High Heels in New York (8 page)

“I thought about it all night long and considering you’ve done so much for me all these years I figured I should be nice. So…fine, I’ll take the supporting role instead of lead.”

Charles took a cigar from the cigar box on his desk and lit it, “Angie, you know all the big roles are taken in that film.”

Angie looked at him with fury in her eyes. “What do you expect me to do Charles, be an extra or something? I won’t do it.”

“There are a lot of other films.”

“I don’t want to be in other films. I want this one.”

“Then why are you here?”
He asked, twirling the cigar in his hand and making believe he was reading something on his desk. He knew that she would be upset but he was getting tired of her rants. The way he saw it, everyone gets old and in unfortunately in Hollywood, looking good was your calling card to being in the business. He remembered when he first met Angie. She was young, sweet and took care of herself. Looking at her now, he could barely recognize her.

“I saw her you know; the young bitch that’s goi
ng around stealing all my parts,” Angie paused.
“
She was practically fucking Marty Steinberg right there in the restaurant. I can’t compete with her! She’s like…twelve!”

“Her name is Allison and she
’s legal,
”
he said with a warning edge in his voice.

“Whatever.”

“She actually reminds me
a lot of you. Fifteen years ago,
”
he knew he’d touch a nerve with her by saying that but, it was true. He hadn’t lie
d
to her before so why start now.

“Geez, Charles, that’s a great thing to tell
a woman who’s approaching forty,
”
Angie said, crossing her arms.

“In what Five years?
” Charlie waved his hand, dismissing her statement.
“
Stop being so melodramatic Angie. You know I didn’t mean it in a bad way. Fifteen years ago you were not only still young yes, but you were still fearless, reliable and you were easy to work with.”

“What the hell does that me
an?”
Angie
said
.
“People like working with me.
”

“You’ve turned into a diva Angie
. No one wants to work with you,
”
Charlie countered.

Angie thought about this for a moment, frowning.
“A diva?
Me? That’s not true.” She wondered who was spreading rumors. She never acted like a diva. Yes, she always requested a completely white trailer and she brought her own hair and makeup people to the set but that wasn’t such a grand request. All the big movie stars did that. Some did worse. She actually knew an actress who thought she’s such hot shit that she asked
for five bottle of water at room temperature, yellow roses in a glass vase and a masseuse.

“On the last film, you asked catering to remove all the items that had peanut butter from the premises…the premises!” He started to yell which was making Angie really uncomfortable. She had never seen him this angry. But she kept her cool. She couldn’t show him that she was intimidated.

“I am allergic,” s
he said, rolling her eyes.

“Here’s something you may not have thought of… don’t eat it!”

“It gets in the air Charlie and then I can die.” Angie stood up and put her hand over her chest.  “Is that it? You want me to die Charlie? Just let me know. I do dying pretty well.”

He threw his hands up in the air. “I can’t do this with you Angelica. I simply cannot.” He walked over to her and grabbed her hands, bringing them into his chest. “Angie, darling, if you don’t stop your Diva bitch act I’m going to fire myself. Do you want another manager? Is that what you want?”

“No.” Looking at him, Angie knew he was being serious. She’d known Charlie for too long. He had been the only constant person in her life and she wasn’t about to start fresh with someone new. No one would understand her. No one would care. Not like Charlie. “Okay.
Fine.
Tell me what I have to do and I’ll do it.”

“That’s what I want to hear,” h
e
said, reaching over on his desk
. “I got you a role in
Say it ‘
aint
so
.”

“Oh, that new teen movie?
You got me the role of the cool older sister right?”
Angie beamed. She’d read the script a few weeks ago and although she really wasn’t thrilled with the writing, she figured appearing in something after a two year hiatus would be good.

“You’re going to be playing Mrs. Roberts.”

“Who’s that? I didn’t read that part.”

“You’re g
oing to be Allison’s’ mother,” h
e said, walking back behind his desk and moving all the sharp objects away from Angie’s reach.

If looks could kill, Charles would’ve died a very slow and painful death.

5

Hiding under her covers, Melissa called out of work and decided the only goal she had was to keep her mind off of the fact that her perfect little life was coming unglued. There was no longer a reason to get up at seven a.m. and go to the gym to get in shape because she had no one to see her naked; no morning cup of Joe on the way to work because Jonathan was having his cup of Joe with someone else and there was no reason to breathe because her dream wedding was no longer happening. Vera Wang herself was crying a monsoon.

Eventually she would have to put her big girl panties on and go on with her life.  But she couldn’t help picture herself walking around the streets of Manhattan a few weeks ago with not a care in the world. There was possibility and real joy out in that concrete jungle. And deep down she knew that if there was a chance she could get her perfect life back, it was highly unlikely that it would come knocking on her front door. She knew she
had to go out there and find it. She just didn’t know where to start. And when you don’t know where to start, you sulk.

And that exactly what she did. Curled up under her covers, she watched HGTV Home Hunters International,
oohing
and
ahhing
over the beautiful places she wished she could go. Usually, watching this show would make her feel hopeful, as if she still had so much of the world to see and conquer. But if she couldn’t even conquer a living, breathing man in New York City, how in the world would she be able to conquer traveling thousands of miles away from home?

