Chapter 34
LOS ANGELES
FEbrUARY 21, 2020
AGE: 33
AFEW HOURS AFTER LANDING, ALEX AND I PASSED THROUGH A throng of photographers shooting a step and repeat outside the Marks-Orlish Gallery, a rectangular glass building on Robertson Boulevard. The paparazzi shouted our names, exhorting us to look here and there. I was wearing a floral maternity dress whose spaghetti straps showed off my taut biceps and sharp collar bones and a pair of skimpy sandals that, despite a low heel, were extremely uncomfortable. Alex was in a perfectly tailored linen blazer and dress sweatpants that looked surprisingly cool with his vegan Birkenstocks. I was holding my baby bump like I had seen so many A-listers do on red carpets when my heart gave a flutter, a flutter that had nothing to do with the life inside of me.
I noticed a white convertible idling at a red light. Gabe was at the wheel, his face turned up to the clear blue sky. What the hell had brought him to LA? He’d once told me the only part of California he liked was California Pizza Kitchen.
“Smile!” one of the photographers shouted at me. I forced the corners of my mouth upward and braced myself for whatever disaster the Consortium would spring on Gabe’s vehicle. Sure enough, a missile hissed down from above and nosed straight into the car, which went up in flames. Well done, Consortium Associates. Traffic continued, vehicles moving around the fire as casually as if avoiding a stalled vehicle.
I was still shaking my head, astonished by the latest display of special-effects work, when Alex and I entered the gallery. It was a massive hangarlike space with poured concrete floors and exposed pipes. Behind a DJ booth, a woman was spinning songs from the 1990s. In the distance, adoring fans encircled the woman of the moment, Leigh Sullivan. She held hands with a blond man-child who looked as if he was dressed for soccer practice, with his mesh shorts and rubber slides. Leigh looked fabulous with green streaks in her hair, wearing a black pantsuit with a lime-green bustier underneath to coordinate with her hair. I scanned the crowd for the person I really wanted to find.
“Can you spot Geeta from up there?” I asked my husband.
“The coast is clear,” he said, squeezing my hand. I felt a stab of sadness.
Alex and I made our way through the crowd, waving at strangers who appeared to know us, and who, knowing Leigh, were people I probably should have known about. I barely recognized anyone—I was never that good at keeping abreast of who’s who in pop culture. My favorite TV show was a Japanese dating program that involved cooking challenges.
There were young people and old people, both well-dressed and disheveled. The crowd was a real melting pot, save for the fact that everybody looked obscenely rich. While Alex was waylaid by a woman who pronounced herself his biggest fan, Leigh gestured for me to join her circle. “This is my best friend from college,” she told her group, pulling me in for a performative mega-embrace. “Thank you for coming all the way out.” She sounded genuinely vulnerable, and I looked down at the floor. There was no question it meant a lot to her that I was here, just as there was no question I’d genuinely hurt her when I’d blown off this same event.
“I wouldn’t miss it for the world. I’ve missed you.” I felt myself start to tear up.
“I missed you too,” she said.
“There’s something I should tell you,” I said. Leigh looked confused. “I feel like I haven’t always been there for you, not the way you needed me to be, and I am so, so sorry about that.”
“I’d ask if you’re drunk, Jenny, but...” She gave my belly a pat and turned to face the others. “Pregnancy is making you emotional. You’ve always been there for me.”
One of Leigh’s hangers-on caught my eye and told me she swore by my quinoa harvest salad with cashew cream, the Memo-inspired recipe I came up with in my bathroom while doing facial yoga. “I’ve eaten it every day for the last six months,” she said.
“It came to me in a flash of inspiration,” I said, looking at Alex, who was still engrossed in a conversation with his fan.
“Jenny is a tastemaker in all ways, not to mention the closest thing I have to a sister,” Leigh said. I forced a smile. I’d never heard Leigh speak of me so effusively.
