Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fourteen
“I never thought anyone would actually draw me.” Kirby smiles as we settle onto a bench, tucked away in Petra’s garden.
By eight a.m. , Oliver had been awake and invited me for a run on the beach.
“I’m not a completely new person,” I teased and kissed him goodbye.
I wandered through the house, the kitchen already bustling with caterers and a team of florists at work on the deck. I found my sketchbook, then Kirby, and asked if she was still up for being my model.
“I’ve never been drawn before.” She adjusts her T-shirt, tucking it into her shorts, then crosses her legs at the ankle. “Can I give it to Liam?”
“Only if you want to steal my wedding gift idea.”
Kirby laughs nervously and pulls at the hem of her shorts.
“You okay?”
“Nervous, maybe? You inspire me. I know what that sounds like, but it’s true.
My mom taught me about how to behave in any situation and which colors work for my skin tone but never sex.
No, cancel that. We did talk about sex, just never talked about pleasure.
” She watches me as I draw, starting with the perfect slope of her nose.
“I just don’t want to start off on the wrong foot. ”
“Smart,” I say, though I’m not entirely sure what she means.
“Last night, I told Liam about one of my fantasies. It was a dream, really. I’m on a game show and the ultimate prize is sex onstage, in front of the audience.
And Liam comes out from backstage and I spin the wheel.
It sounds…well, it’s supposed to be for fun and the fantasy involves him, so I thought he’d be flattered.
But he got weird and quiet and pretended he fell asleep.
What’s that about? We’ve listened to every fantasy on the site and he’s loved them all. ”
I study her face. The way she bites at her lip trying to mask her disappointment. The way her expression changes so quickly to cover her emotion. “Maybe we should record yours?”
She smiles. “My fantasy?” She crinkles her nose. “But then I’d have to edit my own voice. I hate the sound of my voice.”
“Have you ever met someone who does? Like the sound of their own voice?”
She laughs. “Someone must. You’re right. Maybe I gift Liam the drawing and the recording.”
—
By noon, Petra’s hair and makeup team is set up. After they’ve made me up to look the most awake I’ve looked in a long time, and as they start on Kirby and Alicia, I slip away in search of Liam.
I find him upstairs, hiding in the infrared sauna, fully clothed. “Don’t worry, it’s not on,” he says.
“What’s going on? I thought you would be first in line for the cotton candy machine.” I sit beside him on the sauna’s cedar bench.
“There’s a cotton candy machine?” he asks, lifting his head of curls. “Never mind. That’s not important.”
“Are you upset?”
“Nope. Because if I was, you might use it to make a point about getting married too soon.”
“Ha ha.”
When he doesn’t say more, I gently nudge his leg with mine.
“Obviously,” he relents. “I am ready to be married. But. Yes. Maybe I did have a moment of wondering why she’s with me. And yes, feeling freaked out about our sex life, okay? I’m a cliché. Or a hypocrite. Both?” In a softer voice he adds, “I just worry she wants more.”
“More of what?”
“Just everything—more…somebody else.”
“Right.” We sit in silence for a minute. “Liam. We’re all scared most of the time. And if you’re not, you’re a weird robot. With probably much bigger problems.” I study his profile, the gentle angles of his face. “You’re enough for everyone you meet. Sometimes, you’re even too much.”
Liam groans but with a wide grin.
I gently nudge his leg again. “Are you sure this thing isn’t on? I feel like I’m sweating from the inside out.”
“It might be,” he confesses.
I take his hand and hold it on my lap.
“Your palm is really sweaty,” he complains. “What? It is.”
“Have you felt yours? Shut up. Three things, okay?”
He rolls his eyes, but his smile is tender and sweet. “I’m listening.”
“One, I love you.”
He sighs. “I love you too. But sometimes you’re incredibly annoying.”
“I know. Number two. I’m really happy for you and Kirby and I’d love to be a part of your wedding. If it’s okay with Kirby? I want to help celebrate you both.”
“Of course.”
“But don’t make me do a weird reading about the wind always being at your back during the ceremony.”
“Do you even know me?”
“Three. Kirby is very cool. And also very, very lucky. And also my makeup is melting off and we have to get out of here so you can fix it.”
—
The guests pour in downstairs. They are here for me and to celebrate Dirty Diana, but also not. They’re here for one of Petra’s famous beach parties. They’re here to be photographed. They’re here to play on the beach.
“Nervous?” Oliver asks, wrapping a calming arm around me.
“Excited.”
“Me too. Look what you created. From the seed of an idea. And now everyone will understand how incredible you are. Besides my parents, of course.”
