According to a Source

by Abby Stern

  Eighteen

  I learned through my breakup with Ethan how important it is to maintain your relationships with your girlfriends, so even though I want to spend every waking moment we aren’t working and I’m not with my mom alone with Nick, I’m trying to keep a hos-over-bros mentality. I’ve seen Jess fairly regularly but I haven’t spent any time of note with Holiday since she came back from shooting the Benedict Canyon pilot. Holiday has been less of a social butterfly and more of an antisocial shut-in and spends a lot of time alone with Tristan but she finally agrees to join Nick and me for dinner night at Doheny Circle, where Nick is a member.

  Doheny Circle is a members-only club. Of course you can’t just apply to become a member. You must have the referrals of two current members, write an essay almost as long as your college application essay, be approved by the board, and pay a hefty initiation fee as well as monthly dues. Aside from their dining-room and bar privileges they offer various social events, film screenings, and of course scotch tastings. It’s sophisticated, and being here with Nick feels very adult. It’s a nice departure from my previous relationship. Ethan barely had a streaming subscription to Netflix.

  “No agent-client business tonight, Nick. I’m strictly here in best-friend capacity this evening,” Holiday notifies Nick.

  “Understood,” he tells her.

  “And to warn you that if you hurt Ella, I will run you over with your Tesla and drop your body into a desolate part of the canyon where you’ll never be found.” Her accent makes it sound charming but her threat is intimidating. Holiday is not someone I would want to cross.

  Nick takes the comment in stride and humors Holiday. “Noted. Now that the threats are out of the way for the evening, shall we order?” He laughs.

  “Yes, I’m ravenous,” I chime in.

  “How about we start with a bottle of champagne for my favorite glamour and love girls?” he suggests.

  “Yes! I’m dying for some. I’ve been craving some bubbles since 3 P.M.,” I confess. I really have. If there were a way for me to get an IV full of calorie-free champagne I’d do it.

  “None for me. I think I’m going to stick with water tonight,” Holiday tells us, dismissing his offer.

  “Water? Really, Hol?” Something must be wrong. Champagne is an essential for survival to Holiday. Even if she had to flee her home and become a refugee she would somehow find a way to smuggle splits of champagne with her for sustenance. She can survive without eating for a few days but those fermented grapes are a staple of her diet. This is a huge red flag.

  “I’m trying to stay camera-ready in case the show gets picked up. I can’t afford any hangovers, under-eye circles, or empty calories right now.” I hope her acting is more authentic in Benedict Canyon because even though I’d never say it, I don’t believe one word.

  “That’s what I like to hear from my clients,” Nick boasts and puffs out his chest to exaggerate.

  “I never thought I’d hear the words ‘none for me’ come out of your mouth when referring to champagne, Hol.”

  “It’s what people call maturity, Ella,” she teases. I’m still not buying her newfound health kick and start running through other possibilities in my head.

  I can’t help but notice that there are only three of us and Holiday is without a plus-one even though we told her to bring Tristan.

  “Where’s Tristan tonight?” I question.

  “He has a film audition in the morning so I didn’t want to distract him.” I don’t really believe her but I’m also not going to give her the third degree in front of Nick. Maybe she’s a little off because there’s trouble in paradise, and if that’s the case our conversation should be private, though when Holiday is having problems with men her go-to coping mechanism is champagne, so I’m not entirely sure I’ve discovered the real problem. Nonetheless, I’m ready for my bubbly.

  “To glamour and love.” I raise my glass to Nick’s. “And a toast to my sober friend, Holiday. None of this would be possible without you.” I lovingly glance at Nick. “And to Benedict Canyon being picked up.” We clink glasses as Holiday sips her water. I notice her widening her eyes, trying her hardest to fight back the tears from my toast.

  “Thank you. Love you, too, El. You are my sister.” She finishes her water. “Will you excuse me? I see Gwendolyn Ross just arrived and I want to say a quick hello. I need to make sure I stay on her good side.” She leaves and as soon our trio becomes a duo, Nick leans in and kisses me.

