TWELVE
Before the Streamify contract
Maeve
I reach over and turn off the mic definitively. “I cannot do one more take.”
Finn laughs and throws it onto the coffee table. “It has been a bit of a challenge today.”
Every single time we tried to record this week, there was a huge disruption to our audio. First, at Finn’s place, construction workers started doing maintenance on the bricks, pounding directly on the wall next to us. It sounded like someone was trying to knock down the building. Then when we tried again at my apartment, my next-door neighbor decided to embark on a Harry Potter movie marathon, blasting the first three in a row through our shared wall. And now, at the gorgeous brownstone Finn’s mom’s friend owns, there is some sort of emergency happening right outside our window.
“Today? Try this entire week.”
Finn starts packing up the mics as I put away the cameras. “Maybe we should try recording in the dead of night,” he suggests.
“With our luck there would be a flash mob club directly outside our window. Or, like, in our own apartment somehow.”
“Let’s get out of the city. Have you ever been to the Hamptons? Montauk?” Finn’s eyes have lit up and he puts the bag aside.
I laugh and turn off the third camera. “Do I look like I summer in the Hamptons?”
“Come on, let’s do it. I’ll rent a car. In four hours we’ll be in the Hamptons. Yes Way Rosé is one of our sponsors this season! It’s on brand; we have to do it.”
I roll my eyes and take the batteries out of the camera, and put them on charge. “It costs like a million dollars to go there.” I’m happy that we now make enough that I can get by in a studio without roommates, but I still have barely any savings and am far from well-off.
Finn holds up a finger in the pause gesture. “So, if it were free to stay there, you’d go? Like right now?”
“If you can get us a place in the Hamptons, for free, then after we pick up clothes from my place, yes, I will go.”
Finn is the kind of guy who knows everybody. Who can make something happen, who goes to Cannes and within three hours is on a yacht with the most famous actors there, even though he planned to just drop in. I forget sometimes that he’s ridiculously well-connected and his family is obscenely wealthy. So when, within an hour, we’re in a borrowed convertible on our way to a family friend’s place in Montauk, I’m still slightly surprised.
He drives confidently, only one hand on the wheel, his dark hair blowing in the wind and sunglasses sliding down his nose. In fact, in his partially unbuttoned white linen shirt he looks like he’s already in the Hamptons. When he turns to me, grinning, my breath catches in my throat for a moment. The way he looks over at me, for the briefest moment, at a red light … if I didn’t know better I would think he felt something for me. Something more than friendship.
But the whole point of our show is that we’re just friends. Who help each other find the one. And who go on friendly trips to the Hamptons to record, then sleep in separate rooms.
“So tell me, what’s the dream studio?”
“What?” Finn likes to lob questions at me with no warning. You’d think that, as a therapist, I’d be the one doing the asking, but with him all bets are off.
“Your future podcasting studio. What’s it look like?”
I’ve never thought much about it. But I can play along. I stick an arm lazily out the window and feel the wind wrap around it. We have the top down now, almost in the Hamptons, and I can smell the impending rain. I love it. And more than anything, I love that I’m here with Finn.
“Soundproofed, for starters. And very cozy, you know? I want it to feel like we’re at home in the living room. But, like, a super nice living room. With brown leather chairs, but then lots of bright white, so it doesn’t feel too manly. And pink accents on, like, the coffee table, the picture frames. And …” I trail off, thinking. “And artwork on the walls that’s all by women. Sexy artwork, but still a bit reserved. Classy, since I see the show becoming a bit more elevated once we’re not selling our sex life for a viral week.”
“I like it!” Finn remarks. “Sounds very elevated. The most elevated. How about some sort of plaque that says T ELL M E H OW Y OU R EALLY F EEL ?”
“Maybe in a subtle way,” I agree. “And I want the studio to feel like it’s golden hour, beautiful morning or evening light. But actually be completely artificial lighting so it looks consistent, and we could record easily at any time without having to relight as the natural light changes.”
Finn throws his head back, laughing, and I flush, pleased. I don’t think of myself as at all funny, but I relish when I make him laugh. Every inside joke we share feels like a building block in the story of us. It makes me wish, sometimes, that there could be an us that isn’t possible, that wouldn’t work with the show. A version of us where tonight we’d get into bed together instead of brushing our teeth together and then texting from separate rooms. “Now that sounds like you,” he remarks. “Amazing vision, but also practical to your core.”
“It’s the dream combo! And I’d have a room in front for social content. And a huge editing bay, and a kitchen with every snack imaginable.”
“Sounds like an entire house at this point.”
I nod, then remember he’s driving and can’t see me nod. “Basically. Think like, super-fancy pool house vibes. Like a techie pool house! And, we’d get to leave the cameras and mics up at all times so we don’t have to break down.”
“Now that sounds like my dream. Although, we’ll be so rich and successful by then, we can just hire people.” Finn pulls the car into a long driveway, of a house that is directly on the water. “We’re here.”
