Chapter Nine

I'm really, really late posting today - for those of you who are paying attention. Between work and my 15 year old's high school orientation, it's been a crazy day. Thank goodness for Tivo. I get to watch the Vikings/Texans game from the beginning. Can I just say that Brett looks way hot in purple! Oh baby!!

Shopping!! Yeah!! The Houston Galleria is almost as fantabulous as Brett Favre in a Viking uniform. :) Did I say oh baby? Ooops, I did. I see it just up a couple of lines. Well, I'm not erasing it... What was I saying? That's right. The Galleria. Once upon a time a few glorious years ago, I worked at an engineering company that was located in a office building attached to the Galleria. They say write what you know. I know the Galleria. It is heaven complete with a ice skating rink, good places to eat, and SHOPPING. From really, really, really expensive to cheap, it has everything. I miss the Galleria as if i lost my best friend or cut off a limb, and for those of you who know me, you know I am not exaggerating. I only work about 10 minutes away now, but it's not nearly as easy to get there. The distance also diminishes the immediate gratification of walking into the mall after a particularly crummy meeting or after your boss truly pisses you off. Such good memories...

Living in Mapleton, Kate has never seen anything like the Galleria. Sure, she has the Mall of America, which having lived in Minnesota myself I can say that it is almost as nice as the Galleria, but the MOM lacks the couture glamour of the Galleria. In Chapter 9, Kate gets to commune with the shops of the Galleria as I only dream of doing. However, I have now lived vicariously through my writing. Although I would much rather have an agent sign me, find a publisher, sell a gazillion copies of my fantastic novel, and then shop like Kate for real, writing it was still fun.

And I almost forgot. In Chapter 9, we meet my third favorite character behind Kate and Logan - Johan. I swear I don't really know a Johan. Okay, that's a lie. Johan is a slightly saner version of an old hairdresser of mine. John got a bit too flaky and unreliable for me, but I really do miss him. The result of my fond memories is Johan.

Nighty night all. Sleep tight and don't let the bed bugs bite. And most of all, enjoy chapter nine.

