by Mary Ramsey
London extended our stay in Asia until two days before my twenty-first birthday. Sara and Johnny picked us up at the airport.
“That was more than six months!” Sara shouted as she hugged me.
“Where’s Diego’s flight?” I asked.
“He and Remy are flying in on United,” Johnny replied as he grabbed my luggage. “Let me take that so you can walk with Shauna.”
“Why didn’t you go with Sara to North Dakota?” I asked.
“I don’t want to talk about it,” he muttered quietly.
“Are you jealous of Diego?”
Johnny started to walk faster. “God, Sean, you can be such a—”
“Stop it,” Sara snapped at me. “Johnny didn’t go with me because his family’s pressuring him to return to North Dakota.”
“What?” I waited for Johnny to move a little out of earshot. “Then why did you say he was giving you shit about visiting Diego?”
“I was joking.”
“You need to learn what joking is. Telling me half the story isn’t ‘joking’.”
“Diego was turning fifty-one. I wanted to be there with him and Remy to celebrate.”
“Celebrate … what?”
Sara scoffed. “Diego lived fifty years in pain. Our tattoos were in dedication to the next fifty years of hope, love, and peace.”
Maybe it was all the time spent around Shauna, but Sara’s adorable smile and the return of her happy babyface brought me a sense of joy that transported me back to childhood. I stopped stressing about Johnny’s subdued mood. “So, how is Diego?”
“You can see for yourself.”
I looked up. Diego and Remy were actually walking towards me. Diego wasn’t in a wheelchair. He didn’t even have a cane.
Shauna ran to him, leaping into his arms. “Grandpa, you’re all better!”
“My little angel, you’ve gotten so tall.”
Shauna rested her head on Diego’s shoulder. “I thought about you every day.”
I could hear the emotion in their voices, even from yards away. Diego’s eye-wipe wasn’t so subtle, either. But then Diego never did have problems wearing his heart on his sleeve. It was great seeing him healthy, happy and upright. I turned back to see Jen staring at him with happy disbelief.
I approached Diego, patting him on the shoulder. “You look good, man.”
Diego shook my hand. “I could say the same for you, Sean. It appears international travel has done wonders for your health.”
“Thank you, sir.”
Jen ran up to Diego and they hugged for a long time. As they started catching up, I walked ahead with Remy.
“I saw your spread,” he said with a tongue-in-cheek grin. “Speaking of looking good …”
I smiled and sighed. “That’s what I get for putting my dick on the internet.”
“Your mom had quite a few things to say in the article she wrote,” he said with a snicker. “Something about your images being empowering, showing a new standard of beauty.”
“Oh, Christ.” I didn’t know what was worse: the fact that my mother saw my nudes, or that she wrote an in-depth commentary. No, wait, I knew what was the most embarrassing—the fact that my mother was coming to the condo for the party, and I’d soon have to look her in the eye.
Remy chuckled. “At least she approves. Makes things easier, right?”
“She wasn’t supposed to see!”
“Remember that small thing called social media …?”
I rolled my eyes, wanting to think of anything else. “I saw the birthday tattoo. You took the picture, right?”
“Yeah, I was there. We all went out to dinner and then we went to the appointment.”
“Appointment? So, the tattoo was planned?”
Remy nodded. “I took a bunch of photos of Diego’s scars. And they decided how they were going to design their matching tattoos.”
“Why didn’t you get a flower?”
“Diego is my world. I can’t imagine my life without him. But the tattoo was Sara’s thing and I respect that. Besides, at the end of the night, when Sara went back to her hotel—”
“He was all yours.”
Remy forced a smile. “Yeah, something like that.” He tied his hair back, his hands shaking a little. “I’m gonna help Johnny with the bags.”
I felt an icy cold hand grab me by the shoulder.
“Welcome home, Sean.”
“Hey, Cam. Let me guess—Diego’s still not divorced?”
“He’s writing to my mother.”