  “What was that for?” I ask.

  “For making the past few weeks so amazing. You’re a pretty damn good girl, Ella Warren. Your job is sketchy as all hell, but you’re my favorite girl, regardless.”

  I wish I could take his compliment but I have a gnawing feeling I can’t shake. “I may be a good girl but feel like a bad friend. This is the first time I’ve hung out with Holiday in weeks and we basically brought her on our date.”

  Nick brushes off my concern. “We told her to invite Tristan. It’s not our fault if he didn’t come. She wouldn’t have come by herself if she didn’t want to.” I sigh. He rests his hand on my thigh, trying to soothe me. “You know Holiday better than anyone. Do you think she ever does anything she doesn’t feel like doing?”

  “That’s true,” I concede, but I’m not 100 percent convinced. “I can’t help but think there’s something else going on with her, though. She seems off.”

  “How do you mean?” he asks.

  “She didn’t want any champagne.…” I trail off. I know it sounds trivial to him but it’s not.

  “Just because—”

  “Nick, trust me. That’s a huge red flag … like not the-size-of-a-pimple-the-night-before-prom huge, but the-size-of-Mars huge. Something is wrong,” I insist.

  He inches closer to pacify me.

  “I’m sure she’s fine. She’s probably exhausted and nervous to see what happens with the show.” I nod. He plays with a tendril of hair behind my ear to lighten me up. “This is the first real job she’s ever had and the first time she cares about the job she’s doing. It’s probably her way of dealing with the pressure.” He’s probably right but I need to hear it from her to feel better.

  “I’m sure you’re right and I’m overreacting but would you mind if I don’t spend the night? I think Holiday and I need some one-on-one girl time.”

  “I think that’s a good idea, El. I love that you want to be there for your friend. Plus I have plenty of scripts I need to read that have been piling up on my nightstand since you’ve been occupying most of my evenings … not that I’m complaining, of course.” He gives me a sweet kiss, this time on my forehead.

  “Thanks, babe.”

  “But since you aren’t coming back there’s something I want to talk to you about now.” I freeze. “The past few weeks with you have been so different from what I’ve had with any other girl. I’m sure you have plenty of guys that are chasing you every time you’re out and you have other options and I know it’s soon but I want you to know that I’m all in and hope you are, too?”

  He looks at me composed while I’m freaking out on the inside. It’s like Pop Rocks and soda have invaded my body and exploded. Nick Williams is asking me to be exclusive!

  “So, like boyfriend-girlfriend?” I check.

  He reaches his hand to caress my cheek. “Yeah, like boyfriend-girlfriend,” he mimics. “What do you think?”

  Think? I don’t have to think. “I’d love that!” I can’t remember the last time I was this happy, and when I pause to try to remember, I’m not sure if I’ve ever been this happy.

  “Good. Because I’m really falling for you, Ella Warren,” he admits.

  “Good. Because you’re stuck with me, Nick Williams … I mean, boyfriend,” I correct.

  “Here.” Nick pulls a Doheny Circle membership card out of his wallet and hands it to me. “I’m supposed to put someone else on my membership.”

  This is the Hollywood equivalent of giving someone a key to your apartment. I sta
re at the titanium card before I place it in my wallet. “I was going to give this to you anyway, but girlfriends should definitely be additional cardholders.” We kiss again and our eyes lock in a silent gaze like a beam in Star Trek that is only interrupted when Holiday returns.

  “How’s Gwendolyn?” I ask.

  “It was par for the course. I can never tell with her. She’ll go on about the best new designer, the best wine, the best meal, the best man, the best hotel in Cannes, and she never cracks a smile or displays an emotion. She has the same mannerisms and inflections when she talks about her most dreadful list, too, so who knows. I think it’s who she is as opposed to being a side effect from the Botox. I’m not sure she’s ever excited about anything or anyone,” Holiday says.

