Chapter 2
Chapter Two
Blaise Monroe had attacked the weeds in the flowerbed on the side of her house with greater than usual intensity. Maybe even borderline aggression. But she had good reason.
For one thing, she’d had a less than pleasant phone conversation with her son, Evan, this morning. She’d gotten tired of his probing questions because she knew he was sure she was miserable in her new tiny home and would eventually come to him, hoping to move in with him and his wife.
That was not going to happen.
For another, it was later in the day than she liked to do this kind of work, but she’d gone down a rabbit hole of social media after that phone call in an attempt to distract herself from wanting to injure her only child.
She sat back on her heels and wiped her brow with her forearm to avoid getting dirt on her face. She hadn’t meant to go down such a rabbit hole. All she’d done was hopped on TikTok to see if Paige had posted a new video, figuring that would be enough to put herself in a better mood.
Paige had posted a fantastic thought for the day, which had indeed put a smile on Blaise’s face.
She’d made sure to like the video, too. She’d created her own TikTok account just to support her friend, but she’d found TikTok to be a treasure trove of interesting, albeit often useless, information. Sometimes it was hard to stop watching.
And sometimes she stumbled upon topics that she had no idea even interested people.
Today was one of those days. She’d found an entire subset of TikTok dedicated to the supermodels of the ’80s and ’90s. She’d watched herself and some of her friends (and frenemies) strut down catwalks in videos she hadn’t even known were being recorded.
It was odd watching herself like that. She looked so confident.
And, to some extent, she had been. But she’d also been worried about not falling down in the impossibly high heels she’d been given, or about pleasing the designer so they’d book her again, or about showing the clothes off the way she’d been instructed.
Sometimes, as she’d been walking, she’d worried about how much time she’d have to make it to the next show, especially during Fashion Week.
So many memories had come flooding back. The nostalgia had been strong, but it had left her feeling oddly melancholy. That hadn’t been the easiest time of her life. Yes, it had been fun. The parties, the celebrity, the money, the clothing.
But she’d paid a high price.
She’d lived on coffee and cigarettes. Thankfully, she’d given up the cigarettes quickly after seeing an older model’s teeth.
She’d spent years feeling guilty about nearly every morsel of food that had gone into her mouth.
The pressure had been immense, not just to stay skinny, but to adapt to whatever the latest fashion whim was.
And then there had been the men.
She’d spent time with so many she hadn’t liked, all in the name of furthering her career.
Fended off more than a few close encounters that would have undoubtedly ended up with her in compromising situations.
She’d lost track of the number of men who’d promised they could make her a Hollywood star if only she’d be nice to them.
Nice.
She snorted. Their definition of nice and hers were two very different things.
With thoughts of her past occupying her mind, she started to get back to work pulling weeds but heard the gate in her backyard fence opening. She glanced over and saw Brick, her new friend and the neighbor behind and to the right of her, coming through.
The sun caught him from behind, making his steely gray hair gleam silver. His expression was as gruff as ever, but she understood that his face did not necessarily reflect his attitude.
He had a glass of lemonade in one hand as he approached, his gaze on the flowerbed and the bucket of weeds she’d pulled. “Hot work.”
She nodded. “I got started later than I meant to. How are you?”
“Fine.” He held out the glass. “Here.”
“For me?”
He gave her a look that she knew well now. It was as good as a, “Yes, who else?”
She smiled. “Thanks.” She took it and drank half of it in one go. It was ice cold and not too sweet, the lemon so fresh it made her cheeks ache with the sharpness. It was perfect. She swallowed and let out an appreciative sigh. “I needed that.”
He gave a quick nod that often passed for happiness from him. “Want help?”
“Thanks, but I’m done after I finish this.”
He hooked his thumbs into the front pockets of his cargo shorts. “My boy’s coming tomorrow.”
“That’s nice! Which one?” She took another long drink. He had two sons, if the photos on his mantel were anything to go by.
“Holland.”
“Is that your eldest or youngest?”
“Eldest.”
“Are you going fishing?”
“Might.” He lifted his gaze to the Gulf. “Good weather for it.”
“Beautiful weather, if it holds.” She drank the last of the lemonade and handed the glass back to him. “That was just what I needed. Thank you.”
He grunted as he took the glass. “You want to come for dinner tomorrow?”
