Chapter 11 Death to Clive
DEATH TO CLIVE
LEAH
Ipressed the elevator call button repeatedly, wanting it to put me out of my misery. I paced, tears running. I wanted out of here. Why wasn’t the elevator coming faster? What had I done to deserve this hellish fucking evening!?
“Leah!”
Lourdes rushed over.
“No. Leave me alone,” I sobbed.
The doors opened, and I climbed in.
Lourdes hopped on like she was running a race.
Breathless, she said, “Leah, I don’t want to hurt you. I didn’t. I don’t want you to go—”
“Well, you did. And I don’t know what to fucking believe anymore! No matter what I do or say to you… you don’t like me.”
“Leah, I adore you.”
Her expression surprised me. It was tortured, her face drawn tight, her forehead showing worry lines.
“You don’t act like it. I have tried to tell you how I feel, but I feel ignored.”
“How? By kissing Clive backstage?”
My mouth dropped. “I… what?”
“Press night. Your triumphant ascension. You made out with him like a schoolgirl—”
I thought back to that kiss. “Actually,I pushed him away. Lourdes, I wanted to kiss you and I did. This whole time, I’ve wanted you. But no matter how many times I show you—even kiss you—you don’t get it? Why!?”
She looked down, then silently took my hand.
I squeezed it, watching floors pass.
“Leah, I’m not a sexual experiment that you just keep on the back-burner. And… me going out with you… it’s a big thing for both of us, yeah?
“Everyone is fucking everyone, Lou!”
“Not… not the backstage nonsense.”
“Are you still mad at me for stealing your part?” I demanded. “Is that what it is?”
“Is it not obvious?” Lourdes scoffed. “Or do the rules not apply to you?”
I pulled my hand back and stood in the elevator’s opposite side. “God damn it, Lou, can you just tell me what the rules are? Because to my knowledge fucking a costar is expected especially when she’s as hot as you! Also, it’s not about that. I genuinely adore you.”
Lourdes sighed. “Don’t do that.”
“Do what?”
“Get all cross with me. You set your jaw and all that. You look like… all your ancestors about to go to war, darling.”
I snickered. “What, Lou?”
“It’s complicated—”
“Wait? Are you upset about Clive?” I grasped at straws. “Did you want him?”
“No. Death to Clive! Seriously. I’d be glad to never share oxygen with him again. He’s talented. He’s sexy, but he’s not worth any of the drama he brings. Don’t worry, I’m not interested in him. What, are you jealous now? Leah, make up your damn mind!”
“I did,” I said quietly. “I want you. I’m not jealous. I like you flirting with him.”
She raised one eyebrow and tilted her head. “What?”
“I like it. I think it’s hot. He annoys the hell out of you, and I love watching him get under your skin.”
“Why?”
“Because I tell myself you’re jealous, that you want me, and I love the thought of the two of you fighting over me.”
“Who. Are. You?”
“Leah Roughy. Constantly horny. Never stimulated enough. Lourdes, I have the attention span of a gnat, I’ll grant you, but I also love hard and—for you—I’d do just about anything. But if you call me a talentless hack or a bitch—”
“I am sorry I said those things. I didn’t know you. I was jealous,” Lourdes said. “You’re incredibly talented, and no one could call you a hack. Also, you can be a bitch.”
“But when I am, you tell me.”
“Exactly,” Lourdes said, a sly smile crossing her face. “Fancy a curry?”
“I could do, yeah,” I answered.
We left the expensive hotel tower to a place Lourdes swore by. Ducking into a booth in a classic curry house, we treated ourselves to the food we’d been denied for months.
“I do not care if I put on a stone. This garlic naan is absolute tits,” Lourdes said.
“It’s amazing, yeah. Fuck! I love carbs so much! Why am I denied them? I dance like four fucking hours a day.”
“It’s the industry. I always say I want to get so fucking famous—like Kate Winslet level famous—so that I can eat whatever I want and tell casting agents to fuck off.”
“I love that,” I said.
Lourdes stopped. “Leah, you have it. You will be able to do it. Me? I dunno.”
I reached for Lou’s hand again. “Bitch, you’re with me. And just like you said, we’re going to be so fucking famous that Clive will be begging for us to even glance in his direction. We’re going to eat carbs and live our lives, okay?”
“Okay. Sounds great.” Lourdes took a swig of mango lassi. “Where do you get it from?”
“What?” I asked.
“You’re effervescence. Whatever ‘it’ is that draws people to you. I didn’t get it at first—until you opened your mouth. My love, you are exceptional.”
I blushed. “I dunno. Like my aunt, I’ve been told I was always too wild and loud.”
“Which aunt?”
“Which one do you think? It’s certainly not Auntie Kiersten. She’s bloody saintly.”
Lourdes choked on her drink. “It’s that—that wit. God, I love it. Oh, Auntie Nat is just the sweetest person.”
She feigned my accent.
I hit her with my napkin.
“What was that like? Growing up knowing she was your aunt?”
“She’s just my father’s twin sister. It’s nothing. Papa and Auntie Nat are joined at the hip. Papa is codependent on so many. Like me, he needs emotional support people.”
“So, Patrick is Dad. George is Papa, right?”
Nodding, I answered, “Yes. That is what Charlotte always called them and how I did. It’s… not a big deal.”
“I mean, I don’t know how it works. Being a gayby is novel.”
“It works like it does in any family. Each parent is different, and each child is unique. Charlotte is the brain. I’m the court jester. Our fathers would kill for us. It’s just like any family.” I shrugged. “It’s why I’m amazed when it confuses people.”
“My parents don’t get on like yours. Yours are cute. Mine barely tolerate one another.”
“My fathers love each other very much. Sometimes Dad wants to strangle Papa because he’s bored and driving us mad—we all do at times—and then he rings either Auntie Nat or Auntie Lucy, and they sort it out.”
“Who is Auntie Lucy?”
“Former Lady Chamberlain and Papa’s ex before he married Dad.”
“She was a beard?”
“Lourdes, you are the worst bisexual on earth! No. They were together. It didn’t work out because he loved Dad more.
And in the end, she ended up with his second cousin; they have five kids, and all is well.
Also, she and Dad fight like codependent old people but he’s terrified of her. So, she keeps him in line.”
“I’m not bi. I’m pan,” Lourdes said. “What are you again?”
I rolled my eyes. “Bi, natch. If you want to get into the technical side, probably pan but no one knows what I mean when I say that. I’ve told you half a dozen times.”
“Chip off the old block, then?”
I shrugged. “It’s just life, Lourdes. Love who you love and make the most out of it. We’re all different, and that’s what makes it beautiful.”