I surfed through several channels before I settled on an indoor canoe slalom competition in the Czech Republic. Every once in a while, I looked at my email and messages, and at the same time, I went through all of Klere’s social media pages. I was looking for mentions, I told myself, not looking to see if she was all right. She was radio silent but other people in my department were checking in with various issues and questions, and my boss Pascale emailed for an update on my night out with Klere. “She had a BLAST!” I wrote back immediately. “I expect her to sleep in after so much fun and then give us a ton of coverage, as per my discussion with you yesterday morning.” God, I hoped that was how things would work out.
The canoeing races ended and the channel moved to a marathon in China. I watched everyone stoically run, their feet rhythmically pounding the pavement. Gradually, my eyes closed, and I fell asleep.
∞
I wasn’t there to check up on her, I told myself. It was better to see people off in person. I wanted to give her a parting gift of coffee and treats for the plane ride back to LA, and talk to the hotel front desk about the bill that they had sent over in the middle of the night. The mini-bar charges were almost $900 and I knew that Pascale would flip if she saw that, especially if she saw it and Klere didn’t do any of the publicity we wanted. I eyed the time on my phone again and quickly answered some messages. If Klere didn’t come down soon, she would be late for her flight…there she was. The elevator doors had opened and disgorged a few passengers, including Klere, wearing a huge pair of sunglasses and yawning with her mouth gaping widely.
I was glad I had gotten the large coffee for her. She needed to perk up to write all the positive posts for me. “Klere!” I called to her, smiling.
“Oh, uh, Scarlett, right?”
Yes, I was the one she had spent the day with yesterday, the one who had pulled off her thong for her in the showroom when it showed through the dress she had managed to wiggle into. She hadn’t wanted to wrinkle the fabric before the pictures by bending over to remove her underwear herself, so that fun task had fallen to me.
I held up the paper cup and cloth tote bag with our logo. “I brought you some goodies for the trip home.”
“Oh, great.” She took them from me. “Is this decaf? I’m really careful about what I put into my body.”
Our night out, when she had drunk about four gallons of various liquors, told me something different, but I smiled again. “Absolutely, it’s decaf!” It absolutely wasn’t. Maybe the caffeine would make her feel so good that she’d write even more about us. “Klere, I want to go over some concepts for your posts before—”
“We already went over all that yesterday, didn’t we?” She yawned again, right in my face, and her breath was terrible.
“Right, we did. I just wanted to check in to see which of the ideas you were going with.”
“Um, I have my own idea.” I noticed that she said it as if it was singular, one idea. Did that mean only one hit for my brand? She looked at her phone and then put it down on her bag to reach behind herself and scratch her ass. The woman was the definition of uncouth.
“Perfect, great. Well, you better head out to the car so you don’t miss your flight,” I advised. Still with her fingers picking at her butt, she left her rolling bag and meandered toward the hotel doors. Gritting my teeth and vowing to wash my hands immediately after I touched it, I took the handle of the bag and followed her. “Have a safe trip,” I said, smiling, as the driver lifted it into the trunk. “Uh, Klere, was everything ok last night?”
“Last night? What happened?” she asked, her pretty face blank.
“You went home with three guys…”
“Oh, yeah. They promised me coke, but they didn’t have it, so I left after I fucked two of them. They were ok. I had to call this girl I used to know up here and she brought some over for me.”
Great, yeah, I was really concerned about the quality of her sexual partners and where her drugs had come from. “Sounds like it all worked out. I’ll look for your posts…” I trailed off, and raised my eyebrows expectantly.
“Soon, I guess,” she answered. “Maybe I’ll put up something later.” She got herself into the car and left the coffee sitting on the top as it drove away.
Fucking great.
Usually I worked for at least part of Sunday, but today was my niece’s first Communion, so after leaping out of the way to avoid the flying coffee, I got my car from the valet and drove north over the Golden Gate Bridge, whipping into the church parking lot where I found a mostly legal spot, and running in just in time to take my place next to my mom.
