Remember Me
Back at the hotel, Anna debates what to do. She could see what Bella and James have planned, but that would invariably involve John, whom she would happily never see again. Or she can sit in her room pining over Tolly, or she can go down to the hotel bar and pick up a stranger and shag his brains out all night long.
Once upon a time, that last option might have been her preference, but either age or something else has taken effect because its appeal is even less than an evening with John. She contemplates putting on the television, but there is nothing she wants to watch and the news is probably still showcasing Tolly’s new role. She could go to dinner, but she isn’t hungry, probably because of the big meal at lunch. She could take in a show or stroll along the boardwalk at Venice Beach.
Or she can sit on the bed feeling vaguely miserable.
In the end, she takes a shower instead. As she washes off the sweat and grime of the day, she ponders calling home. Maybe this feeling is homesickness. She’s never experienced it before, but there’s a first time for everything. Then she remembers the time difference and decides a call will have to wait. When dry, she wraps herself in a dressing gown and goes to lie on the bed. Picking up her phone, she sighs. Did she accidentally say something stupid in her last text? Did autocorrect substitute a different, more insulting word?
She opens up the conversation. There is Tolly’s text asking to ask a question. There is her reply, joking about charging for medical advice.
But then, there is another question from Tolly. There’s a celebration party at my house tonight. Would you like to come ? As my guest?
And there is her reply. No. And please don’t ever contact me again.
She sits bolt upright. Is she going mad? Has the app scrambled her messages? Then her brain reasserts itself. Or has her phone been hacked?
She thinks back. The only time her phone was out of her pocket this afternoon was at the restaurant. She’d left it on the table when she’d gone to the aid of the little boy. Left it with Bella and John.
She cannot believe Bella sent that message. They’re friends. Bella, she is sure, would be cheering her on, probably angling for an invitation as well.
It had to be John. The lying, conniving, egotistical, little toerag!
She wants to rip his head off. No, his dick. She jumps up from the bed and strides up and down the carpet. Hanging, drawing and quartering might be too good for him. Definitely, if she ever got within reach of him again, he would be speaking in a contralto for weeks.
Eventually, after some minutes of constructing a host of potential punishments for John, she calms down enough to consider her own predicament. Tolly thinks she has blown him off. And in as abrupt and cruel way as possible. That thought gives her actual pain.
He invited her specifically to share this spectacular moment of his career with him as his guest , and she ostensibly turned him down flat. Or so he thinks. Not only that, but hours have elapsed since John sent the message. Tolly has had plenty of time to stew about her uncivil reply.
A text wouldn’t cut it. Soz, mate. That last was my nemesis. LOL . Nemesis is giving John too much power. He’s a cockroach, a parasite. Besides, if someone had sent her that message, they’d have to do a darned sight more grovelling than “sorry”.
It will have to be a call. But what if he doesn’t pick up? Worse, what if he has blocked her? Then she’ll be just another woman out of the shameless masses trying to attract the attention of the Sexiest Man Alive. No, if he doesn’t pick up, she can try a message, but that is all. If he has blocked her, there is nothing more to do. She has to be prepared for that. Although the thought is painful.
And after all, she will be getting on a plane on Saturday night, returning to England. It would effectively be an end to their friendship. Not quite as final as being blocked, but an end. She is surprised by how much the thought hurts. But now is not the time to dwell on it. From working in an emergency department, Anna knows she needs to take the fear out of the equation, or she will never be able to act. Only when she feels ready for all potential consequences does she pick up her phone and call Tolly. The call rings. And rings. Anna drops her chin to her chest in resignation. Then the tone stops.
And Tolly’s voice says, “Anna?” There is enough frost in that one word to cover Narnia.
But Anna is ready. She has thought about what to say; she has her words prepared. “That last message was not from me. Someone interfered with my phone while I was helping a child who’d been knocked over.”
There is a long silence. Anna prays to a god she doesn’t believe in that Tolly will trust her.
“Why would they do that?”
“Because he is a vain, duplicitous, small-dicked snake whom I’d previously rejected.”
“He showed you his dick?”
Sometimes conversations with Tolly go in unexpected directions. Anna sighs. “No, thank god. I’m extrapolating from his behaviour. But if I ever get my hands on him again, he’ll be a no-dicked snake.”
“ Where the offense is, let the great axe fall? Or in your case, the sharp scalpel?”
“Shakespeare?” Anna ventures. Unlike her sister, her English literature lessons ended at sixteen when she chose to focus on all the sciences.
“ Hamlet .”
“Don’t they all die in the end?”
“Yes.”
“Perhaps there’s a better quote.” Anna holds the phone tight to her ear. He is talking to her. This is good.
“ Blood and revenge are hammering in my head? ”
“Well, it’s accurate but where’s that from?”
