Last Night at Chateau Marmont
Page 49

Brooke tossed the magazine on the floor, stood up slowly to avoid the hot-water head rush, and climbed out of the tub. She hadn’t washed her body or her hair, but that didn’t matter now. The only thing that counted was reaching Nola before she turned off her phone for the night and went to sleep. With a towel wrapped around her chest and Walter licking the excess water from her ankles, Brooke grabbed the portable and dialed Nola’s number from memory.
She answered after four rings, just before the voice mail usually picked up. “What? Didn’t we talk enough earlier tonight?”
“Did I wake you?”
“No, but I’m in bed. What’s up? Are you filled with regret at implying that I’m the world’s biggest whore tonight?”
Brooke snorted. “Not in the least. Did you see Last Night?”
“Oh no. What?”
“You subscribe, don’t you?”
“Tell me what it says.”
“Can you please go get it?”
“Brooke, don’t be ridiculous! I am literally under the covers, night cream applied, Lunesta swallowed. Nothing on earth can convince me to go down to the mailroom right now.”
“There’s a huge box called ‘Who Is Julian Alter?’ and a picture of the two of us on page twelve.”
“Call you back in two minutes.”
Despite her anxiety, Brooke smiled to herself. She only had time to hang up her towel and climb naked under the covers before the phone rang.
“Did you get it?” Brooke asked.
“Did I ever.”
“Now you’re freaking me out. Is it really that bad?”
Silence.
“Nola! Say something! I’m panicking here. It’s worse than I even thought, isn’t it? Am I going to get fired for being an embarrassment to the hospital? Margaret is not going to love this. . . .”
“This has got to be the coolest thing I’ve ever seen.”
“Are we reading the same page?”
“‘Who is this sexy singer?’ Yeah, we’re reading the same thing. And it’s awesome!”
“Awesome?” Brooke nearly shouted. “What’s awesome about the line that says Julian’s and my marriage is on the rocks? Or the part where we’re supposedly already looking at apartments and I don’t know the first thing about it?”
“Shhh,” Nola said. “Take a deep breath and calm down. I won’t let you twist this into something negative like you always do. Take just a second and remember the fact that your husband—your husband—is famous enough to warrant an entire box in Last Night, and one that in my opinion is extremely flattering. It basically states that the entire country wants him, but he’s yours. Think about it for a second.”
Brooke was quiet while she considered this. She hadn’t really thought about it like that.
“Look at the big picture here. Julian’s the real deal now, and you’re not shallow or evil if you’re pretty fucking psyched about that.”
“I guess . . .”
“I know! He got to where he is right now in large part because of you. Just like we talked about earlier. Your support, your hard work, your love. So go ahead and be proud of him. Be excited about the fact that your husband is famous and young girls all across the country are jealous of you right now. It’s okay, it really is. Enjoy it!”
Brooke was silent as she took it all in.
“Because all the other stuff is bullshit. It doesn’t really matter what they’re writing, just that they’re writing it at all. If you think this is crazy, what’s going to happen when he’s on the cover of Vanity Fair next month? Huh? Now, what does Julian think about it? I bet he’s euphoric.”
It only occurred to her then.
“I haven’t even spoken to him yet.”
“Well in that case, let me give you a word of advice. Call him up and congratulate him. This is exciting. It’s a milestone! The clearest indication that he’s made it. Don’t get caught up in the small stuff, okay?”
“I’ll try.”
“Take that magazine, get in bed, and think about the fact that girls across America are wishing they could trade places with you right now.”
Brooke laughed. “I don’t know about that.”
“It’s true. Okay, I’ve got to go to sleep. Stop stressing and just enjoy, okay?”
“Thanks, I will. Love you.”
“Love you too.”
Brooke picked up the magazine and examined the picture again, only this time she focused on Julian. It was true, there was no denying that in the moment this photo was snapped, he looked like he was filled with love for her, doting and happy and sweet. What more could she ask for? And although she’d never admit it to anyone, it was pretty heady stuff to see yourself in a magazine like that and know your husband was a heartthrob. Nola was right—she should just let herself enjoy it for a little. No harm in that.
She picked up her cell phone and typed a quick text to Julian:
Just saw Last Night—so awesome, I’m so proud of you. Thanks for the ridic flowers, love them, love you. xoxo
There. That’s what Julian needed right now—some love and support, not more criticism and freaking out. Proud of herself for fighting through her initial panic, Brooke set her phone aside and picked up her book. There were ups and downs in every marriage, she told herself as she began to read. Theirs were heightened a bit by extraordinary circumstances, no doubt, but with some dedication and effort on both their parts, it was nothing they couldn’t get through.
9
A Bun in the Oven and a Drink in Hand
WALTER Alter rested his chin on Brooke’s ankle and let out a contented sigh. “This is cozy, isn’t it?” she asked him, and he blinked. When she handed him a fat piece of popcorn, he sniffed it and then gently plucked it from her fingertips with his mouth.
It felt so good to be curled up on the couch, looking forward to Julian’s arrival and a chance to spend some real time together, but her mind kept drifting back to Kaylie. She’d been shocked when she first laid eyes on her patient at the start of the new school year. It turned out Heather had been right: Kaylie had lost too much weight, enough that it nearly took Brooke’s breath away when the girl had first walked in her office. They’d immediately had a long conversation about the difference between healthful food choices and dangerous crash dieting—talks that had continued over the past few weeks—and Brooke was starting to feel hopeful that she was making progress.