Page 50 of Broken Beyond Repair

“My PAs are usually incompetent,” she stated.

“Is that a compliment?” Sydney asked, trying to break the awkwardness.

Beatrice ignored her.

“I don’t even know why I do it; people expect you to be tough.”

“No, they don’t.”

“Well, when you’re around others in the industry you put on an act. It’s the only thing I can do. You end up becoming an image of what you think you should be. It becomes a habit and… you eventually lose yourself.” Beatrice sighed and ruffled a hand through her hair. “I, too, am sorry about the other night. I try not to drink, especially when I’m already emotional — it’s not pretty.”

“I think you’re pretty.”How did that slip out?“So does most of the world, no doubt,” she quickly added.

A smile twitched at the corner of Beatrice’s mouth and then disappeared.

“Peter… has an effect on me. Not a nice one, I’m afraid.”

Sydney bit her lip at Beatrice’s despondent tone. “I should have noticed you were vulnerable after Peter came. I’m sorry I didn’t.”

“I should have admitted I needed you a little more eloquently.” Beatrice paused. “Thank you for sleeping over. I appreciated your… diligence.”

Sydney blushed. She’d slipped from the room early in the hope her presence would go unnoticed. “It was necessary. I didn’t want you to choke to death on your own vomit.”

Beatrice’s shoulders dropped at her comment.

“I also wanted to make sure you were okay,” Sydney added, making the sides of Beatrice’s mouth twitch again.

“I also want to make something clear,” Beatrice said, her eyes firmly back on Sydney. “My wealth and fame may appearprivilegedto you… my life, however, is not. In fact, your comments were judgemental. I have problems too. Even though I’m successful and wealthy, it doesn’t remove my problems; it brings you more than you can imagine. It can’t have escaped your notice that I have few friends, and even with hundreds of acquaintances, the only person I can rely on is Alison. It’s easier to push people away and live a lonely existence than to be let down by people you thought you could trust. Can you imagine that?”

Sydney shook her head. She knew she could rely on all her friends.

“This job, this lifestyle, it comes at a price. Trust me, it’s cost me more than you can imagine. I never used to be like this. When you’ve been through as many PAs as I have, you find your guard goes up a little further each time one of them leaves. It’s a special relationship, and yet they would always leave eventually — with crappy excuses.”

Crappy excuses that were nowhere near close to the truth of a handsy husband.

Beatrice continued. “What’s the point in getting to know someone if you know they are going to leave soon anyway? You’ll be gone soon, but I know that’s not a reason to treat you the way I have been.”

It wasn’t like Sydney hadn’t thought about leaving. The sadness that consumed Beatrice was the reason she knew she couldn’t leave her. It surpassed Gertie, her writing, any of her other reasons. If so many had left her in the past, it wouldn’t be fair to abandon her to loneliness again.

“I’m not going anywhere.” Sydney reached forward and placed her hand on Beatrice’s arm. “I’m here for you; to help you.”

Beatrice glanced down at her arm. Sydney withdrew her hand, realising she’d overstepped.

“I’m not Gertie. I may be glam on the outside and broken on the inside, that doesn’t mean you can fix me.”

“You’re right.” Sydney nodded. “Only you can fix yourself.”

“I must appear very self-absorbed to you.”

“You’re not my first highly strung client.” Sydney closed her eyes as soon as she said it. “Sorry, that came out wrong.”

“I’m not sure how a statement like that comes out right, Sydney. I must focus on my career, and my career is this—me. I have nothing else. I’m about to be a divorced woman in her fifties, and my son hates me.”

“He doesn’t hate you.”

“He seems to like you better,” Beatrice observed.

“I listen to him, give him the time of day. He’s a good kid.”