Her pupils were the size of dimes, which I guessed helped explain the enthusiasm. “And soon, I will be a guide mother two times over!” she said. This filled me with sadness. If Leigh was the twins’ guide mother, then what did that make Geeta? Where was Geeta, anyway?
Leigh squeezed my elbow. “So? What do you think of all of this?” She beamed and made a sweeping gesture at the room. I wasn’t used to Leigh caring about what I thought of anything she did. I whispered that I was insanely proud of her and gave her a kiss on the cheek.
“I love you sooooo much,” she said. Her face was so close I could feel her breath on my neck. “And you’d better bid on one of my sculptures, bitch.”
Now Levi walked over toward us, flanked by two younger women—assistants? girlfriends? The crowd parted as he approached Leigh.
“I have something for you!” I heard her say as she pulled him toward a corner. They were barely discreet about what happened next: He handed her an envelope, and she placed something in the palm of his hand.
Then I understood: Leigh was popular for the real commodity she was selling. Leigh was running a serious business, and I was certain I knew what was behind it all. Desiree and her Consortium didn’t seem like the type to aid and abet criminal activity, but if Leigh’s dealings were helping fund the S.C.S.S., and the S.C.S.S. was invested in liberating womankind from centuries of oppression, I had a feeling the Consortium’s leaders told themselves that Leigh’s other line of work was defensible.
Leigh practically twirled around the room, doing more meet and greet. She seemed happy and in her element. The loud, outwardly tough but secretly insecure girl I had met as a sophomore, the one who wasn’t sure if her landscapes were any good but nevertheless kept painting because she couldn’t stand not to paint, was gone. In her place was an it girl with saucer eyes and a million acquaintances who thought they knew her well. And she thought that I was her best friend. It beat having no friends, I guessed.
I made my way over to the bar and ordered a grapefruit juice. Alex popped up behind me. “I’ll have what she’s having,” he told the bartender.
“Make his with mescal,” I clarified.
Then I leaned in closer to Alex and whispered what I had just seen transpire between Leigh and Levi.
Alex didn’t seem that concerned. “Whatever gets you through the night, baby,” he said with a shrug. “But I just witnessed something you’ll find even more interesting. Your nemesis is on the premises.”
I whipped my head around and scanned the crowd. At last, I caught a glint of Geeta’s glossy bob. She was wearing a cream-colored cropped sweater with matching wide-legged pants and talking to Levi or, rather, listening to him talk ad nauseam, smiling and hanging on his every stupid word. I wondered if she’d already seen me, and had purposely turned her back to me. A slew of thoughts hit me at once: Was she still mad at me for skipping her wedding? What did she see in Levi? Did she ever miss me?
“I have to pee,” I told Alex.
“What else is new, mama?” he said with an adoring smile.
I wiggled away from him and drifted toward Geeta. I tried to catch her eye but she looked right through me. She wasn’t going to make this easy. I slowed down as I tried to scare up the nerve to make my move.
She was now talking to a woman holding a reporter’s notebook, which I realized I could use to my advantage. Geeta was less likely to cause a scene with a witness on hand. She had a reputation to uphold.
“Geeta?” I said a couple of times.
Geeta finally spun around to face me. “Can I help you?” She was speaking to me as if I were a stranger trying to horn in on her conversation. My heart felt so heavy.
“It’s me, Jenny,” I said, my tone pleading.
The reporter was looking at me. “Jenny Green of Jentle Lentil fame! You two went to college together, right?”
Geeta stared coldly at me. My hands were shaking. “Can we have the quickest of words?” I asked.
The reporter, sensing something serious was going on between these two ballers, excused herself before Geeta could stop her. When it was just the two of us, Geeta looked me directly in the eyes. “Leave me alone, Jenny. I’m serious. I’ve had enough of you for one lifetime.”
“Or two,” I muttered. “I get it! I didn’t come to your wedding, and you despise me.”
