Chapter 4 #2
Andrea stopped fussing her blouse and paused long enough for Hannah to know there was something up with her friend. But Andrea’s mouth opened and closed without words. Taking a document from the top of the pile in front of her, she turned her back on Hannah.
‘It’s just the new role. There’s a lot to be done.’
Hannah waited but Andrea offered no more explanation. ‘Okay, well, you know where I am if you want to talk or drown in tequila. God knows I wouldn’t mind a few child-free drinks.’
She made to leave and had reached the office door before Andrea said, ‘Hey, do you want to come to the concert on Thursday?’
Hannah’s lips curved into a smile. ‘Honour the legend that was Sir Presley John? Hell, yeah, I’m in.’
Andrea smiled. ‘My closet is yours, if you want to borrow something.’
Hannah nodded. ‘That’d be great.’ Though Andrea was slimmer than Hannah, her shoulders were broader than Hannah’s and Hannah was taller, which meant they averaged at around the same size eight. ‘While we’re on the topic, any specific requests for your dress?’
‘I trust you, and the women in Saks.’
* * *
Hannah always thought Saks had a certain smell about it.
As she walked in the main entrance, she inhaled deeply and was struck by rich, clean scents like sandalwood and lemongrass, which could be summed up neatly by the word ‘money’ .
Hannah sometimes enjoyed shopping for Andrea when she was busy.
Other times, it reminded her of what she didn’t have.
Once upon a time, Rod had been destined to be a professional footballer.
He was one of the top three players in college.
There were times Hannah would fantasise about what life would have been like for them if he hadn’t broken his back so early in his career – she would have walked into a place like Saks and picked out anything she wanted, paying a cursory glance to the price tag at best.
Stopping briefly to indulge in squirts of new scents from the perfume counter girls, Hannah made her way to women’s wear. Andrea had closets packed full of shoes and bags, so she needn’t worry about picking a dress to match particular accessories. Hannah went right to the evening dress collections.
Sir Presley John’s remembrance-cum-charity concert would be a star-studded event.
The music industry would be out in force, not to mention the A-list movie stars that would turn up to an event like this, who had no doubt either never met, or had merely met in passing, Presley John.
Any event that was big enough to take on Madison Square Gardens was always one of air-kisses, faux compliments and people blowing smoke up each other’s ass for no good reason.
Still, Andrea would need to look incredible and suitably like the newly appointed CEO of the Stellar label. Many faces in the music industry would now be blowing smoke up her ass, following years of it being the other way around.
Hannah came to a stop in the middle of the Escada concession and began her search for the perfect dress.
There had always been something about Andrea, even at school, that made Hannah believe she would be a successful woman.
Of course, back then, they both used to talk about being successful.
But Andrea’s mom had once been beautiful and an incredible singer-songwriter.
Her father had set up his own recording label.
And Andrea was strong, sometimes too fierce, especially when it came to protecting her younger sister, Sofia.
Hannah and Andrea had spent hours hanging out in New Jersey, talking about all the things they wanted to be when they grew up.
Hannah had wanted to be a singer, an actress, a fashion designer and, at one time, an exotic dancer – before she understood that the profession was not very exotic at all.
Andrea, though, she had always said she wanted to be able to stand on her own two feet. She never wanted to need anyone.
Of course, she did need people. Everyone did. Andrea would never concede that, but Hannah would always have her best friend’s back.
She ran her fingers across the fine fabrics on display – silk, velour, satin – pushing hangers along the sparse rails to get a better look at the detail of the dresses.
She was thinking black. Floor-length. Maybe…
‘Hannah?’
She turned on the spot to see Rosalie. ‘Ros! I’m just looking for something for Andi to wear to the Presley John concert at MSG. What are you doing here?’
They hugged and kissed each other’s cheeks. ‘Oh, just looking for a little pick-me-up.’
‘Is everything okay?’
Rosalie wafted a hand flippantly. ‘Same old. George ditched me last week. Can you believe that? Another one bites the dust.’
‘Oh, Ros, I’m sorry. He seemed quite nice at the christening. Did you really like him?’
Picking out a sequinned gold top and holding it against her chest, Rosalie twisted her face in a way that suggested she was either thinking or breaking wind. ‘You know, I thought I really liked him but I’m realising he was just… I don’t know, plugging a hole for a while.’
Hannah started working through hanging dresses. ‘How do you mean?’
