18. Grae
Grae
Alana hasn’t answered my texts this afternoon, but she probably has a ton of work to catch up on. I should do some work too. But my agent hasn’t sent me any clients.
So instead, I’m heading over to Amanda’s place for our weekly dinner with her, Craig and CJ. Should I tell them about Alana? It’s been twelve years. I don’t even know if they would remember her.
As soon as I open the door, I’m attacked by a green ball of yarn.
This time I think it’s a frog? Oh, and it has a hat.
She’s been making little yarn animals for about a year now.
She gives them to Forever Wish Kids. But if she’s trying out a new design, I’m normally assaulted with it until it meets her standards.
“Nice one! I like the accessories.” I wave the frog up at her. She stands at the top of the stairs, hair in a ponytail, pajama pants and a cotton white shirt.
“I think his eyes are lopsided.” She frowns because it’s a work in progress, and she’s only happy with 95% perfection.
“Maybe, but it gives him character. He’s had a life and seen some unholy shit.” I bounce up the stairs to give her a hug.
Craig calls in from the kitchen, “Bro, you’re late.”
“I got sucked down a rabbit hole about Iceland and it’s mythology.”
“Why?” he asks as he lifts up a bottle of wine.
Because the love of my life is super cute and into it so I’m trying to learn about the things she likes. And I’m beginning to suspect she’s had a really shitty experience with men besides me, and her bar is so low it's basically in a grave. That’s why. But instead, I say, “It looked cool.”
I don’t normally drink. The champagne was the first time anything other than water, tea or coffee has touched my lips in years, which is why I fell asleep so quickly on the plane.
I notice CJ and join him on the couch. I haven’t seen him in a few weeks, and I like to keep tabs on him. He’s worked so hard to stay on the right path, I’d hate to see him stray… again.
“Hey.”
He doesn’t take his attention away from his phone. Typical, classic CJ. He’s the center of the world, and the rest of us are just stars.
“Are you guys ready?” Amanda puts plates on the table.
“Coming,” CJ says, sliding his phone into his pocket and giving me a shoulder nudge. “Hi.” He blinks at me. “You’re all glowy. New skin care?”
“I switched over to a Korean rice cleanser.” But that’s not why I’m glowy.
I take my spot across from Craig at Amanda’s quaker-inspired, square breakfast table. It’s just the four of us, so there is no need to bust out the formal dining room stuff. Craig puts the last bowl of roasted vegetables on the table. He likes cooking, and the rest of us enjoy eating.
I like talking to Craig, he's a good person. He runs a lighting company with his dad, who ran the rigging for Amanda’s last two tours.
They met at craft services about seven years ago.
He has a ring, and they've talked about getting married, but something’s holding him back, and I’m not sure what it is.
I know it’s not her fame or that she makes more money than him.
It’s something else, but I don’t want to pry. He’ll tell me when he’s ready.
“So, no interviews?” He asks.
I shake my head and look over at Amanda. “I’ve got free time. Do you need me in any of the art design meetings?” I usually create the first draft of Amanda’s vision, since she can only draw stick figures. Then we pass it off to the real designers.
She takes a sip of wine. “Not right now. I did send your sketches over to the team, but they’re still working on mockups. Are you going into the studio with anyone?”
“No. I’m taking a break, unless you need me.”
Honestly, it’s well deserved. For twelve years I’ve been working nonstop trying to claw my way in the music industry.
While it was nearly impossible, I managed to do so while maintaining my values and art.
I have houses on both coasts, mantles full of awards, and a close network of friends inside the industry.
I should have defined success a long time ago, but instead I’ve been chasing the next big hit for a while now.
“If you’re taking a break, then you should answer your text messages.” CJ waves his fork at me with a piece of pork on the end. “I texted you a few days ago, but you never responded.”
“Sorry, the guys at Mastodon took my phone away and locked my bank accounts.”
“Why would they do that?” CJ asks, disbelieving. Well, here it goes…
“I met someone.” A swell of joy covers the table.
“That’s great man,” Craig says, raising his glass to me. Amanda squeals and pumps her fists in unbridled excitement. And CJ, he has that ‘I’m happy for you but I’m sad for myself’ smile.
“Thanks.” I take a deep breath. I don’t know why I’m nervous. They’re my best friends, of course they’ll be supportive. “Actually, I reconnected with someone.”
“Ohhh, is it that cute Russian guy, what was his name?” Amanda squeals again.
“Uri,” I say. He pops into my mind every once in a while, and I wonder how he’s doing. We had a connection, but I’m not good for him long term.
