by Alice Ward
“Talk to you later.”
Once we disconnected, I went back to prepping for the party and working on some drawings for the series I was tentatively calling “So, Now it’s X.”
The week went by pretty fast since I had so much to do. I only balled my eyes out two significant times. I felt like denial was really working for me. The decorations looked amazing, and the food was fun. To go with our graffiti theme, we chose a burger bar with all kinds of creative fixings, a salad bar, since most of my friends were health freaks, and an open bar with some artisan drinks Tammy’s boyfriend wanted to make. By Friday night, the party was all ready to go. I just had to put things out in their respective places and we would get our party on the next day. KP showed up at about midnight.
He was finishing up production on an edgy chick flick with a couple of aging stars and a hot newcomer that had “Oscar worthy” written all over it, so he was going the extra mile. Ugh. Entertainment industry lingo, what a snore. When he walked in, I could tell he was tired.
“Hi.” Even though I wanted to jump him, he looked way too tired for nighttime fun.
Where did my crazy libido come from? I’d never been this horny in my life. I’m sure I could have enticed KP to join me in some nocturnal calisthenics, but he looked totally exhausted.
“Hey, love,” he said as he walked in.
“I made you a snack. I thought you’d be hungry. Fruit skewers, Manchego, and Chardonnay.” I showed him the platter I’d arranged decoratively. I hoped he could see I made an effort, just for him.
“I love this.” He leaned in and kissed me.
We sat on the porch together while he ate and vented about production. I was glad to be his sounding board. I started to find his line of work really interesting, and I was quickly swept up. By the time he was done venting and eating, it was almost two in the morning. We had agreed to meet Wenton early for breakfast, which meant we probably had to call it a night.
It was wonderful falling asleep in KP’s arms. He felt so perfect and having him back at my house felt like he belonged here, and it actually seemed like he had always been here.
When we saw Wenton, he seemed excited to finish the portrait and see the final product. I hadn’t let him see it because I didn’t want him to self-criticize. Painting was a step-by-step process that evolved over layers, so I’d forbidden him to look at it and kept it locked away until I was ready for the final unveiling next week.
Although he seemed happy to see us, he also seemed sad. Ever since family week, he’d looked tired and older than when I first met him. KP said his heart was slowing down, and I didn’t want to admit it, but I could see the toll it was taking on them both. However, I didn’t think Wenton had any sense of his own mortality. We broached the subject once, and he said he was happy to live in heaven one day. KP didn’t want to go into too much detail, as large concepts like death, dying, and illness were hard for Wenton to grasp.
We puzzled for a moment about what was troubling him. But as soon as KP asked Wenton what he wanted to do, we found out what had Wenton all in knots.
“I haven’t gotten a picture since the one of Caitlyn, and that was too long ago.”
KP nodded. “Oh right, the scavenger hunt. Well, buddy, as I said, that was a very tall order, but I’m working on it.”
I remembered that he’d been tasked with “falling in love.” I wanted to pipe in and say, bingo, he’d done it, but I wasn’t completely sure he had. We loved each other, but falling in love — that totally selfless place where you find your soul mate? I was heading down that road, but I wasn’t completely sure that KP had. It was as hard for him as he’d said it would be.
“If it helps at all, Wenton, I know how hard he’s trying to find what you want him to look for.” I smiled, wanting to show him that I was working with KP to accomplish this goal.
“I’m not worried about you, Caitlyn. It’s him!” He pointed an angry finger at his brother.
“Okay. I’ll send you a picture tonight. I have one in mind, okay? No worries.”
Time for a change of subject. “So what are we doing today?” I asked.
“I got Twister!” Wenton squealed.
KP and I both looked at the plastic mat with the brightly colored circles with dread. I was young but probably too old to get all twisted up.
“Where are my yoga pants when I need them?” KP joked.
We played for a while, and Wenton, though he loved the game because it made him laugh, was terrible at it. We all fell down a lot, but it was fun. Wenton always made us have fun in ways we didn’t expect we could.