“With your son?”
“Mm-hmm.” Brick made a face, then said, “He thinks I need friends.”
“Ah, I see. So I’ll be proof you’ve made a friend?”
“Yup.”
She laughed. “That should be interesting. What would you like me to bring? Or maybe I should ask if he eats vegetables before you answer that.”
“He…” Brick’s eyes narrowed like he was thinking. “Yeah, maybe.”
“Would you like me to make those roasted veggies again then? Or the brownies?”
He hesitated like he was trying to decide.
“I can make both. It’s no problem.”
“All right. Six o’clock.”
“I’ll be there.”
With another soft grunt that might have meant good or okay or thanks, he returned to his place.
She went back to pulling weeds. After this, she’d shower and run to the store to buy what she needed for tomorrow.
Then she was going to work on a new project. Something she’d been thinking about for a while but had yet to act on. Seeing those videos on TikTok had given her the boost she needed.
She was going to query some publishers and see if she could get one of them to give her a book deal for her memoirs. She was hoping to do it without sharing how she’d been scammed out of nearly her entire life savings, so for now, that wasn’t going to be a part of it.
If she had to sweeten the deal to get a publisher to bite, she’d always have that in her back pocket, but she hoped the stories from her modeling days and all the celebrities she could talk about would be enough.
Her plan was to first talk to Cece about it.
Cece lived next door and had been an investigative journalist, so Blaise was hoping she’d know something about how to approach publishers.
Or maybe she’d even have some ideas about which publishing houses might be the most likely to want a book like that.
Blaise tugged out the last weed and dropped it in the bucket. Sweat dripped down the back of her neck and flecks of dirt covered her arms above her gloves. She couldn’t wait to get into the shower, but before that, she’d text Cece.
Maybe, if the deal happened, Cece could even help her write it. Blaise would have to pay her, so hopefully whatever the advance was, it would be more than enough to cover Cece’s time.
An influx of money would be amazing. Blaise didn’t mind living on a budget, but the budget she was on left little room for extras.
That was one of the reasons she’d moved to the Colony. So many of the amenities here were included, such as the fitness center and a lot of the activities.
She hadn’t said anything to the other women in the Queen Bees book club, but she was going to have to watch the prices.
After seeing this week’s book was nearly fifteen dollars as an ebook, which was what most of them had gotten, Blaise had gone a different route.
She’d ordered a used paperback for three bucks.
It was due to arrive tomorrow, and she hoped it was in decent shape.
She’d have to start checking the library, too.
Maybe for the next book selection, Blaise could suggest a book that had a more reasonably priced ebook.
Maybe one by an independent author. Those seemed to be more realistically priced.
She liked ebooks a little better than print because of how convenient they were and how she could adjust the font on her reader.
Just one of the many things that having more money would change.
She carried the bucket of weeds to the yard waste bin and dumped it in, then put the bucket, her gloves, and her little digger into the attached outdoor storage closet. She left her flipflops on the mat inside the door of her screened porched and went inside.
The air-conditioning felt good, chilling the sweat that dampened her shirt. How nice of Brick to bring her that lemonade. She smiled thinking about it. He was so different from what his outward appearance would lead a person to think.
He was especially sweet with Beau, Blaise’s Maltese. She walked through her bedroom, which was the only access to the screened porch, looking for him.
She found Beau in his bed by the sliders that led out to the front porch. “Having a rough day, I see.”
He woke up enough to wag his little tail. She bent to give him a scratch, then stood up and stared out at the water and sky, the two blues meeting at the horizon.
How much could she really hope to make from a book deal? Was thinking it might be six figures pie in the sky?
The very idea made her heart flutter with the kind of hope she was afraid to feel. She couldn’t let herself get caught up in this. There was every possibility it wouldn’t happen. She needed to talk to Cece and get her take on things.
Cece was smart and savvy and exactly the kind of person who could give Blaise the counsel she needed.
Making a chunk of money would mean more independence. And it would be a great way to get Evan off her back.
She knew her son meant well, but Blaise wanted her independence. Her life. Her way. She’d spent too many years catering to the whims of others.
She exhaled. If only Jay were still alive, none of this would be happening. But she was making the best of it. She had a new life now. And new friends.
Which reminded her to text Cece. There had to be some way for Blaise to put her colorful past to good use.