It had been a long time since I’d been to Mass, and my mom had been letting me know it. She smiled at me now and nodded, like, great to have you back in the fold. The service started and I tried not to yawn. I had woken up a few times after dropping off during the marathon the night before and I was tired. Just so tired. I bit my cheek to hold in another yawn and looked at the kids to amuse myself. They were fidgeting in their fancy clothes and some of them were whispering and giggling. I remembered my first Communion, watching my dad in the pew taking a million pictures of me. He had been very proud. I felt around in my purse for my phone. I needed a distraction.
“Stop it,” my mom hissed. “Put it away.”
“Everyone else has a phone out, too,” I whispered back. My sister Zara leaned forward and looked down the pew at me, as did my brother Brooks, so I put it back into my purse. I had already seen that Klere’s plane had just landed in LA, and that she still hadn’t posted anything since arriving in San Francisco yesterday morning. I breathed out slowly and glared at Brooks, who never got intimidated, and glared right back at me. His fiancée Lanie looked up at him, questioning, and his expression immediately turned into a smile which she returned. It was enough to make a person ill.
Finally the service was over, and I had to admit, my niece Isla had done a very good job, and looked very cute in her white dress. Zara was so proud she was about to pop. We gathered on the lawn in front of the church to take pictures and she wavered on her high heels in the grass, holding on to my brother. Zara always tottered around on stilts when we were together as a family because she had some kind of complex about her younger brother and sister, Brooks and me, being so much taller.
“You could hear Isla above all the other kids, couldn’t you?” she asked our mom, who immediately agreed.
“She did beautifully,” Lanie chimed in, and my mother smiled at her. She had always really liked Lanie, since both of us were little girls. It reminded me of the way my mom always tried to take in stray kittens, even though they might be covered in fleas and sick and scrawny. Very similar scenario.
“Is this picture for family only?” I asked, and nodded significantly in Lanie’s direction. Because, if so, why was she there? She wasn’t married to my brother yet.
“Can it, Scar,” Brooks said sharply, while Lanie got all flustered.
“I’m just asking,” I told them, and adjusted my scarf. Lanie and her mother, Juliette, had experienced some kind of falling out, and without her mother’s help with picking clothes, Lanie looked very sad sack. I could help her with that, if I wanted to, if she ever asked. But Brooks didn’t care, anyway. Even now, with her hair a total mess and wearing a dress in a style that might have been slightly popular five years ago but never would have fit her body type at any time, he was smiling at Lanie like he’d never seen anything better. Again, I felt ill.
“Where is Bradley?” Zara asked, looking around for her husband.
Brooks now looked murderous. “I’ll go find him,” he barked out, and my mom and Lanie exchanged a look. I loved that she and my mom had that psychic connection. Loved it.
“Let’s take a few of just Zara and Isla while we wait,” my mom said, to smooth things over. Brooks came back in a few minutes, dragging Zara’s husband with him. Literally, his hand on Bradley’s arm, yanking him along. He stuck Bradley next to Zara and returned to Lanie’s side, where
I could see him muttering to her.
Finally, we got at least one good picture, and Zara was freaking out about guests arriving soon at her house so we adjourned to go to the party. I listened to messages while I drove over and typed at red lights until people in the cars behind me honked. Still nothing from Klere. Damn it! I sat in the car for a while before I made myself go into Zara and Bradley’s house.
“Mimosa?” a waiter asked when I walked in.
Yes, definitely. I wondered how gauche it would be to take two, one for each hand. Instead, I circulated, talking to my mom’s old friends, including Lanie’s mother (and the woman who had saved my job), Juliette March. Mostly we talked about clothes and fashion, which was what she seemed to think I was good for, and I guessed that she was probably right about that. I met some of Zara’s mom friends, who all wanted to tell me about their amazing kids and all their varied talents. I watched my brother and his fiancée get very close and practically inappropriate at a religious party for a child, for God’s sake. Couldn’t they control themselves for five fucking minutes?