After Twister, I finished his painting, which turned out gorgeous. KP was thrilled. We locked it away to dry and had lunch with Wenton before he went down for a nap. He was getting fatigued more quickly these days, another sign that his illness had been progressing.
The doctor consulted KP again about moving Wenton into the medical ward. KP continued to refuse, saying that he would pay more to have the staff moved to his cottage. Wenton didn’t belong in a hospital. He had the money to afford the best, so he was going to give him the very best money would offer.
“I’m not having him moved,” KP fumed. “That’s it. They’re a hospital; they can keep him in his cottage and not scare him by moving him to the big house. He’s not as sick as they say.”
I saw through the anger to the fear living behind it.
“KP, you know what’s best for him. You’re everything he has. Go with your gut and make every day with him count.”
He knew I was there for him. He wouldn’t face this alone.
By the time we got to my house, Tammy, Ricky, and crew were already there and the party had been set up. There was a big “Congratulations” banner in front of the house I wasn’t expecting, all done in graffiti style. It was so cool.
“I love it,” I said, looking at the sign.
KP smiled down at me. “Your friends really love you.”
I wasn’t sure how to respond, so I just leaned over and kissed him. He reached behind him and grabbed a bag, pulled a graffiti style baseball hat out of it and put it on.
“That actually looks really cute on you.” And it did. He looked both goofy and adorable.
“Actually?” he raised his eyebrows, so snide.
I stuck my tongue out at him. Maturity wasn’t always our strong suit.
He said goodbye to Robert, but I detected something may have been brewing because of the weird way he said it, like encoded language. But I wasn’t gonna dwell on it, it was my party, and we were going to have some fun.
“Are you ready for this?” I asked playfully.
“Oh, I am very ready for this,” he said, flipping his hat to the side.
The party was so much fun. Some people brought a massive canvas to create a communal graffiti painting in the backyard, which would be a gift for me to take to school. It was so amazing. Others brought musical instruments and jammed together. We danced, we drank, we ate off the hamburger bar. The party was on fire.
KP did his best to keep up. I mean, here was this guy, a billionaire, who knew everyone…from the former presidents of the United States to Johnny Depp. He was close, personal friends with the guy, but a room full of talented people who were vibing on love and creativity and had their names on nothing but their dreams made him completely out of his element. I had to come to his rescue.
“Are you hating it? I don’t think I’ve ever seen you so miserable.” It was the truth, he looked so uncomfortable.
“I’ll never be as cool as even one of these people. I’ve never felt so obsolete in my life.”
Wow, how was that possible?
“KP! You’re KP, Oscar winner guy.” I patted his cheek, trying to make him smile. “Come on, get your game face on. I sent out the email like you said, and people are just doing their own thing, letting you be you. Only you’re not being you. You’re being freaked out guy in the corner wearing a goofy hat. Come here.” I grabbed his hand and shepherded him to th
e bar. “You’re going to do a Cuervo shot with me then we’ll get you one of Ricky’s famous lavender margaritas.”
He wrinkled his nose. “Lavender? Eww, really?” I think he was truly disgusted.
“Well, no wonder you feel obsolete, you’ve never tried one. Ricky will fix you right up. Ricky, he needs a Lavarita and fast, make it nice and strong. I’ll get us a round of shots going,” I said, feeling so happy.
“Why don’t you just scoop out my insides and put them in a jar of formaldehyde. It might be a quicker way to end me.”
“And you think your brother is the king of drama?” Seriously, where was his sense of fun?
“Okay. I’m here, I’m ready, let’s go for it.”
I handed him a shot after passing them out to Ricky and Tammy, who had heard KP kvetching and came over.
“KP needs to drink with us, so don’t let him weasel his way out of this.” Tammy glared at him. He raised his shot glass and smiled as she continued. “Okay friends, to Caitlyn’s new adventure!” She raised her glass, and we all took the shot.
