chewed, she added, “Although whenever I worked with Mark, he wasn’t bad. At least not like some of them can be. Before his accident, we were doing a big media push using him and some of the other players, and he was relatively nice. Sure we locked horns, but he eventually listened to reason. He didn’t balk at taking his shirt off.” She smiled and held up one hand. “The guy had an eight-pack. I. Swear. To. God.”
Chelsea thought of the man walking slowly up the sidewalk toward her, leaning on his cane, looking anything but weak. Everything about him radiated strength and darkness. Eyes, hair, energy. A dangerous archetype. Like Hugh Jackman in X-Men, minus the claws, facial hair, and superpowers. Not to be confused with the Hugh Jackman who’d hosted the Oscars and sang and danced. She just could not picture Mark Bressler busting out in song. “How bad was his accident?”
“No one in aftercare told you?”
“Some.” Chelsea shrugged and took a bite of garlic bread. “They gave me a folder with his schedule and some info in it.”
“And you didn’t read it?”
“Glanced at it.”
Bo’s eyes rounded. “Chelsea!”
“What? I saw that he has a physical therapist come to the house twice a week, and I was going to read the rest tomorrow. I never read everything till the night before. It keeps it fresh in my head.”
“That was always your excuse in high school. It was a wonder you even graduated.”
She pointed her bread at her sister. “What happened to Bressler?”
“Last January he hit some black ice on the 520 bridge. His Hummer rolled three times.” Bo took a drink of her wine. “It was horrible. The big SUV looked like it had been compacted. No one thought he was going to live.”
“Is he… ” Chelsea tapped her finger to her temple. “… a few fries short of a Happy Meal?” That might explain his rude behavior and dislike of her Pucci.
“I’m not sure how he is mentally.”
“I knew a makeup artist who worked on the set of The Young and the Restless. After she took a header off a balcony, she was never the same. It was like she didn’t have a filter anymore and everything that ran through her head spilled out of her mouthe 5 of her. She told one of the directors that he had shit for brains.” Chelsea finished her bread and added, “It was pretty much true, but she got fired anyway.”
“I thought you were an extra on The Bold and the Beautiful.”
“That was last month. I worked on The Young and the Restless about three years ago.” She shrugged. “I played a bar hag and I wore a tank top and a pair of Daisy Dukes. My line was, ‘Wanna buy a girl a drink?’” She’d hoped that that one brilliantly delivered sentence would evolve into a permanent role, but of course it hadn’t happened.
“I have Slasher Camp,” Bo said through a smile. “We can fast-forward to your scene and watch it over and over.”
Chelsea laughed. She’d been the first slut to get axed, literally, in the B-movie. “I think that was my best scream ever.”
“I thought your best scream was in Killer Valentine.”
“That was a good one too.” Again, she’d been the first slut to get killed off. That time with a dagger in her heart.
“Mom hates the horror movies.”
Chelsea reached for her wine and looked across at the good, successful twin. “Mom hates most things about me.”
“No, she doesn’t. She hates seeing you seminude and covered in blood. She just worries about you.”
This was yet another conversation that Chelsea didn’t want to have. Mostly because it always ended the same. Bo feeling bad because everyone thought Chelsea was a fuckup. Impulsive and rash, but in a family full of aggressive overachievers, someone had to be the bottom bear on the totem pole. “Tell me more about Bressler,” she said, purposely changing the subject.
Bo stood and grabbed her empty plate and glass. “He’s divorced.”
Chelsea probably could have guessed that one. She stood and drained her wine. “Kids?”
“No.”
She reached for her plate and followed her sister into the kitchen. “He was the captain. Right?”
“For about the past six years.” Bo set her dishes in the sink and looked over her shoulder at Chelsea. “He had some of the highest stats in the NHL, and if he’d played in the winning game last night, he would have won MVP.” She turned on the water and rinsed her plate. “The day after the accident, the whole organization was in turmoil. Absolute chaos. Everyone was worried about Mark, but they were also worried about the team and what the loss of the captain meant to the Chinooks’ chances at winning the cup. The late Mr. Duffy moved quickly and signed Ty Savage. Everyone was shocked at how well it all worked out. Savage stepped in and did an awesome job of filling Mark’s shoes. Or skates, rather. Mark didn’t have to worry about anything but getting better.”
Chelsea had been at the winning game the night before with Bo and Jules Garcia, Mrs. Duffy’s assistant and a dead ringer for Mario Lopez. The Mario when he guest-starred on Nip/Tuck. Not the Mario of Saved by the Bell.
Chelsea wasn’t much of a hockey fan, but she had to admit that she’d gotten caught up in the fever and had watched from the edge of her seat. The three of them had stayed during the cup presentation ceremony and watched all the players skate around with it held over their heads like conquering heroes. “Was Bressler at the arena last night?” She opened the dishwasher and loaded it as her sister rinsed.
Bo shook her head. “We sent a car for him, but he never showed. I think he has good nights and bad nights. He must have been having a bad night.”
Chelsea pulled out the top rack and loaded glasses. “It must be a huge load off his mind to know that his accident didn’t cost his team the cup.”
“I would imagine. He almost died and had bigger things to think about.” Bo handed her a plate.
“And I imagine that waking up after an accident like that, a person must feel so lucky to be alive. I knew a stunt double who fell from a burning building and hit the air bag wrong. After he woke from his coma, he went back to school and is now an injury lawyer. It changed his whole life and put it right into perspective.”
“Yep. Sometimes something unforeseen happens and can change your life.” Bo turned off the water and dried her hands. “What are you going to do with the ten-thousand bonus?”
Chelsea shut the dishwasher and turned her face away. If there was one person on the planet who could read her, even when she didn’t want to be read, it was her twin. “I haven’t decided.”
“What about school?”
“Maybe.” She walked into the living room and ran her finger over a fake fern that needed dusting.
“What about investing? I could hook you up with my broker.”
She could lie, but her sister would know. Evasion was her best option. “I have a while. I’ll think about it.”
“You can’t just blow it on designer clothes.”
“I like blowing money on clothes.” When she had the money to blow. “Especially designer clothes.”
“Well, I’m sorry to be the one to tell you this, but Mark Bressler is right. You’re a collision of discordant color.”
Chelsea turned and looked at her sister standing in the doorway to the kitchen, dressed in black and white with her short dark hair pulled back in a stubby ponytail. She almost smiled at her sister’s description of her.
“The bonus you get from the aftercare program won’t go far if you spend it on clothes. If you sign up for classes now, you can go to school this fall.”
They hadn’t talked about Chelsea leaving, but now was as good a time as any. “I won’t be here this fall. I’m going back to L.A.” She expected her sister to protest, to try and convince her to stay so they could live close to each other. She didn’t expect her sister’s next words to feel like a punch in the chest.
“You’re thirty and it’s time to be responsible, Chelsea.ithble, Ch You tried the whole actress thing. You need to set more realistic goals.”
She’d known the rest of the family felt that pursuing her acting dream was silly. She knew that they rolled their eyes and said she was unrealistic, but she hadn’t known Bo felt that way too. The punch turned to a little pinch in a corner of her heart. “If I suddenly get responsible, what would everyone talk about when I leave the room?” The rest of the family could say what they wanted about Chelsea and it never hurt near as badly as when Bo said it.
