Page 279 of Out of Left Field

So I explained as quickly as I could about my mother and her pet project.

“Yeah, I’ve got you. I wouldn’t want to edit that either. And you don’t have to pay me. Consider it a favor from one what-the-fuck-am-I-living-in woman to another.”

I glanced at the pictures in the hallway. “When is the divorce final?”

“Ninety-two days, not that I’m counting.”

“What are you planning on doing next?”

She leaned back in her chair. “Marley has decided she needs to get out of town to fix her writer’s block. I think I might go with her. At least for a while. I’ll rent this dump out to someone.” She shrugged. “All I know is change is in the air and I’m ready for new beginnings.”

“I feel you on that. I’m moving in with Everett and my dad is moving into the condo, but honestly, I’m pretty sure he’s going to be moving in with Hannah sooner than later. My Dad is head over heels and it’s amazing to see.”

“He’s been here so often I thought he’d already moved.”

In the last month he’d been here twenty days. The only reason he went back to California was to pack and sell his house. He and Hannah were inseparable. He even helped with Rosie since he could work from anywhere. It would be weird and wonderful to live under the same roof with him again.

“So you and Everett are smooth sailing?”

“Is any relationship smooth sailing?”

“Not in my experience, but you’re talking to the woman who thought fighting all the time meant we were passionate instead of fucked up.” She shrugged.

“We have our fights. Nothing bad. Just…two people relearning each other and how to live together. Honestly, most of the time we end up laughing about how silly our fight was.”

Charley clicked on the mouse, making the adjustments I asked for, saved the project, and then stood up. “Sounds pretty damn nice to me. Let’s get lunch.”

I followed her into the gourmet kitchen and took a seat while she pulled out the prepared meals her personal chef had prepared for today. Her life looked nothing like mine. It was nice to have nice things and a personal chef to make sure you always had delicious, nutritious food, but I could see why she wanted to escape. “All my friends live in such fancy houses.”

“Yeah well, at least Annalise and Seth like theirs. I never wanted this monstrosity. Dick was obsessed with his fucking money. Obsessed with showing it off in every way possible.”

“Did Richard ever buy anything you did like?” I knew Dick was a totally normal nickname for Richard but since Charley used it as an insult I decided to go with his full name.

“Yes, actually.” She slid my salmon salad in front of me and took the seat beside mine. “The tricked out old Bronco he put in my name for some write-off or expense reason. That baby is mine.”

I saw the powder blue truck in the garage when I parked. “Not bad.”

“He bought me all kinds of shit I didn’t care about. Jewels, designer gowns, a boat. I’m selling all of it as soon as the divorce is final. I might not get a lot out of this marriage, but it’s going to bankroll this next phase of my life.”

“Making lemonade out of lemons.”

“Exactly.”

We ate in silence for a few minutes, which was good because we needed to get some space from her ex before I brought up the other reason I was here.

“You’re tense.” Charley waved her fork at me. “What’s up?”

So much for waiting. “We want to do an episode on you. Your retirement.” Marley was actually the one who pitched the premise. We follow Charley for forty-eight hours. Through a grueling practice and then a game day. Minimal sound, highlighting the pain her body was currently in as she kept pushing it past her prime. Popped with the sound of her ankles being taped, her labored breathing, the muted crowds.

But Marley was afraid if she asked Charley about it she’d say no. It was a lot, to put your life out there for the world to see.

She chewed slowly, then swallowed. “I was starting to think I might escape without the camera in my face. Oh well.”

“So you’re okay with it?”

She shrugged. “If you’re doing it. It has to be you. The camera. The editing. All of it. I don’t trust anyone else.”

I appreciated that more than she’d ever know. “I’m honored. If I’m being honest, I want to do this for you. This is your story. This is your life’s work. I want people to know the soccer star, not the caricature in the gossip columns.”