Chapter 1
Zara
Three WeeksEarlier
Dear Sandra,
I am too nice. I know you already told me that, but I now actually understand what you mean. When I told my sister, Elise that she and her two kids could visit, I didn’t mean they could stay for six months. Although, she did say that they would be out by the end of the summer. I won’t be holding my breath because that’s predicated on her making it as a reality TV star, and I don’t see that coming true for her anytime soon.
Just like I don’t see myself getting into NYU or Columbia Law School anytime soon. My college GPA was okay, my LSAT test scores are weak, and I have no good letters of recommendation. Save for an old professor who thinks my name is Lara and that I grew up in Spain. Which wouldn’t be a problem if my name wasn’t Zara and the fact that I’ve never been to Spain before in my life.
Lila, my best friend and roommate, thinks I need to kick Elise out and find myself a man. To her credit, Elise also thinks I should find myself a man. She thinks a good night of loving will make me less tense. I think winning fifty grand in the lottery will do the same thing. But it doesn’t look like a big dick or a big stack of money is coming my way anytime soon.
Miss you,
Zara
It’sone of those Wednesday nights that feels like the week will never end. I’m counting down the hours until I can crawl into my soft, cream linen-sheeted bed and feast on strawberry ice cream while watching Royal Pains on TV. The very thought of it fills me with bliss.
“Stay awake, Zara,” I mumble to myself, trying to ignore the ache in my back from the uncomfortable hard metal seat and the mildewy smell that permeates the small room in the Flatiron District that serves as the venue for the play I find myself watching. My eyelids feel heavy, and my stomach is empty enough that I’m just waiting for it to start growling.
“Wow, he’s a hottie,” my slightly obnoxious, fashionista wanna-be younger sister Elise whispers-shouts as she points at the tall blond man sitting on the other side of me. My stomach churns as I cringe, hoping the hottie has not heard what she’s said. I’m feeling slightly sick at how obnoxious she’s being, but I’m not sure if the two Snickers bars I ate during intermission are to blame.
I do not answer Elise and instead force myself to keep staring straight ahead. Even though my neck is stiff, my shoulders are tight, and my face is burning, I will not acknowledge her. I know if I do, she won’t stop.
It doesn’t help that something is tickling my left ear, and I want to scratch it. The seats in this theater are so close together that if I move an inch, I’ll practically be on Mr. Hottie’s lap. I can already feel his thigh pressed against mine, and while it’s warm and solid, it feels slightly uncomfortable to be so close to a stranger.
“I wonder if he’s single,” Elise continues even louder this time, and I cannot stop myself from turning to glare at her while simultaneously pressing my finger to my lips. “Hot, hot, hot.” She giggles, and I roll my eyes as I look back toward the stage. I don’t ask her how she can tell what he looks like because I don’t want to encourage her.
The room is dark and musty, and I’m struggling not to fall asleep. I suppress a yawn as I stare at the small stage filled with three actors dressed in garbage bags with leaves on their heads. Elise and I are in the audience of an off-off-Broadway play in which my best friend Lila has a starring role. I’m happy she got the role, but the play is awful. It’s opening night, and I can feel the hope that this play will be around for many years, seeping from my veins.
I pinch my arm to stay awake; this has been the longest hour and a half of my life.
“The vortex sucks…” a tall skinny guy with blue polka dots on his face tells the audience as he paints a black circle on a white canvas board. I have no idea what or who he is supposed to be. He turns to look at the audience dramatically, his face contorted, and I wonder if he needs the toilet. He’s holding himself in such an awkward position that I fear he might relieve himself onstage. “And the vortex sucks and sucks,” he shouts into the small room and starts stomping his feet. I press my lips together to stop from laughing. “It sucks…” he shouts again.
“And so does this play.” Elise doesn’t bother to whisper this time, and I see a few people in front of us, looking around and glaring. “Am I lying?” Her face is defiant and I try not to groan as she shrugs and stares down an older lady in front of us. She’s utterly unbothered that she’s being a disturbance in the audience. “Yes, Karen?” she asks the older lady, who turns back around and I let out a deep breath to stop myself from telling her off.
Elise is twenty-five and one of the rudest and most unaware women I know. Not that I don’t love her. She’s my sister, and I would do anything for her, but her self-obsession can be taxing. She lives as if she were a contestant on a reality TV show, which makes sense because her dream is to be a reality star. Which is a pretty low goal if you ask me, but I try not to be too judgmental.
I’m all about her living out her dreams, aside from the fact that she has two kids, whom I think she should be setting a better example for. But then again, I suppose that’s why I let them move in with Lila and me. At least we were good examples, okay, goodish examples, to two young impressionable minds. Or at least better than Elise would have been by herself.
I try to suppress a sigh at what a mistake that had been. Even though moving in with Lila and me had been the best move for them, my life turned into a hot mess upon their arrival.
