Will sat up straight. “Who have I pissed off? I haven’t been here that long.”
Lee replied with a list. “Well, I’d be shocked if the staff of Cousin Nicky’s isn’t spitting in your coffee.”
“They are pretty icy,” Will said, considering. “I just thought that was ‘northern hospitality,’ so to speak.”
Lee hadn’t stopped talking. “. . . and yes, he was totally making fun of your name-dropping. Plus, Jamie’s friend EJ clearly isn’t your biggest fan—”
“Miss Rose Gold? What about her? She wasn’t too friendly at the dance, or the hospital.”
Lee gave his friend a long look. “Do you not remember the dance, or the after-party? You were in rare form that night. You managed to annoy Zara more in one night than her fiancé has in three years.”
Will winced. So that was why Zara hadn’t returned any of his texts. He’d have to send some flowers tomorrow. “I don’t remember much,” he admitted, “but I can definitely recall my hangover.”
He knew Lee’s sighs. This one contained a long lecture that his friend wasn’t prepared to give. “Anyway, I know it’s early, but I think I like Jamie a lot, and I like EJ, too, as a person. You’re going to have to get used to hanging out with them or get some new friends—or both.”
There was a tense silence. Will could tell Lee was not going to back down. When he created a “boundary,” he stuck with it. Lee took a sip of his Pellegrino and slipped the dagger in. “I actually think you’d like EJ if you got to know her.”
“You’ve been hanging out with her?” Will couldn’t rationally explain this feeling of betrayal and tried to push it down.
Lee nodded, oblivious to Will’s turmoil. “Yeah, a couple lunches with Jamie, but we get along. She got really into the Premier League on her year abroad, so we talk soccer. She supports the Gunners but shares my hatred of Chelsea, as any good person should.”
Will frowned. Why had Lee taken her side—on everything? Had he truly been that terrible since his arrival or . . . were he and Lee just growing apart?
As if he’d read his mind, Lee looked him in the eyes and spoke seriously. “You’re still my brother, Will. You’re still the most important person in the world to me besides my mom. It’s just that—I thought that the arrogance, the jerk behavior, that was all because of Carrie. It’s so disappointing that you brought it here.”
Will was glad to be sitting down. Okay, this is bad, he thought. Lee thinks I’m an arrogant jerk—and he said so. In the entire history of their friendship, Lee had never called him on his shit so directly.
Will sighed. “Have I really changed that much?”
Lee looked at him, scrubbed his hand over his face, and sighed. “It was like you joined a cult.” He sat up. “Like, before Carrie, you took on acting projects for your own reasons: the character was interesting, or you liked the shooting location—that kind of thing. You were in Hollywood but not of it. It helped keep you interesting and wonderfully normal. With Carrie, you started buying into all the bullshit. You got a public Insta and talked about building followers like you used to talk about books. You showed up to parties for the paparazzi.” Lee looked at Will directly. “You were talking about moving to LA, dude! You hate LA! You barely tolerate California.”
Will was forced to laugh. “But really, it’s a stupid, vulgar city. All the charm of Las Vegas without the sense of humor.”
“I refuse to be derailed into defending my hometown when you were looking at buying a house there.” Lee sighed and squeezed his temples. “Seriously, though, what happened? What did she do to you?”
Will sighed and melted into the sofa. He’d never fallen so fast, or had a relationship so thoroughly blow up his life before. He tried to speak but felt the hot prick of tears in his eyes. She saw me, but then she used me.
He’d met Carrie at a time when he was starting to get dissatisfied with his career. Despite refusing to play nerds or stereotypes, Will was still being cast as “the token Asian.” His characters never got any depth or development. He knew he was one of the hottest guys in the FT: Hawaii cast, but he never got a romantic subplot. They wouldn’t even consider giving him a solo for the musical episode—and he could sing! That was why it was so gratifying when Carrie noticed him. She was the one who insisted on their on-screen kiss. She was the one who made other people see him. But that was what made it so crushing to find out he was her token Asian boyfriend.
Will sat up and reached for Lee’s phone. “I’m just gonna write the whole thing down. Please read it, away from me.”
