“Thank God,” Cricket mumbled, as she managed to get ready before Scott showed up.  The day had been special and she hadn’t wanted it to end.  But then, she was a master at putting off confrontation and the changes she wanted to make with Scott, or for that matter, herself. Status quo was Cricket’s comfort zone and she wasn’t sure she was ready to move out, move on, or move over.

Puttering around her loft apartment, Cricket was nervously picking up knickknacks and setting them down again, or switching them from one place to another, hoping to quiet her uneasy thoughts about tonight’s date. The Caribbean color scheme she choose of aquas, yellows, greens and oranges was cheerful, but now it only reminded her of Scott’s mocking comments that she had casino taste. “So what,” she had replied defensively, “they make me happy.  Better than the ‘please everybody neutrals’ that you like.”  He just shook his head, smiling, knowing he had hit a nerve.

She glanced down at her new dress, a floral print that just said Spring. Cream, with soft brown and yellow flowers, it was sleeveless, with a flat pleated skirt that tucked into a mid bodice wrap. A yellow, cropped knit cardigan completed the outfit, along with matching pumps. Cricket loved chic and adorable shoes, but with a very narrow foot, it was challenging to find shoes, let alone cute ones.

Smiling, she thought of the friendly teasing that had been thrown her way because she had ignored the trendy little boutiques for the bigger department stores, especially Nordstrom’s. Cricket liked to shop there best, because they had treated her just as nicely before stardom as now.

Actually, it was Nordstrom’s grand opening tradition that spoke ‘special’ to her heart.  The store planned for the new customers to wait outside until the doors opened for the first time. During the wait, all the employees and managers gathered together on the inside. As the doors opened, the Nordstrom personnel started clapping as you walked into the store. Cricket remembered when it was her turn to walk through the line, she was momentarily stunned, thinking, “This is what it’s like when you get to heaven.  All your family, friends, and angels cheering you in, as you walk towards the Lord.”

As if He wanted anything to do with her now. She knew in her head that there was forgiveness, but deep inside she felt so damn dirty. Sex for the wrong and lonely reasons, drinking and drugs to cover up the shame, and busy, busy, busy, to feel some sense of accomplishment. It was a shifting sand life, and insanity was to keep digging in the sand for something different, something substantial.

And the last conversation with Scott had scared her into thinking, “stop digging and get out.” But there was something almost magical in his charm.  She felt independent when she wasn’t with him, but when they got together, his thoughts became her thoughts, his needs her needs, and soon she would be floating into victim mode, shaping herself around him.

It had taken a while for her to notice that he had two faces: one for the public, and one for private. In public, he was IN LOVE WITH HER, in such a big screen, fairy tale ‘prince of your dreams’ way, that the stardust shined in private by default.

Who wouldn’t be off center with his private yacht; destination flying for dinner and romantic getaways; tickets to the Presidential Inauguration with handshakes and hugs included; backstage passes to any of the plays on and off Broadway; and Cricket’s personal favorite, watching the chefs she had seen only on TV, up close and personal in their private kitchens. Add to that, the attention that Scott gave her, which could have been scripted from the best chick flicks.

Cricket had been absently stroking the oh so soft ear of her dog Petie, as she pulled apart the blinking red lights of their relationship. “Sweetie Petie,” she crooned, as she fluffed Petie’s hair around his tail. He loved the massage and raised his little head flicking out his tongue in pure pleasure. 

Cricket loved her dog, calling him “the little dog with the big heart.” He was a Chihuahua terrier mix, black, with gold and white highlights, and curling hair around his legs. He was so adorable that Cricket made up stories about his lineage, her favorite being that he was a long haired Peruvian Chihuahua, very rare, with an adoption wait list of at least two years.

The truth was that she had rescued him from from her local vet and had been devoted ever since.
Especially now, since Petie was her first warning sign that Scott was less than her box office sweetheart. All because he had disliked her dog on sight, calling him a poor excuse for an animal. 

“Dogs should be big and showy, not kin to a rat,” he said, stomping his feet aggressively as Petie barked and growled at him. From that point on, Cricket always made sure Petie was was in some other room when Scott visited. “I’m sorry,” she murmured to Petie, “you have more sense than me.”

When Scott and she were alone together, Cricket started noticing a lack of warmth, maybe more of a lack of response to being together. His touch was from physical desire, never from affection, which she secretly craved to nourish her soul. 