‘I think I need more in my life. I mean, I have my hobbies and family and friends, but sometimes I feel like all I do is shop and eat out or work out. I look at you, with the kids, and Andrea, with her own label now, and I think, I could do those things, you know?’
Hannah chose in that moment to exercise a lesson she tried to teach her kids – when you don’t have anything nice to say…
And in the same amount of time it took Hannah to restrain herself, Rosalie lost – or changed – her train of thought. ‘Say, we should grab lunch. Maybe a Bellini?’
She couldn’t hold it any longer… Hannah bit down on her lip but couldn’t stop her laughter from escaping. ‘Ros, I love you.’
It took a second for Rosalie’s moody pout to turn to a laugh too. ‘Okay, so I’m not saying it’s going to be an overnight transition or anything.’
The sound of Abba’s ‘Dancing Queen’ coming from Hannah’s purse stole her attention.
For a fleeting moment, as it always did, it reminded her of the days when her long blonde hair flowed down her back, ten inches longer than it was now.
When her blue eyes weren’t buried in black bags.
Before she had wrinkles and cellulite and dry skin on her hands from domestic cleaning products.
She fumbled in her bag, not able to find her cell. Still, it rang. ‘All right, all right. I hear ya. Where the hell is it?’
She was about to dump her mom-bag on the ground when Rosalie’s perfectly manicured hands held it up. In that moment, with that small act, Hannah appreciated her friend more than ever.
Thank you, she mouthed as she finally located the cell.
‘Hello, Hannah speaking.’
‘Hello, Mrs Washington, it’s Ms Hellisham here, from TJ’s nursery. I’m afraid he’s been vomiting and he needs to be collected.’
It was one of those phone calls that Hannah could really do without any day, but especially any day this week.
When she got these phone calls with the first kid, she would panic. Her heart would race and her mind would immediately go into overdrive thinking about all the horrific scenarios she had read about online – brain tumours, stomach cancer, internal haemorrhage.
With the second kid, she would have at least led with, Is he okay?
But TJ was number three. She was a pro at this mommy business now.
‘How much vomit are we talking about here? Does he have a temperature?’ she asked the very pretty, twenty-something-year-old with naturally pert boobs, Ms Hellisham.
‘He doesn’t have a temperature but he’s been sick three times. One was, well, projectile.’
Hannah laughed. ‘Rod and I sometimes call him the exorcist. He has real bad acid reflux, Ms Hellisham. He’s fine.’
‘I’m sorry, Mrs Washington, but TJ can’t stay here today.’
And there it was, her old friend, panic . She did not have time for this. She had a dress to pick out, documents to finalise, emails to send, talent agents to contend with.
‘This is ridiculous. I can assure you he’s fine.’
‘Nevertheless, he’s going to have to stay home for forty-eight hours. I’m sorry.’
‘Two days! Are you kidding me?’ Hannah checked her watch. There was no way she could end the day at this hour. ‘I can’t come back to Jersey, I’m at work.’ She sighed. ‘I’ll call my husband and see if he can do the pick-up.’
She hung up the call and immediately called Rod. And called. And called.
On the third attempt, he picked up.
‘Hey, babe. What’s up? I’m kinda in the middle of somethin’.’
‘Well, me too, but TJ’s acid reflux is playing up. He’s been sick and we have to collect him from nursery.’
‘Yeah, okay. Let me know how he is later, babe.’
‘W-wait. Rod? Rod, I have too much on. You have to go.’
‘Babe, I can’t, I’m seeing a guy about another coaching job. I told you about this. Head coach, babe, more money.’
Had he even told her about this? ‘Okay, so what time can you get there?’
‘Babe, I’m in Queens. Oh, he’s here, gotta go.’
‘Rod? Rod? Are you there…?’ The line went dead.
In her mind, she threw herself on the floor of Saks and screamed MOTHERFUCKER!
In reality, Rosalie set a jacket she had been considering back on the hanging rack and said, ‘I could pick up TJ for you.’
In that moment, Hannah wished she was in her bathroom at home because that was the only place she allowed herself to cry.
‘Are you sure?’
Rosalie shrugged and gave the kind of smile that suited her angelic soul. ‘Of course. I can pick him up and if he’s really not sick we can come back into the city and pick out a dress for Andi to wear to the concert, then you can get on with whatever else you need to do.’
‘Ros, I could kiss you,’ Hannah said, meaning every word.