Lee nodded. He was used to Will’s rambling emails. They’d met on Martha’s Vineyard when Will was twelve and Lee was ten. Of course, neither of them lived there, but they kept their friendship going through emails and actual letters. Will liked those the best.
After rapidly typing on his phone for a few tense minutes, Will stood up. “Read that email draft, then delete it. I don’t want to actually send it and violate my NDA.”
“And you still can’t talk about it?” Lee ventured.
Will shook his head. He felt his cheeks flush. “No, I can’t.”
The buzzer sounded. “You take a moment, I’ll get the pizza,” Lee said, leaving Will in the living room. Will didn’t know whether to cry or laugh. He still hurt, but getting the whole thing out felt good. Cathartic, even. This feeling is why people go to confession—or therapy. Maybe he could go to therapy? It would give him someone to talk to besides Lee. And even if he made some new friends, he couldn’t really trust anyone who wasn’t legally bound to keep his secrets. As Will warmed to the idea of therapy, he also came around to Lee’s point about making new friends. Why not try? He said, quoting Voltaire to himself, “If we do not find anything very pleasant, at least we shall find something new.”
A GODDAMNED COSMOLOGICAL EVENT
EJ
Just two weeks ago, EJ had thought she had the modeling for her capstone pretty much wrapped up. Then she noticed a small error (she didn’t fully integrate the current climate change projections), and as though she had pulled the wrong Jenga block, everything fell apart. She had to shift into full “grind it out” mode, especially since she wanted to get the modeling done before Halloween weekend. There was nothing quite as depressing as working in your dorm room when everyone else was out partying.
To reach her new mental deadline, EJ chucked out any sense of work-life balance. If she left Bennet House, it was only for class or the computer lab. When she was at home, she worked until she fell over, subsisting on protein shakes, frozen peas, and the occasional tangerine to prevent scurvy. (It was like being fifteen again: living in her toe shoes, rehearsing four hours a day and squeezing meals between homework and her studio time.) Finally, at the last possible moment, she had a breakthrough.
It was 6:00 a.m. on the Wednesday before Halloween. Bennet House, on its lonely hill, was hushed and dark—save for the light coming from EJ’s desk lamp. Sometime in the small hours she’d awoken with a fully formed idea that proved to be the key to fixing her capstone project. She sat up, grabbed her laptop, and began reworking her bridge model. By sunrise, her model was complete. An hour later, so was the outline to her presentation. EJ ensured that her work was safely in the embrace of her hard drive, then backed up. Once all this was done, she stood up and did an ungainly but ecstatic happy dance. Then, as was her practice when anything good happened, she called home.
“Hi, Ella!” her mom said. At home, EJ was known as Ella to everyone but her father, who called her Lizard. She hadn’t adopted EJ as a moniker until college, when she thought something more gender neutral would be helpful for a budding engineer.
“What are you doing up at this reasonable hour?” the older woman asked. Jokes about EJ’s love of sleeping in were more tradition than comedy.
“I fixed my bridge!” EJ cried happily.
“Wait, wait, give me the context again, darling. Your mother is not a young woman.”
“You’re not old, either,” she
retorted. “Anyway, remember for my capstone, I’m doing a project on methods of improving failing infrastructure? Well, my second case study, the Bassington Bridge, was not coming together, at all—not for my ideal scenario, not for my practical scenario. Then, I don’t know what changed, but when I woke up, it was like the solution was right before my eyes; all I had to do was write it down. Which I did!”
“That’s tremendous, Ella!” her mother exclaimed. “I knew you could power through.”
“Thanks, Momma. I’m so relieved. I thought I’d still be untying this knot in the middle of finals.”
“Here’s your dad. I’ll let you tell him your good news.”
After some rustling, she heard her dad’s voice. “Hey! How’s my Lizard?”
“Hi, Daddy!” she replied cheerily before telling her story a second time.
“That’s wonderful, dear, truly,” he said after EJ finished. “But what happened to doing your project on restoring the Old Stone Mill? You were so excited when you talked about that this summer.”