“Elise, stop.” I reach over, grab her hand, and squeeze tightly. I do not care if it hurts. Sometimes, being the bigger sister comes with perks. “Do not ruin Lila’s moment.”
“Pretty hard to ruin something this bad,” she mumbles, but she’s quieter now. She nods and sits back in her chair, and I let out a small sigh of relief. Elise can be a bitch, but she tries to be better around people she loves. Those people are: me, Lila, and her kids, Luke and Charlotte, who are only six and four, respectively.
I stare back at the stage, grateful that Lila is now singing her song about meeting a man on the moon while doing cartwheels. Not because this is a better part of the play, but because I know this song comes toward the end. I’ve spent the last month helping Lila practice her lines and know the play well. I hoped the production would somehow turn around the bad script, but it hasn’t. Everything about the production is a failure, but at least it means a weekly paycheck for Lila. We need the money, especially after the week I’ve had.
“I’m curious.Do you think I’m a hottie?” The tall blond man to my left whispers in my ear as soon as the play ends and the brief applause is done. There are also a couple of loud boos as well that make me feel bad for Lila, but they don’t last too long. And that’s because the audience is rushing out in droves. People are practically pushing past each other to leave like they’ve been told there’s a snake or alligator in the theater.
Not a good sign.
I look over at the man in surprise; his bright blue eyes are mischievous, and I’m able to see him better now that the lights are back on. He’s handsome in that frat boy, I can chug five beers while telling you how great and accomplished I am way.
“Sorry, what?” I issue him a small smile, enough to be friendly but not friendly enough to show interest. I am not interested in bros. Not because I don’t find them attractive. Most of them are super hot, but more because I don’t need the drama they bring into my life. And trust me when I say they bring drama that’s akin to a daytime soap. At least Matt, my ex, who was the president of his frat in college, definitely made my life young and restless.
“I heard your friend saying I was hot.” Frat bro brushes back his floppy blond hair and gives me his most dazzling smile. He has perfect, even white teeth, and I wonder if they are real. “I was wondering if you agree.”
I hate that he has asked me that question. I don’t want to hurt his feelings and tell him never in a million years and not for a billion dollars would I even look in his direction. Men like him should come with a caution warning: Beware: touching this item may lead to months of drama and heartache.
I’ve been there and quite literally already done that. I still have the scars from the many battles I’ve been a part of, and I’m not interested in returning to war.
“That’s my sister.” I turn to her and touch her on the arm. “Elise, he heard you.” I watch as she turns to me, her dazzling hazel eyes looking more green with the subtle golden eye shadow she’s wearing. Her hair hangs long, straight, and black down her back, with streaks of red. She looks gorgeous, and she knows it. I turn back to frat bro and see that he feels the same way as he takes her in. Elise is a stunner, and he’s mesmerized. She also always dresses to emphasize what she’s got. Which is the complete opposite of me. She wants attention. I shy away from it.
For example, I’m wearing mom jeans with a plaid shirt and oxford boots. My curly, slightly frizzy black hair is in a ponytail, and my brown eyes look tired with no mascara or eye shadow. I think I look fine for a late-night play. Conversely, Elise is wearing stiletto heels, a tank top with no bra, and tight leather pants. The outfit is totally inappropriate for the occasion, but it gets her admiring looks from men, so that’s all she cares about.
“Wow, you’re gorgeous.” Frat bro no longer cares about me as he brushes past me without even a polite “excuse me,” and I can see his tongue hanging out as he gapes at Elise. She’s beaming now, no longer annoyed that I dragged her to this play. Even though I was the one who convinced our neighbor to babysit the kids so she could have a night off. However, I know a night off to Elise includes partying and drinking until all hours of the night, not sitting through a boring-ass play that never should have found its way to the stage.
Though, I would never tell Lila that. At least she’s pursuing her dreams. Unlike me, who is in the unenviable position of having been laid off from my tedious office job at a commercial real estate company just this morning. They told me it was due to the crappy economy, but it still sucks. I hadn’t enjoyed the job, but it had been a stable income. Which is certainly needed when you live in New York City.
I try not to let momentary panic take over as I think about the stack of bills on the dining room table. Elise is between jobs as per usual, her child support is minimal, and Lila got this play after being out of work for four months. I can only hope and pray that the critics disagree with me and think that the playwright is the Shakespeare of the twenty-first century, but I very much doubt it. I don’t know how to tell Lila and Elise that I will not be able to cover rent for the next couple of months like I told them last month. As I watch my sister, carefree and laughing with frat bro, I decide to wait until the next day to tell her and Lila my bad news.
“Zara!” Lila comes squealing toward me, her face excited and flushed. Dead brown leaves fall off her head as she stops next to me, and I give her a quick hug. “What did you think?” Her effervescent blue eyes are bright, and I can tell she’s on an adrenaline high.
“You were great.” I squeeze her hands and smile broadly. “You were the star of the show.”
