“I’m sorry,” she says when I don’t respond right away. “I didn’t mean to hurt your feelings, but someone has to say it.”
“You’re the only one who knows everything,” I say finally. “I haven’t even told Jade.”
“Maybe because you know it’s time for a change. Time to move on from the past and look toward a future. Imagine being married to Atlas Delarosa.”
Now I laugh. “Okay, hold your horses there, cowgirl.” Sandy lives on a horse ranch in Kentucky. “No one’s talking about marriage. I was thinking more letting him tie me up and spank me, not dragging me down the aisle.”
“Obviously, I don’t know the man, and if he’s not husband material, that’s fine. But someone has to be. Sometime. Don’t they? Don’t you want a baby? And don’t get all freaked out about your career. You’re still in your twenties, you have time. But someday? A baby. A man to curl up next to at night. Someone cheering you on when you’re on top and letting you cry in his arms when you’re not?”
“Is, uh, is that what Brody does for you?”
“That and so much more.” She sighs.
And it’s the sigh of a truly and completely happy woman. It’s the same sigh I hear from Jade these days.
A feeling I’ve never experienced outside of the professional realm.
Happiness.
Contentment.
What does that even feel like?
“I have to go,” I say gently. “But thank you for giving me something to think about. I always trust your wisdom–and counsel.”
“Are you actually going to think about it, or are you just getting me off the phone?”
“Both. I’m tired and it’s late. So it may not be tonight, but I do plan to think about what to do next. About a lot of things.”
“Good.”
“One more question.”
“Shoot.”
“Hot pink or aqua blue streak in my hair?”
She laughs. “Hot pink, girlfriend. That’s who you are.”
I disconnect and stare at my reflection in the mirror across the room.
Black hair with a hot pink streak?
Isthat who I am?
What happened to the dishwater blonde with two crooked front teeth who used to cut her own hair and wear her mama’s old, cakey blue eye shadow?
Does Elizabeth Rae Hooker even exist beneath the facade of pop star Lily Maxwell? Changing my name was a must when I started performing, but sometimes I wonder if there’s anything left of her.
The old me.
The me with hopes and dreams and hope.
The me who still believed in love.
NINE
Atlas