Love Inc.

by Yvonne Collins

  Luckily, I am over him now. So over him. Two hundred percent over him.

  But what I am feeling is not indifference. My fingers are twitching to heave my quesadilla at his dented skull. And there’s a distinctly bitter taste in my mouth.

  Revenge obviously wasn’t enough. Seeing him again makes me realise I’m still seriously pissed off. That guy was my boyfriend before he used me to get over someone else.

  And there’s that someone else chatting away, all twinkly topaz eyes and animated paint-stained hands. Every so often, Banksy – the dog, not the artist – rests his head against Eric’s knee. Traitors!

  Once my bubbling emotions separate into layers, I realise that I’m more upset about Syd’s betrayal than I am angry at Eric. ‘I thought we were friends,’ I say. ‘I guess I was wrong.’

  I turn to walk away, but Kali grabs my arm and says, ‘Wait, she just slapped him!’

  Together we rush to Syd’s side. I only have a moment to savor the look on Eric’s face before he fades into the crowd.

  Syd is flustered. ‘What are you doing here?’

  ‘We thought your mom might not show, and we wanted to keep you company,’ I say. ‘That was before we knew you had a date lined up.’

  ‘A date?’ Syd says. ‘You mean Eric? I didn’t even know he was coming.’

  ‘Please,’ I say. ‘Give us some credit.’

  Before Syd can argue, a tall, handsome guy walks up to us. His clothes are conservative yet hip, and probably expensive – the kind you’d expect to see on Prince Harry or some other hot royal. ‘Just the girls I’ve been looking for,’ he says, smiling. There’s something oddly familiar about his face.

  ‘Do we know you?’ Kali asks. I’ve never known her to speak so tersely when meeting a cute guy before. She’s obviously as upset about Syd’s betrayal as I am.

  ‘Only through e-mail,’ he says. ‘And voice mail and texts.’

  ‘Willem,’ I say. He looks familiar because his picture is in the paper so often.

  ‘Lauren told me I might find you here tonight. I wanted to introduce myself and try to talk you into taking my case.’

  ‘Sorry, Willem, we can’t,’ Kali says. ‘You can afford a private investigator.’

  ‘That would be … tacky,’ he says. It makes me smile to think we’re classier than a PI. ‘I don’t want anyone else to know. Addie’s not cheating, I’m sure of it. But if she were’ – he pauses and swallows a couple of times – ‘it wouldn’t just hurt me, it could affect her dad’s career.’

  ‘That’s why it’s too risky, Willem,’ I say.

  ‘But I was planning on proposing to her soon,’ he says, flushing.

  ‘You want to get married?’ I ask, glancing at Syd and Kali.

  ‘After we graduate,’ he says. ‘I already know I want to be with Addie for the rest of my life. Why wait?’

  It’s crazy to consider marrying someone you don’t fully trust, but at Love, Inc., we try not to judge.

  He turns up the pressure. ‘I’ll pay you well. On top of the five hundred I’ve already offered, I’ll throw in one free service a month for a year at the spa in my grandfather’s hotel. Each.’

  ‘Any service?’ Kali asks.

  Willem nods. ‘Nothing’s too good for the ladies of Love, Inc.’

  ‘Forget it, preppy,’ says Eric, who’s clearly been lurking nearby. ‘These girls are not for sale.’

  ‘Is that chivalry?’ Kali says. ‘Coming from the knight in tarnished armor?’

  ‘Screw off, Eric,’ I say. ‘It’s none of your business.’

  Syd has been silent through the discussion, but now she laughs. ‘Eric thinks he’s driven us to prostitution.’

  ‘I was only telling this perv he’s barking up the wrong tree,’ Eric says. ‘Love, Inc. sounds like some kind of escort service.’

  ‘Escort service?’ a woman asks. She looks like an older, pumped-up version of Syd. ‘What are you kids talking about?’

  ‘Nothing, Mom,’ Syd says, as the woman wraps a veiny, muscular arm around her shoulders.

  Mrs Stark pulls a man forward with her free hand. ‘Thiziz Dwayne,’ she says. Over-tanned and dressed for a trail ride, Dwayne looks out of place. ‘He’s a gen-u-ine cowboy.’ Mrs Stark lurches forward to hug Eric. ‘Ohmygod! I almost didn’t recognise you bald. Are you and Syddie back together?’

