by Harper Bliss
“Anyway.” She looks me straight in the eye. “Would you say that I’ve earned the right to ask you a direct question?”
I’m saved by man-bun bringing over our freshly mixed drinks, but then he’s gone, and I have to admit that, yes, she has earned that right.
“Shoot,” I say, and hold up my drink.
“Are you a lesbian?” Ali’s voice is smooth and bright, not a hint of hesitation lurking in her tone.
“That’s hardly a secret.”
“Is that a yes?”
“Well, yes. I’m a lesbian. Always have been.”
“You say it so casually, yet it’s not talked about at Lennox.”
“Why would it be? It’s my personal life. Therefore, it’s private.”
“Has my father ordered you in some way, direct or not, to never mention it?”
“What?” Not even Jeffrey would stoop that low. “No. It’s just not something that I shout from the rooftops.”
“It seems more than that. It almost feels like you want to keep it very much hidden.” She tilts her head. “What’s the big deal? I’m a lesbian. I wouldn’t be surprised if Sebastian had slept with his fair share of men. No one of my generation really cares about those boundaries anymore.”
“So?” I’m not entirely sure what I’m being interrogated about.
“I just—I don’t know. I don’t get your stance on the whole thing.”
“I don’t get what you’re asking me, Ali. Yes, I’m a lesbian. There’s nothing further to say.”
“I must have known that about you before I left, yet it only occurred to me the other day when you were pouting because I was late. It just came back to me, in a flash. And it just seemed so… undisclosed.”
“It’s not a secret. I don’t know what more I can say.”
“You’re not one of those self-loathing lesbians, are you? You know, because of your generation or something like that?”
“My generation?” I shake my head.
“Do you have a partner? A wife you keep hidden in your Hollywood mansion?”
“Firstly, I don’t live in Hollywood. Secondly, I’m single.”
Ali regards me in silence. “There’s so much I don’t know about you, Jill.” She narrows her eyes. “Have I offended you?”
“Was it your intention to offend me?”
“No. Absolutely not. I just wanted to know.”
“Now you do.” I return Ali’s gaze, still unsure of what this is. Maybe she wants to know about her father’s reaction to it, but I told him years ago, as a quick and simple aside one late night, and we never discussed it again. It’s not the sort of relationship we have. And I’ve never had much to discuss. As far as I’m aware, Jeffrey never made a big deal out of anyone’s sexuality, aside from the occasional joke in poor taste. I’m guessing that even Jeffrey knows when to count his lucky stars when it comes to what is left of his family.
“Now I do.” Ali pulls her lips into a full-blown smile, as though the sole purpose of her evening has been fulfilled.
7
Ali
I have no idea what game I’m playing with Jill. All I know is that I’m enjoying it immensely. I don’t even know why I said those things about Leah and my mother. Although I’ve always made a point of mentioning them—of honoring their lives instead of pretending that their deaths didn’t change mine forever.
Jill’s wearing a turtleneck again. Today, it’s navy. It seems overly rigid and formal in the looser atmosphere of the bar. While living in hot and humid climates in the east, I recognized the importance of protecting yourself against the continuous blast of air-conditioning, but it feels, somehow, as though Jill is hiding something underneath that abundance of clothes. I’d expected her to change from her office wear before coming out with me this evening, but no. It’s like she wants to hide her body. And she’s already so tiny. Standing next to her, I feel like a giant. It makes it hard to follow her instructions at the office, yet she gets to boss me around. Maybe that’s why I’m doing this. It’s always fun to mess with the boss. I’m also doing it, I realize when I take in the rest of her features, just because I can.
If my sister’s untimely death has taught me anything, it’s to do as much of what I damn well please as possible. For all I know, I might crash my car tomorrow, and die. Life is nothing more than something ultra-fragile we can barely hold on to.