I stopped and glanced back at Jen, wondering how she’d take this. There was only so much self-harm she could handle with her father, and it hadn’t been that long since they started repairing their relationship.
I looked back at Cam, wincing. “Does Remy know?”
“My father doesn’t hide anything from him.”
I watched Remy hold Diego’s hand. It was clear how much they were in love. “I don’t know what to do.”
Cam shook his head as he started to walk backward. “I guess sometimes all you can do is watch the world burn.”
What did that mean? Was it too late? “Cam?”
He’d already vanished.
Five
The day of my joint twenty-first birthday, my family celebrated quietly at the condo. Johnny made a massive clambake with oysters, sausage, potatoes, and corn. For dessert he made chocolate cake, filled with fudge frosting and with salted caramel drizzle on top.
He made a plate for Shauna, who sat in Diego’s arms. “Corn off the cob, a little crab meat, and a little sausage and potatoes cut up nice and small, like you.”
“I’m not small, I’m four.” Shauna pouted, looking as small as ever in her pink Hello Kitty dress, the giant white cat head staring back at Johnny.
Johnny kissed her cheek. “Sorry, darling, but remember me and Sara missed your birthday. I know you’re all grown-up now.”
I took a seat next to Remy, who was over on the other side of the room. “Have you approached the discussion?”
“Of him divorcing Suzanna? It’s a no-go.” Remy sighed. “She has stage two breast cancer. She’s going to get treatment while in prison, and when she gets released next month …”
My jaw dropped. “The woman who tried to kill him is getting released?”
“She’s going up for parole, due in large part to Diego’s statement as a character witness.”
This could not be happening. “I need to take a walk.”
London tapped her glass. “May I have everyone’s attention? I have an announcement. My gift to you, Dakota … you—or rather, we—will be going to Amsterdam to walk in Fashion Week, followed by a stay in Prague.”
“You’re not going to Paris or Italy?” I asked.
“That’s later in the season. And my answer will be no, unless my European agent can secure you a few auditions.”
“So, you’re leaving again?” Johnny asked.
London put down her glass. She took Johnny by the arm and pulled him to where I was, putting some space between us and Sara, who was slumped next to Diego, twiddling her with her fingers. London’s smile was so bright she was practically glowing. “Johnny, I have a gift for you. I want you to design Sara’s engagement ring. I’ll pay.”
Johnny shook his head. “Thanks, but Sara’s so stressed out. She’s not even going to graduation.”
I stared. “What?”
“She’s got all the papers she needs. Apparently, that’s the important part. She can get her certificate in the post, or whatever.”
I realized how tired the guy looked. “How long’s she been talking like this?”
“What if you propose to her at Christmas?” London suggested. “Or maybe even your birthday. I remember Sean mentioning how your birthday was Christmas Eve.”
“What if you stop talking about his proposal plans for one moment?” I cut in, trying to keep my tone gentle. I loved London to bits, but sometimes she had no boundaries.
“I don’
t know if I can.” Johnny turned to me. “Do you want to know the reason why I didn’t go to North Dakota?”
“Sara said it was because you didn’t want to see your family.”
“It’s a big state. I could have easily avoided my family. I stayed in Los Angeles because Diego needed her more than I needed her.”
I rubbed my temples. “Are you saying what I think you’re saying?”
“Imagine if he wasn’t Jen’s father? Imagine if he was just a colleague of Sara’s?”
I could see where he was going with this. “And if Remy wasn’t in the picture?”
Johnny sighed. “Look at Remy, and look at Sara. Remy’s my cousin, and he has his street smarts, but he’s not on Diego’s level. Not intellectually, not in terms of maturity.”
Holy fuck. Sara loved Johnny. I knew that. She just seemed to have gone through a phase of forgetting to tell him that. This called for a little bit of my own brand of creativity. “Johnny, listen. She didn’t lose her virginity to Diego. She doesn’t cry out his name during sex—at least I hope not. Because then I could see why you wouldn’t want to marry her.”
