“I’d be happy to give you an interview,” Gabriella said, “but not out here on the street.”
“Shall I meet you back in the lobby?”
She didn’t like the reporter’s attitude, but an interview was an interview. And theVoicewas a major daily, San Joaquin Valley or not. “Around three o’clock?” she asked. “I have some other errands.”
“Three is fine.”
“Not very friendly, is she?” Christopher asked as the reporter strode away. “Quite a chip on her shoulder, I’d say. You’ll melt it, though. You always do.”
Standing out there in the chilly air, Gabriella found herself starting to tremble, and all of the old fears seemed to be crashing in on her. How stupid must she have looked to that shop girl, standing there with that credit card, trying to lie her way out of a situation the girl witnessed on a daily basis?
“Christopher?”
“It’s okay.”
He opened the car door for her, and she slid into the back seat, hugging the shopping bag to her. “I feel damned sheepish letting you continue to drive me around,” she said. “Now that I can’t pay you.”
“Forget it. We’re friends. I’ll drive you anywhere you want to go, anytime you want to go there. Now, where to?”
It had been a hellish afternoon, and the prospect of the reporter wasn’t wonderful, either. “You know. Don’t make me say it.”
“Oh, Gabby. Do you really want to do that to yourself?”
“Only once this week, so far. Come on. I’ll treat you.”
“I wouldn’t touch the stuff.”
He did agree to a burger, though. They ate in the car, he in front with his burger, she in back with her fries and Frostie. Christopher handed her the bottle of Baileys she kept in the glove box, and she poured a little over the Frostie before she dipped her fries.
Christopher shuddered and shielded his eyes with his hand. “I can’t even bear to watch this.”
“Sweet and cold. Hot and salty. And alcoholic.” She dipped another fry, loving the hot, greasy feel of it in her fingers, anticipating the chilling relief. “It’s everything good. The ultimate comfort food.”
Gabby was glad she had enough in her purse to buy lunch. Christopher refused. She insisted. The princess always took the high road.
The Interview
Do you think you were harsh regarding Gabriella Paquette?
I’m the last person in the world to pass judgment on anyone. I’ve thought a great deal about those comments, and I have to say that I can’t answer yours or anyone’s questions with less than the truth.
Princess Gabby used poor judgment. We’ve all used poor judgment. I can’t imagine the horror she must have felt seeing those damning, grotesque photographs in the tabloids, and Icommend her honesty with the media, her take-charge attitude toward her weight.Flabby Gabbywas a cruel label, true. The press is good at punchy, honest prose, and I don’t think their cruelty is necessarily personal.
My heart goes out to her husband, however. Prince Alain had to see those photos, as well. How will he ever forget the sight of his wife romping in nothing but a tiny thong, on his own estate, no less, with the man he considered his friend? How much comfort can it give him that her candor and weight loss have won her a following, of sorts, on talk shows?
Was I too hard on Gabriella Paquette? Was I? No more so than I’d be on myself.
FIVE
Tania Marie
Word of the day:Ugsome:Frightful, loathsome
They chased her again. They were always fucking chasing her. Cameras, voices attached to tape recorders. She’d wanted the limelight once, and now she was being punished for that, for everything, especially for what happened with Marshall. Why was the woman always the bitch and the man the saint? She was the one who’d lost her job. He was still America’s most trusted newscaster.
She’d hoped she could slip through the gates of this Mission Canyon place for what old Mr. Warren promised was going to be a private party.
It didn’t feel private. It felt like the usual. How long and how hard did you have to pay for loving the wrong man?