Jill’s features are delicate, her skin smooth. When she gestures with her hands however, which she does a lot, it’s always measured, as if even the movements of her hands shouldn’t take up too much space. She’s compact and to the point, making me wonder if she modeled her demeanor after her stature or whether it happened naturally.
“Thanks for telling me,” I say, while trying to gauge what she’s thinking. What must she think of me? This spoiled brat swooping in on her turf. Because management of Lennox Breweries is very much her domain. But I’m not done yet. I have one more pressing question that demands an immediate reply. “You are planning on coming to my party this weekend, aren’t you? You’re not allowed to duck out.”
She chuckles. “Wow. You are relentless. Cocktails in the middle of the week. House party on Saturday. I’m not three-five anymore, Ali. At the weekend, I need my rest.”
“Bullshit.”
To Jill’s credit, she doesn’t flinch at my colorful use of language. She’s been my father’s number two for too long to mind.
“How would you know? You don’t know what my life is like,” she says. The fight in her comes out more when she’s had a few. Or maybe she’s relaxing more around me as times goes on.
“You’re right, but… don’t forget what’s at stake.” I send her a smile. I only notice now how very blue her eyes are.
“Look, Ali.” She sips from her cocktail. “I understand that your trust is something that I have to earn, but I don’t see how I could possibly do that by showing up at a party of thirty-somethings getting wasted. That’s not my scene. That’s not relaxing to me.”
“And yet… you said you’d come.”
“I did,” she admits.
“Do you mean you’re not a woman of your word?”
She shakes her head. I don’t detect any wariness in her glance yet. Maybe she’s enjoying this as much as I am. Surely, Jill knows how to play this game—this plying of the boss’s child. God knows what she’s had to do to keep Sebastian happy all those years I was gone.
“No. In fact, you won’t find many people at Lennox who are truer to their word than I am. What I’m saying is there are other ways for you to learn to trust me—or get to know me if you will. Because that’s what it comes down to in the end.”
“Fair enough.” Jill can sound very convincing. “How about if I promised you it would be a small, intimate gathering? Not some wild, pool-party extravaganza. You can even wear one of your turtleneck sweaters.”
She brings her hand to the collar of her navy sweater, as though she had forgotten she was wearing it. “I’m always cold for some reason.”
“Even in L.A.”
“I thought when I moved here from the east coast, I’d always be pleasantly warm, and I am much warmer than I used to be, but this wretched air-conditioning everywhere…”
Maybe, I think, these are the moments in which I’ll get to know more of Jill Gold. These interludes when she lets her guard fully down and just articulates what’s running through her head at the time.
“How about,” Jill says, “instead of having me over at your house for a party with other people, I take you to dinner tonight. I’m starving and these”—She taps a short but manicured nail against her cocktail glass—“are starting to go to my head.”
“Tempting,” I say, holding her gaze. “Unfortch, I have plans.”
“Really? You’re going out after this?”
“I’m young and single and I just got back to L.A.” As though that’s enough of an explanation. But I don’t owe Jill any explanations.
“No hangover in the office tom
orrow.”
“Yes, boss.”
“Don’t you need to eat something before you go on elsewhere?” she asks. Is she so keen to take me to dinner? It’s not that I don’t want to have dinner with her—the evening has been pleasant enough so far. But I want to see how she’ll hold herself at my house, being forced to mingle with my friends. It’s important for me to observe her out of her comfort zone.
“Don’t worry. I’ll eat something.” I take a deep swallow, finishing the last of my cocktail. “And I won’t be hungover tomorrow, I promise. As long as you don’t renege on our quid pro quo.”
“Fine, Ali. I’ll come to your house if it’s so important to you.” She stares into my eyes, as though she can find the answer as to why I want her there so badly in them. “But that’s it. The quid pro quo ends there. I will prove to you in other ways that you can trust me—in fact, I’m quite convinced you’ll learn to do so by working with me. And, well, there’s also the matter of me trusting you, of course.” She cocks her head. “As far as I know, you and Sebastian might be plotting to remove me from LB.”