  ‘No,’ Syd says, with convincing force. ‘Have you been drinking, Mom?’

  Mrs Stark nods a little too hard. ‘Dwayne and I were having a cocktail when I told him how bad I felt over missing my little girl’s art show thingy. He insisted we come. Right, Dwayne?’ Dwayne isn’t listening. He’s entranced by Kimono Girl, who’s dancing alone in front of the DJ.

  Turning to Kali and me, Mrs Stark says, ‘I’m Violet. Are you friends of Syd’s?’

  ‘Violet?’ Syd looks mortified. ‘That’s your middle name.’

  Violet lowers her voice so Dwayne can’t hear. ‘There are a million Jennifers on Lavalife.’

  ‘I’m Zahra,’ I say. ‘And this is Kali. And our friend, Willem.’

  ‘You look awfully familiar,’ Violet says to Willem as he shakes her hand. ‘Have we met before?’

  ‘We’d better go,’ Kali says, turning so hastily that she collides with a waitress, knocking a silver tray out of her hands.

  Dozens of tiny meatballs shoot up into the air and rain down on the elegantly dressed crowd. In the commotion, Banksy breaks free to get in on the action. There’s a screech as his enormous head disappears beneath the hem of a woman’s long dress, followed by Steve’s voice shouting Syd’s name.

  The three of us walk down the street in silence, stopping and starting while Banksy sniffs at every vertical object.

  Finally Syd speaks. ‘If jumping to conclusions were a sport, you two would be champions.’

  ‘It wasn’t a leap,’ I say. ‘Because we observed first. He was talking, you were laughing, there was gratuitous contact. Kali?’

  ‘Conclusion: All signs point to interest.’

  ‘Not on my side,’ Syd says. ‘You guys may be burnt because you think I hooked up with Eric behind your backs, but I’m just as burnt that you’d think I’d do such a thing. There’s a Love, Inc. commandment about acting on circumstantial evidence, yet that’s exactly what you’re doing here.’

  ‘You’re right,’ I say, relenting. ‘You deserve your day in court. Tell us what happened.’

  ‘Until tonight, I hadn’t seen Eric since that day at the church, I swear. But we like a lot of the same artists, and he knows people from the Maternity Ward through me. I assumed he’d steer clear of it after all that’s happened.’

  ‘He came because he wants you back, Syd,’ Kali says. ‘He still loves you. We were only distractions.’

  ‘That’s not true,’ Syd says.

  ‘It is, and it’s OK,’ I say. I am still angry – at myself. I’m disgusted I was so easily duped, and disgusted that I can’t fully put it behind me. ‘Hey, you can’t change the facts,’ I say, repeating my favorite new mantra. ‘Only the way you react to them.’

  ‘Well, there is no way in hell we will ever get back together,’ Syd says.

  ‘Why’d you slap him?’ Kali asks.

  ‘He blindsided me,’ Syd says. ‘He showed up tonight wearing my favorite shirt, and my favorite cologne, and told our old jokes. When he pulled out this picture, I snapped.’ The photo in her hand shows her sitting on the front steps of a cabin, smiling as I’ve never seen her smile. ‘We were at his parents’ place in the country. They thought a big group was going, but it was just the three of us.’ She pats Banksy’s head. ‘And my parents weren’t paying attention anyway – it was right before they broke up. I wanted to escape all that, so we went on a long hike and watched the sunset over Canyon Lake. Eric burnt the steaks at dinner, but nothing ever tasted better. We ate on the porch, under a million stars. It was a beautiful night.’ Her voice trails off to a whisper. ‘Everything you’d want your first time to be.’ She crumples the photo
and tosses it at a rusty fence. ‘Now it’s all ruined.’

  I always figured Syd had slept with Eric, but hearing her say so puts my situation in perspective. Eric and I had barely gotten off the ground, and while he wounded me, he devastated Syd.

  Leaning over, I pick up the photo, smooth it out, and hand it back to her. ‘The moment itself wasn’t ruined. The memory’s just stained. And that’s not your fault.’

  ‘He was seeing you a month after that picture was taken,’ Syd says. ‘And spending the night at a festival with Kali.’

  ‘Like I’d ever give it up in a place with Porta-Potties,’ Kali says. ‘My first time is going to be in Paris.’

  Syd manages a smile while she tears the photo up into tiny pieces and lets it fall from her fingers like snowflakes.

