Chapter Thirteen #2
In the morning, we wake to the sound of diesel engines pulling up to Petra’s front door. Four box trucks filled with catering supplies, chairs, and tables are swiftly unloaded for tomorrow’s event. My heart immediately starts to race with nerves and excitement.
Oliver watches from the window. “How big is this party?”
“Petra doesn’t do anything small. Even Mitch was massive. That’s her joke, not mine.”
Before I can argue we might get in the way, Oliver is out the door and helping carry everything inside. I throw on my sneakers, and on my way out the door smack into Liam and Kirby.
“Holy shit.” Liam tosses his frayed duffel bag to the floor and I’m just happy L’Wren isn’t here yet to see him do it. “Are we on Love Island ?”
“Liam, please.” Kirby picks up his bag and hands it back to him. They look as mismatched as ever, a set of polished silver on a paper plate.
“You’re right. It’s classier. Maybe Bachelor in Paradise. ”
“Are we allowed to talk about work?” Kirby asks me hopefully.
“Now? Sure…”
“Great. I worked out the sound design for Effie, Megan, and Vic’s interviews. They’re in your inbox. Happy to jump in—”
“Maybe we shouldn’t talk about work,” I say, looking out at the picturesque ocean view.
Kirby nods while Liam grins. “Isn’t she the best?”
—
We spend the rest of the afternoon at the beach.
I already miss Emmy, who’s just left with Oliver for his parents’ house in Montecito.
Liam and Kirby help Elvis build a sandcastle while Alicia, Nico, and I make friends with the neighbors, a bohemian couple who worked in the aging and dyeing of costumes for movies and have lived in Malibu since the ’70s.
All the leather jackets in Easy Rider were aged by them, using rubbing alcohol, dirt, and oil.
They take us on a walk down the beach and point out where Johnny Carson used to live and which houses were washed into the ocean when and then rebuilt.
I look at the stilts holding up the homes and think about the nights the tide reaches that far up and what it must feel like to lie in bed in a thunderstorm and if you can feel the water as it crashes into those stilts like the spindly legs of a storybook witch.
Elvis and Nico chase each other up and down the beach until Elvis passes out in his mom’s arms, and I tuck them both in under a towel beneath an umbrella.
Kirby and Liam dip their toes in the water and decide they both prefer the Gulf, then immediately head back inside with their bedroom door locked.
Inside, I find Petra fresh off the plane. Suddenly the house feels right, like the missing piece has finally settled in. When I hug her, she’s thinner than I remember, delicate beneath her long summer dress.
“What do you think?” She smiles.
“It’s unreal.” Together, we tour the house.
Already gorgeous, every inch has been buffed, polished, and dressed up for tomorrow’s party.
The bars, indoors and out, are fully stocked, lined with menus of cocktails named after our interviewees.
Dirty Diana gift bags have been arranged on a table near the door, our branding suddenly everywhere, ready for a guest list full of names I’ve only seen in tabloids.
I start to tell Petra how nervous I am to impress Vibezz, but she interrupts me. “Don’t be nervous. Be excited.”
Once she’s satisfied with the setup, I ask if she’d like to take a walk on the beach. She says yes, then hesitates. She yawns and showily stretches her arms overhead. “I think I need a quick nap.”
In the guest room, I curl up with my sketch pad and pencils. I try to capture the view outside the window, then the striped loungers by the hotel pool, then find myself absentmindedly sketching a ’70s leather jacket.
I take a hot shower and when I get out, Oliver is here, changing from his shorts into jeans, his body still warm from the sun; I wrap my arms around him from behind and whisper in his ear. “Where are the handcuffs?”
He turns and smiles. He slips my robe off my shoulder and kisses my bare skin. “Don’t we have to go to dinner?”
—
That night, Petra secures us an outside table at Nobu so we can admire the sunset as we eat.
Petra sits across from me, looking rested but quieter than usual.
As if picking up on her sadness, Oliver sits by her side and entertains her with our L.A.
adventures. When he gets to Ernest, I hear her warm, gentle laugh, and my shoulders relax.
The server fills my wineglass with a second, generous pour, and my head feels light and dreamy.
Alicia is deep in conversation with Liam after Nico convinced her to come out with us on her own and leave him and Elvis at home. Three drinks in, Kirby, who has been quiet the entire evening, whispers in my ear. “I’d like to do a fantasy.”
“Really?”
“It feels a little hypocritical, right? Recording other women being vulnerable but never sharing anything about myself?”
I think of the Vogue Q&A, an unfinished copy still crumpled at the bottom of my purse. What’s your fantasy? “Not necessarily.”
“Liam and I talked about it and I want to try it.”
