by Deb Caletti
“Sounds awesome. I’ll just put my stuff away.”
I should probably mention that Lila used to have a chef, but not anymore. She also had a driver and a personal assistant, in addition to her agent, Lee Miles, and her manager, Sean James. After Rainmaker lost so much money, though, and the pilot about the young dancer wasn’t picked up, Lila was mostly doing commercials for companies in Europe. So she was down to a house cleaner who came in once a week, and we just ordered food in, or we’d go out.
“Oh, sure. Get settled. Make yourself at home.”
Jake—he was the one who was making himself at home. I heard him toss his keys onto the long white counter in the kitchen, and then I heard the opening and shutting of a cupboard. There was the sound of rattling in a drawer, then a few moments later, the pop of a wine bottle opening. I actually heard the liquid glug as it went in the glass. It was pretty obvious that I’d stressed him out.
I carried my pack upstairs. On the second floor, there was Lila’s huge bedroom and bath that looked out over the sea, as well as a media room, and a guest room with a view of the front garden. Up another flight was my room. Also, a second guest room and a workout space, which had a bunch of weights and equipment no one used. My room was smaller than Lila’s, but it had the same view. I was the only one on the entire floor.
Up there, it was a little echoey, and I suddenly felt the kind of alone I did when I was the last one left in the dorm before vacation. I opened all the drawers of my dresser to see everything again. I got reacquainted with my stuff. Jeans! I remember you. Oh, right—those shorts and T-shirts and dresses.
And on my pillow was that stupid doll. It used to belong to Edwina’s grandmother, the aforementioned baby who was carried from the burning building after the earthquake. Lila always put it there after I left. I hated it. The staring eyes scared me. I kept telling her that, but Lila loved dolls. I took it and tossed it under the bed in the guest room and I shut the door. I hoped it wouldn’t haunt me from there, same as in R. W. Wright’s Glass Eyes.
In my double-sink bathroom, with the stylish, retro octagon tile, I checked out all the cabinets. Hey, my old lotion from last time! There was the same half bottle of shampoo from my Christmas visit. Also, that enormous and stinky pine-scented candle Lila had set out as a holiday decoration. I stuck it under the sink.
The floor creaked, and I jumped. It was silly to be so jittery, but the rooms felt hollow, and cold, too, even in June, probably because no one had been upstairs in months. It was just Max, though, standing in the doorway. I was glad to see him. The house was stunning and beautiful, but it was old, and houses have stories, and I wondered what the walls knew. That stupid doll probably didn’t help.
“Hey,” I said. “Come on.” I patted the bed, and he galumphed up. He curled his giant self into a doughnut. A very large doughnut. He was going to get hair everywhere and Lila would kill me, but I liked him there. I liked his warm body and the fact of his beating heart. The sea was so many gorgeous shades of blue outside those windows, but I was already feeling windswept.
My dream of some exciting, life-changing summer was floating away fast, like a piece of trash snatched by an outgoing wave. And if it weren’t for that large doughnut dog, I’d be as lonely as I always was at Lila’s. I remembered it then, that loneliness. Like my clothes and my old lotion, it was another thing I had to get reacquainted with.
CHAPTER NINE
Exhibit 14: Sworn statement of Albert “Lee” Miles, of Stevenson and Miles Ltd.
At first I thought the television was on in the media room downstairs. The house was so large that it was hard to tell where noises came from. I heard the lifts and drops of conversation.
But then Lila’s voice drifted up through the caverns of the heat ducts. This was how she sounded when she was displeased. Clipped, cold. Dismissive. Jake’s voice was a low drone.
Shortly after, a full sentence burst through the vent like she was right there in the room. So, she wasn’t friendly! What do you expect from a teenager?
God. The words made me feel instantly awful. My insides did the horrible curling-up of humiliation. I felt like I’d failed. The summer was already a disaster. And why was the word teenager so often an insult, when adults caused the biggest trouble?
I set my head on Max’s side, and it bobbed up and down with his breathing like I was on a big dog boat. He sighed through his nose as if he totally understood, and my throat got tight with tears.
