The Status of All Things: A Novel

by Liz Fenton

  “Liam’s already in there,” I say, my voice almost echoing in the quiet car as I glance back at Jules, who looks up from her phone, her emerald eyes slightly vacant despite how stunning she looks in her cap-sleeved charcoal-gray sequined dress, her legs crossed tightly to combat its short length.

  Max had whistled as she walked out her front door, shooting me a guilty look immediately afterward. “It’s okay,” I had said, laughing. “She looks smokin’ hot.” And when Ben had materialized through the same doorway a few beats later—the entrance to the two-story house they’d owned for nearly a decade, the home they’d been so proud to be able to purchase, me helping them move in and paint because they’d used all of their savings for the down payment—there was something that felt disconnected between them, like an unplugged power cord straining for the outlet. I watched Max as they slid into the backseat, curious if he had noticed. He hadn’t seemed to, launching into a debate with Ben over whether Los Angeles would ever get another professional football team, both of them laughing as if they didn’t have a care in the world, and I decided I was just being sensitive because I knew that Jules’ fidelity to Ben was hanging on by a tiny thread.

  I quickly reapply my lipstick as we inch toward the valet stand, while all of us attempt to guess which celebrity is going to emerge next from the sanctuary of their limousine. Jules and I let out a squeal when we spot her favorite celebrity couple stepping out of the car ahead of us, him grabbing for her hand as they expertly maneuver the microphones and cameras assaulting them as they meander down the red carpet.

  “They’re going to be pretty damn disappointed to see us.” Max chuckles as he puts the car into park, the valet, a young model type with a shaggy haircut, opening our doors with a flourish. We hurry self-consciously down the carpet, the flashing of the cameras stopping briefly as we shuffle past, me looping my arm through Jules’ and pulling her back slightly from Max and Ben.

  “You doing okay?” I ask, glancing over my shoulder at Ben and Max.

  “Yes!” she snaps. “Don’t be like that, Kate.”

  “Like what?”

  “Reading into every single thing, each look or moment of silence. It’s not that simple,” she whispers. “Please don’t make me regret confiding in you.”

  “Sorry,” I say, slightly hurt by her tone.

  As if reading my mind, she squeezes my arm. “I know you’re just trying to be a good friend. But, I promise, it’s all going to be okay. I’ll figure it all out.”

  “With you and Ben?”

  “With everything. Stop worrying so much.” She touches the thin skin under my eyes. “It’s going to give you wrinkles!” She laughs and I join her, deciding she’s probably right. Here I am, at this incredible party, surrounded by the rich and famous, with Max and all of my closest friends—I need to take a deep breath and enjoy it.

  • • •

  “Have you tried the ceviche?” Jules calls over her shoulder later as she walks in the direction of the bar to get us our third round of champagne, tripping slightly as she looks past me to a good-looking man—one I think I recognize from an action flick Max and I saw a while back. The movie star catches her elbow as she starts to fall and soaks in the broad smile Jules gives him as a thank-you. They have a brief discussion before walking slowly to the bar together, continuing their conversation as they stand in line, Jules’ leg propped out, her hand sitting on her hip flirtatiously. I take a bite of my crab cake and glance over at Ben, who’s talking to Max while keeping a close eye on his wife. He catches me staring at him. “She’s just drunk,” he says confidently, but I hear some defensiveness hiding behind his words. “I’m just making sure she makes it back without falling over again,” he adds quickly, as if he needs a reason to be watching her.

  “Totally! She’s just blowing off steam,” I add a little too eagerly and wonder why we’re trying so hard to convince each other that what we’re witnessing is harmless. But then I remember Jules’ warning—to stop reading into every little thing. If I’d bumped into a hot actor who had headlined the last blockbuster I’d seen, I’d probably be flirting too.

  Ben finally peels his eyes away. “You know how it is—a night away from the kids, and you go crazy.” He laughs. “She deserves to let loose. I’ve been traveling a ton lately. We’ve barely seen each other.”