Let’s always keep it just us. The thought was on the tip of my tongue. But now, I’m busy taking in this house that was apparently sitting empty. “You can’t be serious?”
“Oh, but I am.” Finn jumps out of the car and grabs both of our suitcases. “They had the housekeeper bring us some groceries and wine, so we should be all set on food. But there’s lots of good places around here, we should really go out tomorrow.”
I follow Finn into the house and my head is spinning. This is a huge mansion. There are floor to ceiling windows in the living room, revealing a massive infinity pool with an outdoor grill and built-in marble tables, and a private beach entrance. The kitchen, the entire interior really, is real estate porn. “Why do they not spend every waking minute here?”
Finn shrugs. “I think they’re doing a movie. In like, Antarctica or Alaska, or somewhere remote.”
I open the fridge, which reveals fully stocked shelves, with organic produce, premade meals, anything I could think of. And on the counter are bottles of red, white, and rosé, all of which look more expensive than any wine I’ve ever bought.
“Remind me. Why are you bumming around in the city again? Living with four roommates? Working?”
Finn grabs chips and guac out of the fridge, ignoring my questions. “Their chef’s guac is legendary. You have to try it.” I follow him outside and we sit on the deck, enjoying the sunset and the guac, which is indeed delicious. Because of course it is. Why would they have anything that isn’t incredible?
“So? Why are you doing CMU and the corporate life?” Maybe I shouldn’t press it. But I suddenly really do want to know.
Finn is getting the full golden-hour treatment. He looks like a Pinterest photo come to life. His eyes are so blue they’re stunning, especially in this light. “I wanted to live like a normal person.”
I look around us: at the view, the house, everything. “But like, why? I’m really asking.” And I am. Because I grew up in the tiniest house imaginable, in the shittiest little town. Our water would get turned off if my mom didn’t get enough shifts that month. I can’t imagine choosing to live in dorms and rat-infested post-college New York shoebox apartments when you have other options.
He sighs, heavily. “First off, I’m not complaining. And I’m telling this only to you.”
“Finn, of course. I’m actually asking.”
He looks away, toward the water. “My first really vivid memory isn’t my mom, or dad, or some fun time in the pool. It’s paparazzi chasing us out of a store, my mom pushing the stroller and then abandoning it and pulling me into the car. She had an assistant get the stroller later because she was so scared of how close the guys were getting to us that she didn’t think she could stop to put it in the car. It was a whole crowd of men with cameras, and they were so aggressive . In California it’s now a misdemeanor to photograph the children of celebs, but we were actually here in the Hamptons. Where it’s fair game. And then that same thing, basically, was my entire childhood. Especially after the movie. I couldn’t take a walk, go to the park, do anything really unless we were in a private area or abroad. It’s just not a way to live. And the older I got the worse it was. They really hound you, you know?”
I don’t. I actually can’t imagine growing up like that. But I nod, encouraging him to keep sharing. He almost never talks about this. Finn looks back at me, and I can see in his eyes that these memories hurt. “My first real girlfriend, not Cassidy, but when I was a teenager, dumped me after every detail of her life was in People . When I failed my driver’s ed test, it was in five different tabloids! I couldn’t have anything for myself. People kept asking when I would act again. And as a kid I actually did love acting. I would put on little skits at home for my parents, and doing that movie was one of the best times of my life. But I knew that whatever I did would lead to my life being ripped into tinier and tinier shreds until there was nothing left for me. So I decided to be as boring as possible. And go to the most boring state, Pennsylvania, where there’s no paps. And make my life entirely unexciting to photograph so that I could actually live.”
My stomach twists, because what he’s calling too boring to photograph is my real life. My home. But this is his moment, and I understand what he’s saying. “But the show …” I trail off. Because I know. He did it for me. “Are you okay with it all?”
He nods. “I chose to do the show with you, Maeve. You didn’t force me. You didn’t even try very hard to convince me. And I love doing it with you. It was unrealistic to think I could stay out of the spotlight forever anyway.”
The sun has almost set now. It’s a tiny ember on the horizon, and there’s a chill in the air. I’m about to suggest we go inside since it’s getting dark, when tiny fairy lights turn on, triggered by the setting sun. This is what being rich is like. Your every need is anticipated without you having to think about it. I never yearned to be rich, but now that I can see complete financial security in my future, and all of the ease it brings … I catch myself wanting it. “I’m sorry, Finn, that sounds awful. No child should have to deal with all that.”
“But I get all this,” he says with a dark smile. “It’s a trade. But my parents are the ones who made it.”
We watch the last of the sun fade away. I reach out and squeeze his hand once, then drop it. “Well, I’m glad we have the show together.”
For the first time since we came out here, he looks at peace, his smile genuine and his eyes soft. “Me too, Maeve. Me too.”