I went out onto the balcony of Zara’s beautiful house to get away from them. Our grandmother had bought it for her, just like she had bought my smaller house that Brooks was currently renting from me. Mostly everyone in my family depended on my grandmother financially in some way, except for my brother. We were like pets, like her stupid cats. More like dogs waiting for handouts, I thought suddenly, and then realized my face was bent into an ugly scowl that I quickly smoothed away. I looked back across the water at San Francisco. I wanted to run out of the party and head back there, but then what would I do? Work? Go shopping? Sit alone at home? I didn’t have the urge to go out with any of my old friends anymore; I didn’t seem to have the urge to do much of anything.
I stared off to my right instead. Over the hills, past Mount Tamalpais, all the way across the Pacific, there was Hawaii. I barely remembered my trip there—it was like it never happened. I looked at Mount Tam and thought for a while.
Until I felt the hand on my ass. I jumped a foot in the air and dropped the champagne flute I was holding down onto the driveway below, where it shattered on the hood of Bradley’s tricked-out electric car. “What the fuck?” I asked him, because yeah, it was my sister’s husband who had slid his hand down over the curve of my butt and gripped it, caressing me.
“Enjoying the view?” he asked me.
“Not anymore. Keep your hands to yourself, Bradley.” I stepped away from him. I had never liked the guy too much, because in spite of his good looks, his charm hadn’t worked on me. He had always struck me as too smooth, too oily. He was handsome, sure, because he worked so hard at it, manscaping and at the gym. But now that he was drinking so much, even that had started to slip. You could only hide the ugly inside for so long. My hands flew to my own face when I thought it.
“I’m just saying hello to my beautiful sister-in-law,” he told me, with his usual big smile. He smiled too much, and they all meant nothing.
“Say hello, and don’t touch me,” I advised him.
“Sure, sure.” He started to tell me something stupid, and then something else stupid, all the while edging closer.
I stepped back again and held up my hand. “Look, I’m letting you talk to me, but keep your distance.”
He came closer. “Scarlett, I have no idea what you mean.” His toothy, shiny smile was about as real as mine were.
“Scar, we’re taking more pictures,” Brooks said, stepping out onto the balcony with us. “Bradley, that means you, as the father.” Bradley walked quickly past him and into the house, thank fucking God. I didn’t want to have to knee him in the balls at his daughter’s first Communion party.
“Are you pouting out here?” my brother asked me, frowning. That was his usual expression when I was involved. Lately, it was. Before, he had smiled at me too, but he had meant them.
“I’m just enjoying the view. Much like you were, when you were looking down the top of Lanie’s charming dress.” His frown grew. It was like I couldn’t stop myself from pushing his buttons.
“If you don’t like how I act around Lanie, then you shouldn’t be around us. Don’t come to family stuff, stay away,” he told me. “Lanie comes first for me, Scarlett. I’m not going to let you rip her down, not anymore.”
I wished I still had the champagne glass so I could smash it in his smug face. “Lanie comes first, screw your family. Yes, that’s quite clear, Brooks. I had already noticed you taking that route,” I told him. My voice had risen and I fought to get a grip on myself.
“I’m not screwing my family by marrying the woman I love!” Brooks didn’t bother about volume control.
“Whatever,” I muttered. “Have a great life with her.”
My brother caught my arm as I walked by. “Scarlett, please. Do we have to fight about this, again? Why can’t you be happy for me?”
I yanked free. “We don’t have to fight about anything. Stay away from me.” I got another glass of mimosa and drained that too. Then I lined myself up for the family picture, staying equidistant away from my fucking brother and my fucking brother-in-law, the asshole and the pervert. I was so angry I wanted to rip things, tear them, break them. Scream and cry and kick, like a toddler. I smiled for the camera.
“Scarlett, you look beautiful as always,” Juliette March told me when the picture-taking broke up. “You could have gone into modeling.”
I smiled at her, too, and took another glass. “You’re so flattering, Juliette. I love your shoes.” Her smile back at me grew. If Lanie wanted my mom, then I could take hers. I linked my arm through Juliette’s. “Tell me what you’re developing now. More Valencia peanut products?”