“That’s all you think this is about?” Geeta crossed her arms, then started to walk away. “It was nice to see you,” she called over her shoulder.
“Hey! Come back, please!” I begged. She kept going.
“I’m going to say the word that cannot be said!” I called out, a last-ditch effort. Her gait slowed, then she turned around and begrudgingly returned. “This better be good.”
“Look, if you want to be my enemy for some reason that I don’t even know about, go ahead,” I told her. “But we need to talk. It’s serious.”
She screwed up her face. “Now you’ll talk to me? Last time I tried calling you, you never called me back. I guess you were embarrassed for squeezing me for all my contacts to help build your mobile-delivery platform and not even stopping to say thank you. By the way, congratulations.”
“It’s just a food company,” I said.
“No, on that.” She gestured at my belly. My heart dropped in despair. This wasn’t how it was supposed to go.
“I was just another body for you to step on as you continued your ascent, right?” she said.
I swallowed hard. “If that happened, that was... it is unforgivable.”
“If?”Geeta let off a cackle. “So now we’re operating in some kind of dissociative fugue state?”
“Geeta, you can hate me. You should hate me. But you need to listen to me. If you never speak to me again, which is totally justifiable considering everything that’s happened, just please don’t forget this one thing. You have to stay away from Levi’s—”
“I love to see this,” came a deep voice. Lo and behold, as if I’d summoned him, Levi Fischer was bearing down on us. “Are the ‘hashtag girl bosses’ kissing and making up?”
Geeta laughed and leaned into his body, as if seeking protection. I wasn’t sure if she had heard what I said or understood how serious it was. The evidence was not heartening. “This one,” she said with contempt, as if I didn’t even have a name, “was just offering me a piece of unsolicited advice. It’s amazing. We go years without speaking, yet she thinks she has a say in my personal life.” People were starting to stare at us, and I felt embarrassed. But this was my last chance to break through to her.
“Just because we’re not close anymore doesn’t mean I don’t care about you,” I said. “In fact, I probably care about you more than I ever did. I meant what I said, and you should listen. Because you know how I feel about you deep down.”
I could feel something shift in the air between us. I detected a glimmer of hope. Had I reached her?
“Lovely seeing you, Jenny,” Geeta said crisply. I guessed I hadn’t reached her. “They say motherhood changes you. Maybe you’ll turn out all right after all.” She turned to Levi. “Ready for takeoff?” And then she looked straight at me, her eyes blazing with defiance.
Unbelievable. Geeta was probably going to jump on his plane just to spite me. I stood there dumbly, my heart racing, as the two of them glided away. I pulled out my phone and composed a text. Please stay away from his plane, Geeta.
But it was in vain. This message was not delivered.
That’s when I saw my solution: the pile of postcards on the gallery’s front desk. The glossy side was printed with a triangular pile of bones. Nice branding, I thought. I helped myself to a card and a pen and scrawled out a message.
Geeta, I’m serious. Don’t board Levi’s plane, ever. Even if I can’t save us, I can save you. You must believe me.
Desiree and her friends were going to kill me for attempting to meddle with destiny. So be it. If the situation were reversed, I knew Geeta would try to save me, too.
I folded the card in half, then quarters, and tried to find Geeta. I’d discreetly press the note in her hand before she even knew what was happening. The room had become hotter and noisier, though, and the crowd had swallowed Geeta up. I circled all the rooms. There was no sign of her.
“There you are.” Alex was smiling like a maniac. “We got it,” he told me. “Zach is coming home with us.”
“Us? He is?” My first thought was Alex had arranged a threesome, which might have been better than the truth. My husband led me to a cordoned-off space in the back that was devoted to an enormous replica of Zach Houston. The piece was lit from within, giving off a halo as if he were a figure in a religious sculpture, and not an immature kid who had filmed a man jumping off the Golden Gate Bridge and set it to death metal. I almost wished Alex had bid on one of Leigh Sullivan’s signature celebrity vulva sculptures.