  Kali waits a beat and says, ‘I feel a song coming on.’

  Syd and I plead for mercy.

  ‘Seriously, I can’t just let that image go,’ Kali says, staring down at the fragments.

  ‘You’re going to have to,’ Syd says. ‘Because I am.’

  She loops her arm through one of Kali’s, and I loop mine through the other, and we drag her down the street. Kali’s singing about tattered fragments of love when we reach an old auto body shop. Syd offers to show us something if Kali will shut up.

  Behind the shop, there’s a stack of oil drums. We circle the drums to find Banksy’s face painted on the end of each one. Ten doggy faces, with ten different expressions. He’s adorable.

  ‘It’s the first public work I ever did,’ Syd says.

  While Kali whips out her phone to snap a picture, I check out Syd’s tag: a heart with a silver arrow through it. ‘Where’s the ax?’ I ask.

  ‘A lot’s changed since then,’ she says.

  We ask Syd to show us more, and it turns into an hour-long tour of the neighborhood. She points out her handiwork on a garbage can, a construction container, an abandoned car, and several vacant, run-down buildings. It’s fascinating. We can chart Syd’s progress as an artist and see how her life has affected her work.

  We turn down an alley, and Syd picks up the pace as we pass a row of old garages. A motion light triggers as we clear the last one, and I catch a glimpse of something bright green on the wall inside. ‘Did you tag that garage?’ I ask, backing up.

  ‘Can’t remember,’ Syd says, walking on. ‘There’s something I want to show you up ahead.’

  I turn back to the garage. The light goes on again, and I see Syd’s piece on the rear wall: it’s a row of bright greenand-buff Quaker parrots perched on a telephone wire. The image must have been here for a while, because the paint has flaked away in places.

  ‘Eric and his friggin’ parrot safaris,’ I say.

  Kali wanders back to join us. ‘Ugh.’

  ‘I did it as a birthday gift for him,’ Syd says, sheepishly. ‘Because as hard as he tried, he could never catch up with those birds.’

  ‘I hope he never does,’ I say.

  ‘Syd, why don’t you take Steve up on his offer to show your work at his gallery?’ Kali asks.

  ‘That’d be like asking you to switch from rock to classical guitar,’ Syd says. ‘I can’t express myself like that.’ We walk on, and after a few minutes, Syd adds, ‘I wish you’d met my mom before she lost it.’

  ‘It’s your basic postdivorce identity crisis,’ says Kali, the voice of experience. ‘Regular programming will resume eventually. In the meantime, a nice aromatherapy massage would take your mind off everything.’

  Syd laughs. ‘A risky case with spa benefits is still a risky case.’

  ‘Riskier than ever,’ I say. ‘I feel sorry for Willem, but if that evidence went public … Eric is already curious about what Willem wants from us. If he figures out he’s not our only slam, we’d be in trouble.’

  ‘He’s still furious about Miss Daisy,’ Syd says. ‘I wouldn’t put it past him to get even with us someday.’

  ‘We’d be handing him our heads on silver platters,’ I say. ‘And silver platters have gotten us into enough trouble tonight.’

  Saliyah is lying in wait for me when I get back to Dad’s – a leopard in green spotted pajamas.

  ‘You were supposed to be home at ten thirty,’ she says, pouncing.

  ‘And you were supposed to be in bed at nine thirty. So technically you shouldn’t be awake to know I’m late.’

  She trails after me into the bedroom. ‘You’re lucky Dad isn’t here to catch you. Especially in that dress.’ She smiles. ‘You look really pretty, though.’

  ‘He’d have called if he was worried,’ I say. Basically, I was counting on Dad going back to the office, which he does most nights now – even on the weekends Saliyah stays with us. She hardly ever gets to see him. ‘Were you alone long?’

  ‘Couple hours,’ she says, climbing into her twin bed. ‘Mostly I surfed.’

  I stop with my dress halfway over my head. ‘Surfed? On my computer?’

  ‘Dad said I could.’

  I pull off the dress and hang it in the closet. ‘You better not have been reading my e-mails.’

  ‘How could I?’ she says, pulling up the covers. ‘You’ve got a password.’

  I make a mental note to change it to something more obscure. Saliyah is quite capable of spending hours trying to figure it out, and I still have messages about the business that predate our Love, Inc. account. Hopefully Saliyah doesn’t know me as well as she thinks she does.

