Chapter 44
IT HAD BEEN AN EASY decision for Cole to leave Seaside after that night.
She didn’t want to see Daniel Hawksfield.
Her father was in prison. Her mother was a drunk.
Ray had a studio apartment in Seattle and a spare couch, and it made sense to move in with him for those last two years of high school.
With both of them working wherever they could, they were no poorer in Seattle than they’d been in Seaside.
The only person who was upset she left was Barb.
Peering through the living room window, Cole can see that her old friend is now home.
A gray Prius is parked in the driveway of the house across the street, a house she’d spent nearly as much time in as her own.
Cole should walk over and say hello; with old friends you haven’t seen in a while, supposedly you’ll pick up right where you left off. But would either of them want that?
Where they left off was terrible.
A peal of laughter gets her attention, and she turns back to the situation at hand.
Cecily arrived a few minutes ago, and in all her years, Cole had never actually witnessed a true “love at first sight” moment—and didn’t think she even believed in it—until her friend walked through the door.
Richard Montes looked as if he’d just been hit with Cupid’s arrow when he recognized the glamorous woman standing in the entryway.
“You’re Cecily fucking Monaco,” Richard had said to Cecily fucking Monaco. “Am I dead? If I am, leave me here. I don’t care if I’m in heaven or hell.”
Of all the fans Cole has seen fawn over Cecily over the years, this might have qualified as a top ten most adorable moment. Except the man doing the fawning is her father. She shudders.
“I really do see the resemblance,” Cecily is saying to him now. “Your daughter certainly got all your best features, of which there are many. My goodness, Cole, you never told me your father was such a handsome devil.”
Cole rolls her eyes. She’d also never mentioned that her father was serving twenty-five years in prison for armed robbery and assault with a deadly weapon.
Funny how some things just never come up.
She hears the back door open and shut, and a moment later, Ray joins them in the living room.
Neither Cecily nor Richard appears to notice.
“And you’re even more beautiful in person than I could have hoped,” Richard tells her, a stupid grin on his face.
“You know I watched your show in prison? And I’m not talking Trophy Wives, I’m talking Sunrise, Sunset.
Every weekday at three in the afternoon, there’d be a huge crowd in the rec room.
You have a huge fan following at Washington State Men’s Penitentiary, in case you didn’t know. ”
“I didn’t know,” Cecily says, clapping her hands. “Tell me more. Better yet, tell me about prison life. Is it like they portray it on TV?”
“Oh, I have stories.”
“Oh, honey, I bet you do.”
“What is happening right now?” Ray whispers to Cole.
“I don’t know, but it’s giving me the ick,” she whispers back.
They back slowly out of the living room so as not to be rude, but she didn’t have to worry—neither Richard nor Cecily is paying any attention to his grown children.
In the kitchen, she grabs a bottle of Coke from the groceries Ray just brought and twists the cap off, trying to ignore the strange sounds now coming from the living room.
She’s never heard her dad flirt with someone, and based on their laughter and innuendo, it would seem that Cecily might actually like Richard back.
“I’m realizing you really do have to wear sunscreen here,” Cole hears Cecily say. “I’m from LA, but the worst sunburn I ever got was the day I spent sightseeing in Seattle in a cute little convertible. The burn healed, but I was stuck with those tan lines for months.”
“I would have loved to see that,” Richard says.
“The convertible?” Cecily asks.
“The tan lines.”
Cole and Ray look at each other. There are competing thoughts in her head at the moment, but the strongest one is: Ewww.
“I’m showing Cecily the studio!” Richard’s voice calls out. “We’ll be back in a few.” The front door slams shut.
Cole frowns. “What’s to even see in the studio? Isn’t it tiny?”
“If you think they’re going to the studio just to look at the studio, then I’ve got a bridge I can sell you,” Ray says with a snort. “Didn’t you hear them in there?”
“Do you not see the blood gushing from my ears?”
“But he is different now. You see that, right?” Ray looks over at her as he twists the cap off.
“I get that it must be weird for you, because it was for me, too, at first. But he hasn’t had a drink in twenty-five years.
He’s had a ton of therapy in prison. It’s like all the anger and rage is finally out of him. ”
“How great for him.”
“Think they’ll actually date?” Ray jerks his head toward the kitchen. “I would never have thought he’d be Cecily’s type.”
“Any man who fawns over her like that is Cecily’s type.” Cole takes a sip of her Coke, wishing there was rum in it. She wonders how long she’ll continue to feel this way. “And to answer your question, no. She’s flying back to Toronto tomorrow.”
“And what about you? You going with her?”
“Haven’t decided.”
“You can stay here, you know,” Ray says. “I’ve been using your old room as an office, but we can get a bed—”
“God, no.” Cole shudders. “I can’t imagine sleeping here. Not with Dad so close. Nothing’s changed, as far as I’m concerned. I still hate him.”
“I get it.”
“Do you, though?” Cole sets her Coke down. “He was just as much of a shit father to you as he was to me. And on top of that, you had my mother to deal with.”
“He was a terrible father when we were kids, I don’t disagree.
” Ray sighs. “But after Sara died, I grieved for a long time. Dad wrote me these long, really thoughtful letters from prison, and they helped. I know you don’t want to hear that, but he’s not the same person he was back then. Hell, are any of us?”
“That’s not the same thing and you know it.”
The doorbell rings.
“Expecting someone else?” Cole asks.
“Yeah,” Ray says. “My cat.”
