The Scene You Won't Find In Hot Tamara

Originally, Isa had her own storyline in Hot Tamara. I hadn't planned on Tamara having a best friend, but when I wrote that opening scene at the wedding rehearsal, Isa appeared out of nowhere. I knew she was someone special, but in some ways she was a little too special and tried to wrestle the limelight away from Tamara. So with a promise that I'd write her book, I cut Isa's storyline, including this scene.  

Deleted Scene

Clutching the strap of her purse Isa walked through the automatic glass doors into the sterile glass and steel lobby of the Transamerica Building. The last time she walked through here, she had come with Yolanda who insisted on seeing Carlos' office. She'd went on during the whole trip up to downtown L.A. about how wonderful it was that he managed to get a job in law and how proud they should be of him.

Tension screwed tighter in her shoulders.

She rode the elevator to the twelfth floor. Soft jazz played over the speaker but she just stared at the reflection of her red dress with the asymmetrical hem in the mirrored doors. Susan gave it to her and told her to buy new shoes for it. But she never had time to get them so she wore her three-year-old brown pumps that now in the elevator reflection didn't go too well with the dress.

Did that woman just look at her funny? Did she look that frumpy, boring? So she wasn't wearing a stylish suit or carrying a smart-looking alligator bag. That stuff shouldn't matter.

The elevator slowed to a stomach-lurching stop.

Heart hammering and her hand clutching her purse strap for all it was worth, she stepped off the elevator and then walked through the glass doors of Buckley Daniels and Cook.

A girl with her hair pulled painfully tight into a twist smiled when Isa stood at the counter. "May I help you?"

"I'd like to see Carlos Muñoz." On the receptionist's blank look she explained, "He's my husband. He works as a paralegal."

The receptionist shifted her attention to the computer screen.

"I'm sorry but I don't see him in our directory. You said he works here?"

Even though she was the only person in the lobby, Isa blushed. "Yes. He's worked here for about two years."

"Let me check. Please have a seat."

Isa backed away from the reception desk and found a place on the edge a chair upholstered in ivory cloth. The office was one of those places where you didn't want to breathe to hard or wear your shoes on the carpet. Floral arrangements in white and pale yellow stood in austere silver urns before twin mirrors that reflected the overcast L.A. skyline.

"Excuse me," the receptionist called over her desk.

Isa shot up to her feet and then hurried over.

"I checked with my supervisor and," the receptionist bit her bottom lip. "Well, Mr. Muñoz doesn't work here anymore."

"Wha-" Isa stammered. "Do you mean he was transferred to another office?"

That had to be it, she thought as the shock drifted away. The firm was a large one; they had offices all over the world, Yolanda once told her. Carlos was probably working at another office and she in her stupidity went to the wrong one.

"Not exactly," the receptionist explained, her blue eyes darting all over the room. "He was let go in May."

The explanations running through her head collided into a dead heap.

"I see," she said. "Thank you."

Isa turned with the precision of a Marine and walked calmly out the door on feet that she couldn't really feel.

There had to be some mistake. She probably wrote down the wrong address of the firm. Maybe there was another one with the same name. Or maybe he did tell her...

She shut her eyes from her reflection in the mirrored elevator doors.

Would he really do that to them? Would he lie about losing his job and put everything she'd worked for -- their home, their cars, and Andrew's college savings -- in jeopardy?

Her eyes flashed open when the elevator doors parted. She saw the two important-looking men jump out of her way when she charged in. For once, she didn't care about being rude or the nasty look one of them aimed over his shoulder. Dark fury erupted and colored her blood black.   When she pulled into the driveway, she couldn't remember getting into her beat-up Camry or the drive home. Suddenly the garage door was coming at her. Her foot stomped on the brake and the screaming tires sent up a cloud of smoke.

She left her purse and her phone in the car, barely forgetting to slam the door shut.

"Carlos," she yelled into the dark house. Leaving the door open, she ran into the center of the living room then shouted his name again.

Every nail, every fiber of wood stood still in that house.

The bills.

Had he been paying their bills?

She flew to the desk where they kept the bills. She yanked the drawer open and dumped everything onto the floor. Isa tore open envelopes. Bills dating back to April hadn't been opened much less paid. She fisted her hand around the third past due notice for the gas bill.

Once again she was the fool. She was always his fool. She was the one whom everyone pointed to and talked about when they thought she didn't have ears.

They'd say, oh that's Carlos being Carlos. Poor Isa. Doesn't she know that you can't make people change?

Isa picked up the drawer and heaved it against the wall. It bounced then hit the floor, gouging out a white hole in the moss green paint.

She wiped her nose with the back of her hand and then used the hem of her dress to wipe her eyes clear.

She checked the light switch to make sure they still had power. The light flicked on. Thank God she had been paying her own car loan, the insurance, and the credit cards. But the health insurance, she realized, was all under Carlos' plan. And he had access to their savings.

There was so much to do. Did she even have enough savings to cover all the past due bills from May to September and still make this month's bills?

When Yolanda found out, which she inevitably would, she'd hand over another check. How long would Isa have to hear about proper budgeting, or how she'd trapped Carlos into marrying her?

 

With a calm she'd never thought imaginable, Isa walked down the hall into the shadowed, cold bedroom. Two figures moved in the bed. With her heart hammering in her throat, she made out her husband and some girl with black-lined lips and crunchy yellow bangs.

"What the fuck are you doing?" Carlos screamed.

What the fuck was right. But wait a minute. Shouldn't she scream and yell and get all Betty Broderick on them?

I don't care, she realized. I don't love him anymore.

She almost smiled as she went to the closet for her clothes.

She had no idea how she would even support Andrew. She had enough money for a hotel room close by. But somehow they'd need to find a place to live. She'd have to cut corners to make the rent, food, clothing and day care. She paused mid-reach for her blue and silver staff sweater.

You'll make it , a voice whispered in her head. One way or another you'll make it.

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