“Yeah, right. Have you met my brother?” I suppose she has to live with a certain degree of paranoia in her job.
“I know him all too well. He’s had some issues, but he’s bright and he can be ruthless. Don’t underestimate him, Ali. I don’t.”
I just nod. I don’t need a lesson on my brother’s personality. I grew up with him. But Jill has spent more time with him these past ten years.
“Has he screwed you over at work?” I have to ask.
“He has most certainly tried.” Jill doesn’t elaborate.
“I’m not planning anything with Sebastian,” I say matter-of-factly. “But you’re right. Trust is a two-way street.” I gesture to the server to bring me the check.
8
Jill
Just getting to Silver Lake has already been a pain in the ass. And after Ali’s comment about my sweater the other night, I’ve tried to make a sartorial effort, eschewing my trusted sweaters and wearing a light blouse instead.
It’s not difficult to find Ali’s house. Although modest in size for a Lennox property, it’s lit up brightly and loud music is thumping through a battery of speakers. So much for small and intimate. She must have decided to not go with that plan then.
Also very un-Lennox-like is the absence of any security. I can just waltz into Ali’s house without my name being checked off any list. Maybe she has invited the entire neighborhood to this shindig and everyone can just walk in and out as they please.
In a way, I do admire her lack of paranoia. Maybe living abroad has done her a world of good. And of course, there’s no shortage of staff milling about the place, serving drinks and canapés. Ali wasn’t going to do that herself. Maybe they’ve been asked to keep an eye on things. As I walk through the front yard, I realize I’m the one with paranoia issues. I grab a glass of champagne from a passing tray and lurk outside for a bit.
None of the servers are offering Lennox beers, although I do see some people sipping from bottles. I decide to circumvent the house and make my way to the back yard via the side. The instant I see the pool I want to turn around and flee.
I think of my apartment downtown. The reading chair I like to curl into on a Saturday night, when, at least sometimes, I’m free of work expectations. When I was getting ready, I amped myself up by repeating that this was just another work thing. Now that I’m here, though, with all those half-naked bodies in the pool, and the average age of the people around me less than half of mine, it feels more like psychological torture.
And where is Ali, anyway? I just want to say hello and get out of here. I sip from the champagne—Ruinart, her father’s favorite as well—and move a little farther into the garden.
“You must be Jill.” A young woman in shorts and a painfully colorful shirt has sidled up to me. “I’m Madison. Ali’s BFF.” She holds out the hand that’s not holding a bottle of beer. Inadvertently, I check if it’s one of ours—it isn’t.
I shake her hand, which seems very formal for the occasion. “I am.”
“The guest list got a little out of hand at the last minute,” Madison says. “You know how it goes.”
“Do I?” Oh, I said that out loud.
Madison just sniggers. “Ali likes a party. She likes to celebrate life, you know? What with all she’s been through.”
I just nod. I have no opinion on Ali’s partying ways. And Madison might be the nicest woman in Los Angeles, but I don’t feel much like making small talk with her. Unless Ali has told her to look out for my arrival—assuring her I would stick out like a sore thumb—and has tasked her with submitting me to some sort of test.
“Where is Ali?” I ask.
“Playing the hostess with the mostest, I think. She can get a bit hyper when she throws a party.”
“Being her… BFF,” I turn fully toward Madison so I can read her face, “do you have any idea why it’s so important to Ali that I be here? You and I can both see that I don’t really fit in.”
Madison shrugs. She looks like the kind of girl who sleeps in, drives her truck to the beach, and catches waves all day. In the evening, she goes to parties like these.
“Knowing Ali, she’s probably just fucking with you. Is she trying to get back at you for something?” She pulls her lips into a lop-sided grin.
“Not that I’m aware of, but the fucking-with-me part makes sense.” I drink some more champagne.
“Now that you’re here, why don’t you make yourself comfortable?” She looks around—perhaps for a space where she could make me feel more comfortable. “Come with me.”