It was true that I hadn’t been that friendly to Jake. But the thing was, I had been friendly. To Papa Chesterton and Ben Salvador and Roberto-someone and Mr. Henderson and Gerry H. and Jerry W. Every time she’d said Hug Mr. Chesterton or Mr. Salvador or Mr. Williams, I’d hugged Mr. Chesterton and Mr. Salvador and Mr. Williams, even if they were strangers that I didn’t want to hug. I’d laughed when they tried to be funny. I’d disappeared when they wanted me to be gone.
I listened to see if it would turn into an argument. There was silence for a while. Everything was fine, I guess. I was hungry, but I didn’t want to go down there.
When I heard footsteps on the stairs, I knew Lila was coming up. Max knew too, because he hopped off the bed and arranged himself on the floor like he’d been there all along.
“Hey, baby.”
I didn’t want her in my room. No. I didn’t want me in my room. “What was that about?”
She sat down on the bed. “I never come up here! Someone could be living on this floor and I’d never even know it.”
“Were you crying?”
“Do I have raccoon eyes? Stupid mascara. Oh, I’m fine. Really. It’s just, baby, couldn’t you have maybe asked Jake a few questions about himself? Been a little welcoming? He drove all that way to get you.”
“I don’t even know him.”
“Well, he feels left out because we’re so close.” I didn’t answer, and she sighed. She took my hand. “It’s always just been the two of us, since your father.”
Maybe it was a new record, because I’d been there only, what, an hour before she said it. Your father—it meant that asshole and the one who’d hurt her and the one who’d left her and the one I should never love as much as I loved her. It meant the loser parent, compared to her. It meant the enemy. It warned me what a horrible traitor I’d be if I ever stepped into enemy territory or said anything nice about the enemy. It jammed me up close to her, because it also meant we’re on the same team. Sometimes I heard the word your louder than father, and then I felt awful and guilty, like his badness belonged to me. Sometimes I heard the word father louder than your, and then I had to remember that that badness had made me, and that even an asshole-loser-enemy really didn’t care about me.
I couldn’t stand it when she did that. I was pissed at him, too, the way he treated me like a box to check off once a year. But I didn’t want my anger to be forcibly bound to hers. I hated that game. I felt that hate rise up. And maybe I was acting like a teenager, because I wanted my hand back. I left it there, though, because I wasn’t hateful, and I loved her, and I didn’t want to hurt her feelings. Plus, it was easier to just play the game than not.
“Jake—he’s a real man. He would never run off like a coward. We have another chance with him, baby, you know?” She was sitting right next to me now. She set her head on my shoulder. “I’m so glad you’re home. My person.”
I used to practically burst with joy when she said stuff like that. But at that moment, I didn’t want to be her person. I wanted to be my person.
Lila lifted her head and gazed down. She tried to brush off her white pants. “Did you let that dog up here?”
“It’s probably from me being hairy already.”
“You have to watch him. Boys! They’ll get away with whatever they can.”
“For sure,” I said, though I knew nothing about this. It was more stuff behind the hidden door maybe, because Samuel Crane was mostly shy. “He’s very comfortable here.”
“Jake lets him up on the furniture.”
/>
“I mean Jake. I thought you met, like, a month ago.” I said it quietly. If I could hear them, he could hear me, too.
“Oh, no. We became official a month ago. But we met over a year ago. At Lee’s pediatric AIDS gala.” Lee, Lee Miles, Lila’s agent. “Did I tell you that Lee and Adam adopted a baby from Ethiopia?”
“No. I can’t imagine Lee as a dad.”
“He says his partying days are over. Plus, Adam was meant to be a father. I told you that Jake is a real estate developer, right? That’s how I got such a deal renting this place.”
“So, what, he knew someone who knew someone?”
Lila laughed. “It’s one of his.”
“One of his? Like, this is his house? Is that why you moved here?”
“Syd, honestly. Our family is from this city. Your great-great-great-grandmother survived the earthquake. I spent so much time in this place as a kid! Edwina grew up, like, five miles away.”