As quickly as she announces this, she’s up from the table, snapping pictures of the ocean from the patio’s edge.
Liam watches her, smiling.
“How are you two doing?” I ask, though the way he smiles makes it obvious.
“Don’t fish, D. This trip is perfect.”
“I’m not fishing. We can talk about whatever you like.”
“Great. Let’s try adding a video element. We have the paintings and now we need the next piece.”
“Are the wedding plans still on track?”
He rolls his eyes, but the soft creases of his eyes let me know he’s not upset. “I know it feels rushed. But it also feels really right. Just like video feels really right for the company.”
“It always feels right in the beginning,” I warn.
“No more drinks for you.”
“I like you both so much—”
“Then stop obsessing over our marriage.” He looks down into his lap, adjusting his napkin. “You’re not exactly an expert.”
At that exact moment, someone passes behind Liam. He sweeps past, then stops, coming back into frame. A fully fleshed figure—tall, dark hair, and familiar dimples.
“Diana.” Jasper’s brown eyes look almost amber in this light.
“Jasper?” My heart pounds. “Hi.”
“You’re in L.A.”
I hold his gaze too long. Under the table, Liam presses his foot into mine.
“Yes, for a couple weeks. What are you doing here?”
“A campaign poster for a tornado movie. It’s an incredible film.”
“Is it?”
“No, it’s unwatchable but the job is fun.
” He laughs, his familiar dazzling smile on display.
By now, he has the attention of the full table.
I can feel their eyes on him, passing from him to me and back again.
My face burns and I wish the sun had fully set so I could hide out.
And that my head was less fuzzy with wine.
All eyes are on him, but he’s still looking only at me.
“It’s nice to be on autopilot and not have to think for a minute. ”
This time Liam doesn’t gently nudge my foot but kicks me in the ankle.
“Jasper, this is Liam. And Oliver. And my friends, Petra and Kirby. Of course you know Alicia.”
Jasper regards Oliver, a nearly imperceptible smile on his face. “Oliver. So nice to meet you.”
“You too.” Oliver returns Jasper’s gaze and they lock eyes like friendly competitors shaking hands before a match.
They seem to share a secret—it’s me, and I’m sitting right here.
I’m about to cut in when Jasper breaks the spell and makes his way around the table, shaking hands, kissing Alicia on both cheeks.
And then, back to me. He’s standing behind my chair now.
I scoot it out and it scrapes loudly against the wooden deck.
I stand with my back to the table, everyone’s eyes burning a hole through the back of my pink sundress.
Alicia tries her best to refocus the table’s attention on her by remarking too brightly, “These waves. Does the tide usually get so high? Ha. I sound like Blondie.”
“I don’t want to interrupt your dinner…and I have a friend at the bar. It’s great to run into you,” Jasper says. He gives me a quick hug.
“You too. Of course.”
Petra, who refuses to pretend not to be listening, asks, “Are you in town for long?”
“Through next week.”
And then it’s Oliver who chimes in. “You should come to our Fourth of July party tomorrow. We’re celebrating Dirty Diana.”
“Yeah?” Jasper sounds as surprised as I am.
“Why not?” Oliver turns to Petra, who smiles as she says, “Why not?”
“Okay. I might do that.”
When Jasper leaves, the table falls silent. Alicia turns to me. “I have to pee. You?”
“Sure.”
“What was that?” she hisses once we’re in the bathroom. “Seriously? I didn’t know if he and Oliver were going to fight or kiss!”
“It was fine.”
“And then Oliver invites him to the party? Like, what ?”
“That part wasn’t great.”
“Are you freaking out? You must be freaking out.”
“I’m fine.” I wash my hands for the third time.
“Are you confused? Are you regretting anything? How are you feeling?”
There’s only a tightness in my throat like I might run out of oxygen in the Nobu bathroom. “Surprised, that’s all. And if we stay in here any longer, Oliver will worry.”
As we make our way to the table she whispers, “Jasper didn’t look that good, really. I don’t like him with a tan.”
“Of course. Everyone looks worse with a tan.”
“What do you think Oliver is thinking?”
—
At the table, Oliver had seemed unfazed but back at Petra’s, as we stand at the sink, brushing our teeth before bed, he says, “I didn’t realize he was that good-looking.”
I make the most neutral sound I can. “Mmm.”
“He’s very handsome.”
“Yeah.” I meet his gaze in the mirror and shrug. “I guess I’ve just known him for so long.”
“It’s okay to admit, Diana. He’s universally beautiful.” I reach for his shoulder, but he turns away from me to fill his water glass instead. “I get the appeal.”
“Can we talk about something else?”
“What do you mean?” he asks.