Chelsea decided to take a cab instead of the bus to the shelter. Something about being on the bus on Thanksgiving was just depressing. Sure, the cab fare was expensive but it was worth it. She stepped out of the cab and took a moment to look at the shelter. The unsuspecting building favored a business, cold and grey on the exterior. She sipped the last, cold bit of her Starbucks and smiled as she walked to a trashcan.
“Explain something to me.” A male voice said. She ignored it, assuming he wasn’t talking to her. “Why are you doing it? Is he paying you?” The man kept talking, Chelsea kept ignoring. “Clearly the have you trained, ignoring me like a pro.”
The last statement caught her attention. “You’re talking to me?” She turned and faced the man. He had an expensive camera around his neck, but he wasn’t taking pictures. Chelsea immediately regretted speaking to him and felt nervous. “I don’t know you.”
The man smiled. He had a nice smile. He looked to be on the upper side of thirty, not far from forty. The crow’s feet near his eyes gave him away. “I know you, Chelsea Garcia.” No matter how kind his smile was, it was creepy that he knew her name. He began to rattle of facts about her. She shook her head and waved her hands slightly, “Ok, ok, ok.”
“So how about it, what’s in it for you?”
“I don’t know what it is.” Chelsea was thoroughly confused.
“Is it like a PR exchange? He looks good and you look less good? I mean your reputation could not be less spotless. You shine you’re so pure and clean. Sick of that good girl act?”
A lightbulb clicked on at the same moment anger filled her body. How dare this guy? What he was insinuating infuriated her. Chelsea knew she had to choose her words carefully. Whatever she said, however she reacted, immediately reflected Chris and if this guy thought Chris was using her she didn’t want to give him any indication that he could be right. Reacting angrily might make him think he was right. Chelsea prepared to walk away when she felt a hand grab her.
“Just ignore scum like that,” a woman with long, flowing brown hair was holding her hand and guiding her into the building. The tall, slender beauty had an interesting accent. And she was stunning. Chelsea had to force herself not to stare. The woman’s skin was flawless, her hair shimmered and she had that accent. Sometimes life wasn’t fair. As soon as they walked into building the woman dropped her hand. “You’re too nice. More than I expected. I guess opposites attracting must be true.”
Chelsea stopped. Suddenly the beauty was familiar. She’d seen her picture in Sports Illustrated Swimsuit Issue and People. And that People picture was with Chris Pine. Holy crap. She didn’t know what to say. The last phrase, ‘opposites attracting must be true,’ seemed like a jab at Chris. It made her mad, but the uncomfortable nature of the situation outweighed her anger. Chelsea just kept her mouth shut and walked in. But the model kept talking. She chatted on about how annoying paparazzi were. The woman guided Chelsea through the sign in process and made sure they were right next to each other in the serving line. Chelsea served potatoes while the exotic beauty (her name Chelsea still hadn’t caught) put gravy onto the plate. She kept talking about how intrusive photographers like that were, while making sure to say not all photographers were bad. Afterall, they were the basis of her livelihood.
“I can’t say too much,” Chelsea finally spoke. “I had a subscription to People magazine up until my move here.”
The woman laughed and lightly touched Chelsea’s arm, “I read Perez Hilton, I won’t judge.”
The entire mood shifted. Suddenly they were swapping stupid gossip stories about Brad and Angelina, Lindsey Lohan, and the like. They giggled like old friends, which made the afternoon fly by. The air, which had felt awkward and heavy, suddenly was light as it should be. Though they were having a lot of fun, the focus went to where it should, the people needed a good warm meal. Chelsea and the statuesque beauty joked with the people as they got food. They shared smiles with everyone walking through the like. Occasionally they would whisper how lucky they were as they watched the less fortunate enjoy the meal. And at the end of their serving period, they even walked out together.
“Love,” the ex-girlfriend said sweetly, “be careful. I like you, you’re sweet. And you’re genuine. Honestly, seeing you were dating him,” she had refused all day long to say Chris, she only referred to him as a pronoun, “After a little research, I figured you were a lot less than what the media made you out to be. I was wrong and I apologize, my love. You’re a sweetheart. Don’t let him change that. I hope he doesn’t break your sweet heart.” Chelsea smiled slightly, it was getting awkward again, “And when he invites you to France run for the hills. That is the kiss of death. He does that when he realizes his job is in fact more important than you. Because honey, he loves his job more than anything.” The youth and beauty in the eyes of the young model were suddenly muddled with anger.