She had only her mom and dad as role models, but they seemed to enjoy each others company, with lots of laughter. Her mother was also known to give her dad a hard time when he deserved it, but dad just smiled and said he knew she loved him. Plain and simple. 

Many times Cricket was uncomfortable with Scott’s laughter, which was pointed and clever, and usually at the expense of someone else. God forbid that he should ever admit he was wrong.
Like who is perfect? She sure as hell wasn’t, and the flaws that Scott had been warming to in their recent private conversations, were starting to speak to the essence of herself in a dark way. 

They had just made love and she was curled up against him in that cozy way where you can lie to yourself that everything is all right. He had playfully pinched her waist and smilingly implied that she was getting love handles.

“And that is important, how?” said Cricket, pulling up the sheet to cover herself.

“Oh, I like my girl just right.” he answered, tugging the sheet down again. “Your love is so sweet, but I like it best, because it’s mine to tell you how I like it,” his hands roving over her body, nipping and nuzzling at will. 

“I mean, look at the fun we’ve had. I could even see making it permanent, but you would have to trust me.”

“Trust you with what?” Cricket asked, warning bells going off in her head.

“Trust me with the your care. You know I like things just so. The world would be our playhouse, and you my Barbie doll.  I’d even hold your hair so you could throw up those extra calories you ate at ShiShi’s Bakery. I would be devoted to making you happy, the perfect wife and lover.  We would be our own voyeurs, watching ourselves in the press. My God, it turns me on thinking of you molding yourself to me, body and soul.” 

And with Scott turned on, all arguments were feeble to anything else, but the rhythm of their bodies.

An impatient knock on the door caused her to jump up and out of her revelries, dumping Petie on the floor. With a startled “Just a minute,” Cricket scooped up the dog and ran him back to the guest room. Closing the door on his dear little face, she told him she was sorry, but that she still wanted to try to make her relationship with Scott work. Taking a deep breath to calm her rattled nerves, she smoothed out her dress as she walked to the door, hoping that apology to Petie, wasn’t really to herself.

As she unlocked the bolts, Scott pushed the door open angrily. “What took you so long, and what the hell are you wearing that dress for?”

“Oh my God. I’m so sorry. I forgot. I’ll run and change.” Cricket moved, but Scott grabbed her arm, forcing her up against him. “Don’t make me late,” he whispered, squeezing her hand with each syllable.

Cricket forced out a smile, and ran back to her room to change. Stripping out of her new clothes, she grabbed the black dress that Scott had delivered the other day. It was classic, with a ‘Breakfast at Tiffany’s’ flair, understated and oh so posh. She really was a jeans shirts and t-shirts girl, but he liked dressing her, and what the hell, his taste was impeccable.

The zipper stuck halfway up her back, so Cricket turned to Scott to finish the job. He was leaning up against the door, with his arms across his chest, watching her scurry around. “Say please,” as his hands stilled around the zipper. Before she could get the word out, his fingers were in places that made her melt. 

“How can I hurry when you’re doing that? Stop,” and then groaned out “Please.” He laughed, zipped the dress, slapped her on the butt, and told her to get her shoes.

Carried along by his haste, she grabbed her purse, locked the door, and all but ran after him to the elevator. She bumped into one of his bodyguards, apologized, and felt like trailer trash again, because of her clumsiness. Cricket chided herself, “Oh God, even his bodyguards are more sophisticated than me.” Trying to stop her thoughts from further self abuse, Cricket focused on what Scott was saying.

“Listen up.  I’m being featured on the cover of GQ, along with an article, the question and answer type, you know the kind. All you have to do is sit there, look cute, smile, and say yes.”

“Say yes to what?” she queried.

“Oh come on Cricket. Just be agreeable, like you really enjoy these interviews.
String them along, don’t answer anything definitively about our relationship. We want to keep them guessing, like ‘will they or won’t they?’” Scott pulled her in close and nuzzled her ear whispering, “It keeps the press hot, like us, remember?”

Cricket laughed, and pulling away, she skipped around him teasingly, saying that she would only agree if he would help her raise some money for abandoned animals and weather related emergency pet care. 

“I’m thinking of using Petie as one of my spokesman, or would that be a spokes pet?” Winking, she said “You could be one too.”

“You’ve got to be kidding!  Me and your rodent dog?”  Scott grimaced like he was flicking something disagreeable off his sleeve. “Besides, stop skipping around in that dress. You’ll shame Audrey Hepburn.”

“Never,” Cricket retorted. “I’m blonde.”