“Ahhhh,” KP wailed. “That’s such shit tequila!”
Everyone laughed as KP grimaced and choked.
“Time for your Lavarita,” Rafael yelled from behind the bar.
He produced five large martini glasses filled to the rim with a light purple drink, glistening with sugar on the rim of each glass. KP eyed the beverage with trepidation. We each took our glasses up.
“It’s my turn to toast now,” KP said.
I think everyone was a bit surprised he spoke, thinking he would slink around the party pretending he wasn’t there when it was such a big deal that he was there. When he raised his glass and looked at me, my heart started thudding, and my throat went dry.
“To a fantastic artist and an incredible woman, who I’m happy agreed to be my girlfriend… finally. I love you.” He brought the glass to his lips and eyed me with a stare so carnal it sent shivers to my loins.
“Cheers.” We all chugged.
“This isn’t half as disgusting as I feared it would be,” KP interjected, which brought fake laughter from the group who he sort of just insulted.
Wow, he was awkward in a crowd. I guessed if he wasn’t the lord and master of the game he didn’t know how to play. Ricky and Jamal made sure that he had another two or three drinks before we released him into the wild. We kept him close to us until we thought he could handle the party. He probably hadn’t ever been to a party where just having fun was the ultimate goal. Money may have bought toys, power, and world dominance, but it didn’t know shit about having fun.
We flanked him as I encouraged him to add his part to the graffiti project. It started out cute, mostly, he signed it with his famous signature then intertwined his name with mine and drew a spectacular heart around the names. It turned out beautifully. I was touched.
He asked us to take our picture with the heart.
“Wenton will love this,” I said as we looked at the photograph.
He smiled. “It’s not carved into a tree, but let’s hope it passes the test.”
Whether the drinks had let him relax enough to be himself or he was finally feeling comfortable, he looked like he was having fun. After the graffiti, we let him try his hand at party DJ. He definitely switched up the vibe with some of the tunes he selected, which were unexpectedly great. Eighties music certainly wasn’t dead, but when it was time for drunken Pictionary, the party really got started.
First, it was unanimously decided by a room full of drunken, creative people that KP and I split up. He had been under cover long enough, and it was time to unveil him. Most of the people left at the party were close friends I trusted, so we detached. He only protested a little because he had no artistic skills and was planning on riding on my coattails to victory. Not so much, buddy.
“You don’t have to be a good artist, you just have to be a persuasive one.” I winked at him. “You got this.”
He slurred a little. “I got this!”
And so the game began. I got the word “fragment” and nailed it with a picture of a shattered glass. He got the word “nutmeg” and drew eggnog with sprinkles on it, referring to a second picture he drew of an egg, N + the picture of a log. One very smart person on his team got it. He nearly flipped his lid. And so it went, with the teams getting louder and more rambunctious as we went along. I took a moment just to watch him having fun. He was really funny, sarcastic, and so gorgeous. I think I fell in love with him a little more, seeing him finally feeling loose and free-spirited. I’d watched him let go a little with Wenton but never to this degree. This felt so right.
As the game winded down, it was time for gifts. I absolutely didn’t expect gifts at all. While it wasn’t being said outright, this was a chance for people to give me their love since Gran’s passing. It was sort of just a lovefest all around. It gave people a chance to play, express their creativity, and share good times together in the wake of change.
“I thought the graffiti project was my gift. This is too much,” I protested.
“Just shut up and open your gifts!” Tammy playfully scolded.
Most of what I received were original artwork, handmade pottery, and a piece of gorgeous poetry that expressed the enormity of birth and death in the legends of our memory and the capacity of our hearts.
Then KP stood up, still a little rickety in his drunken state. “I want to give you my gift!”
I rolled my eyes. It was bound to be some outrageously expensive, totally inappropriate gift that was sure to embarrass me. So imagine my surprise when he walked out of the room — which was buzzing with people whispering their guesses — and returned with just a simple potted plant wrapped in a bow. While I was relieved, I was also strangely disappointed, only I shouldn’t have been.