“I’m sorry,” Chelsea said, “for whatever happened. You are a fabulous person and I had a wonderful time with you. You proved all my thoughts about models to be misconceptions. We’re even on that judging thing.”
The woman, who had to be near six feet tall, stepped forward and tightly hugged Chelsea. “Amazing meeting you, love. Good luck.” And she sashayed off to a black sedan leaving Chelsea with her questions waiting on the corner for a cab. Chelsea tried to wait patiently, but fidgeted. Rocking her feet back and forth on the curb she refused to look to the right or the left fearing the photographer was still lurking. A car horn honked, causing her to look up from her feet.
“Need a ride love?”
As tempting as the idea was, the sheer awkwardness that would ensure made Chelsea respond with a no and a smile. The dazzling woman blew her a kiss and drove away. Chelsea stared at the car. What were the odds?
Mentally, she began to picture herself standing next to that woman. She never learned her name, nor did she ever offer hers. It was like there was some sort of unspoken understanding. The two women, with something strange and wonderful in common, would never be friends. Chelsea knew it was really just because she was dating the man who clearly broke that beauty's heart. However, she couldn’t help but think it was because of their major differences. In her mind she could vividly see the two of them standing next side by side. Chelsea, average in every possible way with her mousy brown hair, scarred skin, and hardly visible thigh gap. The model, tall and slender, the skin Chelsea could only get with the magic of airbrushing, and her legs for days.
Chelsea looked down at her legs. The lower half of her body had always given her confidence until she started mentally tallying advantages for models. Her legs were shapely, not nearly as thin as her predecessor. Leaning down she spoke to her thighs, “Who needs a gap anyway?”
A loud honk brought her back to reality. She could feel her cheeks reddening as she looked up at the cabbie. With an embarrassed smile she climbed into the back seat and gave him the address. Chelsea let her eyes wander to the scenery of downtown Los Angeles. The buildings were tall and beautiful, something she’d only recently grown to love. The streets themselves were rather empty, which was expected given the holiday. Her mind wandered to her family. Glancing at her phone she contemplated calling them, but noting the time knew they’d be gathered around the TV cheering on whomever happened to be playing Dallas. Whenever her mind wandered to her family she started to question herself. What am I doing here? She wondered. There were plenty of adults, pushing thirty, who moved back in with their parents when life dealt them lemons. But no, not me, Chelsea scolded herself in her thoughts. She had decided to pack her lemons up and move them to California. And what did California really have to offer? Chelsea noted the brown tint to the sky. No air, anywhere, would be the same as Rocky Mountain air. Even in Denver, the largest city in Colorado, you couldn’t taste smog. Here in LA she felt like she could physically bite the air. It was gross. California didn’t even offer her some spectacular restart in the career department. She worked at Disneyland. Was it fun? Sure. But even she knew at her age it was ridiculous. She was lucky Drew cut her such a deal on rent, otherwise she couldn’t make ends meet out here. What did California have to offer?
At that moment the cabbie took a turn and she could see the mountains and, ever so briefly, the Hollywood sign. She knew what California offered her. Chris. As stupid as it was, she realized that if she hadn’t met him she probably would’ve already left. Wasn’t that why she hadn’t unpacked anything, because she knew it wasn’t permanent?
Things were different now.
Thinking of Chris brought a smile to her face and a flush to her cheeks as she thought about the night before and waking up to coffee. Just as the thoughts were warm and happy the voice of the photographer snuck into her head. PR stunt. Chris’ own words, about the party tomorrow swam in and out of her thoughts. Suddenly she was picturing the model again.
“No.” She said aloud.
The cabbie, who had just turned on to her street slammed on the breaks. “No?”
“I’m sorry, talking to myself. Yes, this is right, just up there.” She pointed at her house. The sun was setting as the man pulled next to her yard. Chelsea paid him and tipped him generously before walking into the house.
It was empty, just as she’d left it. Flopping on the couch she pulled her phone out again and called her family, screw football. Hours later she ended the call only because her battery was low. Chelsea had managed to talk to both parents, an aunt, two cousins, and at length with her sister. Her heart ached for her family. Curling up in her bed and an incredibly early hour, she tried not to think of the fun they were having. Instead she thought about the party she would attend the next day and floated off into designer dress filled dreams.