I looked over at Sara and Diego. The two were speaking in Spanish. I could see what Johnny meant. They shared a connection. But Sara was meant to be with Johnny. Right?
London touched Johnny’s shoulder. “What did you do on your last holiday together?”
Johnny smiled. “My girl and I had sex in every room of the house.”
London laughed and pulled a card out of her wallet. “You can get that vibe back, trust me. I think she just needs to see a little passion again. Go to this website and use the login I created for you. You have five thousand dollars to design the ring of her dreams.”
“Thanks, London. I appreciate it. But I guess it’s her decision in the end. Can I tell her where the money came from?”
London shrugged. “If you want to, but if you do, tell her I wanted to do my part to make her happy. You two deserve to be happy.”
I watched as London walked away. “So, Johnny, have you seen a certain angry ghost around?”
“To be honest, I haven’t seen any spirits in months.”
“But you’ve seen ghosts ever since you were a kid.”
“I’m not saying it feels normal.” He rubbed his upper arms restlessly. “In fact, now that I think about it, it feels a little creepy. Maybe that’s why I’m so afraid to propose. There’s some really bad energy going around here.”
London left for Amsterdam later that week. We had three days to get over jetlag, and then I walked in every one of London’s shows—four in total. This included the Dutch debut of Tommy G’s clothing line, RC1. The rap mogul was London’s brother-in-law.
I poked my head out from backstage, bathing in the glow of camera flashes. I was kind of baking in my outfit—RC1’s look could best be described as street chic meets retro superhero nostalgia, and the fabrics weren’t great in the heat. I wore designer jeans embroidered with inspirational quotes written in a graffiti font. My tank top had a bandage print, as if I had broken ribs, and my hair was in a high ponytail, making me look like an urban samurai warrior. Despite the blinding light, I located my girls.
Jen and Shauna had front row seats next to Lana and her daughter Arizona, or Zoe for short. Lana had her sister’s long, dark hair, and supermodel beauty. Four-year-old Zoe was dressed in jewels and furs like a true hip-hop princess. Shauna looked adorable in her simple flower-patterned dress. I watched as Lana and Jen helped them blow bubbles to join in with the runway effects as the models walked to the thumping beats of Tommy G’s latest album.
London grabbed my arm. “Sean, you need to get in line!”
“Sorry.” As I took to the runway, my eyes went straight to my family.
I only walked one time, relieved to see approving nods from the critics as I did my thing. I was dressed and cleaned up by the time London finished her fifth walk, and Tommy G closed the show with his own appearance. He flashed the peace sign to the cameras and blew a kiss to Lana and Zoe.
After the show, we all had dinner with Lana’s family. After some surprisingly good pizza, we grown-ups talked while the girls ran around the massive loft, blowing bubbles.
“So, how is your family enjoying the condo?” Lana asked.
I was still starstruck by Tommy G and hadn’t said anything intelligent for half an hour. It was surreal that we were living in their LA pad long-term. “Uh …”
London sniggered at me as I went red under their expectant stares.
“We’re forever grateful for your generosity.”
Lana chuckled and scooped up Arizona as she ran by. “The privilege is mine. Your family is truly inspirational.”
“Uh … thanks.” I didn’t know what else to say to that—it just seemed too much. We were a family like any other. A lucky one, come to that. If it hadn’t been for London arranging for me to live in Lana and Tommy’s L.A. condo, we’d still be living in that one-room hole above the Chinese restaurant, miles from the UCLA campus. I tied my hair back, trying to make myself look more presentable. Maybe the tug on my roots might jerk my brain back to life. Lana tilted her head, frowning.
“You actually remind me of someone,” she said, reaching for her soda. “A guy I worked with back in the day.”
“Really? I’m not surprised. My look isn’t all that unique.”
“Yeah, I mean a lot of guys have surfer hair, but he was different.” Lana turned to her husband. “You know who I’m talking about? That shy kid from North Dakota by way of Oregon?”
