Two #2
A number of luxury houses in the area have been bought by Russian oligarchs—their funds newly released—and Chinese billionaires who may have an interest in local tech businesses.
They aren’t buying these houses to live in, but as places they can park money for a while.
They have full-time estate managers and Bentleys parked in the garage, just in case they ever visit.
They may not visit often, but relish an opportunity to show off their worth—their art collections that alone are worth multiple millions—and so they occasionally rent their houses for private events, which is Lucy’s specialty.
Lucy has lent me another of her sequin dresses. Luckily, we are the same size, but I have never been able to pull off what
Lucy can pull off, and have teamed this dress with Converse sneakers and my hair in a ponytail.
“Please try heels,” Lucy had begged, but I refused. I wasn’t working, I pointed out, and if she said anything else, I’d take
off the sequin dress and show up in jeans. Lucy sneaks a spare pair for me anyway.
“No!” She balked in mock horror. “Keep the sequins and I’ll pretend I haven’t noticed your feet.”
We park my VW bug around the back, making sure the driveway is clear for the luxury cars that will soon be arriving, the Ubers
dropping off the guests who will turn this promotional event into the party of a lifetime.
Virtuoso Vodka have set up three bars, and are stacking flavored vodka shots in pyramids on round tables. The caterers are
busy creating tables of food, their chefs busily prepping the hors d’oeuvres in the kitchen they have built in the garage.
A team of people push past us, arms filled with vinyl albums. Lucy shrieks with joy as one of them stops, puts the plastic
box down on the floor and gives Lucy a huge hug.
“Oh my God!” Lucy is almost jumping up and down. “I’m so excited you’re here. This is going to be the party of a lifetime.”
“It’s a pleasure,” he says, as Lucy introduces him to me, some world-famous DJ I have never heard of, but clearly this is
something of a coup to have brought him to Palo Alto for this event.
Soon there is music coming from the sound system as staff appear to light floating lanterns for the pool, finishing off stringing
lights overhead.
Lucy is a ball of energy, whirling from one group to the next, answering questions, directing people to move a string of lights to the correct place, standing back to ensure that everything is exactly right.
I offer to help, but there is little I can do. Everyone here has a role, and Lucy is the headmistress, ensuring everything
runs smoothly. One of the bartenders, Dan, brings me over a drink, and then another.
“This one’s grapefruit lime,” he says. “My favorite’s champagne rose, but this is a close second.”
“You have a champagne-flavored vodka?” I can’t help but smile as he pours some out for me to try.
A dark-skinned young woman appears next to me.
“What is that?” She watches the champagne-colored liquid pour into my glass as the bartender gets another glass for her.
“To alcohol!” I clink glasses with her.
“The cause of—and solution to—all of life’s problems.” She finishes off my favorite Simpsons quote as we both look at each other in delight.
“Homer Simpson!” we both say at the same time, clutching each other’s arms and grinning.
Her teeth sparkle against her dark skin, her eyes crinkling as she smiles, the eyelashes so long they seem to sweep her cheeks.
I like her instantly. We drain our glasses, and ask the bartender to pour us two more, but make them doubles this time.
“I’m Preeti,” she says.
“Missy.” We clink glasses and tip our heads back in unison.
By the time guests start arriving, I am happily buzzed. Not drunk, but . . . happy. The guests have dressed up, excited to
be here, a curious mix of Silicon Valley employers and employees, with models and actors that Lucy ensures come to the parties
to add a hint of glamor. I start to recognize people, including the entire marketing team from ipryy.
“Hey, guys!” I try not to sway as I approach them, their faces lighting up as we all hug. “What are you doing here?”
“You know the deal we’ve been trying to put in place with Inferno? Apparently, a couple of them are in town, and the rumor
had it they’d be here, so we’ve been trying to get some intel.” Noelle eyes me up and down. “You look fantastic. That dress!”
“I’d love to tell you I scrub up well, but you know me. It’s Lucy’s. My roommate.”
“Well, you look great,” says Noelle. “You should wear that to work.” I laugh, toasting her with my champagne rose vodka. “If
you find any of the guys from Inferno, will you shimmy for them before you bring them over?”
I laugh as she rolls her eyes. We are a curious mix at ipryy, nervous when Marty Cooke is around, scared that any one of us
may be in his sights, may be the target of one of his infamous rages, bonding together when he is not there.
His rages are famous, but short. Because they are over quickly, he refuses to believe people are upset and scared by them;
he has no idea of the impact those rages have, or, he has every idea, and doesn’t care. He is my father, and I still don’t
know which one is true.
Soon, there are throngs of people around the pool, the DJ’s music gradually getting even the nondancers to sway, with a couple
of bright young things already stripping down to bikinis, jumping in the pool to play with the vodka bottle–shaped pool floats.
“Come swimming!” I sway my way to Lucy, who is only just allowing herself a second tequila, now that she knows the party is
successful, that everything is underway. She would never be drunk at an event, waiting for it to be over before she hits it
hard.
“Are you fucking crazy?” She tips her head back and laughs. “You’re bombed!”
“I’m not bombed.” I lift my arms in the air as I sway to the music and twirl, Lucy laughing all the while. “I’m having a great
time.”
Preeti appears and drags me off to the dance floor. The music, the lights, and the couple of hits of weed from someone’s vape pen have Preeti and me flinging our arms up in the air, twisting and moving, swaying our hips and laughing as we collapse against each other over and over again.
“We need more alcohol!” she shouts in my ear. “Back in a minute.”
I feel silly dancing without my partner in crime. Preeti and I had both kicked our shoes off (Lucy persuaded me into heels),
and now I can’t find them. I stumble slightly as I step off the dance floor, and Lucy is right there, catching me.
“Are you okay?”
“I’m better than okay. I’m great!”
Lucy steadies me. “I can see. Who have you been hanging with?”
“Preeti. She’s my new BFF. And my other BFF, Dan the bartender.”
“Nice. Is he cute?”
“He’s very cute.”
“If you misbehave tonight, I swear I won’t tell anyone.”
“I’m not going to misbehave.” My indignation is authentic. “I’m dating Jerome. I wouldn’t do that.”
“Okay, okay. I’m just saying. If you were to . . . slip, I’ve got your back.” I know Lucy doesn’t approve of Jerome. I’d love
to say she would never dare tell me that, but she does dare tell me, repeatedly.
“It’s not that I don’t like him,” she says, “I just don’t think he’s for you.”
“He treats me really well,” I defend him. “And we have fun.”
“Oh please, Missy. This is me, remember? Fun is not what you’re having with Jerome. He’s too stuffy. He’s a middle-aged man
trapped in a thirtysomething’s body.”
“I’m almost thirtysomething,” I remind her.
“And you act like it. Jerome’s like a very slightly younger version of your father. You don’t have to date him just because you think your father will approve.”
“Leave me alone,” I say. “I’m not talking about this.”
Jerome is a grown-up, I want to say, and that’s why I’m dating him. Not the only reason, but certainly part of it; he makes
me into the version of me that I’m trying to be.
I leave Lucy and head back to Dan the bartender. He smiles at me, before his gaze moves to the hordes of people behind me
and his eyes widen. “Jesus. He’s here! I heard a rumor he might be here, but I never thought he’d come!”
“Who?” I’m still smiling as I turn around and, moving slowly through the crowds of young people dancing, everyone stopping
him to say a few words, to try and connect in some way so they can tell their friends they once met him, is my father.