“I know. I just… It would seem weird if you did it for him.”
“I returned to our roots. And how could I not love this city? It’s so laid back! It’s not all about fame and celebrity and plastic surgery. God, it’s refreshing.”
“But he’s our landlord?”
She lifted her head from my shoulder. “Really, Syd. I don’t know why you have to say it like that.”
“I just mean, ‘Never be financially dependent on a man.’ ‘Make your own money.’ ‘Your money is your freedom.’ ” She and Edwina always told me those things, and now I believed them too.
“You don’t have to judge. You don’t know the situation.” Her jaw tightened. Her gaze turned cold. She stared out the doorway like something out there understood her much better than I ever would.
I didn’t want her mad at me. Lila, well, you were either for her or against her, and the change could happen before you could blink. You were her everything until you did her wrong, and then every step and breath she took would speak of your crime. You are bad, the clip of her heel would say. You are small, her ignoring told you. I can’t stand you, said her turned-away shoulders. Most of the time, I’d do anything to avoid that. When she shined her light on you, it was like a steady rain of glitter. That’s the thing you tried for.
“I’m sorry. I’m just surprised. I mean, you knew him and he was our landlord last time I was here.”
“Baby, relax. There was nothing to tell. And stop calling him our landlord. We’re in a relationship.”
Outside, I heard the hum of Jake’s car starting up, and then the roar of the engine as he hit the accelerator.
“Did he leave? What about Max?”
“Oh, he stays. Jake likes me to have the dog for protection. I think he just wants that monster off his hands.”
I looked down at the monster, and he looked up at me with sweet eyes. My heart melted. I died a little inside. We seemed to have a bond already, like the baby chick that imprints on a different species. I wasn’t sure which one of us was the chick.
“So, Jake hates me now after one car ride?”
“He doesn’t hate you! Do you know what he said? First thing? He said you were a very attractive young woman. That you look much more like me in person than you do in your pictures,” she said. It was supposed to be nice, but it kind of creeped me out. “Baby, you could have been friendlier. This is important to me.”
“I’m sorry.”
“I know we planned to go to Tosca Cafe and have a movie night, but now I need to give Jake some TLC. His feelings are hurt! You can maybe order in and start the movie without me? I think we’ll go for drinks and dinner. I’ll be back before it’s too late. You understand, right? Baby, we have a lot to thank Jake for.”
I didn’t understand.
Worse… I wondered why she needed him like that. Why we did. I wondered if Lila was having money troubles, more serious ones than layoffs of chefs and drivers. All at once, I felt different about the house. It was stunning and incredible, sure. But it made me nervous. The ghost reminded me that she was still there. I didn’t really hear it before, the way the waves crashed outside and the wind whipped through the narrow corridor between house and sea. After that, I realized how exposed we were to all the elements.
CHAPTER TEN
Exhibit 15: Photo of 716 Sea Cliff Drive, rear stairwell to China Beach
Exhibit 16: Photo of 716 Sea Cliff Drive, main living area (the “White Room”)
Before Lila left that night, I ate the Beecher’s and a panini. I stuck the Beecher’s in the microwave. I was eating it with a fork straight out of the box when Lila came downstairs.
She wore an off-white skirt and high heels and a gold, shimmery shell. Her blond hair was stacked high, swept up elegantly. Her heels were gold and sparkly. The Ace bandage was gone. She radiated. I don’t know how else to say it. She was a star, but she actually looked like a real one, the kind in the sky. The bright ones that insist that you look.
“If you eat like that, you’re going to lose that gorgeous figure you’ve gotten since Christmas,” Lila said. “What happened after the last time I saw you? Are there hormones in the water there? You’re a good two inches taller, my God. Um, Miss Sexy! I think we’d better bring you home.”
“Haha, funny,” I said. Sometimes Lila just said stuff. She always flattered people, even if what she said wasn’t true.
“So innocent, in that tight shirt!”
I stopped eating. It was like she hit me. I actually felt struck. “God, Lila. That’s real nice.”
