Michael interrupted. “What Christy means to say is…”
Christy realized that she was a little tipsy.
Scottie couldn’t contain herself any longer. She burst into laughter, sucking a large piece of salad up her windpipe. Her eyes widened, and she grabbed her throat. Her face took on a dangerous hue. Everyone at the table had a vague idea about how to do the Heimlich maneuver, but no one had actually done it before. They all sat there waiting for someone else to jump in to save Scottie.
Michael, his face ashen, finally took control. He helped Scottie to her feet and gave his best imitation of the Heimlich maneuver, which, to his surprise and relief, was close enough. Half a tomato wedge came flying out of her mouth, landing smack in the middle of Brownie’s hairdo.
“Oh my God, are you okay?” Christy asked. It would be tragic to lose a national treasure over Brownie’s silly charity.
Scottie nodded. “Let me just use the restroom,” she croaked, as she left the dining room, coughing.
“Don’t worry, I’m okay, too,” Brownie said, fishing the tomato out of her hair.
When Scottie came back to the table, she told Brownie that she’d think about it. But Christy knew that the first thing she’d do when she got back to L.A. would be to send Brownie her deep regrets at not having the time to give to this very worthwhile cause. Christy was mortified. Scottie must think I’m the world’s biggest nimrod to have introduced her to Brownie, she thought.
Scottie turned to Michael and mouthed, “You owe me.”
He nodded. His color returned to normal, and the two of them carried on a lively conversation for the rest of dinner. Christy noticed sadly that Michael was as animated while talking with Scottie as he used to be with her. She wondered if he missed being married to Christy, the dynamo.
“Can I ask you something?” Christy turned to Johnny.
“Sure,” he said.
She wasn’t sure how to say this delicately. She had to be tactful. Approach this with compassion, Christy thought. “Johnny, what’s it like to live in the shadow of one the most celebrated women on earth? Do you feel like…like…kind of a loser?”
“Of course not,” he laughed. “Do you?”
“Yes, I do,” Christy said. “I absolutely do.”
Johnny reached over and patted her hand. What a nice man he is, Christy thought. No wonder Scottie keeps him around.
“Christy, why in the world would you feel like a loser?” The server discreetly took away his salad plate and replaced it with seared tuna.
“Well,” she whispered, “my best friend betrayed me and stole my company. I tried to reinvent myself and failed miserably and publicly. And did you see that awful article about me in the Journal today? I’m a laughingstock. I’m gaining weight. Meanwhile, I’m married to one of the world’s most successful men. I don’t know why he stays with me.”
“Is that all?” Johnny asked, smiling.
“You want more?” Christy said.
“You know, Christy, believe it or not, I understand your feelings. Most people think being the partner of a celebrity is one big laugh riot. But you and I both know there’s a dark side.”
“Just like those Golden Latchkey kids,” Christy said ominously.
“Exactly. All I can tell you is what I figured out after fourteen years of being married to Scottie. And that is, when you’re completely at home in your own skin, Michael’s success will be a nonissue. Trust me on this.”
“Thanks. That makes sense,” she said, grateful for the advice. “I guess I’m not comfortable with who I am right now. I’m still not sure where I’ll land.”
“Give it time,” Johnny said. “You’ll figure it out.”
Christy glanced at Michael and Scottie, who were laughing about something. Those two were certainly acting chummy. Brownie and Fran were eating silently. Christy gave Johnny the eye signal to engage Brownie, which he did. Then she turned to Fran. “So Fran, you going to Davos this year?”
Let’s Disagree to Agree
Brownie and Fran took off the minute Scottie and Johnny left. Brownie wasn’t interested in spending any more time with Michael and Christy than she absolutely had to.
“So, did you accomplish your objective tonight?” Michael asked, pouring Christy a glass of wine. They sat at the kitchen counter.
“I don’t know. When Scottie says no to her charity, which of course she will, and she should, Brownie’ll take it out on me.”
“No good deed goes unpunished. I’ve always found that to be true,” Michael said, popping open a beer.
“Me, too. But don’t think I don’t appreciate what you did,” Christy said, flashing a half-drunk, sexy smile. “I’ve had a little too much wine,” she added.
“Why do you say that?”
“The room’s spinning.”
“Good sign. Here, give me your glass.”
Christy handed it to Michael. He spilled what was left into the sink and offered her a box of mint Girl Scout cookies.
“Thanks,” she said, taking five. “You and Scottie sure seemed to get along.”
“We do. She’s an amazing lady. Very attractive. So accomplished. Respected by everyone. A hoot to talk to. I’m glad they came.”
Christy bit her lip, which had started to tremble.
“What?”
“I used to be all those things.” Christy took his hand. “Are you sorry you married me?”
“No, I love you. You’re perfect. I could never be married to someone like Scottie.”
“Why not?”
“She’s too successful. I’d feel like a glorified hood ornament around her.”
“That’s how I feel around you.” Christy took three more cookies.
“What! How can you say that? You’re everything I’ve ever wanted.”
“Yes, but I used to be special. Now I’m nobody.”
“Beegee, if I’d wanted a trophy wife, I would have married one.”
“That’s the thing. You did marry one. And you stayed a trophy, but I didn’t.”
Michael pulled his hand away from hers. “Christy, for God’s sake, get a grip. I married you because I love you. And I love you with or without the company, with or without the money, with or without a few extra pounds, with or without the kid. I will always love you. Get that
