Chapter Text
Don't think we'll ever
Get our differences patched
Don't really matter
Cuz we're perfectly matched
Opposites Attract - Paula Abdul
*
"I mean, this girl is going to make us a boatload of money," Simon said. They were watching the show back. Andy was in bed already. Paula didn't really like to watch the show - she didn't like to see herself on screen, but Simon felt it was important. It helped him feel confident in what he was talking about the next week - watching in studio was so different from what appeared on the television screen. Simon had paused the Tivo on Carrie. He was studying the girl - she appeared distant and her style left something to be desired but Paula could see what Simon saw - what America saw. She was going to be a huge, huge star.
"I wish I could sing like that," Paula said.
"There's only a handful of people in the world who can sing like that," Simon commented.
"I know," she said.
"And you didn't need to have a voice like that to become a successful pop star," he said, elbowing her.
"That feels like a long time ago," she said. "Like another life."
Paula's office had the proof of that life, though. Awards, mounted records, framed magazine covers, some of the best fan letters kept in an album. It wasn't so long ago. But it felt long to Simon too - he’d never known that Paula, after all.
"Do you wish..."
"I don't wish anything different," she assured him. "Even if different was way better, I'd still want this."
"How convincing," he said.
"I just mean... you know, when I met you I thought you were some sort of punishment from a past life and now here were are in bed on a weeknight watching TV like an old married couple," she said. "That's all I meant."
"Do you... do you think about getting married?" he asked.
"I've been married and you hate the idea," she said. "So no, not a lot."
"Don't you think it's different now?"
"Different than what?"
"When two people get married there's nothing but, but the marriage to hold them together," Simon said. "Two people married aren't a family, but we are."
"Are we going to stop being a family at some point because we're not married?" she asked.
"No, but..."
"Then I don't see the point," Paula said. "Marriage is hard, Simon, it's difficult and you don't think it's going to change things, but it does and not for the better, so why rock the boat?"
Simon was baffled at this uncharacteristic side of Paula.
"Don't you want a fancy ring?" he asked. She looked up at him, away from the TV.
"If you want to buy me jewelry, buy me jewelry," she said with a smile. "I'll wear your ring if that's what you want. I'm yours already."
The comment was meant to compliment him, but it rubbed him the wrong way.
Generally, Simon and Paula got along fine. They fought less and less, almost never in front of Andy, their sex life was good, they were compatible on many levels. But sometimes Simon suspected that Paula was totally nuts. Times like when tried to force Andy into a tiny sailor suit so she could have his picture taken even though it was clear the boy did not want to put the insipid outfit on. Andy was crying, kicking and screaming and Paula just patiently tried to force the little white hat on him. What kind of woman would do such a thing, Simon wondered. Or when she would obsess about what to wear, which shoes to buy, if she should cut half an inch off her hair. If she'd worn a shirt similar to the shirt she wanted to wear for a live show.
If her favorite contestant was going to be voted off. If she should have a favorite contestant.
If the dogs were getting enough attention.
If her father's health was declining too rapidly.
If they should paint the spare room a neutral color or if they should keep it how it was.
Simon had never before wanted to get married. Even when he'd been head over heels with whomever he'd been dating at the time, there was always the worry that the woman would expect marriage to follow and when that inevitably happened, the relationship fell apart. No woman would wait forever and so far no woman had. But this was the first time he'd brought up the notion of marriage first and he had not expected to be rebuffed so thoroughly.
Of course, Paula had been dragged kicking and screaming into this relationship since day one.
Simon wasn’t a worrier and didn’t like to be around anxious, worry prone people. Simon liked to be the center of attention. Simon didn’t ever make friends with the talent he worked with. Simon liked tall, much younger women.
And yet, there was something about Paula that had always made him make a sharp, unexpected turn. Something that had drawn them together that first time, something that kept him coming back to her despite her lying about her pregnancy and her mood swings and her big soft heart that she couldn’t seem to protect. He’d marry her tomorrow if she agreed. He’d make twelve more babies with her and if that didn’t work, he’d adopt them. He’d roll over backwards to make her happy and he couldn’t understand why. Neither could she.
Show days were both old hat and complicated somehow. It was because of Andy, yes, but also now just the size of the massively popular show meant more cities in bigger venues, more security, and more insane fans. They still retained Kathryn for childcare when they were home, but they’d hired another nanny just for traveling.
Still, when Hollywood week started, Paula was glad to have Kathryn back. Simon worked into their contracts for this season trailers instead of dressing rooms. It had taken some negotiating but they’d ended up with a double wide trailer and Paula had kept her dressing room to use as a playroom for Andy and to use as extra storage for clothes and shoes.
Ryan had seemed skeptical about the whole arrangement.
“You want to share? With Cowell?” he’d asked. “You already live with the guy. Isn’t it a little much?”
