Page 36 of Ashes to Ashes

“And what was thatlike?”

I blinked and caught Ash’s presence off to the side of the room, his face impassive, but the hard set of his shoulders giving him away anyhow. We’d talked about my relationship with Ford and the things that had led to my bout of self-destruction, but I’d been careful to avoid a number of the particulars, including the early days of our relationship and how we’d fallen in love. Or rather, how I’d fallen in love since Ford had never loved me back. I couldn’t tell what Ash was thinking, but from the way his muscles clenched under his shirt, I imagined this wasn’t a conversation he wanted to hear. Still, as my personal bodyguard I wouldn’t be out of his line of sight while others were here so he’d stay through itall.

“Flowers, fancy dinners, presents. You know, everything you see in the movies. As most everyone already knows, I didn’t have the most conventional upbringing, so Ford was really my first boyfriend. Since I grew up poor, his gifts were really lovely, and while it was exciting to go to premiers and have him show me off, what really attracted me to him was his sense of humor. Not a lot of people will know this about him, but Ford is a dead-on mimic. He’d leave me in stitches doing impressions of everyone we’d interacted with earlier in the evening.”

“Impressions?”

I chuckled, remembering those good times. The easy times. The ones that had all been a lie. And then the devil on my shoulder decided to come out and play. “The next time you see Ford, ask him to do Cher or Meryl Streep. His male impressions are great, but the female ones are spot on.” I smiled serenely, knowing Ford would shit himself if this part of the interview made the finalcut.

Grace chuckled right along with me. “I will.” Then, bringing the conversation back to the serious asked, “In your estimation, at what point did the relationship begin tosour?”

I’d been prepared for this question. Still, I hoped the camera wouldn’t pick up the white of my knuckles or the thrumming of the pulse in my neck as I answered. “I’m sure there are several ways that question could be answered. In fact, we all know Ford’s thoughts on the subject … but as a storyteller, I’ve found there are always two sides to every story, and mine differs greatly from his.” I swallowed down my anger. “There’s been a lot said from his camp about how my immaturity and neediness was a problem almost from the get-go. I won’t deny that I needed my husband; I don’t think any new wife would. The problem, from my point of view, was from the moment we returned from our honeymoon, everything changed. Ford wasn’t home most nights. In fact, I’d often go days without seeing him. We literally went from spending every waking moment together to living like complete strangers. So was I needy and whiny?” I shrugged. “I’m sure I was. We were newlyweds, he was breaking my heart, and he couldn’t be bothered tocare.”

Grace nodded thoughtfully and her eyes turned sympathetic. I wasn’t sure if it was for me or for the cameras, but it would play well with her audience. “That must have been incredibly difficult for you. Is that when you started drinking?”

I’d been prepared for that question, but it still shook me to hear it so soon. Given what I’d just revealed about Ford’s behavior toward me, I’d anticipated additional follow up questions about him. After all, wasn’t the whole point to discuss our marriage, to give my side of the whole sordidtale?

I emitted a sigh and tried to tamp down my frustration. “Actually, no. I don’t know if anyone will believe me when I say this, but I’d never had a sip of alcohol until I met my ex-husband. Growing up hearing about what a lousy drunk your granddaddy was tends to put you off the sauce. But being around Ford and his friends, I saw what a good time everyone was always having and how champagne and fine wine was different than homemade hooch and cheap beer. I began to drink socially, but never at home. For some reason, drinking at home was the slippery slope.”

Grace nodded thoughtfully, encouraging me to continue.

“The first time I got well and truly drunk was The Grammys. It was my first nomination and I was nervous. Every time I turned around, someone was handing me another glass of champagne and telling me to relax.” I shook my head ruefully. “It’s a good thing I didn’t win because I’m not sure I could have walked up on stage unassisted. My hangover the next morning was epic. I didn’t drink again for six more months.”

Grace shifted in her seat and leaned forward, her eyes bright and dogged. I knew that look. She was getting ready to pull out a big question. “And yet your ex-husband claims you were drunk nearly all the time. You said it yourself a few minutes ago: there are two sides to every story. Why is it, do you think, yours and his differ so drastically?”

With my eyes locked on hers, I gave the answer I knew would send shockwaves across the industry. “I learned a very long time ago never to believe a word that comes out of that man’s mouth. One of his specialties is taking the things he’s notorious for and pinning them on someone else, someone who can’t fight back. Who won’t speak up to defend themselves.

“I’ve never spoken of this before because I literally signed a document that said I wouldn’t.”

“A pre-nup?” she asked.

I nodded. “Like I said, I was young and naive when I married Ford. At the time, I didn’t understand some of what was in that document. His manager and his lawyers were very happy to make sure of it. But I’m not young anymore, and I’m certainly not naive either. So here I am, saying to hell with him and the $10 million dollars I’ll have to fork over for revealing the truth about our marriage. I’m tired of the world believing all of his lies, exhausted by sitting back and allowing Ford to dictate my story. So today, I’mdone.”

I sat forward in my seat, mimicking her posture. Grace had said she viewed me as a woman with an edge and the world was about to see exactly what sort of edge she meant.

“The reason Ford goes around telling everyone that I was drunk for most of our marriage is because that’s his way of deflecting blame for his own bad behavior. The truth is, he’s a drunk and a drug addict, but he’s been enabled so long by his handlers that he refuses to see it. Or maybe he does, and that’s why he insists on painting me as the villain. Because he’s afraid if anyone looks too long or too hard at him they’ll see the real him. But I lived with him for five long years and I saw what lay behind the public mask. And while he may be beautiful on the outside, inside he’s ugly assin.

“To answer your earlier question, Grace, no, I didn’t start drinking heavily until I was served with divorce papers. By that point, I’d known my marriage was in shambles, but despite everything, I still loved him and I believed in the sanctity of our vows. Despite his cruelty, I hoped I could fix him. That I could fix us.” I laughed cynically and sat back, shaking my head. “Isn’t that always the way? We women will forever believe we can change the men we love, but the truth is, the only person who can change you isyou.”

For several long seconds, Grace was silent, her eyes flicking between mine. The camera wouldn’t pick up on it, but I saw clear as day she was seeking my permission to continue down this path of questioning. I smiled benignly and nodded slightly. I’d blown open Ford’s secret, and if I was going to have to pay him $10 million for the pleasure of doing so, I was going to get my money’s worth.

“Those are massive allegations, ones I’m sure you’re aware could lead to lawsuits. Defamation, slander, and possibly even libel if the press repeatsthem.”

“I’m fully aware how Ford’s team will react when this interview airs so I guess I’ll see him in court. He’s spent years lying about me and I’ve sat back and let it happen. The only difference between what he’s done and what we’re doing today is I’m actually telling the truth.

“In fact, I’m positive his dealer will corroborate my story. Tommy has always desired the spotlight. I’m sure his fifteen minutes of fame would thrill him to pieces. Would you like his phone number? I’d be happy to give it to you.” I crossed my arms over my chest and smiled victoriously.

If Ford was half as smart as he thought he was, he’d have realized a long time ago that Hell hath no fury like a woman scorned. Instead, he’d counted on my silence but this meek little songbird had just sung the song of herlife.

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