Sadly, she couldn’t think of an answer. It made her wonder if everyone had been right all along about her trip to Paris. Maybe, it was a bad idea after all. Feeling depressed, she turned off the television and went back under the covers.

By midday she figured there was no harm in at least checking her voice mail. So, she powered on the cell phone and waited for it to reboot, not because she needed to make a call, just in case Jonathan was looking for her. Once it turned on, she pressed the mail icon and waited for the
mechanical voice to talk to her,
y
ou have four vo
icemails and one saved message.

Her heart fluttered.

The first two voicemails were from her mother reminding her to get Tulips for the bouquet and a cake.
A cake?
For a
wedding that was supposed to take place in less than a week?
It was just like her mother to expect miracles, Melissa thought. The next one was from her cell phone company asking her to pay her bill. And the last was from her bank asking her to come into the bank to discuss some fraudulent activity. Great, she thought. 

There were no messages from Jonathan or Angie. Not even a lousy text message. So she did what any good friend would do, she called Angie and left a voicemail telling her that she was really sorry and that her life was crap without her. Then she added some up to date information about the most recent events and hoped the severity of her crappy life would persuade Angie to feel sorry enough for her to return her call.

Afterwards, after much consideration, Melissa called her sister with the hope that she could get her out of having to be her mothers’ maid of honor.

“Are you dying?” Her sister Kathy asked on the other line without hesitation.

“What?”

“Well, Hell hasn’t frozen over so the only other reason you would be calling is because you were dying,” Kathy said so matter-of-fact.

“Nice to talk to you too.
So, how are you?” Melissa mustered in the cheeriest possible voice.

“Fine.
Same old thing.
Nothing new,” Kathy said. They hadn’t spoken or seen in each other in over six months. Her sister lived an hour away, across the Brooklyn bridge, in a three bedroom subsidized apartment. It wasn’t that Melissa didn’t know where she lived, or that Kathy lived too far away, Melissa just didn’t want to explain to her sister why she wasn’t married yet and why she hadn’t popped out five kids by now. That’s what was expected of her. To everyone in the family, women were only good for breeding and taking care of the men and the house. It was a primitive way to think but in a Latin household, that’s how girls were raised.

And that’s why Melissa left and hadn’t been back.

Closing her eyes, Melissa pictured her sister the way she looked the last time she had seen her; long black hair, thick boned with a darker complexion than her and pregnant with her third child. They were never close. Maybe it was because they had nothing in common growing up. Their age difference played a big part in how distant they felt from each other. Kathy was five years older, so when Melissa was obsessed with dolls, Kathy was obsessed with boys; and while Melissa was graduating High school, Kathy was pregnant with her second child. It was also obvious early on that they also didn’t have the same goals in life. Melissa wanted to become a big time shoe designer, live in
Manhattan and never struggle financially like her family. While her sister, was happy just being a housewife. So, no matter how hard Melissa tried, their relationship was always a struggle.

“How are the kids?” Melissa asked, sitting down on her bed and listening to the sound of the Salsa music that played in the background. A loud bang echoed in the background and then some rustling before she heard a child cry.
             

“The babies are fine.
Though not much babies anymore.
Frankie, leave your sister alone!” Kathy’s voice trailed off. “I swear these kids are going to make me crazy!”

Sounds like your there already, Melissa wanted to say but instead she just sighed and changed the topic. “So, I’m sure you heard about Ma.”

“Oh,
no.
I knew it!” Kathy screamed.
“You don’t call me in like forever. I don’t even get so much as a postcard and now you want me to take over your maid of honor role. Nope.
I ‘
aint
doing it.”

“
Aww
, come on Kathy, I’m too bu
sy,
” Melissa pleaded.

“With what?
That
wedding of yours?”
She laughed.
“Oh wait, it ‘
aint
happening.”

Melissa jumped off the bed. “How the hell did you find out?”

“Some things never change. You need to watch the news Melissa. Not everything in life is about fashion and money.
Especially since your personal life seems to be plast
ered all over the damn place,” s
he said wryly.

“Grabbing the remote control, Melissa turned on the television to the local news channel. A picture of Jonathan and her, taken back when they were together and happy are staring back at her.
“Oh, No.”

“Is it true? Did he really steal all that money from all those people?” Kathy asked.

“Is that what they’re saying?” Melissa increased the volume. This was the first time she’d heard of these accusations and she knew that the media had to be mistaken. Jonathan couldn’t have done something like that, Melissa thought.

“You sure know how to pick ‘
em
.”

“Shut up,” Melissa screamed. This wasn’t the time for her Kathy to remind her just how bad her luck was when it came to men.

“I remember the first boy you were madly in love with. What was his name…oh yeah, Roberto. You were all gung ho’ about running away with him and getting married, remember?” Kathy teased.

“Yeah,” Melissa was barely paying attention to her. The news lady was talking to the camera, about Melissa’s’ life as if she knew her personally.  It was very unsettling but Melissa
listened anyway. Jonathan Henry and Melissa De La Rosa’s fairytale wedding has been cut short due to Jonathan Henry’s unknown whereabouts. Sources say he’s stolen millions and the number begins to climb, was the last thing Melissa heard before she turned off the television. Not surprising, her sister was still yapping away.