A Life More Complete(30)
“Oh, good luck with that. Hopefully she doesn’t tell the world she’s pregnant,” Bob says sarcastically and I scowl at him. “Too soon, huh?”
“Yeah,” I scoff.
We all head back to the office and at the end of the day I make it a point to kiss both Melinda and Bob good-bye. I know there is no way I can ever live without them.
My night drags as I wait for Ben to get off work. He texts me around seven to say he won’t make it over tonight, but he’ll be waiting for me when I get home on Thursday. My heart sinks just a little. I climb into bed and turn on the TV. As I mindlessly flip through the channels I come across a cable news channel that is re-airing the interview with Trini and dissecting it clip by clip. Like all of America, I can’t look away. I want to change the channel, yet I don’t. Each statement crueler than the next and it is only when I hear, “And is that her publicist?” that I finally change the channel. I can take what they say about Trini with more compassion, but it becomes too personal when the discussion is actually about me.
The next morning I board my plane for New York and arrive on time. I willfully do my job as publicist and moderator for the client. I go through the motions, fake, contrived and over the top, but it is what is expected. I sleep in my plush high-end hotel room paid for by Ellie Regan P.R. and board my plane back to California early the next morning. It’s as planned, nothing exciting or scandalous, just the basics.
I turn my phone on as the plane lands and it begins to ding and light up the moment my hand leaves the button. It’s only seven in the morning and I’m already bombarded. Doesn’t anyone sleep? I scroll through my emails and there it is in my inbox, the message I’ve been dreading, but the one I hoped would never come. Trini checked herself out of rehab after less than seventy-two hours. I click the link Melinda sent and thumb through the pictures posted on a gossip column website. The first is of Trini getting her mother’s name tattooed on her ribs with a revolver pointing at it, next a shot of her getting her nipples pierced and then leaving the place with a white shirt and no bra and last but not least, her partying with a group of kids, her own age I might add, in Reseda where she is photographed numerous times taking hits off a bong. I run my hands over my face pushing them up into my hair.
“Hey lady? You gonna get up?” asks the guy sitting next to me on the plane.
“Um, yeah, sorry,” I mumble. I grab my bag from the overhead compartment and walk though the airport in a fog. I’m recognized as I make my way to my car. Inundated by cameras and flash bulbs, questions are being spouted at me as I walk. Obviously, all of them regarding Trini and I don’t know what to say. I’m not sure I can do this anymore. My first thought is to quit. Quit it all, my job, Trini, the public, but I realize that is unrealistic. I’m tired of damage control, tired of questions and interviews, plane rides and gossip blogs. There is no point in going home and is there really any point in going in to the office. The damage is done, so I head to Trini’s house.
My phone vibrates against my leg and the caller ID says, Callahan and Rhodes. I roll my eyes and answer firmly, “Kristin Mullins.”
“Ms. Mullins, this is Jacob Foster, Katrina Walters’s attorney. I’ve been trying to reach her for several hours with no avail,” he says nervously, yet trying to sound intimidating.
“Yes. Is there something you need, Jacob?”
“Um, yes. Her pre-trial date has been set for a week from Friday. Um, she’ll need to be there.”
“Okay. I’ll pass the information along to her. I’ll be meeting with her shortly. I’m sorry you’ve been unable to reach her, as you know she is going through a difficult time right now.”
“I understand. Um, Ms. Mullins?”
“Yes, Jacob?”
“I’m an entertainment lawyer, not a criminal defense attorney. I’m starting to think I’m in over my head. I can assist her in pleading guilty to the charges that have been filed against her, but I won’t be of much, um, assistance should she, um, continue to find herself in these types of situations.” His voice peaks at points, turns high and returns to its normal octave. I don’t know if I make him uncomfortable or if this is his usual demeanor.
“I can’t speak for Trini, but I surely hope this is the last of her problems. I will also understand if you are unable to continue your legal counsel. You wouldn’t be the first to leave.”
“I will try my best. Um, when I took this job from Ronald, I thought it would be an easy way to get my feet wet. You know, read contracts, trademarks and if I was lucky a possible litigation. Um, I never expected to end up here. Now I know why Ronald quit and the job was, um given to me.”