Sometimes it was, but mostly it wasn’t. She didn’t bother to explain it to Ryan, just patted his arm and said, “One day when you’re a grown up, you’ll understand.”
She’d never worked with a spouse before, though. The whole reason that she and Emilio had called it off was that they literally never saw one another and Brad was - surprise - gay, something he hadn’t copped to until after their nuptials.
Simon was certainly not gay. He was one hundred percent invested in sharing her bed, in fact, his desire for her over the years had hardly seemed to wane at all. Perhaps it was because it had taken them so long to get to the point where they were a real couple, on the same page about their relationship. Maybe they’d earned an extended honeymoon period.
Her assistant came into the trailer with a quick knock, holding a garment bag across her back. It was Paula’s outfit for the first day of filming Hollywood week. She’d opted for a long sleeved mini dress, with a sparkly scoop neck. It showed a lot of leg and a little cleavage, but the long sleeves made it seem more demure than it really was and also kept her warm in a theater that had the A/C cranked up to handle all the sweaty, nervous contestants. She always froze.
“You want me to help you into it?” the assistant asked, unsure if she should stay or not. She was new, young, and on loan because her regular girl was on maternity leave. This girl, Jenny, was at most, 19 and was strangely shy for the line of work she was in. Maybe this was her first gig, Paula didn’t know because they hadn’t spent much time chatting.
“Um,” Paula said, glancing over to where Simon was. He was on the phone and having a heated conversation. She’d been through hair, was not yet finished with makeup. “Sure.”
They moved back toward the bedroom area of the trailer where there was a double bed and not a lot of room to navigate but there was less chance someone walking by would see her undressing through a window. Jenny lay the garment bag on the bed carefully and undid the zipper. Revealed the pretty purple dress.
“It’s nice,” Jenny said. “That color will look good on you. What shoes do you want? I can get them from your other dressing room.”
“I have a pair of nude ones here,” Paula said. “They’ll be fine. Mostly no one sees my feet.”
Jenny pulled the dress out, inspected it. It was on loan from the designer, it’d go back later and had to be in the same condition they’d received it. Finding nothing wrong, she nodded. Paula untied her robe. There was a time in her life, long, long ago that she’d been more self-conscious about disrobing in front of people she barely knew but touring had rid her of that and after more of her life famous than not, it was an old hat.
She stepped into the dress and they had to work it over her hips a little. It felt tight.
“What size is this?”
“Two,” Jenny said. “Petite.”
That should be exactly right, but when Jenny started pulling up the zipper, it stopped at the middle of her back.
“I’ll suck in,” Paula said. “Two, my ass.”
She stood up a little taller, sucked in but she could still feel the fabric tight against her hips and the neckline cutting into the skin of her breasts.
“Um,” Jenny said. “Maybe it’s labeled wrong?”
“Simon!” Paula called. The dress was a two, she was sure of it, she’d been the same size for years and could eyeball sizes on the hanger with the best of them. Simon came and poked his head in, holding his phone against his chest.
“What?”
“Do I look fatter to you?” she asked. “Serious question, serious answers only, please.”
“I could go…” Jenny said.
They both ignored her, Simon looked her up and down. “No,” he said. “But your boobs look huge.”
Paula looked down. He wasn’t wrong.
Jenny snickered said, “Maybe you’re pregnant.”
Simon looked at her. She stared back at him.
“Oh,” Jenny said. “I was just… um, I was kidding.”
“What’s your name?” Simon asked, finally addressing her.
“Jennifer, sir,” she said.
“Go find her something else to wear,” he said. “One of the spare outfits in her old dressing room and go get one of the pregnancy tests out from under the bathroom sink in there. There’s a stockpile.”
“Okay,” Jenny whispered, mortified now.
“And don’t let anyone bloody see you with it,” he said.
When she was gone, Paula reached around to pull down the zipper, contorting slightly and then shimmied out of the dress again. Sat on the edge of the bed in her bra and panties.
“We stopped trying,” Paula said. “I… I stopped paying attention.”
“How late are you?” he asked calmly.
She thought for a moment. “I guess maybe I thought… it was the change or…”
“How late?”
“Several weeks, I guess,” she said.
He rolled his eyes.
“Hey, I’m nearly 44,” she said. “We tried and tried, Simon.”
“Don’t they say it doesn’t happen until you don’t want it or something?” he asked. “Maybe it’s my superior sperm.”
“Maybe I’m just fat,” she said. “Maybe it is the change.”
“Well either way,” he said. “We’ll know soon enough.”
Jenny brought her the test. She had to get into makeup soon or she was gonna put the whole day behind, but she went and peed on the stick and then put on slacks and a blouse from the pile of clothes Jenny had returned with. The nude heels would still work.
The walkie-talkie at Jenny’s hip buzzed and Paula heard her own name. Jenny grabbed it and said into it, “We’ll be there in two minutes.”