“Of course.” I laugh.
Oliver slips away to get us drinks and I stay behind to peek at the entryway, now with a line of people waiting to make their way in.
All these many months I’ve spent hiding Dirty Diana, worried about who will find out I’m involved when or who will react in what way—and now, with the arrival of each guest, another layer of my trepidation falls away, making room for celebration.
At the front of the line, a woman with long strawberry-colored hair, a little older than me, shifts her weight from one foot to the other.
She looks lost so I welcome her in and ask if I can get her a drink.
“Oh, I’m not staying. Thank you.”
“Are you sure? It might be fun.”
“I shouldn’t even be here. I have loads of work. My computer beckons.”
“I hear you. But you drove all the way out here from…”
“Studio City. I guess I wouldn’t mind some fresh air.” She hesitates, not seeming to see anyone she knows, so I walk her outside to sit on the beach. She plants herself in the sand and closes her eyes, takes a gulp of the ocean air.
“Can I tell you something?” she asks. “I ate some mushroom chocolate someone gave me. It was supposed to be a microdose. To help my social anxiety. It kicked in ten minutes ago and I don’t know if this is normal, but it feels like I’m swimming through lava and your nose seems like it’s gently slipping off your face. ”
“Oh,” I say. That explains her unsteady behavior.
“The air feels excellent, though.”
“Then let’s stay out here for a minute.”
“Isn’t this your party? You shouldn’t be babysitting me. Unless you want some of this chocolate?”
“No, thank you. I could use the fresh air, too.”
“I’m a people watcher, really. I prefer to sit in a nice little corner and watch. But I don’t think I could get to that corner at the moment. I’d love to ride in on that dolphin. Wouldn’t that be amazing?”
“I could help you find a nice corner?”
She gets to her feet, a little wobbly. “If I wasn’t so stoned, I’d be embarrassed.”
“We’ve all been there,” I say, wrapping my arm around her waist for support.
As we make our way through the party and upstairs, she asks, “Do you think I need a French braid? I have this vision in my head that I’m wearing a French braid.”
“I can do a French braid.”
She smiles. “I like your company.”
“Thank you.”
“You’re just like you advertise. You make people feel normal even when they want to ride into your party on a dolphin.”
—
Guests continue to arrive and as I make my way through the heart of the party in search of Oliver, someone calls, “Diana!” I turn and try to place her, a freckled, brunette stranger. “I love your site,” she tells me. “We listen to the fantasies religiously.”
“Thank you.” I smile. My first time being recognized. I can feel my cheeks go pink. “That’s so nice to hear.”
“Your voice! I can’t believe it’s you!” her friend joins in. They ask me to sign something—anything—then offer up a pen and a Dirty Diana cocktail napkin, laughing. I happily sign it for them, and as I make my way to the deck, the buzzy thrill of the party thrums through me.
I find L’Wren and Arthur outside.
“What is happening here?” L’Wren asks, sweeping me into a hug. “You’ve turned into Barbie living in Barbie Dreamhouse. Where’s Ken?”
“I was hoping you would know. Arthur, I’m so glad you came!”
I walk them down toward the beach. L’Wren takes an ahi tuna on crispy rice from every caterer we pass.
“I haven’t eaten since the Dallas airport.
” Once she has sampled her fill, she pulls me aside.
“Okay. I’ll start with the most important item.
The blue one. That’s the one. My god, is that the one. ”
“You tried the vibrator?”
“We wore it out. I mean. It may not be able to hold a charge anymore. Arthur wasn’t even threatened. It made the whole thing even more fun. We’re in a throuple with a vibrator!”
“I’m so happy for all three of you.”
“Where’s Liam? Is he dressed appropriately? I sent him with a linen suit from Saks and labeled which shirt.”
“I think I saw him upstairs.”
I turn back to the growing party and nearly knock into Petra, who is beaming with hostess energy. “Have you done the step and repeat?”
“Like the dance?”
“Oh, Diana.” L’Wren heads off to find Liam, and Petra leads me through the house to the garden, where a healthy crowd has lined up to have their photographs taken against the Dirty Diana backdrop.
Petra cuts the line and places us both in front of flashing cameras.
“Smile!” I watch her out of the corner of my eye and try to mimic her effortlessness.
It’s easy to draft off Petra’s energy. Like always, I feel more alive when I’m near her and especially tonight, celebrating something we built.
After a few pictures, we happily make our way back through the party. She says hello to everyone as we go, never getting stuck in any one conversation for too long.