  ‘So, what’s Love, Inc.?’ Saliyah asks, giving me a sly smile.

  OK, she knows me. ‘That was a total invasion of my privacy, Saliyah. Mom will not be impressed.’

  ‘Just tell me what it is and I’ll forget what I read.’

  ‘It’s a … club Kali and Syd and I formed.’

  ‘To help you get over the three-timing slug?’

  ‘Sort of.’

  ‘But why are people paying you for slams? And what is a slam anyway?’

  If I can’t silence her, I may have to kill her. ‘I don’t know what you’re talking about.’

  She rolls over onto her side and closes her eyes. ‘Maybe Mom will.’

  ‘I’m not playing your game, Saliyah.’ The green leopard plays dead, holding out. ‘OK, what’ll it take?’

  Sitting up, she pretends to mull it over. ‘I like that new pink sweater.’

  ‘I like it too,’ I say. ‘Pick something else.’

  ‘No, I really like that one.’ She gets out of bed to try it on over her pajamas. ‘It must have been expensive. Is business that good?’

  ‘I got it on sale. And now it’s all yours.’

  She slips it into her suitcase before I can change my mind. I see that my black Abercrombie cardigan is already in there. Obviously she knows she’s on to something good. On the bright side, it’s nice that she’s interested in regular clothes again.

  ‘So I was thinking,’ she says. ‘I’d really like to borrow your pearl earrings sometime. Like for my school play next week.’

  I glance at my dresser and see my jewelry box is open. ‘Not the earrings. Nani gave them to me.’ I sit on the edge of my bed. ‘You’re pushing your luck.’

  ‘Let’s see what Mom thinks.’

  ‘Let’s,’ I say, calling her bluff. Saliyah’s knowledge of Love, Inc. will be pretty sketchy. Our charter and commandments are on Kali’s laptop, and we do most of our planning by phone or text. ‘I may get grounded, but you’ll lose the sweaters and whatever else you’ve socked away in that suitcase. And don’t forget, if I’m grounded, I won’t be available to help you with bake sales or homework.’

  ‘Fine,’ Saliyah says. ‘Mom’s probably too busy with Xavier to care about what you’re up to, anyway. They’re out again tonight.’

  ‘What? Why didn’t you tell me?’

  ‘It’s not a date. He’s just helping her with the Yasin Valley stuff.’

  ‘But Dad should be helping her. He’s the designer.’

  ‘Xavier’s really pushy, and Mom doesn’t seem to mind.’ S
aliyah gets back into bed, and suddenly the extortionist is replaced by my little sister. ‘What if she really likes him, Zahra?’

  Sighing, I sit down on the side of her bed. ‘Hopefully Dad will get it together and win her back before then.’

  ‘But Xavier’s an MOT. I met him.’

  ‘He is?’ I ask, wondering why it didn’t cross my mind to ask Mom before. ‘Did you tell Dad that?’

  She shakes her head. ‘He was in one of his moods. After dinner, he put on the music really loud.’

  ‘Jazz?’ She shakes her head so I go into the living room to check Dad’s ancient turntable. The Smiths. They’re his go-to band when things are tough. When Mom kicked him out, he kept dropping the needle on ‘Heaven Knows I’m Miserable Now.’

  ‘When did Dad get so grumpy?’ Saliyah asks.

  I climb into my bed and turn out the lights. I hope that seeing Eric tonight won’t reactivate my nightmares. It’s been weeks since the last one. ‘He always had his moments. He just has a lot more of them now. But Mom used to blame Dad for stuff that wasn’t his fault.’ Thanks to my mediation work, I’m getting better at seeing both sides of the story.

  Her voice comes out of the darkness. ‘Do you think he’s really at work right now? Maybe he’s seeing someone else, too.’

  I want to tell her she’s crazy, but if Mom’s dating, it’s possible Dad’s also putting himself back into circulation. Maybe he even has a girlfriend at work. That top he brought back from his last business trip was cooler than anything he’s picked out for me before. What if there’s a female behind the fashion?

  ‘It’s all going to be fine,’ I say. My voice sounds uncertain even to me.

  ‘But what if it’s not?’ Saliyah says. ‘Then at least you have my pink sweater. And my black one.’

  ‘Plus your blue hoodie,’ she says, giggling. ‘I’m tired of scarves.’

  ‘That,’ I say, ‘is the best news I’ve heard all day.’

  Chapter Sixteen