But Paula didn’t even have to wait the whole amount of time suggested by the box the test came in. When she went to check on it, it was two lines, clear as day.
oooo
Kathryn cried when they told her, she was so happy to have another baby to look after. Nigel looked like he wanted to cry and instead just hit his forehead against his desk a few times in a row.
“You’re lucky you’re both irreplaceable, it’d be easier just to sack you and get someone else.”
“How charming,” Paula said.
“Media loves it,” Simon said. “Plus she won’t have to hide it so much this time. We can play it up.”
Nigel perked up. “You could get married! An Idol wedding!”
“Brilliant,” Simon said.
“No,” Paula said, rolling her eyes.
“Oh, be a sport,” Nigel said. “You’re already going to ruin my season. Remember last time? You missed the finale!”
“I was farther along then,” she said. “I’m not due until the off season.”
“People will ask us about it,” Simon said. “Every interview, every week, every day probably.”
“Let them ask,” Paula said. “I’ll tell them what I tell you. Nope.”
She was happy, of course, when the doctor confirmed what the at home test had said. Happy when she made it through her first trimester and got to announce it, though she was already showing by then. Happy when they altered the media and filming schedule to accommodate her, happy when the top ten would all rub her tummy before the show started for luck.
Ecstatic when the test came back to say it was a girl. She was a high risk pregnancy at such an advanced age as Simon liked to remind her. She went to the doctor every week, kept to a strict diet, rested as much as she could with her day job. Simon, Randy, and Ryan did all the New York talk shows on their own. Paula watched them from bed, only a little wistful not to be with them.
“How’s Paula?” asked Jay Leno.
Simon looked smug, grinned wolfishly at the audience. “Huge,” he said. “But beautiful.”
The audience awww-ed. Paula threw popcorn at her television. “Asshole,” she muttered.
“When are you going to make an honest woman of her?” Ryan asked, always the instigator.
“It’s not me!” Simon said. “It’s her. She won’t say yes!”
“Can you blame her?” Randy asked, using his thumb to point to Simon. Everyone laughed.
“I’m a family man now,” Simon said. “I’m a different man. She’s made me… better.”
Paula’s phone rang. She answered it, sniffing.
“You watching it?” Simon asked.
“Yeah,” she said, knowing she sounded weepy.
“I did good?” he asked.
“Yeah,” she said. “You did good.”
oooo
Simon bought her a diamond ring. It was huge and it was beautiful and he gave it to her on air during Top 3 week. Finally, the media had been talking about the show more than her and Simon. People liked Bo Bice but Carrie winning had basically been a foregone conclusion from the start to the judges and producers. She’d have to seriously misstep and throw her crown away, but there was no sign of her doing that.
Simon and Ryan lured Paula into the situation by asking about Andy on air.
“Is he excited to be a big brother?” Ryan asked. It was the chit chat they make while the singers were changing clothes and the sets were being updated. Idle chatter.
“So excited,” Paula said. “Simon’s mother bought him all these cute Big Brother t-shirts.”
The audience cooed.
“What about you?” Ryan asked. “Have you received any gifts lately?”
She glanced at Simon, confused as to where this was going.
“Uh, no,” she said. “Why?”
“I think Simon has something for you, don’t you buddy? Something for your baby mama?”
“In fact,” he said, reaching into the pocket of his jeans, “I do, Ryan.”
The audience began to titter with anticipation. Simon wheeled back his chair. The audience started to rumble. Simon twirled Paula to face him. The audience started growing louder.
Simon got down on one knee.
The audience lost their damn minds.
It was all so much, the noise and the weird behavior that it took Paula a moment to see the ring. The box it was in had a little light built into the top to shine down on the stone and maximize sparkle.
The ring was breathtaking. It was huge, it was clear, the diamond was massive, the band delicate. She immediately loved it, knew he’d done his research, talked to her family, chose what he thought she would love.
“Paula, will you please for the love of god marry me?” Simon asked, heard only because he had a shirt mic on. They’d planned this whole display.
Paula looked out at the screaming, some crying fans, at Ryan’s toothy grin, at Randy rolling his eyes. Back at the ring.
She plucked it out of the box, leaned in close enough to Simon so that his mic picked her up.
“Simon, honey, I told you I’d wear your ring. The rest we can talk about later.”
She put the ring on her finger.
“Is that a yes?” Ryan asked.
“Is it?” Simon demanded.
“It’s a we’ll see,” she said. She turned back to her own microphone, leaned in and said, “I want to hear Carrie sing. Is she ready?”
Still she admired the ring on her hand as Ryan moved the show forward. Simon reached out, moved his mic away. Reached behind him and turned off the mic pack at his waist. Leaned into her and said, “Will I ever be enough for you?”