“North Dakota?” Now she had my full attention.
Tommy shrugged. “I think he was a college student. I just remember the press was always calling him a gold-digger for dating an heiress twice his age.”
“Poor guy,” Lana continued. “His girlfriend would always be quick to point out how he wasn’t even in the industry.”
“So, the guy wasn’t a model?” I asked.
“He was when his funds got low, but he was mainly a med student. But he looked one hell of a lot like you. Or you look like him. I wish I could remember his name.”
“Just search Hosanna Davilla,” Tommy G suggested. “Whatever pictures are out there will mostly be of him playing arm candy to his sugar mama.”
Lana slugged her husband in the arm.
“What? Hosanna was smoking hot. Tell you what—if I was a skinny little white boy from the Midwest, I would have been on her in a heartbeat.”
“Anyway,” Lana said, rolling her eyes, “where are you and London headed next?”
“Prague,” London answered for us. “You?”
“New York. We’re skipping Paris this year. The press coverage was abysmal.”
Lana, Tommy, and Arizona left for New York the next day while my family and I used the last four days for travel and sightseeing before moving on to Prague. I had no jobs booked there, so while London was working, I either hung out with Jen and Shauna, or spent time googling Hosanna Davilla and my alleged “twin”. Lana wasn’t wrong; we looked a lot alike, though he was maybe fifteen years older.
The weirdest thing was that I couldn’t shake the feeling that I’d seen him before. That I’d known him once. Talked to him, even. But when?
As I read more, I found we had more in common than just our appearance. He’d met Hosanna at an audition and she’d become his fairy godmother, much like London was for me. Every shoot and runway he did was for one of her friends, with Hosanna in the audience cheering him on. In exchange for keeping her grounded, happy and sane, she helped him through medical school, supporting him until the day she died of complications related to cancer.
He had a stage name to protect his privacy, and I could not find his real name anywhere. It was driving me nuts. I took a few screenshots and sent them off to Sara, who immediately agreed to help me track down the guy.
As the week went by, London looked more and more stressed until she returned home late from her last job, slamming the door on her way into the apa
rtment. I winced as she marched across the hard hallway floor to the little den. Her heels were loud, and Jen was trying to sleep.
“What’s up?” I asked, keeping my voice low as she threw herself onto the couch opposite me. “Bad day at the office?”
“This and every day, what with all the bullshit they put on the runway.” London kicked off her heels and put her feet on the coffee table. “Screw it. We’re going back to Japan.”
Whoa, whoa, whoa! I leaned forward, catching her eye. “Why can’t we go back to Los Angeles?”
“We need to find success, and Japan is the place.”
I nodded, but mostly because I had the best time of my life there. And because my cash reserves were running a little low. I could do with being bookable again.
“You trust me, right?”
“Of course, you’re my best friend.”
London lifted her butt and hauled her phone from her back pocket. As ever, she composed her text out loud. “Skipping … Paris and Milan. Can you … get us work?”
I glanced back at Jen’s bedroom. “You’re seriously doing that here and now?”
“No time like the present.”
By the time she’d made a coffee and settled down, she’d received a reply that made her grin. Her wild smile made me excited and nervous both at the same time.
“If you don’t mind catalog work to start with, my agent can definitely get you some auditions.”
That made me sit up straight—all the dark-haired models with the beards were getting the auditions in LA when we left. It was like the Gladiator look had made a comeback, and I didn’t fit the bill. It would be good to work without having to fight for jobs for a while.
London picked up her phone. “We’ll … be there … in a few hours.”
“London, don’t send that!”
She blinked. “What’s the problem?”
“I need to pack, get insured, get a little girl ready, pack all my medical shit, break the news to my wife … all those small details?”
“Oh, yeah. Sorry.” She got to her feet. “Well, it won’t take me long, at least. Still got a year-round wardrobe in my condo over there.”