  “You should whisk her off on a weekend away after the wedding,” I say, fighting the urge to shake him, to tell Ben that he is on the verge of losing the woman he’s loved for more than a decade, that she is slipping through his grasp like hot sand on a summer day.

  “Maybe. It’s so hard to find a sitter,” he says, and takes another sip of his Jack and Coke.

  “We’ll watch them,” I say firmly as Max whips his head up and starts to say something. I give him a look that immediately silences him.

  “We’ll see,” he says noncommittally as Jules walks carefully in our direction, clasping two flutes so full of champagne that the liquid is spilling over the tops.

  “Did you see who I was talking to?” she says, her cheeks flushed as she sips the bubbles off the top of her glass and hands the other to me. “That was the guy who was in First Night! You know, he was the one who got the girl in the end?”

  “He sure did,” Ben says under his breath and drains his glass. Max throws me a What the fuck is going on with them look and I shrug my shoulders in response, Jules either not hearing him or not caring as she sways to the beat of the band that begins to play.

  “Let’s go find Liam,” I suggest as I glance behind me, surprised I haven’t seen him yet—we had spied Nikki earlier giving an interview, but Liam was nowhere to be found.

  “Looking for me?” I hear Liam’s deep voice and spin around, his normally rumpled hair expertly slicked back, giving his usually slack features a hard edge that I can’t decide if I like.

  Liam greets Max and Ben with a firm handshake before pulling Jules and me in for a hug. “You girls look stunning.”

  “Thanks,” I say, resisting the impulse to reach up and touch his hair, convinced it will feel like a Ken doll’s head. “Where’s Nikki?”

  “Around,” he replies vaguely, and my mind immediately wanders to the picture of her and the guy in the Enquirer, wondering if he’d also be making an appearance here tonight. Hoping, for Liam’s sake, that he won’t. “You know how these thing are,” he adds, all of us bobbing our heads in agreement, even though we have no clue about these things.

  Liam grabs a drink from a passing waiter and settles in, telling us funny stories about walking the red carpet with Nikki, confiding that it felt weird to stand by her side and hold her sequined clutch while she regaled each reporter with sound bites she’d rehearsed in the limo on the way here.

  “Must have felt amazing being someone’s purse handler,” I say sarcastically.

  “It beats sitting at home obsessively binge watching some TV show on Netflix, which you could’ve been doing tonight,” he says pointedly, and I stick out my tongue.

  Several glasses of Moët & Chandon and turns on the dance floor later, we’re all having a great time. Max and I jump up and down to the beat and Liam joins us in the brief windows when he isn’t being pulled away by Nikki’s “people” for a photo op. Ben is even swinging Jules, instantly taking me back to their wedding day when they’d surprised the guests with a synchronized dance.

  When the band begins to play a song I don’t recognize, I pull Max toward the dessert table, which is overflowing with gorgeous delicacies I had been looking forward to tasting all night. But his hand goes slack as we reach the edge of the dance floor and I twist my head to see why, my stomach doing a somersault when I see what he does—Courtney dancing closely with a tall man with salt-and-pepper hair. He raises his hands in the air and she slides herself toward his toned body as if she doesn’t have a care in the world. Gone is the girl who had cried in my car, her red-rimmed eyes now sp
arkling, her hair sleek, her body tucked into a mini that leaves little to the imagination. I put my hands on my own dress, suddenly feeling like an old maid—Courtney’s beauty had a way of making your own luster dim.

  “Max?” I say softly, the noise from the band swallowing my words. I shake his shoulder slightly and say his name again before he finally turns his head, the anguish in his eyes hitting me like a sucker punch to the stomach, the alcohol he’d consumed earlier ripping away the veneer that I realize now must mask his true feelings.

  “Courtney,” is all he says.

  “I know, I see her too,” I say, and grab for his hand. “Come with me,” I plead, not wanting to sound desperate, even though I am. Desperate to pretend that I don’t see Max’s love for Courtney written all over his face; desperate to still believe I can outrun our fate. I think about Jules’ messed-up life and Liam being turned into a Hollywood cliché. It’s as if by coming back here, I have taken a sledgehammer to everyone else’s story in order to write my own happy ending.