I shake my head. “No. She’s from a while ago. Do you remember Kinsley?” I push the meat around my plate. “I’ve been trying to reconnect with her for a few years. Turns out she changed her name to Alana King, and that’s why I couldn’t find her.”
CJ drops his fork on his plate, making a loud clatter. “What the fuck?" I wince and glance at the vein in his forehead twitching. "Why?" He demands. Before I can answer he shoves his chair back from the table to stand over me. "She was the worst! A petty and dangerous, manipulative bitch!"
Anger swells from deep inside me. “Don’t call her that.” She was the only one who loved me in my worst form. CJ wasn’t interested in me until I got my shit together. How dare he?
“I hate her. After everything we’ve been through?” He motions in the space between us. “And now you're crawling back to her?” He says ‘her’ like it’s a curse.
“Calm down,” Craig says and reaches for CJ. But we all freeze when Amanda releases a quiet whimper.
She’s crying, which is nothing new. She cries whenever she’s happy, sad or mad.
At this moment though, it’s hard to tell which emotion it is.
But it's getting worse by the second. Her face flushes as she covers her mouth and nose, muffling a heaving sob.
Then she stands from the table and darts upstairs, leaving us confused and angry at each other.
“See?” CJ makes a motion between Amanda’s chair and the stairs. “See what happened when you said her name?”
Craig stands to follow her but stops at the bottom of the stairs. “Eat before it gets cold.”
I sit in stunned silence. CJ pushes himself away from the table to grab his jacket from off the couch, and on cue, my anxiety manifests through my confusion.
“I’m telling you right fucking now, it’s going to be either her or me.” The front door slams a few seconds later, and the early stages of a panic attack start to form. I try my breathing techniques, but questions scream in my mind.
What the hell is going on? I can hear Amanda’s sobs filtering through the ceiling. Why? Why is Amanda crying? Why is CJ giving me ultimatums? It’s Kinsley. I thought they liked her. I thought it was only Kinsley who I hurt, who I’d lose. But if I’m wrong about this, what else am I wrong about?
Slowly, I finish eating my food. It tastes flat and bitter, but that’s not Craig’s fault.
Then I move around her kitchen like it’s my own.
I clean up CJ’s plate, wrapping it in tinfoil and putting it back in the fridge.
Then I go back and put Amanda and Craig’s in the warmer.
Should I go and let Craig take care of Amanda, or go up there and talk to her?
There’re pots in the sink that could be cleaned.
I could do that while I figure out what the hell is going on.
While I clean, I notice there’s a mid-sized cardboard box on the kitchen counter. Not flimsy like a regular box, but one of those kinds that comes from a designer store. That’s a damn good box. The back of my mind itches as a swell of new feelings hit me.
Midge liked me, she hopped up and made biscuits on my chest within five minutes.
Instant affection. She didn’t yell at me and give me ultimatums. No insane timeline of fourteen days.
None of that. All she wanted from me was a warm body and pets.
No one in my life is that easy. And she had a simple problem I could solve, which I desperately need right now.
I hear Craig’s heavy footfalls come back downstairs and immediately point at the box when he enters the kitchen.
“Hey, can I have that?” He gives me a nod, but he’s clearly not paying attention.
He’s pacing while rubbing the back of his neck and looks up at the ceiling where Amanda’s tears must have slowed down.
“How’s she doing?” I ask, still not understanding her reaction. She sounds like she put her dog down instead of hearing I’m in a new relationship.
“I don’t know what’s going on with her. I was trying to ask but she couldn’t give me a clear answer. I’m as confused as you are.”
“I mean, it's sort of a big reaction, but it’s fine.” I get it, I’m struggling to keep everything from spiraling myself. I squeeze his shoulder, “Go take care of her.”
Craig takes out his cellphone from his back pocket and continues to rub his neck. “Alana King, that’s her name?”
“Yeaaah.” I drag out the word, because I’m not sure I’m gonna like what he has to say.
Craig has a pale expression, like he’s losing a battle between his stomach and his mouth. He stares down at his phone and exhales. “Did she tell you what she does for a living?”
“She runs a few companies.” My gut twists, and the anxiety builds again.
Craig swallows and lifts up his phone. There’s the logo to Grasshopper, and further down the screen Sunshine Ink. Nothing I didn’t already know. It’s the same page I went to a few days ago, but then he scrolls down. I didn’t do that the first time and there’s an elephant logo just below the screen.
Alana King:
CEO and Owner of Mastodon Securities.
Why didn’t she tell me? It only leads to a million more questions I need answers to. I loved Kinsley Adams, but who is Alana King and what else is she hiding?