Chapter 9


“Savannah, are you really sure?” Oh, Lord, what was I doing?
“Absolutely! Trust me. If there’s one thing I know about, it’s personal grooming.” Savannah’s supremely confident face beamed back at me.
Sure, she could be confident. It wasn’t her hair.
The salon Savannah (actually the hotel concierge) chose was more lavish than anything I ever dreamed. The modern interior, all black and chrome, was filled with wonderful herbal smells. Dance music played as impossibly lovely stylists, dressed entirely in black, efficiently moved around their wealthy clients. I was seated in front of a large mirror watching as my stylist warily picked up hunks of long chestnut hair, looking at them in horror.
“Like I said before, Johan, just cut it. Start from scratch.” Savannah held a glass of red wine in one hand as she motioned with the other, directing the stylist from her position on a small couch next to the styling chair. “Don’t worry about a thing, Kate.”
“Sweetie, who has been cutting her hair and what have they been cutting it with? A butter knife? You don’t even have to have my flawless gay instincts to see this is horrid!” The stylist’s high-pitched nasal voice quivered with outrage. Well, he was certainly gay. I would just have to trust that his instincts were flawless.
Both Savannah and Johan turned to fully look at me, their eyebrows raised in identical looks of slightly mocking puzzled inquiry. I opted to simply shrug my shoulders – I wasn’t about to confess that Erik’s mom usually gave me a quick trim in her basement “salon”. Definitely no black or chrome there, and Erik’s mom was usually dressed in jeans and a sweatshirt. I could easily guess that those facts would increase Johan’s dismay.
“At least the color’s good…..,” Johan mumbled as he picked up one last hunk of hair, dropping it to grab his cutting shears before attacking my hair with determination.
I tried not to look. I really did. It was best not to. I could feel and see the large chunks of hair falling to the floor. Throughout my ordeal, Johan and Savannah kept up a steady stream of conversation, seeming to bond over their common dislike of my old hairstyle. Before it was over, they were best of friends, and I was scared to death.
It was only hair, right? It would grow back.
Even as Johan styled my hair, I refused to look. Although Savannah looked smugly pleased, I kept my back firmly to the mirror while Johan cooed over my new style, brushing and spraying and drying and spraying some more. Only when he stepped back and declared, “Sweetie, now that is how Bridgette Broucheriou’s daughter should look,” did I dare turn around and look in the mirror.
“Ohhhhhhh…….!,” I gasped when I finally opened my eyes.
It was beautiful. My previously limp, long wavy hair was transformed into a softly curling bob that perfectly framed my face. Its chestnut color shined with life while the curls seemed to bounce with unrestrained passion. And it wasn’t only my hair that was transformed. The new haircut somehow opened up my face so my eyes looked brighter and my smile prettier. Gone was the Minnesota farm girl. In her place was a stylish young woman who could believably call herself the daughter of one of the most beautiful movie stars ever.
“You like, darling?” Savannah stood up from her position on the couch and walked over to where I sat.
“I love! Oh, Savannah, how can I thank you for this!!” I jumped up to give her an exuberant hug. This was the best day ever!
“No thanks are needed, hon. None at all. I’d do anything for Bridgette’s daughter. We’re going to the best of friends this summer.” Savannah’s eyes lit with excitement and something not quite as sincere. Before I could analyze her look, it was gone, replaced with a calculating glare. “Logan will love it. Won’t he, Kate? You two sure seemed to hit it off last night.”
I staggered a bit due to her quick mood swing. “Oh, no, Savannah. He was just trying to make me feel better. I was feeling out of place. Really, I have a boyfriend at home,” I hurried to assure her.
Savannah’s look brightened, the hostility leaving her face. “A boyfriend? How sweet. How does Farmer Joe feel about you being here?”
“Erik. Erik doesn’t like it much. But he trusts me.” I didn’t bother to respond to her not so veiled barb about Erik. I was beginning to get the feeling Savannah’s moods ebbed and flowed erratically. If we were going to be friends, and we definitely were, I was going to have to learn to ignore them.
The rest of the afternoon passed in a blur of shopping bliss. After my haircut, paid for with my shiny new credit card, we drove the short distance to the Galleria.
Louis Vuitton, Channel, Armani, True Religion, Jimmy Choo, Ralph Lauren, Juicy Couture, Yves St. Laurent…… Savannah was my tour guide through the previously undiscovered world of designer shopping. There were jeans and t-shirts and blouses and pants. There were long skirts and mini skirts and dresses and formal gowns. There were big bags and small bags and duffle bags and wallets. There were shoes - delicate ballet flats, tall strappy sandals, flip flops, and tennis shoes that would be horrified to even think about participating in actual exercise.
Oh, and lingerie. Gone were the holey pajamas. Gone were the cotton underwear and simple white bras. Kate Broucheriou wore silk, lace and tiny bits of fluff barely deserving the name underwear.