“You are already,” she said back.
“Do you not like the ring?”
“Love it,” she said. “Thank you.”
“So why-”
“Later, Simon, means later. Means not now.”
He scowled, leaned back, turned to face the stage.
oooo
Paula was trying hard not to fight about the wedding thing but Simon was relentless, would not stop to consider her point of view so finally she decided to talk to him about it in a language he could understand.
The doorbell rang one afternoon. They weren’t filming for another few days and since Paula was getting closer to her due date, Simon worked more from home instead of going into his office downtown. She appreciated the help, appreciated that she didn’t have to have a nanny over because he was home and they could treasure these last through months as a family of three.
Andy was asleep and Simon upstairs working, so Paula hefted herself to her feet to answer the door. She was seven months along now, but any extra weight on her was a lot so she’d already hit the uncomfortable waddling stage. Lived in her yoga pants once more and had on one of Simon’s expensive, plain white t-shirts.
She smiled at her lawyer, a woman named Kathleen. Paula had retained her for many years and considered her nearly a friend.
“I don’t usually make house calls,” she said in lieu of a greeting.
“I don’t usually ask you to,” Paula said. “Thanks for making an exception.”
“I figured it was the only way I was ever going to see inside of this giant house.” Kathleen smiled. “The Idol finale tickets didn’t hurt.”
“They never do,” Paula said. “Come on, Simon is upstairs.”
They walked past Andy’s closed door, past the open door to the pink nursery, mostly completed. The painters had finished painting it pink and white and they’d ordered all the furniture, but the rocking chair Paula wanted was backordered so it wasn’t quite perfect yet.
Simon’s door was closed, too. Paula only knocked as a courtesy before she pushed it open.
“Honey?” she said. “You got a second?”
He was seated behind his huge wooden desk and his face looked open and happy to see her until Kathleen followed her into the room.
“Hello,” he said uneasily.
“Kathleen Coulson,” she said, reaching out to shake his hand. “From-”
“The lawyer,” he said. “I remember, Ms. Coulson.”
“Calm down,” Paula said. “I’m not here to divorce you.”
“Well you won’t even marry me,” Simon said.
“Ah,” Kathleen said. “Exactly why I’m here.” She set her briefcase on the edge of his desk and clicked it open, pulled out a red folder.
“What the hell is that?” he asked.
“Our marriage contract,” Paula said.
oooo
It didn’t take that long to hammer out really. It wasn’t a terribly complex document. Kathleen had said she’d read pre-nups that were ten times as long and complex. Paula’s contract simply stated that if they made it together ten years with no one cheating or moving out, she’d make it legal. It didn’t even require them to start the clock now, they used the start date as Andy’s day of birth, which was magnanimous of Paula, she thought, since they weren’t really together then.
Simon said they should start the clock from the first time they had sex but had been kidding, mostly.
“And this is the only way you’ll agree to marry me?” Simon had asked later that night. He hadn’t signed it right away, had instead sent it off to his lawyer to look it over. She’d expected nothing less.
“I just want to be sure,” Paula said. “And by then, we’ll both be so old no one else will want us.” She smiled as she kissed him.
In the end, they both signed it. Took Andy with them down to Kathleen’s office and signed it. They had it notarized as well.
“You’re batshit crazy, you know that?” Simon said tossing the pen back onto the desk after he’d signed it.
“Daddy said a bad word,” Andy said.
“Get used to it buddy,” Paula said.
oooo
At the Idol finale, Ryan pointed out that Paula was still wearing her ring.
“Yes,” Paula said from the audience of the theater. Someone had given all the judges hand held microphones and she spoke into hers now, her left hand resting on her belly, the ring sparkling in the spotlight. “We’re engaged.”
The theater erupted into applause.
“She said yes?” Ryan asked. Simon leaned into Paula’s mic.
“She said yes,” he said. “Finally.”
“That’s amazing, congratulations!” Ryan said. “When’s the big day?”
Paula smiled at Simon, brought the microphone back to her lips and said, very sweetly, “Oh, he’s contractually obligated not to talk about that, Ryan.”
Simon pantomimed zipping his mouth closed and throwing away a key.
“Seriously?” Ryan asked. “You two are the worst.”
oooo
Paula woke up on the morning of Andy’s tenth birthday and looked over at the man sleeping next to her. They had a huge birthday party planned for the day; she could already hear movement downstairs. No doubt her assistant had let her party planner in before the sun even came up. She’d go down and check in on things, take the kids out for breakfast, maybe, so they could be out of the way.
But first things first. It was time to uphold her end of the bargain.
She leaned over to the nightstand for her phone. Scrolled through her contact list for a number she’d put in a long time ago. Got up, put on her robe and stepped onto the sun filled balcony attached to their master bedroom and shut the french doors behind her.
Took a deep breath and called the wedding planner.