He goes to answer the door, and a moment later, a cat so large it looks like a dog wearing a cat costume appears in the kitchen. The cat looks at Cole, his tail swishing, and sniffs the air. Then he darts down the hallway. A second later, an unhappy yowl can be heard from one the bedrooms.
“It must be all the new smells,” she hears her brother say.
“Is she in the kitchen?” Cole then hears a woman ask, but the voice isn’t Cecily’s. It sounds a bit younger.
“Nic!” her brother calls out. “Come see who’s here.”
Sighing—because it’s clearly going to take a while for everyone to get used to calling her by the name she chose, assuming they ever will—Cole gets up from the kitchen table.
“No, that’s okay, I can go in there—” the voice says, but it’s too late.
Cole is already standing in the doorway between the kitchen and the living room, frozen.
The woman staring back at her looks equally shell-shocked.
She’s a bit taller than the last time they saw each other, with longer hair and clearer skin. But in this moment, dressed in jeans and a T-shirt with that same old tentative look on her makeup-free face, she looks fifteen.
Barb Bonifacio.
Her old friend looks how Cole feels—stunned, unprepared, speechless.
“Barb,” Cole finally blurts. Reflexively she reaches for her Coke, but then remembers there’s no alcohol in it and sets the bottle back down. “Wow, it’s been a . . . long time. I was going to . . . I forgot all about you. You look . . . you look exactly the same.”
Barb stares at her, her eyes narrowing. Internally Cole winces.
It’s like her speech filter just malfunctioned, and it wasn’t correcting the thoughts in her head before she said the words out loud.
If the cameras were filming this, she’d put her hand up and ask to redo it.
And then she’d tell Barb what she knows she’s supposed to say—that she’s been looking forward to running into her, and that it’s been too long, and that she looks great. Because she does.
“Okay, that did not come out right,” Cole says lamely.
Her old friend cocks her head. “Didn’t it, though? I’d say being shitty right off the bat is pretty on-brand for you.”
Cole blinks. “Okay then, so I guess we’re not pretending we’re glad to see each other. Cool cool cool. Why are you here then?”
“I brought Dexter back.”
“Oh, you were Ray’s cat-sitter? That’s so on-brand for you.”
“What’s that supposed to mean? Ray’s my neighbor and my friend.”
“Just as you’ve always wished for.”
“God, you haven’t changed. Any opportunity to be a bitch, you’ll take it.”
“What did I say? I’m being nice.”
“Kind of hard to tell with all that Botox.”
Ray, who’s been watching the exchange with wide eyes, looks back and forth between them. He is clearly confused by the tension. “Uh, what exactly is happening here? Aren’t you guys happy to see each other? Don’t you guys talk all the time?”
Cole barks a laugh. “Who told you that?”
“She did,” Rays says, pointing to Barb.
“I never once said that.” Barb folds her arms over her chest. “You assumed, and I never corrected you.”
An awkward silence fills the room.
“So I’m going to order the pizzas,” Ray says, backing slowly out of the kitchen. “Better yet, I’m going to actually go pick them up and take the scenic route. Hopefully by the time I get back, whatever this is”—he waves a hand—“will have passed.”
After he leaves, Cole’s former best friend turns to face her.
“I’d say it’s nice to see you, but we both know I’d be lying,” Barb says. Her gaze roves up and down Cole’s body, checking out her clothes, her hair, her face.
“What the hell is your problem?” Cole asks her. “I haven’t seen you in years, and you’re coming in hot like this?”
“I wasn’t intending to, but everything about you is”—Barb gives her another once-over, her hands fluttering—“triggering.”
“Then leave.” Cole snaps. “Because this is my house. I see you’re still living across the street.”
“Yes, I am,” Barb says. “In my house. My mother passed away a few years back and I decided to keep it.”
Oh, fuck, Cole thinks. She had no idea Mrs. Bonifacio had died. She makes an effort to soften her tone a little. “I’m sorry, I didn’t know.”
“How could you?” Barb’s mouth flattens into a thin line. “You’ve never come back.”
“I did come back.” Cole’s voice amps up again. “To move my mother into hospice, alone. Where she died six months later, alone.”
It’s Barb’s turn to blink. “Shit,” she finally says. “I’m sorry. You could have called me.”
“Would you have taken the call?”
Before Barb can answer, Richard and Cecily are back. And then, for the second time in less than a half hour, Cole witnesses someone’s pure excitement at seeing her fellow castmate.
“Cecily, it really is great to have you here,” Barb says, the hostility in her voice instantly replaced by a breathlessness that makes her sound like a human puppy.
“I don’t know how much time you have, but if you want to see anything or go anywhere—you mentioned you like small towns and there’s a lot of history here in Seaside—I’m happy to show you around.
Nicolette—I mean Cole—hasn’t been here in a long time, and so a lot of things are different, but if you need anything at all while you’re here, please don’t hesitate to ask. ”
“Down, girl,” Cole says with a snort. “You going to lick her face, too?”
“Cole,” Cecily says, giving her a stern look. “It’s lovely to see you again, Barb. I trust you’re staying for dinner?”
“She can’t,” Cole says at the exact same time Barb says, “I can’t.”
“Nonsense,” Richard says. “We’re all staying for dinner, including you, Barbie.
Whatever tiff you ladies are in, get over it.
I don’t care how long it’s been since you’ve seen each other, you’re like sisters, and you need to have each other’s backs.
With this docuseries coming out, you’re going to need each other. ”
Cole and Barb look at each other, the fight going out of both of them simultaneously. Richard is right. When it comes to Lorelei and Samuel Figg, they are on the same side.
The side that lies.