Page 93 of For Eva

To: Denise Abbott

Date: October 25, 2008 9:05AM

Subject: Re: UGH

Thanks, babe. You always know what to say. And you’re right. He is a motherfucker. But unfortunately, that motherfucker is the father of my children, so I don’t know if I should slash his tires. I’ll think about it. ;)

On another note, that reporter guy, Simon, fromRolling Stoneemailed me and said the feature on Eric will be coming out next month. Anyway, I don't know how much he really used in the article, but I’m sort of nervous. What if I said something wrong? I don’t want Eric to hate me anymore than he probably already does. But hell, what does it matter? That was so long ago, and we have completely different lives now. He’s living it up in California, dating movie stars and driving fancy cars, while I’m in Tennessee, divorced and hauling two kids around. I mean, I said nice things about him. The best things about him. Because he was a good friend to me. Just wish I’d been a better one to him.

All right, I’ve gotta run. Aaron called and is allegedly working today (note: it is Saturday) and won’t be able to take the boys like he promised. Shocking, I know.

Miss you.

From: Denise Abbott

To: Eva Mitchell

Date: October 25, 2008 6:29PM

Subject: Re: UGH

Again, I say: MOTHERFUCKER. Checking flights to Nashville right now. Make sure you have a knife sharp enough to cut through tire rubber.

You’ve got nothing to worry about with Eric. He wouldn’t have told the reporter to call you if he didn’t want what you had to say in the article. I can’t wait to read it, honestly. Wonder what ever happened to Matt? ;)

XOXO

FIFTY-TWO

Eva

November 2008

Ihurried into the drugstore, flipping my sunglasses onto my head and mumbling a quick hello to the woman behind the counter who welcomed me to Walgreens. I almost left my glasses on, like I was on some sort of covert mission, but reminded myself I was just an average person buying a magazine. No one in the store knew my name was in it. And chances were high that no one I knew in town would ever read it.

I hoped.

Shit. What if they do? What if the parents at school see it?

Breaking News: Local Stay-at-Home Mom was Former Hollywood Wild Child. Details at Ten.

“Too late now,” I muttered, taking a sharp right turn and heading past the greeting cards.

Shape.Glamour.Cosmo.I scanned the racks until I landed on Eric’s face. My breath caught in my throat, and I slowly raised my hand to cover my mouth.

There were faint lines etched into his forehead, like the ones I saw when I looked in the mirror, and a lock of short dark-blondhair fell over them. His blue eyes were focused directly on the camera, and an invisible string tugged the corners of his mouth into a humble smile. A grateful smile, like the one I’d seen as he walked toward me in that rehab center nineteen years before.

I plucked the magazine off the shelf, then headed for the front of the store, grabbing a pack of gum and a Snickers at the checkout so it would look like I wasn’t therejustto buy the magazine. As if the cashier cared.

Back in my car, I immediately lit a cigarette, dangling my arm all the way out the window in the parking lot, while I flipped to the article and scanned it for my name.

Twice.

A sigh of relief found its way into the last stream of smoke I blew out before tossing my cig and starting my car. As far as I could tell, I hadn’t been misquoted or said anything inane. But I still dashed through yellow lights and rolled through stop signs because I needed to get home where I could read the article in its entirety.

Which I did.

Twice.

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