12. Brooke
12
brOOKE
“ T hat’s bullshit,” Ruby declares as we walk along Huntington Pier.
“It’s true. Vitamin D fixes everything.” Nova takes a sip from her water bottle. “Not that kind of vitamin D,” she adds at my arched brow.
The LA sunshine beats down on us, and I pull my sunglasses off my head and slide them up my nose.
Since I walked out of Miles’s place, it’s been a rough few days.
I moved back in with my parents. To their credit, they didn’t ask what happened with Miles, and I didn’t volunteer it.
I didn’t take all my things because that would hurt more, would make this feel more permanent. Instead, I brought a few bags of clothes and necessities. I can go back for the rest when I have to.
If I have to.
I didn’t realize how hard it would be waking up without him. Making my own coffee sucks, and it’s not only that it tastes different.
This weekend away was scheduled for a chance to visit Coastal Gallery, but I’m hoping it’s also going to take the edge off.
It has to.
“We still have a couple of hours before the meeting. We could go shopping?” Nova suggests.
Two sets of eyes land on me.
“Brooke, you wake up wanting to shop,” Ruby reminds me. “Even when every Kappa failed the accounting final that year, you organized that emergency trip to Bal Harbor for retail therapy.”
“The koi ponds are very rejuvenating,” I say evenly.
“You look like you’re in mourning.” Ruby nudges my shoulder.
I glance down at my blue dress. “This is Balenciaga.”
The wind blows a piece of hair across my face, and I tuck it back behind my ear as my phone vibrates.
Vivaro has totally ghosted me. I took down the collaboration posts I made well in advance of the post I put up this morning of Ruby and me getting off the plane at LAX.
It has a hundred comments, but I’m looking at one in particular.
Miles left three blue hearts on it.
“What?” Ruby asks. “You thought you could walk away and Miles wouldn’t care?”
Nova cocks her head.
“I didn’t walk away,” I say.
“You moved out,” Nova clarifies.
“Yes. The Kodiaks are in the middle of a season, and Miles is on the verge of everything he wants.” I swallow the emotion that rises. “It’s messy. Everyone thinks I’m the problem because it’s happened since me.”
“So?”
“Well… technically, they’re right. Miles needs to focus on himself. At least for now.”
I turn the phone over in my hand, fantasizing about tossing it into the ocean.
Except that he got it for me. And even if I did throw it, I have two more that he bought me—in different colors.
Damn. Even when I try not to think about him, he’s right there.
“For the record, I want what’s best for you but I’m not sure I support this,” Ruby says.
“You’re going to just back off until the end of the season?” Nova adds.
I start to type out a message but delete it because that will give Miles an opening.
If there’s one thing he’s good at, it’s playing the long game.
So am I.
“Is that a piece of Elise’s line?” I ask Nova as she changes into a cute shift dress in the hotel suite she, Ruby, and I are sharing. Her hair falls in waves around her shoulders across the cream fabric.
“Her clothes are beautiful,” my friend gushes. “I bought some after your sorority retreat, but I wish they came in brighter colors.” She twists a piece of the blond-and-pink hair that’s been a mainstay for as long as I’ve known her.
“Not everyone is as genius with color as you.”
Nova and I are visiting the Coastal Gallery to persuade them of hosting a solo show. Even though my friend is already becoming an established name, this would be a massive profile boost—particularly since most of her shows to date have been on the East Coast.
“Thanks for making time for this,” Nova says. “I couldn’t do it without my right-hand woman by my side.”
My friend is a bright spot in all the chaos. She’s been paying me to help with her brand and social media, and asked if I would help her field new opportunities, too.
I vow to give her my best effort despite feeling as if my life is spiraling out of control.
“Go crush it,” Ruby tells us when we head for the door. “I’ll be by the pool when you’re done.”
I jump in the driver’s seat of our rented Mustang, cranking the top down so the breeze flies through. The wind tickles my fingers, and I resist the urge to shut my eyes.
Finding parking is its own miracle, but in half an hour, Nova and I are walking into a long, low building in Santa Monica. The owner introduces himself, shaking both our hands.
“This is Brooke. She handles my PR,” says Nova.
I blink at the intro. Though I’ve been helping with her social and strategy for a couple of months now, I can’t help but think that this feels like her offering me, giving me, a promotion.
More than that, she’s putting her trust in me.
My chest tightens.
He walks us around, then takes us to a meeting room in the back lined with windows. We sit around a huge glass table along with a gallery assistant who’s taking notes.
“We’d love to showcase some of your existing work.”
“I was hoping to feature new pieces.” Nova pulls out the portfolio at her side and lays out some of them.
His expression falls. “Our audience would respond best to the work you’re known for.”
“You must appreciate what it’s like to want to go in a different direction.” I smile at him. “I mean, you said yourself you retired from corporate life to do this.”
He nods thoughtfully. “But we already have an abstract exhibit scheduled for next year.”
I want to be strong for her, and I’m not letting some guy push my friend around, professionally or otherwise.
“Then maybe this isn’t the right time,” I say.
Nova glances at me but doesn’t say anything.
After a bit more conversation and some polite exchanges, my friend and I step out into the main gallery space.
“They’re a big deal, but you can’t go in and bend to everything they ask. He has to respect you,” I say under my breath.
She doesn’t look convinced.
“But if you want to go with it…” I go on.
“No. I trust you.”
I nod, the blood pounding in my veins feeling like confidence. “Good.”