Chapter Twenty
“Nothing’s wrong, Mom, I just wanted to say hi.
” Jules stands next to the pay phone in the hallway of Hotel Go-See, which isn’t a hotel, but rather a ten-room rundown structure that houses the agency’s models.
It’s kind of like her dorm at UNL, except no boys are allowed inside.
It’s a firing offense, since many models who come in and out are underage.
And there’s no beer and pizza—the only things consumed in this place are apples, cigarettes, and cocaine.
As if on cue, her roommate Genevieve comes out of their room, smoking a cigarette, carrying a small hand mirror, two white lines on its face. Jules snorts one of them.
“You never call, are you sure you’re okay?” her mom continues. “You’re sniffling, do you have a cold?”
To be honest, Jules isn’t sure why she called. She’s never been particularly close with her mother, who always seemed more in competition with her daughters than motherly. Mom won’t understand what she’s going through. She thinks Jules is the luckiest girl alive.
“How’s everything?” Jules asks, ignoring her mother’s questions.
“Same ol’,” her mother says. “Your father’s been underwater at work. A big trial for ConAgra.” It’s May 1st and they have no clue what this date means to Jules. Death Day.
“Oh,” her mom continues, “your sister got in a little trouble.”
“What kind of trouble?”
“Nothing major, just suspended for drinking at a school dance.”
“Nothing major?” Jules says indignantly. “She’s fifteen. When I was seventeen you acted like I’d ruined my life when I got the underage drinking citations and—”
“Second kid, Jules. We’re tired.” Her mom says it playfully enough, but there’s a ring of truth.
“I’ll talk to Clare,” Jules says.
“You can try…”
“So, Mom, I’m starting to wonder if this isn’t right for me.”
“If what isn’t right for you?”
“You know, modeling. Milan.”
“I knew something was wrong. What happened?”
“Nothing happened. It’s just … I don’t know.” They’ve been through this before.
“Well, if nothing happened, I suggest you consider how lucky you are. Do you know how many girls would kill to be in your spot? In Italy! A fashion model! And have you looked at your bank account? You’re not even twenty and have more in savings than we do.”
Jules knew she shouldn’t have called. “You’re right,” she says, placating her. “I’m just homesick, I guess.”
Her mom perks up now. “Look, I know it’s hard.
Working a regular job is hard. But we discussed this when you decided to take a break from college.
” That’s her mother’s favorite euphemism for Jules dropping out.
“You know this opportunity won’t be around forever, you’ve got to strike while the iron is hot. ”
Jules decides to drop it. “Hey, I saw in a US newspaper that they still haven’t caught the May Day Killer. You need to keep an eye on Clare today.”
“Everyone is overreacting,” her mother replies. “It’s just the media. Oh, but I saw they did catch who killed the mother of that boy you know.”
“Quinn Riley?”
“Yes, turns out it was the boyfriend. They arrested him this morning. It’s been all over the news.”
Jules hopes Quinn finds some peace in that, wherever he is.
She wonders where the military sent him.
Ever since she heard about Kurt Cobain’s death last month, Quinn’s been on her mind.
Whenever she hears grunge music, she thinks of Quinn Riley.
She still has that mixtape he gave her, a weird memento of life from before.
She even plays it now and then, but still doesn’t get the music.
Her mother continues: “The world’s gone crazy. Serial killers, that woman who cut off her husband’s penis, the ice skater attacked. You’re lucky you’re in Italy.”
One of the Lucky Ones.
“And don’t worry about Clare. I mean, what are the odds out of all the people in the world she’d encounter a serial killer?”
“Mom, promise me you won’t let Clare out of your sight today.”
“You’re being silly,” her mom replies. “But she’s grounded so you have nothing to worry about.”
Nothing except him having Jules’s driver’s license with her home address. Nothing except him doing to Clare what he did to Jules. But yes, she’s just being silly, Mom.