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Marie and Tammy had been acting, I don’t know - strange towards me for the last couple of days. I couldn’t pinpoint the specifics; I could just sense it. Maybe it was the new way they both awkwardly smiled at me that caused me to feel weird?
I had been really ill and I was extremely thankful that my two best friends were there for me, but I couldn’t help but worry that they were getting tired of me and my new life of drama.
“Tammy, your wedding band is beautiful!” I gushed, watching the diamonds sparkle in the light. She handed a check to the sales clerk.
“Thanks!” Tammy glowed. “Only six more payments and it’s mine.”
“Hey Taryn, come look at this one!” Marie called out. She was looking at emerald rings.
“How much is that ring right there?” Marie pointed to a very gaudy ring.
The lady took it out of the case and checked the tag. “This one is three thousand.”
My eyes bugged out. It was an ugly ring for three thousand dollars. Marie tried to put it on her finger, but it wouldn’t go past her knuckle without a good shove.
“Here Tar, you have tiny fingers. Model it.”
I slipped it on my right hand and held it out to her. It was the kind of stacked setting that would take a layer of skin off someone if you brushed up against them accidentally.
Marie played with the ring on my finger, checking the look of it from several angles. I was surprised that she even liked this style of jewelry.
She held my hand out to the sales clerk. “So, what do you think? Does it fit her?”
“She would need to be sized,” the lady answered, twisting it freely on my finger. “You could probably go down a half size smaller.”
I took it off immediately and handed it back to the clerk. I didn’t want anyone to think I was interested in buying this ugly ring.
“This ring is tiny. What size is it?” Marie placed it back on her finger.
“It’s a six,” the lady droned. “It’s the standard stock size.”
“There you go, Taryn. Your next job could be a hand model since all of these would fit you,” Marie teased.
I thought about modeling my middle finger for her.
“How small is her finger?” Marie asked.
The sales lady slid a few metal rings around my finger. “You would wear a five and a half.”
“Are both hands the same size? I heard one hand is always bigger,” Marie stated.
The lady measured my other hand. “They’re the same.”
“Try that one on.” Marie pointed to another ring. The sales lady handed me an opal and emerald disaster.
“You know you’ll have to start working your fingers out more if you’re going to be interviewing for all those hand jobs,” Tammy snorted at her own joke.
“I’m sure Ryan would be happy to help there!” Marie laughed. “Come on, let’s get out of here and go try on some really ugly taffeta dresses now.
We got what we needed.”
“Speaking of dresses…” I muttered and opened my purse to retrieve my cell phone. There was another very important affair which required a very special dress closer than Tammy’s wedding on my calendar.
“I can’t believe you have Kelly Ann Gael’s number and you can just call her to talk about dresses like it’s no big deal,” Marie teased. “Who else do you have in there now? Drew? Gwyneth? Demi?” Marie grabbed for my phone just as her own phone started to ring.
“Hi… Cheryl,” Marie muttered awkwardly. “Hey, can I call you back? I’m out with my friends Taryn and Tammy right now.”
Marie groaned. “Okay, well… um, let me think. How about if I call you at five thirty? Five thirty,” she repeated.
“Gary’s sister,” Marie answered my questioning stare. “She’s being a real pain in the ass lately.”
Chapter 27 - Hollywood
It was still dark outside when Tammy drove me to the airport the following Tuesday morning. My flight out would put me on the West Coast at one o’clock in the afternoon, leaving me plenty of time to be entertained by Kelly. Ryan told me to make sure I packed light, since it was a lot warmer in Los Angeles, and to bring my new Shell-B Enterprises credit card as well to check into the hotel. Ryan wouldn’t be landing at LAX until almost nine o’clock at night on his return from Scotland. It would take him three different flights to reach California.
The sun was bright when I walked through the terminal at LAX. I smiled to myself when I went almost unnoticed by the leeches with cameras. My hunch was correct; there was paparazzi staked out at this airport twenty-four hours a day, seven days a week. My reverie quickly faded when I realized that Ryan would have a different fate when he landed tonight. He would be tired and annoyed by the unwanted attention from the paparazzi.