“ Titus Andronicus .”
“That’s another where they all die, isn’t it?”
“Pretty much.” She can almost hear his smile.
“Have you got one where they don’t all expire?”
“ Kindness nobler ever than revenge .”
“But not half so satisfying. I fear death it is. Kindness is beyond me.”
“And I’m supposed to be the dramatic one?”
“I mocked you for being romantic, not dramatic. And how very unchivalrous of you, to point out my inconsistencies.”
“Forgive my temerity. Perhaps I can make it up to you?”
“What did you have in mind?”
“Well, it just so happens I am having a party, a celebration. If you would care to join me, I’m sure I can make up for ever thinking of you as less than you are.”
Anna hesitates. She had not thought this far ahead. She’d fixated only on repairing her character in his eyes. Attending the party as his guest would be a definite step towards a level of intimacy best avoided.
But Tolly mistakes the reason for her hesitation. “You may bring a friend if you like?”
A friend. That might be the answer. Serena is out of town, but she could ask Bella. Bella loves parties. And Bella would be an anchor, stop her getting swept away by Tolly Hyde. “Thank you.” She hopes Tolly can hear the pleasure in her words. “I’d love to come.”
“I’ll send a car. Will half an hour be sufficient?”
Anna’s hand goes to the mess of wet hair piled in a loose bun. She’ll need to style it, then make-up, and work out what to wear. “Give me an hour.”
“See you then.”
As Tolly disconnects, she falls back on the bed, her phone falling out of her hand. After the first few words, it had been so easy to talk to him. She wonders if this is part of the secret sauce that makes him so successful. Does everyone around him feel this way? She cannot believe it is only her.
But the clock is ticking and she cannot footle around navel-gazing. She needs to move. She has just regained Tolly’s good opinion; being late now would be to risk it all again. Picking up her phone once more, she messages Bella: Are you doing anything?
No. James has gone to bed early. He’s flying tomorrow first thing. Why?
Do you want to come to a Hollywood party with me? She’s pretty sure that adjective will be sufficient.
What, now?
There’s a car picking me up in an hour. Well, 50 minutes now.
YES! – followed by a host of emojis.
Anna suddenly thinks of something. She packed for a conference and some sightseeing, not a glamorous party. Do you have a dress I could borrow?
I’ll be at your room in 5.
Bella must have speedwalked through the hotel because Anna has barely begun drying her hair when she hears a knock. Bella walks in, her hips a-shimmy. “So, where are we going?”
Anna frowns. “I don’t know. I guess the driver will know.” When she says it, she realises just how suspect it sounds, but Bella isn’t in the least concerned.
“Whose party is it?”
“It’s a friend. He’s an old friend of my family.” Strictly true. She’s not sure why she evades Bella’s question. Probably because she doesn’t want to answer a host of questions for which she hasn’t prepared.
Bella’s face loses some of its shine. “Will there be famous people there? Actors, maybe a producer or two?”
Anna figures it’s a fairly safe bet to give an affirmative. Then she adds, “It is Hollywood, after all.”
Bella claps her hands in delight. Then she reaches into the bag she’s brought and pulls out a scrap of silver fabric. “I thought this would do you.” Another scrap, this time in black. “And this is for me.”
Bella talks almost non-stop as they get ready, a sure sign of her excitement. By the appointed time, both of them are ready. Bella looks fantastic in her tiny black dress with fringing that sways each time she moves. Her blonde hair is like a cascade of gold around her head. Anna, tall, slender and dark, clad in shimmering silver, looks like a moon goddess to Bella’s sun. As she neglected to pack party shoes and her feet are slightly bigger than Bella’s, she has opted to wear her gladiator sandals. It reinforces the resemblance to Artemis. In contrast, Bella’s four-inch heels bring them almost to the same height.
With one last pouting selfie for Bella’s collection, they head out of the door. Anna’s worries that she won’t know which car is for them evaporate when she sees Frank standing beside his gleaming SUV. He lifts a make-believe cap. “Ladies,” he greets them.
“Frank.” Anna acknowledges him with a tilt of her head and a smile. Names are important. “Do you have the address?”
“Yes, ma’am.” Frank opens the rear door for her. She and Bella scramble inside. Bella pulls out her phone and sets off a playlist of party songs. She dances in her seat and sings the chorus lines. If Anna had not been with her for the last hour, she might have suspected some pre-loading. But neither of them has been drinking. Anna, by contrast, stares out of the window. She is quietly wondering how many other women Frank has picked up and taken to Tolly’s house. It would be na?ve to believe she is the first.
As the car turns off the highway into residential streets, Anna searches out landmarks, as if she were marking her way home.
“Almost there,” Frank warns as he makes a last turn. Anna reads the road sign: North Hangar Avenue.