  Max gives Courtney one last look before turning back to me and grabbing my hand. “I’m sorry, Kate,” he says, and I’m not sure what for and I don’t want to ask.

  “It’s okay,” is all I say because I don’t trust myself to say anything else. “I’ll be right back,” I say, pointing in the direction of the restroom, just wanting to put as much distance as possible between me and what’s happened in the last five minutes.

  Walking in a haze through the crowd, I almost collide with a server wearing a crisp white shirt and black pants. “Excuse me,” I say automatically without looking up.

  “You better watch where you’re going,” a familiar voice says, and I do a double take when I find Ruby holding an empty tray, smirking at me.

  “Why am I even surprised?” I say, more to myself than to her. “Of course you would show up now. Is this your I told you so moment?”

  Ruby’s smirk evaporates. “Is that what you think? That I’m here to teach you some sort of lesson?” she says as a drunken starlet walks by and hands her an empty glass with a cigarette butt in it. Ruby tosses the glass into the trash before grabbing my arm and pulling me away from the crowd. “Whether you believe it or not, I’m here to help, not hurt, you.”

  “Could’ve fooled me,” I say, my anger at Max spilling out of me onto Ruby. “I did everything, everything right this time. And he still loves her. She still wins,” I say, my voice cracking.

  “Maybe that’s the problem, Kate. You keep treating this as if it’s a game.”

  “Isn’t it, though? Aren’t we all trying to triumph at life?” I think about Callie from college, who just this morning had posted a picture of a letter her eight-year-old had written telling her what a wonderful mommy she was. He even had incredible handwriting that seemed unlikely for a child who had only just graduated kindergarten. But the fact remained the same—if life was a game, Callie was in the lead by a mile. And even given a second chance, I had still lost.

  Ruby presses her lips together and looks me over with wonder as if I’m a rare animal at the zoo. “After everything you’ve been through, that’s what comes to mind?” She steps into an alcove as a real catering waiter walks by briskly. “And to think I believed you were finally getting it.” She untucks her shirt. “I’m done here,” she says, her eyes glistening as she turns to leave.

  “Wait,” I say. “This is it? You’re walking away from me, now?” I ask, feeling panicked. “How do I fix this? Do I have any more wishes?” Maybe there was still a chance I could make this all right—if we hadn’t come to this party, if he’d never seen Courtney dancing with that man. If I could erase it all, Max and I could still be happy together.

  Ruby sighs heavily, looking tired. “You do have one final wish. My advice to you is to use it wisely.” She pats my shoulder lightly. “Just remember, some things just aren’t meant to be fixed,” she says before disappearing into the darkness.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

  The cold water tingles my skin as it splashes up onto my face, wiping away in an instant the careful work I’d done applying my makeup earlier tonight, when I stood barefoot on my tiled bathroom floor, my heart still beating quickly after making love to Max, a nervous excitement coursing through me as I anticipated coming to this Hollywood party with him on my arm. Blotting my face dry with a stark white monogrammed napkin that reads Nikki’s Night, I sneer at my reflection in the mirror, wanting the answers I am seeking to be reflected in my eyes. Was Ruby right? At least I have one more wish. I could use it to go back in time again. Third time’s a charm, right?

  I pull a tube of gloss out of my black sequined clutch and glide it over my lips, thinking about what I could have done differently with the wishes I’d been granted. Obviously it had been a mistake to use them to try to help Jules and Liam, my efforts to make their lives better completely backfiring. If I did decide to do this all over again, I wouldn’t have any more wishes, which means I would have to rely on my own power of persuasion to convince my best friends I had traveled through time. And Liam was so skeptical, I wasn’t confident I could make him believe me on my own. Or that I’d even want to try. It might be better not to tell them at all—not to involve anyone else in my inability to get my own life right.

  Yes, I decide as I push open the bathroom door, the bass from the band’s speakers vibrating in the hallway. Traveling back again will be worth it because it will solve two major problems: Jules will hopefully be satisfied with her marriage and Liam won’t be at the center of a celebrity cheating scandal. Those two reasons alone are enough to convince me to do it. Even though I know I’ll be back to square one with Max and Courtney—but I’ll just have to figure out what I can do differently so my actions don’t keep pushing them together instead of pulling them apart.