  It’s time for my proposal. “Hol, what would you say to a girls’ night later? Just you and me.”

  “Really? Just the two of us?” Her face lights up.

  “I have a ton of scripts to read and contracts to review so you’d actually be doing me a favor taking this one off my hands for the night.”

  I give him a look and he returns with a shoulder shrug that implies he’s just trying to help. That’s my boyfriend.

  “Face masks and reality TV?” Holiday asks. She has a happy tone in her voice for the first time tonight.

  “You know it, girl!” Holiday perks up once we plan our date and more of her charm peeks through our dinner conversation. Nick graciously pays the check and drives us home. Holiday jumps out of the car as soon as we reach a complete stop.

  “Thank you for dinner, Nick!” She rushes into the house without her signature good-bye double kiss. I roll down the window and call out to her, “I’ll be in in a minute.” I lean in to kiss him good night. The taste of the spearmint gum he just chewed tingles the roof of my mouth and the sensation travels through each limb of my body. I try to pull away because I know that if I don’t leave now my willpower will diminish more each second and I might not ever get out of his car, but he pulls me in even closer.

  The faint sound of our breath reaching a crescendo is a harmonious duet. I’m addicted to his kiss. I run my fingers through his hair and the next thing I want to do with my hand is unbutton his shirt so I attempt to pull away again and this time he allows me to. Nick releases from the embrace and kisses my forehead. I grab the door handle.

  “Good night, girlfriend,” he whistles.

  “Good night, boyfriend,” I repeat as I close the door. I watch Nick pull out of the driveway and breathe deep before going inside.

  “Holiday,” I yell.

  “In my bedroom, darling,” she calls out. The one problem with all of the square footage in her house is that you can hardly hear anyone even if they’re screaming. I follow her voice and it gets louder. I enter her room and find her sitting on the floor with a pile of junk food larger than the BP oil spill in front of her.

  “What is this?” I’m shocked. Holiday peers up at me, ashamed, like a dog that rips a sofa apart even though he inevitably knows he will be caught.

  “My secret stash of cookies and chips,” she says between bites. It’s like a 7-Eleven exploded in her room.

  “How long have you had this?”

  “I’ve collected it over time and I started on this particular assortment before you moved in,” she confesses.

  “I had no idea you had a secret arsenal full of gluten and glucose. I am so glad I didn’t know about this sooner.”

  “You know I’m always prepared. There’s no warning before an earthquake or an emotional meltdown.” I was right—there is something going on with her and I will get to the bottom of it, but first I’ll join her in indulging in some snacks.

  Holiday eagerly tears open a bag of Cool Ranch Doritos as I plop down next to her. We stick our noses in the bag as if we’re wine-tasting and dig in as if we hadn’t just had a full meal.

  “Oh my God! I forgot how good Doritos are!”

  “They really are. They’re worth every single calorie,” she sings. We devour the chips and each bite is so delicious we would orgasm from eating them if it were physically possible. This is the closest Holiday and I will ever come to a threesome together. I never thought I would have a transcendental experience eating powder-covered corn chips but I am and I’m not complaining.

  Once we polish off the bag we hide the remnants and take a break to put on face masks before we continue our gluttony. Our civilized girls’ night is quickly deteriorating into a carb bender complete with a sugar high. I eye the rest of her stash piled in front of us and am ecstatic when I see a bag of Fun Size Snickers, hiding.

  “How long has it been since you’ve had a Snickers?” I wonder.

  “Too long.” She meticulously tears the bag open as if it were a bomb she was trying to disarm, rips the wrapper off, and places the candy bar in her mouth. “Mmm.” Maybe nothing tastes as good as skinny feels, but all I care about is how good this junk food is making me feel right now.

  “Nick is going to be able to feel every Dorito I just consumed in my ass.”

