success?”
My face felt like it was on fire, and I prayed to God they’d put enough makeup on me so that America couldn’t see my shame. I couldn’t even open my mouth to speak. Thankfully, Barbara Walters had interviewed enough people to know terror was streaking through my body like a triple shot of espresso. She gave me a slight nod, looked at the camera and said, “More after the break.” And even though I never really liked Joy Behar the times I had watched the show, after we came back from the break, she’s the one who saved me.
When we went live again, Joy made a joke about two married people that set the audience off. While they were still in the throes of laughter, she followed up with, “Don’t get me wrong, I love my husband, but sometimes being married is like going to a restaurant and seeing what the table next to me ordered and thinking, damn, I wish I’d ordered that.” Then the music came up, and that was the end of the show.
“You did a great job,” Jake said. I knew from the look on his face he’d see my glitch. I wasn’t going to get into this with him. The fact that my husband had left me was none of his business, but I sensed he wasn’t going to let it go.
Happy to be out of the naked dress and back in a T-shirt, yoga pants, and flip-flops, we headed for the airport. The traffic stalled. Even with the city noise, the cab was deathly quiet.
The driver, who looked like he was about Jim’s age had a little boom box in the front seat. “Can we have some music?” I asked all smiling and southern. He nodded, punched in an oldie’s station, and glanced up at me in the rearview mirror, like he was sure my husband’s choice of music was also mine. “Could you turn it to something country?” I noticed Jake’s smile. “What?”
“There’s probably more than a hundred FM radio stations in the city and only one of them is country.”
“I like country music.” Smiling would distract him. Flirting? Definitely a distraction. “It’s the only genre that tells a complete story in less than three minutes and can make you cry. Or make you want to go to a honkey tonk.”
“You don’t strike me as a honkey tonk kind of woman.”
“Well, I am,” I lied, wishing he’d pull out his phone and scroll through the itinerary again, maybe watch a little Hulu. Something “They even wrote a song about me.”
“Honkey Tonk Woman.” He was amused and even though it was the Rolling Stones, I was surprised he knew the song, since it was released five years before I was born.
The cab picked up speed, heading at a steady clip to LaGuardia airport. I was almost ready to take out those black shoes I knew Jake liked so well, but it was too late. He looked at me like he was done with the bullshit. “Tara, this is a really big deal, if there’s something up—with your marriage, you need to tell me so I can be ready to go on the offensive if I need to.”
I saw the sign that said the airport was six miles away. That wasn’t enough time to explain everything, but Jake was right. The way things were stacking up, it would be better to have him as a partner than pissed off at me again, especially if his job depended on making the tour a success. “I’ll tell you on the plane.”
He shook his head. “You might be overheard. We’ll talk tonight at the hotel.”
I watched the wheels turn in his pretty head the whole way to Atlanta. There was no playful banter, no reassuring smiles, but there wasn’t an oh shit look either. We talked about innocuous things like sales and Erin. Jake had checked in on her that morning and said she was going to be released from the hospital tomorrow and was going to work out of her house for the rest of the week. I didn’t mention that I’d called her that morning too and had gotten the same scoop.
We checked into a hotel within walking distance to his friend’s office. I don’t know if he asked for adjoining rooms, but that’s what we had. “Are you
My face felt like it was on fire, and I prayed to God they’d put enough makeup on me so that America couldn’t see my shame. I couldn’t even open my mouth to speak. Thankfully, Barbara Walters had interviewed enough people to know terror was streaking through my body like a triple shot of espresso. She gave me a slight nod, looked at the camera and said, “More after the break.” And even though I never really liked Joy Behar the times I had watched the show, after we came back from the break, she’s the one who saved me.
When we went live again, Joy made a joke about two married people that set the audience off. While they were still in the throes of laughter, she followed up with, “Don’t get me wrong, I love my husband, but sometimes being married is like going to a restaurant and seeing what the table next to me ordered and thinking, damn, I wish I’d ordered that.” Then the music came up, and that was the end of the show.
“You did a great job,” Jake said. I knew from the look on his face he’d see my glitch. I wasn’t going to get into this with him. The fact that my husband had left me was none of his business, but I sensed he wasn’t going to let it go.
Happy to be out of the naked dress and back in a T-shirt, yoga pants, and flip-flops, we headed for the airport. The traffic stalled. Even with the city noise, the cab was deathly quiet.
The driver, who looked like he was about Jim’s age had a little boom box in the front seat. “Can we have some music?” I asked all smiling and southern. He nodded, punched in an oldie’s station, and glanced up at me in the rearview mirror, like he was sure my husband’s choice of music was also mine. “Could you turn it to something country?” I noticed Jake’s smile. “What?”
“There’s probably more than a hundred FM radio stations in the city and only one of them is country.”
“I like country music.” Smiling would distract him. Flirting? Definitely a distraction. “It’s the only genre that tells a complete story in less than three minutes and can make you cry. Or make you want to go to a honkey tonk.”
“You don’t strike me as a honkey tonk kind of woman.”
“Well, I am,” I lied, wishing he’d pull out his phone and scroll through the itinerary again, maybe watch a little Hulu. Something “They even wrote a song about me.”
“Honkey Tonk Woman.” He was amused and even though it was the Rolling Stones, I was surprised he knew the song, since it was released five years before I was born.
The cab picked up speed, heading at a steady clip to LaGuardia airport. I was almost ready to take out those black shoes I knew Jake liked so well, but it was too late. He looked at me like he was done with the bullshit. “Tara, this is a really big deal, if there’s something up—with your marriage, you need to tell me so I can be ready to go on the offensive if I need to.”
I saw the sign that said the airport was six miles away. That wasn’t enough time to explain everything, but Jake was right. The way things were stacking up, it would be better to have him as a partner than pissed off at me again, especially if his job depended on making the tour a success. “I’ll tell you on the plane.”
He shook his head. “You might be overheard. We’ll talk tonight at the hotel.”
I watched the wheels turn in his pretty head the whole way to Atlanta. There was no playful banter, no reassuring smiles, but there wasn’t an oh shit look either. We talked about innocuous things like sales and Erin. Jake had checked in on her that morning and said she was going to be released from the hospital tomorrow and was going to work out of her house for the rest of the week. I didn’t mention that I’d called her that morning too and had gotten the same scoop.
We checked into a hotel within walking distance to his friend’s office. I don’t know if he asked for adjoining rooms, but that’s what we had. “Are you
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