Eversea A Love Story

Chinese Laundry stilettos I had bought on a whim one day and never worn. My tight black spaghetti-strap dress threaded with gold was a tad short. And by short, I mean it was like wearing a belt. I’d bought it with the idea of branching out from my usual Keds and jeans and pairing it with leggings. But no, not tonight. If I dropped anything, it was going to stay on the freaking ground.
    My hair was ironed straight, sleek and smooth, falling about an inch longer than usual without all the waves. My eyes were rimmed with just the right amount of eye make-up to accent and look slightly smoky without making me feel vampy, and a sheer slick of gloss on my lips flecked with gold matched the shimmer Jazz had added all over my body. I felt like a goddess ... or at least a hollow statuette of one.
    The look on Joey’s face told me he almost didn’t recognize me. And I liked that very much.
    Tonight, I was going to don the façade of a young girl out on the town with a life full of promise. That’s what I was. Or at least, should be.
    I reached the bottom step, perched above the same spot where I had fallen apart on the hard wood two nights ago. My eyes flicked there for a moment, and then I took the last step slowly and deliberately, sticking my stiletto heel on the exact spot. A phoenix rising from the ashes, that’s what I was. I would survive this stupid, stupid boy.
    * * *
    The idea of a night clubbing and drinking in Savannah had taken on a life of its own among my friends. I’d been back at work again after my embarrassing breakdown the night before, and bringing Jazz another drink, when something caught her eye on the screen. Jazz pushed her chair back and I turned to see what she was looking at. My stomach dropped.
    A smiling Jack Eversea with his arm around Audrey Lane, her head nestled lovingly on his shoulder, both unaware of the camera, filled the screen. I tried to convince myself it was an old picture of the two of them from the archives, and not something recent. Except right at that moment, a breaking news banner scrolled along the bottom of the screen as the picture faded to Billy Bush mouthing the exclusive and breaking news that Jack Eversea had been spotted in Savannah.
    Billy Bush was a handsome guy, but right then I wanted to punch his jaw as my eyes were pulled in by the closed captioning that was stabbing me word by word.
    Jazz reached me and pulled me toward the kitchen forcing my eyes to drag away from the screen.
    “You okay?” she asked, as the door swung shut.
    I nodded, numbly. “I feckin’ hate Billy Bush.”
    “Yeah, well, he’s also on my laminated list so don’t shoot the messenger.”
    “He’s married.”
    “Oh well,” she shrugged. “Dreams are free.”
    I saw she was holding her phone, so I took it and quickly pulled up the Access Hollywood app I knew was on there.
    “Are you sure you want to see this?” Jazz asked, concern all over her face.
    I nodded, and we both hunched over it.
    Jack Eversea spotted in Savannah at the swanky Mansion on Forsyth; cozied up with Audrey Lane as they try to repair their relationship.
    “Ugh,” said Jazz.
    A source close to the couple says they have been in constant contact since Audrey Lane’s heartfelt public statement and apology several days ago and they finally decided to meet on neutral ground to get away and sort things out. Still no word on where Jack disappeared to while nursing his broken heart or whether he will pull the plug on the rapid sale of his home they shared in California.
    I hadn’t known he was doing that.
    A spokesman for Peak Entertainment said all of their current scheduled appearances for the upcoming Erath movie premiere are still going ahead, and it would take more than a few bumps in the road to keep these two apart.
    How sweet. I wanted to gag.
    “I need to get obliterated,” I said to Jazz.
    She nodded. “Brenda, love,” she said, poking her head out of the kitchen door to the bar. “I know you covered for Keri Ann the other night, but would you mind very much if she had a shot of tequila right now?”
    * * *
    I’d resolutely stuck to my guns about not going, but on Saturday morning Liz texted Jazz with the disappointing news that Vern had called to say Jack Eversea and Audrey Lane had checked out. No doubt in response to the fact they’d been swarmed.
    Jazz pinned me down after my lunch shift. “You need this,” she said seriously. “Look, it’s safe now. He’s not there. You need to be out