  “Speaking of which, how are things going with you guys? You two seemed to be even cozier than before at dinner. I want details,” she begs.

  “You talk to him just as much as I do.”

  “Yes, but only about work, darling. Besides he’s a smart man. He wouldn’t confide in me knowing that we’re best friends.”

  “He asked me to be his girlfriend tonight.”

  Holiday coughs on a Snickers. “Oh my God!” she squeals.

  “I know.”

  “Nick is one of the most eligible bachelors in Hollywood and that’s not a euphemism. He was on LA Magazine’s list.” That makes me feel amazing and slightly intimidated at the same time.

  “After everything that happened with Ethan, I wasn’t sure that I would feel this way again, especially so soon, or that anyone would feel this way about me again. We spend the night together almost every night, and it’s hard for me to sleep without him anymore.”

  “My little Ella. Look at you. Always working with celebrities but instead of being a star fucker you turned out to be a rep ho,” she jokes before hugging me.

  Holiday is genuinely excited for my happiness but she’s still mum about her news.

  “What’s been going on with your mom?” she asks.

  “You know … chemo. We have her bone-marrow biopsy coming up so we’ll know more then about how she’s responding.”

  “Keep me posted,” she requests.

  “I will. Thanks for asking. But Hol, stop deflecting. I can tell you have something on your mind. Spill. What’s going on with you?” I probe.

  “What do you mean?” She stares at me blankly like I just asked her to explain quantum physics in three sentences.

  “You know I know you better than this. Passing up champagne, leaving your boyfriend behind to willingly be a third wheel, and now this.” We both stare at the mound of colorful empty wrappers in front of us and know there’s a metaphor for feeding something in this sight. She stares at her perfectly polished fingers. My instinct is telling me I’m going to have to pry it out of her.

  “Ella, I’m scared,” she finally admits.

  “Scared of what?” She’s reticent and I can tell she’s engaging in an internal debate about confiding in me. I’ve never seen Holiday like this and I’m a little afraid for her. “Does it have something to do with Tristan?”

  “Sort of.” A flood of tears rushes out of her, and for the first time in our friendship I see her cry.

  “Holiday, what’s wrong? You have to tell me. You’re scaring me.”

  She tries to string sentences together but they are difficult to understand through the tears and snot. I rub her back for a few minutes to calm her down until she can speak coherently. She places her head in my lap and I pet her hair. After a few minutes she gazes up at me, and as much as I can see she wants to tell me I also know there’s a part of her that wishes she could keep this secret forever.

  “I’m late,” she
whispers.

  “Oh my God!”

  My reaction causes her to cry harder. “At first I thought it was stress but haven’t been able to stop eating and my boobs have been tender and I’ve been fatigued, but I started getting anxious and my brain was spinning out of control, so I Googled the early symptoms of pregnancy online and I have all of them,” she whimpers.

  I lean back toward her nightstand and grab a tissue and wipe away the tear residue from her face. “What if it’s true…?” Her voice drifts into silence.

  “Shh.” I try to mollify her.

  “I don’t even want to say the word out loud,” she mutters between sniffles.

  “Is this why you weren’t drinking?” I ask.

  Holiday nods and buries her head in my lap again like an ostrich in the sand.

  “It’s going to be okay.” I continue petting her. “First we need to be sure and then even if you are pre—” Holiday looks up at me and her look stops me from saying the word. “Even if you are, you have options.”

  “That’s not even the worst part,” she sniffles. “If I am, I’m not sure if the father is Seth or Tristan.” That is a bomb I was not expecting, but I know that I need to conceal my shock or else it will push her over the edge.

  “Let’s not jump to any conclusions. You shouldn’t even have these thoughts running through your head yet. You need to take a test,” I tell her.

  “I know. I’ve been too scared, plus what if the paparazzi see me buying the test? I’ve been getting papped more now that I filmed the pilot and the last thing I need right now is a photo floating around of me buying a … test.”