She guides us to a cluster of deck chairs far away enough from the pool to avoid splatter. She sits on one and I do the same. As soon as I finish my glass of champagne, it’s replaced by another, making it feel like a quintessential Lennox party, where every detail has been agonized over. On the other hand, it’s very far removed from any party I’ve ever been to since I turned forty.
“Can you do me a favor, Madison?”
“Of course.” She flashes me a grin again.
“Can you tell Ali I was here? I think I might leave now.”
“Say what?” Madison narrows her eyes. “You only just arrived.”
“I’m well aware, but now I’d like to leave.”
“Nah, come on, Jill.” Madison fixes her gaze on me. “Stay a while.” It sounds more like an order than a suggestion. But I won’t let myself be bossed around by Ali Lennox’s BFF—or minion, more like. I don’t want to be here and that’s the end of that. “At least finish your drink before you order a ride. Give us five more minutes of your time.”
I sit next to Madison in silence for a while. I have no clue what to say to her and she seems content to let her gaze swoop over the impossibly beautiful people in the pool. I feast my eyes on what’s going on in front of me as well. It’s not just the effortless beauty of youth that strikes me about the throng of people huddled around an inflatable unicorn. It’s their ease, their almost blatant self-confidence, something I see in Ali as well. And, now, also in Madison. They all look as though nothing in the world can ever hurt them.
“How long have you known Ali?” I ask, eventually. I feel like I need to reward Madison in some way for sticking with me and conversation is all I have to offer—a few questions to indicate that I’m interested in finding out more about her.
“Forever.” She giggles. When I see a man in the far corner of the pool taking a long drag from a joint, I realize Madison is probably under the influence herself.
All the more reason to get out of here. I hope Sebastian wasn’t invited. This isn’t the kind of party that would be conducive to his recovery, although both Ali and I know that his recovery is just a front to keep his father happy.
I let a few minutes go by, then get up, and try to slip away. Madison grabs me by the wrist, and says, “It was lovely meeting you, Jill.”
“Likewise,” I mumble, and take a deep b
reath. Even though I can’t trust Madison to assure Ali I was actually at her party, I have the visual imagery of it etched into my brain. An exact description of what her back yard looked like at twenty to ten should convince Ali I was actually here. I briefly consider heading into the house and trying to find her, just to say a quick hello—I did come all this way—but decide against it when I see the flock of people hanging out in the kitchen.
As I retrace my steps to the front garden, I get a few funny looks from people, but nothing I can’t deal with. I’ve almost made it to the front gate when I hear a familiar voice behind me.
“Hey,” Ali says. “Where do you think you’re going, Jill?”
9
Ali
I’ve managed to convince Jill to come inside and we sit in the living room, away from most of the guests. There’s not much point in scolding her for trying to slink off without even saying hello to me. Her body language screams that she’d rather be anywhere else but here. I thought I’d get more of a kick out of seeing her like that, but as it turns out, I feel a little bit sorry for her. She’s not the only person present here who’s above a certain age, but this is not about age. This is about personality and this party couldn’t suit Jill Gold’s personality less. She’s not a go-with-the-flow kind of person, it would appear.
She has dressed in a silk blouse instead of her usual sweater. It should make her look more relaxed—less in work mode—but it doesn’t.
“I should have taken you up on that dinner invitation,” I say.
“I get that you’re very, very used to getting what you want, Ali. And you needed me to show up here tonight to exert some imaginary dominance over me. And it’s fine, you know. I’m here. It’s just some time I’ve lost. But don’t go making a habit out of doing this because I will soon have had enough of it.”
It’s not the first time Jill sees right through me—even better than I can see through myself. Her ability to do so intrigues me. If she’s such a connoisseur of people, why has she been working for a heartless bastard like my father for more than two decades? Or perhaps, although she’s learned to read people for who they really are, she’s also learned not to judge them. Maybe that’s Jill’s secret superpower.
