Chapter 5
Erica
“Why won’t you give him a divorce?” the young woman asked Erica.
The two women were standing in the bathroom at the Oscars. If Erica was drunk, she’d think this was a movie set. But nope. A heavily pregnant woman stood before her and wanted to know why she wouldn’t divorce her husband.
The man who she divorced a month ago.
Without saying a word, stunned by the question, Erica unbuckled her clutch bag and lifted out her phone. Then she dialled her ex-husband in without taking her eyes off the woman.
“Hey, babe,” he said cheerily.
As far as Erica was concerned, they’d had an amicable divorce and had remained friendly. Erica didn’t answer for a moment, dropping her hand with the phone to her side.
“What’s your name, sweetie?” she said, barely holding back the anger she felt.
“It’s Monica,” the woman replied .
Lifting the phone back up to her ear, she kept narrowed eyes at her ex-husband’s mistress.
“Babe, babe, are you there? I’m watching the Oscars on TV. Your category is on next.”
“How long have you been fucking Monica?” Erica asked.
Smooth as silk, Erica was calm as a millpond on the outside, but a raging inferno was inside her rib cage.
Yanny, her manager, had told her that her husband was cheating a year ago, and she said that was preposterous. They divorced because he said he was lonely and barely saw her between movie shooting, promo, and everything else she did as a top Hollywood actress. It seemed she was the idiot.
“Hurry up and answer. I’ve got an Oscar to collect,” Erica said.
“You don’t know you’ve won,” her husband replied, all joy gone from his voice.
“Well, at least you’ve admitted infidelity. It should make divorce proceedings easy.”
Erica kept her side of the conversation as if they were still married. She wanted to make Gregg, her ex-husband, squirm, but she wouldn’t do his dirty work for him. She didn’t know or care why he hadn’t told the mother of his child he wasn’t married anymore.
“We’re divorced,” he said. “What the hell is going on?”
“Let’s find out, shall we?”
Erica put the call on speaker and placed the phone on the vanity unit between her and the woman in front of her.
“How long?” she asked into the phone
“I don’t know what you’re talking about?” Gregg replied.
“Come on, Greggybaby,” Monica said. “Tell her it’s over so we can get married. I want to get it done before I give birth.”
A little bit of bile rose up at the sound of Monica cooing to Gregg. Her American accent grated on Erica’s nerves. A stark contrast to Gregg’s clipped British accent.
“Monica?” Gregg said in surprise. “What are you doing at the Oscars?”
That was enough for Erica to have confirmation. Then, she switched the speaker function off and again brought the phone to her ear.
“How long? By the look of her bump, it’s at least seven months,” Erica asked.
Why did Erica want to know? She was divorced from the man. That’s right, and the paparazzi would have a field day if it got out.
“Well, you didn’t want to have kids, and I wanted a family. You were always travelling, and I was lonely.”
“So, you thought you’d have a whore on the side while lazing about like a househusband while I worked to keep you in that lifestyle?”
“I am not his whore,” Monica replied.
“You are, sweetheart. You fucked my husband and are having his child while he was married to me.”
“Erica, baby, please, can we talk about this?” Gregg said, whining his way through his words.
“Not a chance in hell. We’ll never speak again. My lawyers will contact you,” Erica said and ended the call.
No lawyers would contact him, but Erica kept up the ruse. Gregg could get himself out of his mess. She wasn’t going to help him. He’d never worked a day in his life. He lived off his parent’s money, and then when they married, he let Erica pay all the bills and his social butterfly lifestyle.
“You’ve got what you wanted. I hope you’ll be happy with Gregg. Good luck,” Erica said and dropped her phone into her clutch.
Gregg had no money and didn’t get any money from her as he signed a prenup.
Bending to look in the mirror, Erica dabbed her fingers on her lips to check her lipstick and strode past Monica, who was picking her jaw up off the floor.
“Where the hell have you been?” Yanny, Erica’s manager, hissed when she sat down.
“And the Oscar for Best Actress in a Leading Role goes to,” the world-famous actor on stage said.
“I got delayed,” she whispered.
“Smile for the camera, Erica. You might win,” Yanny said through gritted teeth next to her.
Erica wasn’t in any mood to smile. A few minutes ago, she’d been confronted by a twenty-year-old demanding she give her husband a divorce so they could get married. A few minutes ago, Erica discovered her husband had been cheating on their marriage. With a woman, ten years her junior, showing off a spectacular baby bump.
The divorce was finalised a month ago. What made Erica angry was her ex-husband had said there wasn’t another woman when he asked for a divorce. Yet the young woman looked ready to give birth.
Everything about the scene was a cliché. Erica was cornered in the bathroom. Mirrors were everywhere to capture the hurt and betrayal dripping off her face as she applied her lipstick, staring at the other woman.
The silence deafened her in the rows behind, waiting for the name to be called. All the best actress nominees were in the front row. Everyone looked fabulous. Erica’s money was on Meryl Streep, winning the Academy Award.
“Erica Taylor,” the actor announced .
Rapturous applause echoed around the hall. Everyone surrounding her was on their feet. Some hugged her. In a daze, she looked at Yanny, slowly blinking to make sure it was her name called out. He nodded, giving a peck on her cheek.
“Go up there and give your speech,” Yanny said.
“I can’t. You were right,” Erica said.
“Right about what?”
“I want to leave right now.”
“You can leave as soon as you give your speech. I’ll have everything ready. Now, get your arse up there right now.”
He pinched the skin above her elbow for good measure to get her to focus.
Erica had known Yanny since high school, and pinching was what he always did to get her to focus. She lifted the hem of her dress and walked up the half a dozen steps to the stage. Only a few more paces and she was being hugged and kissed by the actor while someone else put the statue in her hand.
Erica looked to the side and back out to the auditorium, pasting on her showcase smile. She grinned wide as she looked down at the statue in her hand. It meant nothing, nothing at all. There were no feelings of pride.
“I just hugged Jack Nicholson,” she said as laughter bubbled out of her throat.
Laughter rippled through the audience. Erica had lost her breath, unable to find her words. She’d written a speech, but she couldn’t remember a word for the life of her. Silence fell on the room, expectancy thick in the air at her words.
Jack Nicholson stepped to her side, turned his back to the audience, dipped his chin, and gave her a squinted gaze. He placed his hand on her shoulder. It centred her enough for her to collect her thoughts. Once he was sure she was okay, he stepped away to the side.
“I think we’re besties now,” she told the audience. “I am so thankful to the Academy for this award. I am speechless because I was sure Meryl would get it.”
That was the last thing she remembered about her speech. Her private jet was on standby to get her home. Erica didn’t remember flying home, falling asleep in her jewellery, dress, and full makeup.