The Show Goes On

By Day

Brandi stood in her bathroom applying cover up to the area between her nose and upper lip for a good fifteen minutes and assessed that the damage could not be completely covered but was minimized as much as possible. The makeup had been $45 from Saks and did a pretty damn good job of covering the gash above her lip even though some of it was still visible. Just as she had finished reblotting a fresh coat of BerryPlum lipstick, she felt her pager buzz on the inside of her pants pocket. She picked it up and read the message.
Meet @ office. Have to talk.
From Jordan.
Brandi's stomach tingled with anticipation and mild fear. Whatever they had to talk about next was good, right? She worried though, that with Naomi being in the state she was in might have compelled Jordan to call off the divorce. He wouldn't back out of it now, would he? Brandi picked up her handbag and locked the door behind her, making way to the car on leather heels over warm pavement. The air was warm and sweet, and soothed her instantly. She had worried long enough. Whatever happened happened; and Jordan Belfort could do no wrong.

Outside the parking lot of Stratton Oakmont Ltd., Jordan lit a cigarette between his thin lips. Donnie stood outside with him, leaning against Jordan's Miami Vice convertible.
"So you told her huh?" Donnie puffed on his cigarette.
"Yeah, I did."
"Didn't go over well, did it?"
Jordan looked up at the sky and blew out a mouthful of smoke.
"It did not. She made a pretty big fuss. Which I guess I understand. But I don't think I've ever seen her that mad before."
"Hey," Donnie rested his curved palm on Jordan's Versace-suit clad shoulder.
"You can move on. Don't let a tantrum distract you. She didn't want you at all, she's just mad you're leaving and taking your status with you. Naomi's always been a gold digger - you know that."
Jordan nodded and flicked away some ash. It was true, Naomi probably had only married Jordan for his money. Strangely, he realized that he'd never had a truly in-depth conversation with her before. It was sex after rage after fight, and after the fights Jordan would console her with gifts. Gifts would lead to more sex. And though Jordan couldn't deny that Naomi was beautiful, her body wasn't enough. Her head didn't have room for Jordan's thoughts as much as it did for his wealth, and that was the defect of the whole marriage. He actually couldn't recall a time in his life he'd ever loved a girl for her anything other than her body. It felt silly that it took Brandi's touch to make him see it - but wasn't that what she was there for? Hadn't she always been there for him to make him see what he couldn't on his own? Pure and simple, Brandi was his savior. And that kind of vulnerability was difficult to admit, but her perfect touch and loving eyes split him open like a crab and feasted on him from the inside out. He couldn't stop her if he tried; and he had no intention of doing so.
"You know, Hildy was there with her. She saw everything."
Donnie laughed. "A real sheep, that one. I can't wait to get home and hear her talk about it, its gonna be a good laugh."
"Fuck you," Jordan cracked up. "You think divorces are funny? What kind of example am I setting for impressionable kids like you?"
"That ugly bitches are no more reliable than pretty ones. Hildy's had her sprees. She thinks I'm too dumb to notice."
Jordan raised an eyebrow at his friend. "You don't care?"
Donnie turned his pudgy face to look at Jordan, removed his aviator glasses and wiped them on his shirt.
"Jordan," he began, "in the past week alone I've had over 20 hookers; and that's not counting the weekend. I could give a shit that Hildy's banging the assistant manager at Cut&Save."
Jordan shook his head. "Spoken like a true rat."
"A rat with class," Donnie grinned and grounded out his cigarette with a $700 leather loafer.
Just as Jordan took the final puff on his cigarette he looked up to see Brandi walking in his direction. His heart fell into his stomach which fell into his shoes. That girl, he thought. She made him absolutely wild.
"Hey guys," she smiled, curls bouncing. Jordan noticed the gash almost immediately and took hold of Brandi's chin, drawing it closer to him.
"Brandi, what happened? Why's your lip all cut up?" Brandi's cheeks filled with warmth and an indescribable feeling looking into Jordan's mature, concerned eyes.
"Yeah, ha-ha, about that . . ."
"Lemme see," Donnie said and grabbed his cousin's chin, inspecting her lip. "Someone hit you. Who hit you? Was it Lenny? Do I gotta go after him again?"
"No, no, no it wasn't him," Brandi waved him off. "Did you talk to Naomi?" Brandi looked at Jordan.
"Yeah, I talked to her a few hours ago," his head cocked in confusion.
"She kind of showed up at my place a while ago. Whatever you said to her, she didn't take it well," Brandi smiled sheepishly.
"Holy shit," Donnie said. "Did she punch you?"
"Yeah," Brandi chuckled. "Girl can hit. Its okay, though. No harm done."
Jordan's eyes were wide with concern.
"No harm done? Brandi, your lip-"
"No harm done, Jordan." Brandi said meaningfully. He understood, knew not to keep pressing.
"What'd you tell her?" She looked up at him. The sun was going down and cast a soft golden light over Jordan's hair.
"Ah . . . I told her I thought we should maybe consider not . . ." he trailed off and stared at her, "not . . . I'm leaving her."
He was?
Brandi's stomach fluttered and she felt a warm wave of feelings crash over her body. Enough to make the fact that she was the other woman vanish entirely. Enough to soften the blow on her face. Enough to cure everything and every doubt left in her body.
"For you. Because I love you. Brandi."
Jordan finished. She could only stare and watch a slow moving grin scramble across his face. He looked to his feet bashfully. They both felt like teenagers.
"This is getting gay. I'll see you two later," Donnie lit a new cigarette. "Jordan. Brandi. A pleasure," he winked at his cousin and started for his Cadillac.
"Bye Donnie," they said in unison, not looking away from each other.
The parking lot was empty except for the spare cars of the remaining employees still in the building and the sounds of the city winding into late afternoon traffic buzzed in the air.
Brandi let out a low whistle.
"We done a bad, bad thing, Jordan. I'm a homewrecker, you know."
Jordan slung his arm around her and began to walk her to the black Cadillac. "Maybe so. But you know, I invited you to wreck my home. So I would say we're about even, what say you?" He smiled at her charmingly.
She smiled back and shook her curls out, looking away.
"You really love me, Jordan? Really really?"
He leaned her against the car and watched the feverish heat dance around her face.
"You don't know the half of it, little girl."