“I know, Daddy, but I decided to do something a bit broader. Engineering for climate change is going to be a big industry. Historic building conservation is sort of a niche area. Since my capstone presentation is also my project submission for the Black Engineers conference, I want to cast a wide net for employers.”
EJ had it all planned out. If the National Society of Black Engineers really liked this project, she could get a chance to present. If she got to do a presentation, even a poster, she would get interviews. If she got interviews, she could have a job lined up before graduation.
“There’s a career fair, and many good employers participate the whole weekend,” she added. “If I play my cards right, I could leave with a good offer.”
EJ heard her father hesitating. “I understand that impulse, but you already compromised once when you switched away from aerospace engineering to civil for better job opportunities. Now you’re compromising again, and I don’t know why. It’s not often that you get to pursue your specific interest or to spread your wings creatively in the working world. You should be grasping that opportunity.”
Daddy sighed, and EJ ached at the sound of it. When she was little, EJ always thought she understood her dad best because of their shared scientific aptitude. Maya got his idealism, which seemed to matter more now. EJ remembered how overjoyed her dad was when her older sister announced that she was going for a degree in social work.
“There’ll be more opportunities than you think, Daddy. I can always build sets for community theater or join a historic preservation group. Best of both worlds, right?” Her dad made some noncommittal noises. EJ soldiered on. “For now, my goal is to get the best job I can, pay down my loans. Maybe even travel a little, too. I just want to do good work, for a decent amount of money.”
She at least had her mom’s approval; she was thrilled by her daughter’s career pragmatism. She’d often told her children, “I don’t care what you do—actress, lion tamer, sea captain—as long as you have a salary and retirement plan by thirty. Broke in your twenties is an adventure. Broke in your thirties is a crisis.”
“Anyway,” EJ continued breezily, “I was hoping I could do my presentation for you and Momma over Christmas Break. Also, since I’m asking favors: Could you keep your ear out for any babysitting or dog-walking opportunities? I know it’s some ways off, but I’ll be right at the end of my stipend when I get home for three weeks and . . .”
“Sure thing, Lizard,” her dad replied. “In fact, we just had an architect couple move in up the road. They mentioned needing someone to walk their Ms. Fifi then.”
EJ relaxed. Even when her dad wasn’t the most enthusiastic, he was supportive. “I think Mom mentioned her. She’s a giant poodle, right?”
He chortled. “Oh yes. If you ask Kurt and Jerome, she’s the giant poodle. Ms. Fifi’s a pageant dog. Did you ever see that movie Best in Show?”
She chuckled. “No, but you can tell me all about her.” EJ clutched the phone to her ear and relaxed as her father filled her in on the neighborhood gossip.
Later that day EJ met Tessa for lunch at Cousin Nicky’s to celebrate her escape from her academic prison. When she sat down, EJ’s stomach let loose an audible growl that made her entire body rumble. She had never been so hungry. She felt like food was just invented yesterday and she was finally getting her chance to try it.
EJ ordered her “special” (buffalo wings and a bowl of cucumbers with Old Bay Seasoning), then added curly fries and a double strawberry malt. Amelia took their orders and said, “See what happens when you don’t visit? You get too skinny.”
“Sorry, Amelia. I won’t stay away so long next time.” The older woman left them, and EJ slumped back into the booth. “I’m so relieved. It had only been two weeks, but I was just like, ‘This can’t be my life anymore.’”
“Welcome back to the land of the living!” Tessa cheered, raising her coffee mug in a toast.
“Thanks,” EJ said, clinking mugs. “It’s good to be back.”
Tessa drummed her fingers on the chipped Formica table. “So that means you’re definitely down for tonight?”
EJ gasped. How could Tessa think she’d miss tonight? (Well, to be fair, she’d pretty much bailed on all her other obligations for the past couple of weeks, so it wasn’t unreasonable.)
“You bet your buns! This is a goddamned cosmological event—an actual, literal once-in-a-lifetime thing . . . I was always going to be on that roof, no matter what. I just would have brought my laptop with me,” EJ added quietly. “What do you say to meeting at the main library at eleven? I’ll bring my famous cocoa; you bring your sleeping bag for us to sit on.”
