Two For the Show
Rhonda Bowen
Two For The Show
A City Girls Story
Rhonda Bowen
~~~
Copyright (c) 2018 by Rhonda Bowen
Two For The Show
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in any retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means—electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise—except for brief quotations in printed reviews, without the written permission of the author.
The characters in this book are fictional. Any resemblance to actual people or events is purely coincidental.
Smashwords Edition, License Notes
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For more information about Rhonda Bowen visit:
www.rhondabowen.com
Table of Contents
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Author’s Note
About the Author
Other Books by Rhonda Bowen
Chapter 1
Chanel dress? Check.
Gucci purse? Check.
Walter Steiger shoes? Check.
Nervous red carpet date? Double check.
I retouch my blood red lipstick quickly before dropping it into my tiny gold purse. It is about the only thing that fits. That and the square shaped foil packages I am hoping I won’t have to use tonight. But the way my luck tends to run, that hope won’t go very far.
Taking a deep breath, I turn to the man beside me.
“Just relax.” I place my hand on his tuxedoed arm. “Remember this is your night. Your award. Your spotlight. Don’t let her steal it.”
He turns sea green eyes on me and I see his adam’s apple bob just before he pulls at his necktie.
“They’re all going to be talking about me and her. The breakup was all over the tabloids. E! news tweeted that she just arrived with him—”
One red tipped finger over his lips stops the rest. “Exactly. She already arrived. She’s already old news. You are the one they are waiting for.”
“But...”
Before he can say another word, I silence his lips with mine. A little grazing of my teeth against his lower lip, and I can feel him start to gear up, moving in for more. But I shift back. It wasn’t that kind of party. Not with our limo pulling up to the carpet and the photogs already snapping away even before the door opens. I see this over his shoulder as we are kissing, because I never close my eyes.
“Wow,” he murmurs, his eyes still closed.
I smile and wipe most of my lipstick off his mouth, being sure to leave a little bit for the cameras.
“Come on, handsome.” I grab my purse off the seat. “It’s showtime.”
He clasps his hand around mine and knocks on the window. Within seconds, the door opens, and the previously muted music and screams come in full force.
He shoots me his movie star smile, then slides out of the limo with the practiced grace of a man who has spent a significant portion of his life doing it. He smiles at the cameras, does the obligatory waves then reaches his hand back for mine.
“Christian Cox, who is your date tonight?”
“Does this mean you are over the breakup with Samantha?”
“You guys look great! Is that lipstick on your face, Christian?”
“What do you have to say about Samantha bringing Justin Pattison with her tonight?”
Christian slips an arm around my waist. “I’ll say I’m having too much fun to worry about what other people are doing.”
I smile and pose for pictures with Christian then step back and let him do his thing on his own. I know the drill. I’ve been on the carpet before, though I try to stay unknown to the photog crowd. All part of the Carina Bell mystery.
He reaches for me and I take his hand, staying close to him, gazing into his eyes like a good girlfriend should. I lean in and whisper in his ear.
“You’re doing great. They are loving you. Just keep up the confidence.”
I recognize that look of awe in his eyes as he gazes down at me. “You’re my confidence. You make me forget I just got cheated on and dumped by my celebrity girlfriend.”
I rest a hand on his chest. “Hope you can hold on to that confidence cause it’s gonna get tested. Your girl is at 12 o’clock. US Weekly stage. Her date is with her. You can’t avoid it.”
Christian’s hand stiffens around mine even as the flash of the camera bulbs increase. I interlock our fingers and hold tight. Samantha is only a few feet away, and everyone was looking to see what would happen.
I feel him begin to turn before he even knows he is doing it. I step in closer to him.
“Don’t look at her. Keep your eyes here.”
He turns his eyes to me just like I instructed. Panic flashes through his eyes in spite of his smile. He still loves Samantha. Poor guy. It sucks to love someone who is too selfish to see how much you care. I had done my best to rebuild his confidence the whole weekend, but it was still not rock solid and seeing Samantha wasn’t helping.
I squeeze his hand and wink. “You know what to do.”
He looks confused for a moment and then his eyes clear. When his smile stretches a little wider, I know he gets it.
With a tug on our entwined hands, he pulls me closer then leans down and triggers the cameras with a screen-worthy kiss. Nothing crazy. Short enough to be red carpet appropriate, but long enough to let everyone know who he isn’t thinking about.
“Guess we know whose lipstick that was!”
I grin, swiping at his lips with my thumb to the sound of the crowd’s chuckles. The photos and interviews continue, and I smile when I realize Christian hasn’t looked in Samantha’s direction once. There isn’t much more talking between us as we continue down the carpet, just a brief moment between interviews where our eyes meet and we both exchange a smile. In that moment, I know. My job is done.
