he got the message and stopped calling. If it wasn't for the fact that I was afraid Mr. Canyon might be having another heart attack, we may have actually talked. It's funny. The minute I bumped into Nico, it's like reality slapped me in the face. I suddenly realized that my father wasn't getting the last laugh, and he would not be proud of my behavior. I wasn't raised like that. I was ashamed. Looks like your girl has some growing to do.”

Tangie thought for a moment. “If you ask me, it's already begun.”

After appetizers, another round of drinks, and the main course, they switched gears.

“So how's Miss Upper-Middle Ass?” Tangie asked, referring to Chase.

“She's having the baby. It's final.” Charisma stared straight ahead without blinking.

“Ouch.” Heather shook her head.

“I thought the first year of marriage was supposed to be full of bliss. I've been gypped,” Charisma sighed.

 

Nate came home one evening with two tickets to the Dominican Republic. “I think a little R and R would do us some good, baby.”

Charisma was thrilled. “Ooh, I can hardly wait,” she squealed with delight. “Why don't I finish cooking, and we'll have dinner out on the patio.”

They ate underneath the stars that night, the early autumn breeze tickling their cheeks. They chatted easily as though they hadn't a care in the world. Nate poured Charisma another glass of white wine. Before they knew it, the bottle was empty. They cleared the table and loaded up the dishwasher before heading upstairs to their bedroom.

Charisma put on a sexy red satin baby doll nightie while Nate took a quick shower. She lit candles and the room was bathed in a soft glow of light. Nate gasped as he came back into the room and saw her stretched out on the bed, her curves teasing him through the satin, her nipples winking at him through the sheerness of her nightie.

He walked over to her and she gently tugged at the towel around his waist until it fell to the floor. She laughed softly and rolled over onto her back, pulling her knees up and opening her legs.

They made love that night, and it was so slow and so good that tears rolled down Charisma's face as she and Nate came. They lay together for a moment, enjoying the silence.

Finally, Charisma spoke. “I've been doing a lot of thinking, babe, about us and Chase and the baby. I was wondering if maybe, just maybe, you and I could—I mean—if I could adopt the baby and—”

Nate sat up in bed. “Baby, are you serious?”

“Yes, I've given it a lot of thought. I mean, I can't have children, but this is
your
child, and we can give it a good life.”

“I know Chase is not your favorite person in the world. Are you sure you want to raise her child?”

“I want to raise
your
child, Nate,” she said. “How can I love you and not love your flesh and blood?”

Nate looked at his wife in awe. “You wanna know something, Mrs. Arquette? You are truly amazing, and I am truly blessed.”

 

 

A week later Nate and Charisma were on a flight bound for the Dominican Republic. They spent five fun-filled days and four glorious nights Jet Skiing, horseback riding, and playing in the pool. On their last night on the island they went dancing at an intimate little nightclub where they played only slow jams. Then, arm in arm, they went back to their room and did what they did best—twice.

Charisma and Nate got up the next morning, had a nice leisurely breakfast, and headed for the airport. Once home, Nate called Chase. Without going into too much detail, he told her that they needed to sit down and talk. She agreed to stop by their house the following day.

Charisma was on pins and needles that night, anxious about their meeting with Chase in the morning. Nate tried reassuring her that things would be all right, but she tossed and turned all night and woke up exhausted Sunday morning.

They agreed that Nate would do most of the talking. Chase arrived on time. She waddled through the door, and they all sat in the living room. Charisma offered Chase decaf, which she politely refused. For a moment, no one spoke.