“You’re too nice.” She’s buzzing as she looks around. “I think everyone enjoyed it. Elise, what did you think?” She turns to my sister, who’s looking up at frat bro like he’s all her dreams come true. Lila looks over at me with a puzzled expression on her face. “Who’s the guy?” She raises an eyebrow. “She brought a date with her?”
“No, he’s just some guy who was sitting next to me.” I roll my eyes. “You know, Elise.”
“Yes, and I need her to teach me her ways.” Lila looks on in wonderment at the scene unfolding before her. “Shoot, I need her to teach you her ways as well.” She finally notices the rapidly emptying room. “The other cast members are going to go out for a drink. Do you want to join us?”
“I don’t know…” I bite down on my lip. I cannot afford to go out drinking. I don’t have the money. I don’t want the hangover tomorrow. And I’m not in the mood.
“Come on, Zara,” she pleads, giving me her best puppy dog eyes. Lila and I have been best friends since we were seven, and she secretly shared a pack of MMs with me in an art class. “It’ll be fun.”
“Fun on a Wednesday?” I want to slap myself as soon as the words are out of my mouth. I’ve turned into an old fart at the ripe old age of twenty-eight. “Fine, one drink.”
“Of course.” I can tell from the gleam in Leila’s eye that one drink will be five. At this point, I’m resigned to the fact that my comfortable bed will elude me for a few more hours. “Elise, we’re going for a drink,” Lila calls out to her again. “Coming?”
“Nah,” Elise finally answers. “My boo, Brian, and I are going to hang out.”
“Brian? Your boo?” I ask, my tone incredulous as I give the frat bro a once-over. His arms are around her waist in a familiar fashion, as if they’ve been dating for years. I don’t know how some people move so quickly in relationships. I’m the sort of girl who doesn’t even kiss until the second date. Elise has only known “her boo” for five minutes, and they’re already acting like a loved-up couple. Ridiculous.
“Don’t hate, appreciate, big sis.” Elise grins, rushes over to give me a quick hug, and kisses me on the cheek. “See you in the morning.” She then looks over at Lila. “Thanks for the invite. Don’t feel bad about wasting my time.”
“What?” Lila looks confused, but Elise doesn’t bother to explain. She’s already back with Brian, and they’re holding hands and whispering sweet nothings to each other. “What was she talking about?” Lila asks me, and I put on my most innocent expression. Which is hard to do because I do not have a poker face and am not a good actress.
“Not sure.”
“How did I waste her time?”
“Is that what she said?” I cock my head to the side. “I thought she said, wasting her wine… I think she spilled it or something.”
“Oh, okay.” Lila’s not convinced, but she’s not too bothered about it either. “Oh look, it’s Hank.” She waves to the tall, skinny actor from the stage who had talked about the vortex. “Hey, Hank, you coming for a drink?”
“Does the vortex suck?” he asks in a supercilious voice that tells me he takes himself far too seriously. Not as much as your play did, I think to myself, and I have to suppress the laugh bubbling up inside of me as I think of Elise’s comment. I’m going to hell, and if I do, I’m taking Elise with me.
“It sucks and sucks,” Lila says, beaming at him, and I suddenly wonder if she has a crush on him. She can’t have a crush on him, can she? And she can’t seriously be repeating those lines as if they were a work of literary genius. “To be or not be, a rose by any other name, shoots, even E.T. phone home, were more quotable lines.” The vortex sucks was not going to go down in the history books as one of the greatest lines ever written.
“So, what do you think, Zara?” Lila asks me, and I realize I’ve completely spaced out on what she said. She doesn’t seem to realize, though, because she’s sneaking furtive glances at Hank, who seems to be sneaking furtive glances of his reflection in the phone in his hand.
“Um, sure,” I say, hoping my answer makes sense. I don’t want to explain I missed what she said because I was mentally dissing her play.
“The Owl and the Pussy Cat, it is. It’s the bar that all the stars go to,” she says excitedly and I hope that she doesn’t think our mere presence there will make her a star. “Shall we tell the others?” she asks Hank, who is now standing in the weird contorted position he was in on the stage with his eyes closed.
“The vortex sucks,” he says loudly and distinctly. “The vortex sucks and sucks,” he shouts, and I wonder if I’ve fallen asleep and am in a nightmare. What the hell is going on?
“He’s practicing his delivery,” Lila states matter-of-factly, with a proud smile, and I nod in understanding. I suddenly realize I was wrong earlier—very, very wrong. One drink is not going to be enough.
Today is the shittiest of Wednesdays. I’ve lost my job. Sat through one of the worst plays I’ve ever seen in my life. Agreed to go to a bar with my best friend and her obnoxious costar. And I still have to figure out some way to find money to cover rent for the next few months because I generously offered to pay all the bills so my sister and best friend could follow their dreams.
I deserve to have a night of fun because I know when I wake up tomorrow, all the worries and stress will still be there.