“It must be hormones, because you’re awfully sensitive today.”
I couldn’t tell if she was teasing or not. But it all made me feel bad. I started pulling at my shirt, you know, to make it less tight. Maybe it was a little tight; I hadn’t even thought about it. Maybe I was just being sensitive.
* * *
When Lila left, I didn’t go to the media room to put in a movie. At least not right away. Instead, I snooped around the house as Max followed. I wanted to see what had changed since I’d been there last.
At night, in that glass house, everything was darkness and you couldn’t tell if anyone was looking in. The sea was dark too. It was unsettling. At the slightest noise, Max would go tearing down the stairs, barking his head off, which didn’t help matters. It put me on edge. He was like one of those smoke alarms that go off when you burn a piece of toast. I checked the security system, but I couldn’t tell if the red light meant it was on or off. Lila always forgot to set it.
I wandered around, to the sound of my own footsteps. There was a new painting in the White Room. I don’t know how I could have missed it before. It was the only colorful thing in there, and it was huge—maybe four feet by four feet. It featured the head of a pop art blonde, her hair a cartoon yellow against a black background, her lips a blood red. With one elegant finger, she wiped away a single bright-white tear.
“Whoa,” I said to Max. “Look. Gigantic crying woman.”
He wagged. There was another new painting in the dining room. “Maybe you prefer this?” Max was keeping politely silent, but I thought it was kind of ugly. It had lots of triangles and squares at off angles, in angry shades of brown and red. “Whoa, it’s a woman,” I realized. “Ick.”
In the kitchen, I spotted a shiny red mixer on the counter, and a set of expensive-looking chef pans and knives. “Don’t tell me Lila’s taken up cooking. You probably already know this, but she can’t fry an egg.” Max tilted his head as if trying to understand a foreign language, which I guess he was.
Other new developments in the kitchen: lots of booze up in the cabinets too. Lots. And a whole bunch of unusual spices—saffron, kokum. I sniffed one. “Gross,” I reported to Max. It smelled like ancient copper pennies. “Who would eat this disgusting stuff?”
I made my way upstairs. I stopped on the landing, at the image of Lila hanging on the huge wall of the main stairwell. It was the framed film poster of that iconic scene in Nefarious, where she’s naked and straddling Oliver Knight and you
see the long curve of her backbone and her butt and her calves and her feet in those heels, as she looks over her shoulder and stares right into your eyes. It had been in every house I’d ever lived in. Papa Chesterton had hung it above the fireplace.
“Can you believe the shit I have to deal with?” I said to Max, and nodded toward it. His eyes were soulful pools of understanding.
I poked my head into Lila’s room, but I didn’t go in. I didn’t really want to know what I might find. I saw the rumpled bed and a pile of shoes and that was enough. Next, I headed to the second-floor guest room next to Lila’s.
The door was shut, so I pushed it open slowly. I peered inside cautiously, just in case there was another creepy doll on the bed, or maybe a whole bunch of them, which would make me scream my head off. Instead, I was surprised to see that the room had been emptied of all its furniture. Now, it was full of wooden crates. Large, thin crates of various heights, stacked against one another, lined up and leaning against the walls.
It had to be art. Paintings. What else had that shape? I was kind of excited, because wow. Jake was maybe some kind of art collector, and I loved art. Art was my thing! Actually, to be honest, I didn’t know if art was my thing like it was Cora’s. It was a passion for her, a piece of her brain and body she was born with, where maybe I just liked having a thing and pastels were fun. Still, this was an amazing find. “Cora would freak,” I told Max.
I really wanted to see what was in those crates, but most of them were sealed tight. I carefully looked through the stacks, same as we’d flip through Hoodean’s brother’s vintage record collection, except the crates were really heavy. Some were so big that you’d need a couple of people to move them.
I finally spotted one that had been partially opened. The top of the wood frame was off, and the upper edge of all the layers of wrap and cardboard and foam were torn through. I wedged my fingers in so I could peek. I saw thick palette-knife swirls of yellow oil paint, hardened into layers.