Tessa nodded enthusiastically.
EJ picked up the check. “I got this one,” she said, sliding out of the booth.
“Thanks, Eej. Oh! Don’t forget your umbrella,” Tessa advised. “It looks like the rain might kick up again.”
EJ nodded, lifting the bubble gum–pink umbrella to reassure them both. Soon, with a friendly wave and a jingle out the door, she was gone.
Will
Damn, that’s good coffee, Will thought, draining the last of his mug. He was sitting in the back of Cousin Nicky’s diner with his sketchbook, drawing his surroundings. He hadn’t had much time for just sitting and drawing until he came to Longbourn, always too busy with filming or TV appearances or his hot superstar girlfriend. So what if he’d lost all that in a matter of weeks? He had time to draw now. And play his piano. Silver linings, right?
All this time also meant Will was out of excuses; he seriously had to work on his physique. His agent had been quite insistent on this point since he left LA. “Look at Bradley Cooper; look at Chris Pratt,” Katerina said. “They go from character actors to leading men. All because they got diesel.” She said that Will could break out of ensemble TV with a new body. He could even get into movies again. “We’ll carve you a new lane,” his agent promised. “And we’ll do it despite that fickle blonde girl.”
That fickle blonde. Katerina wouldn’t even say Carrie’s name. But he couldn’t talk. He hadn’t told Lee the full story until a week ago. Instead Will had fled LA, set his social media to private, and started school in middle-of-nowhere Massachusetts. All he wanted to be was a quiet student who kept to himself until graduation. He was growing his hair out; he dropped his contacts for glasses; he even toned down his signature style. That was his biggest sacrifice; he had been on Vanity Fair’s best-dressed list three years running. Now none of his friends would recognize him. I’m wearing a hoodie, for Christ’s sake.
Will signaled for a refill. The manager came by and filled his mug without glaring. Progress. It had taken only a formal apology, overpaying for the booth he had ruined, and tipping 200 percent every time he came—but it was worth it. The diner had the best coffee in walking distance from his sublet. He’d walked there this morning.
That was one thing he didn’t miss about LA. So much of your life was wasted
on the freeway. And you couldn’t even draw, not safely anyway. Will put his sketchbook to the side with its half-finished drawing of the tree out the window. Then he pulled at the hem of his beanie and picked up the menu. Hopefully, there was something that his trainer would approve of.
Will was busily calculating the calorie count of the salmon salad when a noisy conversation from a nearby booth broke into his thoughts. Why couldn’t these people talk at a normal volume? Will had forgotten his earbuds at home and couldn’t tune out the world, as was his practice. He returned to the menu, but it was no use—the rambunctious girls were thoroughly distracting.
Will thought he’d lean out from his booth and give the loud talkers a prolonged scowl. Maybe they think they’re alone. I’ll start with an annoyed look, he decided. It seemed like a sufficient rebuke. He put on his new sunglasses so he wouldn’t be recognized and prepared his most unimpressed face.
He moved to the edge of his booth and leaned out; then he internally gasped. It’s that girl from the hospital. EJ, I think. Will dropped his scowl and sat up.
Should I say hi, though? he thought. Lee asked me to be nice—but she was weirdly standoffish. After a few more moments of indecision, Will decided to say nothing and sip his coffee. This quickly turned into eavesdropping. What are they so excited about?
He waited until EJ left to inquire further, moving to the booth across from the other girl after the door jingled with the taller girl’s departure. He pulled his Longbourn hoodie forward in the hope of passing for an ordinary, if shy, fellow student. “Excuse me, what were you talking about? What ‘once in a lifetime’ thing is happening tonight?”
Tessa
Tessa was leisurely sipping her coffee refill when a deep voice shook her out of her thoughts.
She jumped. Will Pak had just materialized on the spot, dressed as a TV executive’s idea of a college student. It was slightly surreal seeing in person someone you’d watched on television. Her younger sibs were big Wolf Pack fans. Okay, she was a fan, too. Would it be weird to ask him for his autograph?
The Bennet Women Page 6