  I’d definitely need to go back further in time. Maybe two months? Six? When had their friendship shifted to something more? Was it when I sent Max to pick her up after her car broke down on Sepulveda Boulevard? Or had it been when Courtney scored backstage passes to meet the members of Toad the Wet Sprocket, Courtney sweet-talking her way onto their tour bus where she and Max partied with the band? What had been the exact moment that had changed the course of all of our lives? If I could pinpoint that, I might have a chance.

  I make my way through the crowded ballroom, trying to keep my composure as I pass the entire cast of my favorite sitcom, finally spotting Max sitting with Ben and Jules in a lounge area in the corner, Jules cocking her head in the direction of the dance floor where Courtney is still gyrating with her date. I throw my hands up and shake my head, refusing to look in her direction again. As I start to make my way toward them I spy Liam’s lanky body sitting at the edge of the party where the dimming lights and darkness meet.

  “Hey,” I say gently, and sit beside him as he raises a bottle of tequila to his lips, his hair now rumpled, his bow tie loose around his neck, looking so much like the old Liam that my heart jumps—I hadn’t realized how much I had missed this version of him.

  “Hey,” he echoes, and passes the bottle of Patrón to me.

  I hesitate before taking a large swig, coughing slightly and wiping my mouth with the back of my hand as it burns my throat. “Damn, Liam. How much of this have you had?”

  He shrugs his shoulders. “It was full when I snagged it from the bar.”

  I look at the bottle, a little over a quarter of the liquor gone. “You okay?”

  “This night has not turned out at all like I thought it would.”

  “Tell me about it—check out who ended up on the guest list.” I point the bottle to where Courtney is on the dance floor.

  “What are the odds of that?” Liam says, shaking his head.

  A gazillion to one.

  “You should have seen Max’s face when he noticed her.” My stomach curls as I remember the look, one I wish I could erase from my mind. “It was like he’d seen a ghost,�
� I say, a single tear escaping from my eye, and I reach up to brush it away, but Liam beats me to it, his fingertip dissolving it.

  “Come here,” he says, and pulls my chair closer to him, wrapping his warm arm around my shoulders.

  “I found out I have one more wish. I’m thinking of using it to go back in time again. But I’m planning to go further back—maybe as far as six months.”

  Liam takes another long drink from the bottle. “What if you don’t? What if you stay here? If you saw him look at her that way, after everything, maybe it means it’s time to let him go.”

  The tears begin to fall more rapidly and I turn my face into his chest and wipe them away with his shirt. “I’m worried that I don’t know who I am without him.”

  “That’s funny.”

  “What?”

  “I don’t know who you are with him.”

  I pull back, startled by his reaction. “What do you mean?”

  “Nothing.” He shakes his head. “Forget it.”

  “No, tell me.”

  “I don’t even recognize this version of you—you’ve had tunnel vision this entire time, so closed off from everything that you can’t see what it’s done to you. You’ve changed, Kate.”

  Stunned by Liam’s words, I try to formulate my response. I knew I was different, but I wasn’t sure that was a bad thing. My eyes were wide open this time. I wasn’t letting my relationship slip through the cracks while I paid attention to all the wrong things.

  “And what about love?” he asks before I can respond.

  “Love?”

  “I tell you to let him go and the first thing you say is you don’t know who you are without him. Why didn’t you say it was because you loved him?”

  “I don’t want to live my life without him. That is love.”

  Liam shakes his head. “Not in my book. I say that’s fear.”

  With each hurtful word Liam throws at me, anger begins to build up inside me like logs being stacked to make a fire—I’m worried I might erupt into flames if he struck a match against me. “Since when did you become a relationship expert? Aren’t you the guy whose buddies take over/under bets on how long before you find a flaw and dump the girl you’re dating? The man who’s Nikki’s puppet?” He flinches slightly when I say the last part.