“No, although that is selling so well. We’re looking into pine tar.”
“For the face? How unusual!” I exclaimed. I saw out of the corner of my eye that Lanie was watching us. Good. I stayed with Juliette, laughing and talking, watching Lanie with my family, watching my brother treat her like she was make of eggshells full of diamonds or something. What idiots.
Soon enough, the party was breaking up. I went down quickly to the driveway and gathered up some shards of the champagne glass that had broken when I’d dropped it off the balcony onto Bradley’s car, where I saw it had made a mark on the hood. Good. I carefully placed the sharp pieces in the grooves of his tires, wedging them in slightly.
“Scar, what are you doing?”
I stood quickly. “I dropped something,” I told my brother, and walked around the car so he wouldn’t come and look at what I had been up to.
“What was Bradley saying to you out on the balcony?” Brooks demanded.
“Nothing. Stupid shit about his workout. What do you care?”
“He was staring at you during the party,” my brother informed me.
“I’m not leading on my brother-in-law, if that’s what you’re trying to say, you asshole,” I informed him furiously.
“That’s not what I’m trying to say at all.” Brooks looked tired. “Scarlett, why are you so angry at me?”
“I’m not angry at you. Interesting example of narcissism, though, to assume my emotions revolve around you.”
I watched his jaw tic as he reined himself in. “Then why are you so angry, in general?” he asked, his voice very controlled. “Lanie sees it and so do I. Is it because of Mats, still?”
I had wondered if my mom had told him anything, but had been guessing that she hadn’t. Here was the proof that he didn’t know, and I was very glad. “I’m not at all angry, about anything. My life is great.”
“You’re not upset that Mats got engaged to the woman he’s been seeing?”
I had worked a lot on not showing my actual feelings. It was important in my job that the idiots whose asses I had to kiss couldn’t see what I really thought of them; before that, I’d gone through high school never letting on how sad and lonely I had felt. I hoped that those skills were working for me now as I looked up at my brother. “Mats is getti
ng married to someone else? I hadn’t heard. That’s great news,” I said evenly. I managed a smile, too. “Wonderful.”
Brooks looked abashed. “I thought you knew. Lanie heard it from one of the parents in her class.”
“Oh, Lanie is discussing me with the parents in her class? How odd and unprofessional.” I was seething inside, roiling with rage. I was going to kill Lanie first, then the parent who told her, then Mats, then the woman who had replaced me. I was going to kill everyone.
Brooks immediately flared up at the hint of criticism of Lanie. “She is neither odd nor unprofessional,” he told me angrily. “It came up in conversation. All the parents at her school love to gossip and they knew she got engaged to me, and therefore her connection to you and Mats. Marin County isn’t that big.” He got a little smile. “Her kindergarteners were so excited when I asked her to marry me. They had a party for her.”
I had to leave, right now, before I slapped the happiness right off my brother’s face. “How fun. Great that Lanie is finally making friends, no matter how old they are. See you later, Brooks.” I rushed off to my car and I hit the accelerator so hard that I smelled the tires burn as I drove away. Fuck him, and his fiancée, and everyone. My hands shook so I held the wheel even tighter and took a corner very fast, now making the tires squeal.
That was the last family party I was going to attend with my horrible, handsy brother-in-law and with my self-satisfied, self-righteous brother. And fucking Klere hadn’t posted one thing about us, not one thing. She put up some pictures of herself back in bed in Los Angeles with her boyfriend, gushing about how much she had missed him and how much she needed a nap after working so hard over the weekend. When had that happened?? Somehow I had missed it, but she must have squeezed in a few grueling seconds of toil between ruining the clothes in our showroom, drinking, and running of with unknown men for drugs. “Love this guy! #cuddeltime” she wrote, and a lot of stupid emojis. I thought about continuing south to LA and attacking her in her #cumfybed. She didn’t know how to #spell and I didn’t know which bothered me more, that or the failure of my PR plan.
Lovely You Page 5