I bought it all - every last bit of it purchased with the credit card Mom left me this morning. And all of it with complete disregard to the cost.
“Savannah! Savannah!” A group of young girls ran up to Savannah and held out pieces of paper for autographs while Savannah’s two enormous body guards, who had followed us from my house to the salon and then on to the mall, watched carefully. Cameras flashed and people stared. Since this scene replayed over and over throughout the day, I was now strangely immune to the borrowed attention. Amazingly, it didn’t bother me anymore.
Savannah finished signing autographs, barely acknowledging her adoring fans as she pushed the papers back into their hands. “You didn’t do badly, darling. For a beginner that is. Let’s go get a drink.”
As she spoke, I glanced at the clock on my phone. It was late. Terribly late! “I’ve got to get home, Savannah. Look at the time. Mom will be worried.”
Savannah shook her head at me, chuckling softly. “Mothers are supposed to be worried. Besides, I doubt your mother will even notice you’re gone.”
“She’ll notice. Really Savannah. I have to go home.” I grabbed her hand and started towards the door.
“Fine, we’ll go. I don’t suppose you have anything to drink at the house.” Her sultry voice drawled the question lazily as we waited for the valet to bring around my car.
“I think I saw some Coke in the refrigerator.” Where was the car? I hated valets. They always seemed to take twice as long as parking it yourself. Savannah insisted, though. Apparently, Savannah Sears couldn’t be seen self-parking.
“Kate, you are so precious I could just eat you up!” Savannah laughed as if I’d made a joke. She was still chuckling when we pulled into my driveway five minutes later. The house was completely dark.
“See, darling, she’s not here,” Savannah said as we walked into the silent foyer.
She wasn’t home. My mother wasn’t home.
I grabbed my phone from my purse. I’d unconsciously ignored it all day, being too intent on shopping and the high of being with Savannah to talk to Melanie or Erik. When I flipped the phone open, I noticed the missed call from Mom. Pushing the correct buttons, I connected to my voicemail, skipping through the messages from Melanie and Erik until I finally heard Mom’s voice.
“Kate. It’s Mom. I hope you’re having a great day! Hey, Kyle has offered to take me out to dinner. Since you’re not here, I’m going to accept. Love you. See you in the morning. Don’t wait up.”
Ignoring Savannah, I walked into the living room and sat down on the couch. I couldn’t believe Mom wasn’t here. In my memory, there hadn’t been a single day Mom wasn’t at home waiting for me when I arrived. I had stupidly believed she’d always be there.
“Kyle?” Savannah sat down beside me putting her arm around my shoulders.
“Yep.” I nodded, not able to say more.
“Kate, how much do you know about your mom and Kyle?” Savannah’s expression was solemn.
I shrugged and waited for Savannah to continue. I didn’t know much.
“I heard a lot about them when I was getting ready to play Anna. Their story is a bit legendary among those in the know. Not much of it ever made it to the press.” She pulled her arm from around my shoulders and turned to face me fully.
“I know they were involved before Mom met my Dad.” I mumbled the words. I was certain I didn’t want to know more. A poorly masked, malicious glint sparkled in Savannah’s eyes.
“Kind of. Bridgette and Kyle were engaged. Only a few people knew. They kept it extremely private. All the arrangements were made. They were supposed to get married while Midnight’s Dawn was filming. The week before the wedding, they called it off. The rumor was Kyle had cold feet. Bridgette was heartbroken.”
My mouth fell open in surprise. I didn’t know anything about this! No wonder Dad was intensely jealous of Kyle. Kyle was Mom’s first love.
“Bridgette continued filming Midnight’s Dawn. She didn’t really have a choice, but I guess it was rough for a while. It wasn’t until after your mom and dad started to date that Kyle came to his senses. He begged Bridgette to forgive him. She refused, and the rest is history. Kyle never married. The rumor is he never got over your mom.”
Everything suddenly made sense. Mom and Dad’s divorce, her refusal to remarry or even date, the way she lit up when Kyle met us at the airport. Mom had never gotten over Kyle either.
“Thanks for telling me Savannah.” My head dropped back to stare at the ceiling. “I need to think. Can I call you tomorrow?”
“Kate, are you okay?” The malicious glint was gone replaced by real concern.
“I’m fine. Thanks for everything today. You’ve been a good friend.” I stood to walk her to the door.
Although she wasn’t really my only friend, she felt like it right now. Erik and Melanie felt both physically and emotionally far away. Somehow in the last two days, they’d faded in my memory. Too much had happened. This world was a completely different place. I was becoming a different person. Everything I thought to be true was suddenly in question. As I watched the bright taillights of Savannah’s black SUV disappear from view, I stood up straight pulling my shoulders back and lifting my chin. I’d be fine. I was Kate Broucheriou. Kate Swanson might be feeling scared and lonely, but Kate Broucheriou had a new car, new clothes, and a killer haircut. Kate Broucheriou didn’t need her Mom to cook her dinner or ask her how her day was. Kate Broucheriou was independent, and Kate Broucheriou liked it that way.

© 2008-2009 Elizabeth Johnson