Page 156 of Wife After Wife
Caitlyn
The press soon lost interest, and Florence helped Caitlyn find a flat to rent. Now that auditions forRock Godhad been completed, the rest of the series would be filmed in town. It was only one day a week, so she found herself with time on her hands in which to brood on how she’d had everything she’d ever wanted and thrown it away for a fling with a has-been singer. She felt desolate, empty.
A few weeks after Harry kicked her out, she had a text from Frankie.Back from States. Where u living now?
As usual, they picked up where they’d left off. Caitlyn couldn’t think of a reason not to. Frankie was like a bag of hot chips on a cold night. He warmed you up but was ultimately bad for you. Plus you felt kind of greasy afterward.
After a week or two, she mentioned the subject of rent. “Frankie, if you want to stay here, that’s all good with me. But can you give me some cash? I have to be careful, you know? My agent says my brand’s been damaged. And Harry’s really powerful in the media. He might do that whole ‘She’ll never work in this town again’ thing. So I have to watch the pennies.”
“Bit of a cash-flow situation at the moment, doll. Anyway, if he’s going to divorce you, you’ll get some loot from that, right?”
“We’ve only been married five minutes. And I had to sign one of those prenup things. I won’t get a cent.”
“That sucks. Look, you gave up a good job to marry him. That’s got to be worth something.”
“I gave up the job to go into TV.”
“But the two aren’t unconnected, right?”
“He’s got a top lawyer, Frankie. I don’t even have a lawyer.”
•••
Tom Cranwell was moving things along quickly. Divorce papers had already been served on Caitlyn, but she’d done nothing with them. She’d returned none of Tom’s calls and had ignored his texts. She knew she’d need to respond sooner or later, but a small part of her still hoped Harry would give her a second chance.
They’d just wrapped up the semifinal ofRock God. Tommy was warm and friendly to her, like he was warm and friendly to everyone. He wasn’t a bad person, just an amoral one. Like her.
She was in her dressing room when a face from the past appeared around the door. “Caitlyn?”
“Storm? Oh my god, Storm!”
She was beyond happy to see a familiar face, one who knew pre-fame Caitlyn. She leaped up and they hugged, and there were tears on Caitlyn’s cheeks—but not on Storm’s.
“How did you find me?” she squealed.
“It wasn’t difficult, Cates. You’re friggin’ famous now.”
“It’s so good to see you! I’ve had a horrible few weeks, this is the best thing.”
“Yeah, I saw it in the paper. Don’t blame you—Tommy Cultrane! Remember how we fancied him when we were kids?”
“Yes, but I shouldn’t have gone there. My husband’s chucked me out.”
“He’ll come round, though? God, girl, you’re only human.”
“I don’t think so. Hey, let’s talk about you instead.”
“Sure. Shall we go to your place? Where you living now?”
“Camden. We could grab a bottle of wine?”
Then she remembered last time she’d seen Storm, passed out on the sofa with her loser boyfriend. “Before we go...”
“Yeah?”
“You’re not with that guy still? Blair?”
“Nah. He died. Overdose. Idiot. I cleaned myself up after that.”