“I got you something you wouldn’t throw at me or run away from,” he prefaced as the guests laughed.
“Orchids, how beautiful.” I was pretty sure I sounded grateful. Hopefully, the oh my god, all you got me was a plant! tone had not registered.
“They’re the symbol of everlasting male love,” he explained proudly.
Ah, it had a story. Okay, that was sweet, he was being sensitive. Now I liked the plant.
“I love it,” I squealed as I threw my arms around him, “and it’s not made of diamonds. I am so proud of you.”
His chest puffed up, “Me too.”
I placed the orchid on the mantel in the middle of everything and snuggled close to KP as the party wrapped up and people started to leave. I was sure to thank each guest and let them know how much it meant to me that they came and also cleaned up. My place looked surprisingly clean. Everyone had done a little to wash dishes, throw away dirty napkins and stuff lying about. It was nice not to have to worry about facing all of it in the morning. It was around two in the morning, and people had either already left, were passed out, or were so sloshed they could barely speak comprehensible English. We woke the crashed-out friends, called cabs for everyone, and just kept their cars at the house. We would have to play parking attendant in the morning, but it was worth it to make sure everyone was safe. Pretty soon, it was just KP and me standing on the corner of my street, hustling the last slurring drunk person into the back of a cab. Finally, we were alone.
“That was a fun party,” he said as he turned to me and gently slipped something cold and metallic into my hand, squeezing my fingers around it.
“Thanks,” I said cautiously as I opened my hand to reveal a set of car keys.
I looked at him, but he didn’t say anything at first. Just stared at me with the love of the world in his eyes as he smoothed his hand over my arm.
“First of all, I know you don’t want it. I do listen to you and respect what you have to say. All I ask is that you listen to me too.”
Heat began to simmer between my ears. “Seriously. You didn’t get me a car.”
“Well, I didn’t get you a car if you don’t want one. In that case, it’s a loaner.”
“I don’t accept it.” I was being stupid, but while the plant didn’t seem like enough, the car was crazy.
“I knew you wouldn’t, so as I said, I’ll loan it to you. I absolutely do not want you driving to New York in your Beater Kia. You could break down on the road, then get hit by another car, stolen by a passerby, or put in some other form of jeopardy I haven’t the imagination to dream up when I sit up nights worrying about you driving your piece of shit car. So, you will drive the car I’m loaning you whether you like it or not. You don’t have to keep it, and you don’t have to drive it when you’re home.”
Silence stretched between us and I knew I was just being an ass. He was right. He would respect what I said. And I should do the same. I felt the walls inside of me break down. “I’m listening.”
He visibly exhaled. “Good, do you want to see the car?”
“Sure.”
He took my hand and walked around the block, where I saw a shiny new Volvo. “It’s one of the safest cars on the road,” he assured me.
I laughed and hugged him hard. While the car was in the expensive to mid range, it wasn’t a Bentley or some crazy expensive car designed to show off in. It was a freakin’ Volvo. A sensible SUV that would, in fact, be much safer than driving the Beater Kia around.
“I love it.” And I did, surprisingly so. I was excited and touched and pleased. I peered at the remote in my hand, pressed the unlock button. “I want to see the inside,” I shouted as I took off running toward my new car. My new car.
I’d never had a new car. The Beater Kia was a second hand car Gran bought off of a friend’s grandkid when they got a new sports car with their own money. I opened the door and was hit with that new car smell. The leather was buttery soft.
“I love, love, love it!”
KP was the picture of relief as he climbed into the passenger side. “I’m glad. The brakes stop on a dime, and Volvo has pledged to make a death free car by 2020, we can always trade up.” He was so enthusiastic, it was irresistible.
I leaned over and kissed him with all the passion inside me, trailing my hand over the bulge I knew would be there. “I see little KP likes the car.”
