Genuine Lies

seven-thirty. CeeCee will sit with Brandon.”
    Julia rose as well. She preferred handling the unexpected on her feet. “I’ll go of course. But you may as well know, I don’t mingle well.” Irony spiking her words, she added, “I never outgrew that habit of driving people crazy by asking too many questions.”
    Eve chuckled and, satisfied, strolled toward the house. It was, she was certain, going to be an interesting evening.

If there was one thing Julia hated more than being given orders, it was having no choice but to obey them. It wasn’t that she couldn’t enjoy an evening out, particularly at a glitzy event. If it threatened to make her feel too hedonistic, she could justify it as research. It was being told on the morning of the event that she was expected to attend. Not asked, not invited. Commanded. And she’d been human enough to spend a large chunk of time that afternoon fretting over what to wear. Time, she thought now, that should have been spent working. Just as her annoyance with Eve had reached its peak, Nina had knocked on the door, carrying a trio of dresses. Dresses, Julia was told, that Eve had selected personally from her own wardrobe, on the off chance that Julia hadn’t packed anything appropriate for a formal party.
    Dictatorial, perhaps, but still considerate. And it had been tempting, very tempting, to chose one of the shimmery, glittery gowns. At one point, Julia had spread them out over her bed, thousands of dollars worth of silk and spangles. She’d even weakened enough to try one on, a strapless slither ofcoral-colored silk. It was only marginally too big in the bust and hips so that she imagined it slicked down Eve’s body like rainwater.
    In that moment when she stood studying herself in the star’s gown, her own skin somehow softer, creamier against the vivid material, she felt enchanted, touched by magic.
    If her life had not taken that single turn, would she have made her home in Beverly Hills? Would she have had a closet full of exquisite clothes? Would her face, her name, have drawn gasps from millions of fans as her image flickered across a movie screen?
    Maybe, maybe not, she’d thought, and had indulged herself in a few twists and turns in front of the mirror. But her life had taken that other direction, and had given her something much more important, much more lasting than fame.
    In the end her practicality had won out. She’d decided it was better to refuse the gowns than to go through the evening pretending she was something she wasn’t.
    She wore the only evening gown she had brought with her, a simple column of midnight blue with a snug bolero jacket studded with bugle beads. In the two years since she’d bought it, on sale at Saks, she had worn it only once. As she fastened on rhinestone drop earrings, she listened to her son’s giggles float up the stairs. He and CeeCee, already fast friends, were deeply involved in a game of Crazy Eights.
    Julia took a last inventory of her purse, slipped into pretty and miserably uncomfortable evening shoes, then started down the stairs.
    “Hey, Mom.” Brandon watched her come down. She looked so nice, so different. It always made him feel proud, and a little funny in the stomach, to realize how beautiful his mother was. “You look really good.”
    “You look terrific,” CeeCee corrected the boy. She shifted from her stomach, where she and Brandon were sprawled on the rug, to her knees. “That’s not one of Miss B.’s.”
    “No.” Self-conscious, Julia smoothed her skirt. “I didn’t feel right. I’d hoped this would do.”
    “It does,” CeeCee told her with a nod. “Classic elegance. And with your hair swept up like that, you add sex appeal. What more could you ask for?”
    Invisibility, Julia thought, but only smiled. “I shouldn’t be late. I’m hoping to slip away right after dinner.”
    “Why? This is a totally big event.” CeeCee sat back on her heels.
“Everybody’s
going to be there. And it’s for a good cause and all too. You know, the Actors’ Fund. You should just enjoy yourself. I’ll crash in the spare room if I get tired.”
    “Can we make popcorn?” Brandon wanted to know.
    “Okay. Make sure you—” At the knock, she glanced over to see Paul standing at the door.
    “Put plenty of butter on it,” he finished, and winked at Brandon as he stepped inside.
    CeeCee immediately fluffed her hair. “Hi, Mr. Win-.”
    “Hi, CeeCee, how’s it going?”
    “Fine, thanks.” Her