Chapter 2
“Your breasts are sagging.”
I pull out one of the earbuds from my headphones, unsure if I have heard correctly. “Excuse me?”
“Your breasts, they look a little droopy. Your behind also. You skipped the gym last week, didn’t you?”
I turn off my iPod and glare at her. “I just ran three and a half miles, just like I do every morning, Mother.”
Cordelia rolls her eyes and lets out a deep breath. “How many times must I tell you girls, it’s not enough to just do cardio. You must get your weight training in. That’s how you keep everything looking tight and in place,” she clucks her tongue. “No man wants a woman with sagging anything, especially at your age.”
I slam the front door closed. “Then I guess no man will want me.”
“Carrie!”
I
ignore her as I walk through the long hallway, my trainers squeaking on the Italian marble. Most days I can tolerate the drama, but it is barely 6:30, too early for this nonsense.
I take the steps two at a time up the wide grand staircase and head right towards my room. I can already hear the shower going and sounds of movement. It may be early, but it looks like everyone is up and ready to go according to mother’s schedule. What a life. I am glad I don’t live here anymore…at least most of the time anyway.
I push open the door to my room and find Delia sitting on my bed in a towel, painting her toenails.
“Morning, Deels.” I pull off my sneakers. My yoga pants and sweater follow soon after.
“Finally, you’re back,” Delia glances up. “I was starting to wonder if you really came back from LA last night or if it was just my imagination.”
“No, it was me stumbling in here at two in the morning.” I take a long drink from my water bottle.
She wiggles her eyebrows at me. “How was it?”
I roll my eyes. “It was work. Why were you waiting for me anyway?”
“I need you to blow-dry my hair.” Delia shakes the hair dryer at me.
I pull the ponytail holder out of my own hair. “Why didn’t you ask Amanda?”
Delia frowns. “Cause she pulls too hard, and she doesn’t get it straight at the roots.”
“Okay, I’ll do it after I get out of the shower.” I grab a towel off the bed and head for the en suite. “How’s the water?”
“Still warm, but you better get in there before it runs out,” Delia goes back to painting a design on her big toe. “Thanks for letting me use your bathroom, by the way.”
“No problem. What’s mine is yours.”
I close the bathroom door and slip into the shower stall, getting the water as hot as I can take it. The temperature has taken a nosedive in the past couple days, and it is almost too cold to run outdoors anymore, but I will do it as long as I can. There is something refreshing and cleansing about running outdoors that you can’t get from the gym.
I try not to think about Mother’s words. Her critiques about my body have been coming from as far back as I can remember. I have learned to block it out, but every now and then one slips in and hits me in a way I’m not expecting.
Drying off, I slip into clean underwear then head back into the bedroom where I find Delia sitting at the vanity combing through her shoulder length curly hair.
“So, what’s going on with you?” I ask, parting a row of hair at the back of her head and aiming the heat at it.
Delia shrugs. “Nothing really. Exams are almost done, thank God. Then it’s Christmas break. Can’t wait.”
“I thought you liked school?”
“I do,” Delia holds the dryer while I part another row. “It’s just…this semester has been really hard. I decided to take six courses instead of five so I can finish earlier and keeping up with all the work has been a struggle. You never told me college was this hard.”
I laugh. “Yes, I did! Why do you think I was so grumpy around November and April every year for the four years I was there?”
Delia rolls her eyes. “Please, you were grumpy for the last four years before you moved out. But I figured it was just because you and Mother had given up on trying to get along.”
I open my mouth and close it, deciding to sidestep that one for a while.
“Well, it will be all worth it in the end,” I say. “You’ve got a year and a half to go. You’ll be fine. Besides, the Christmas break will help refresh you.”
“You mean stress me out.”
I part another row then glance at the mirror. Delia’s anxious gaze worries me. “What’s going on?”
Delia bites her lip and looks down. “Well, there’s this guy...”
“A guy guy? Or someone Mother—”
“No, a guy from school,” Delia says quickly. “His name is Jayden.”
Delia breaks into a grin as she mentions his name.
“Okay, start talking!”
“He’s in my program,” She is still grinning and has this dreamy look in her eyes. “And we were friends all last year. But then, we went out for the first time in September—”
“September! It’s November. Why am I just hearing about this?”
“A: because you are never around,” Delia looks at me knowingly through the mirror. “And B: because I didn’t want to get excited about it until I was sure it was a thing.”
“And?” I put down the dryer and come around to face her. “Is it a thing?”
I don’t think her smile can stretch any wider, but it does. “It is!”