Alex wrapped his arm around my waist. “The asking was a bit lower. But I saw Levi was eyeing it and I knew it was a now or never kind of thing, so I just went for it.”
“How much did this cost?”
“About a hundo,” he said.
“A hundred... thousand? Dollars?”
I could have put a down payment on a good apartment in Pittsburgh for that much money. I could have bought myself an electric car and driven the hell away. I could have funded Alice’s foundation for another few months and rehired sweet Sophie.
“It’s a bargain, I know,” Alex said. “The valuation is...”
I stopped listening. Geeta swept into the room, arm in arm with Leigh.
“Congratulations, you sexy patrons of the arts!” Leigh squealed.
Geeta hung back when she realized who had just won the auction, but Leigh barreled over to Alex and me, covering us both with kisses. “A million, zillion thank-yous,” Leigh cried out. “And I’m so happy that you bid on that piece. It’s my favorite.” Young and beautiful scenesters streamed into the room, like moths drawn to the glow of Leigh.
“I should be thanking you,” Alex told Leigh. “I love it.”
“Me too,” I forced myself to say. “It’s so...” I squinted into the light emanating from replica Zach’s forehead. “Brilliant!”
“I love you,” Leigh said, taking me in for a slobbery hug. Oh god. She was absolutely wasted. “You’re my best friend,” she blubbered. “I wish I was the pregnant one so I could name my twins after you two!”
“Leigh, stop,” I said, steadying her on her high heels. I couldn’t go so far as to call Leigh my best friend in return. My eyes shot over to Geeta, who’d turned her back to me again. Even if she hated me for all the choices I’d made in this version of my life, the role of best friend was always going to be hers.
One more chance. I attempted to sneak up from behind, but Geeta had a special sense. She could always feel me coming. She turned around and met my eye as I slipped the folded up postcard into a pocket of her pants. She did nothing for a half second. Then she took the note out and let it fall to the ground.
“Will you do me a favor?” Geeta asked.
“Anything.” I felt a stupid surge of hope.
“Leave me the fuck alone,” she said. With that, she shot out of the room.
I knew how she operated when she was wound up like this. She got stubborn. She was going to stick by Levi’s side, because that’s what the Memo told her to do. It was so much bigger than me.
A couple of hours later, everybody but Geeta, who’d disappeared long ago, convened in a tent behind the gallery for a dinner in Leigh’s honor. I spotted the artist in a cluster of people in the shadows of a trio of palm trees. Their bodies were angled every which way—lots of downward dogs going on. At first I thought they were playing a game of Twister. And I supposed they were, but a very adult version, no game board required. Just an enormous cuddle puddle.
“Jenny!” Leigh cried when she saw me. “Get over here!”
“Shall we, lovey?” Alex said, kicking off his Birks.
“You go ahead,” I told him. “My back is hurting.”
“Don’t be like that,” he said. “You can still have a little fun.”
“I’m having a blast.” I slapped on a smile. “Besides, who wants an enormous pregnant woman in their orgy?”
I watched my husband find a spot next to a familiar pretty face. He started sucking this familiar pretty face. Oh my god. This face wasn’t just familiar. It was Brie’s. She couldn’t stay away from my men in any timeline.
If only I cared. All I could think about was Geeta, and how I’d failed her. Not for lack of trying. The more attempts I’d made, the less my words mattered.
Alex disentangled from his new friend and looked up at me. “Everything okay, Jen?” he called out.
“Yeah,” I said hazily. “You have my blessing!”
“That’s not what I mean. You’re, like, vibrating!”
Now Brie craned her neck to look at me. Her face flooded with alarm. “What the hell is happening to her?” she shrieked.
I glanced down and saw my hands weren’t all that was twitching. The rest of my body was quaking. I felt a rattling in my chest, a tremor in my shoulders. Everything was spinning around me. The next thing I knew, I was flying through yet another glorious wormhole.