We both squeal like teenagers, and I can’t help but laugh. Seeing Delia excited, makes me excited for her. She deserves to be happy, and I want that for her more than anything else.
“So,” I perch on the edge of the dresser. “Tell me about him.”
I listen as she gabs on about her new beau, her eyes lighting up with every new mention. She is in love. I can tell, even if she doesn’t know it yet.
“He sounds like a really nice guy.” I hug her tightly. “I’m really happy for you, Deels.”
“Thanks.” She lets go and sits back.
“Mother doesn’t know, right?”
And just like a blown-out candle, the light disappears from her eyes. “No, and that’s the problem.”
She gets up and starts pacing. “Jayden wants me to spend Christmas with him and his family. They do the whole church thing and the big Christmas dinner, and he wants me there.”
“It might not be impossible…”
Delia stops pacing and looks at me knowingly. “Of course it is. Mother would never allow it. She would flip if she even knew I was dating Jayden.”
There was no arguing with that.
“Look, let me talk to Mother. Maybe I can get her to be reasonable on this.”
Delia snorts. “Yeah, good luck with that.”
“So, you would rather tell Jayden that you can’t spend Christmas with him? What reason are you going to give him when he asks why?”
Delia sinks back into the chair, looking defeated. I lift her chin until she is looking at me.
“Let me handle it, okay?”
Delia nods. “Okay.”
Half an hour later when I step into the kitchen, I am still thinking about how I will solve Delia’s problem.
“Off to work?”
I freeze at the refrigerator door, noticing Amanda at the counter for the first time. “Oh. Hey, Amanda! I almost didn’t see you there.”
“I know,” Amanda says, poking at the fruit on her plate. “Your head was somewhere else.”
“Yeah.” I pull a bottle of orange juice out the fridge. “It’s already been a long morning.”
Amanda nods. “Don’t let her get to you.”
I take a sip of my juice. “Who?”
“Mother of course,” She pops a grape into her mouth. “I heard her go off on you this morning.”
“Oh.” I put the orange juice back in the fridge then look down at my chest. “Are my breasts really sagging?”
Amanda raises an eyebrow. “Did Christian Cox think your breasts were sagging?”
I fold my arms. “He’s more of a legs man. And how did you even know about that?”
She retrieves her phone from her back pocket and opens up Instagram before showing me the screen. “It’s been all over the web. Christian Cox and his Brazilian goddess.”
I roll my eyes. “Since when does being a light skinned black girl make you Brazilian?”
“When you start wearing 22-inch Malaysian hair.” Amanda laughs. “That was a good install by the way. Almost looked like it grew out of your head. You should have kept it in.”
“So I can get followed around here, being asked what Christian Cox is like behind closed doors?” I scowl. “No thanks. Carina Bell stayed in LA and Carrie Bishop came back to New York.”
Amanda shakes her head. “Can you imagine what you could do if you
were always Carina Bell? Kim Kardashian would have a run for her money.”
“Not if I’m walking around with sagging boobs.”
Amanda laughs out loud.
“Come on, Amanda,” I whine. “I’m being serious. Tell me the truth. Are they...you know...hanging low?”
I stand sideways and try to catch my reflection in the stainless steel refrigerator door.
“No, Carrie Carina Bell Bishop!” Amanda retorts. “Your breasts are not sagging. Neither is your behind. Mother’s just mad because you won’t play her game anymore, and it’s costing her.”
“She has me on weekends.”
Amanda bit a slice of pear. “Not every weekend.”
“Most weekends,” I argue.
“It’s not enough. You know how it is. First Piper, now you. She feels like all her girls are leaving her.”
“She’ll get over it.”
Amanda shakes her head. “Not with you. You’re her prized jewel.”
I look over at Amanda, her large dark eyes, flawless olive toned skin and long silky hair - the kind that actually grew out of her head. She was beautiful. I remember how girls envied her when we were in high school. They would ask me if my big sister was a model. Guys used to fall over themselves just to talk to her. She had her pick of any of them she wanted. She still did. And yet here she was, insecurity leaking out of her like water from a worn balloon. Mother had done a number on all of us.
“Hey, I’m still here.” I put the glass in the sink before coming around the counter to stand beside her. “You know I am here for you if you need me. Where I live doesn’t change that.”
I hug her briefly and see the time over her head. “I gotta go or I’m gonna miss my train.”
“Have fun, working girl.”
I throw a smile behind me before heading towards the front door. I am almost free when I hear her voice.
“Carrie.”
I pause, my hand on the front door.
“I need to see you before you leave.”
I let out the breath I have been holding then trudge slowly across the hall to Cordelia’s office.
