Chapter 10 Beck #2
“You know what?” she says, not looking away from the view. “I’m feeling really conflicted about being here again. I almost didn’t come.”
“That was my first reaction, too,” Micah says. “But I didn’t think I could avoid it. Not when I live right here.”
The fire pops and hisses.
“Anyway,” Beck says, sitting back down and looking at the other two, “I get that Audrey wants things to be like they were. And given all the shit she’s dealing with, I’m in. But we haven’t seen each other in half a lifetime. Do we really even know each other anymore?”
“Probably not,” Micah says.
“No, it’s been decades,” Jasmine says.
Beck sighs. No one says anything else for a minute. Mr. Littlejeans comes in the room, indignant that Beck left him alone upstairs.
“When we were laughing, though,” Beck says, hearing the wistful note in her voice, “it seemed like no time had passed. You three were the best friends I’ve ever had. Irreplaceable, it turns out.”
Jasmine stares at her drink. “I feel the same way. I . . . Well, I can’t exactly say I have a lot of friends in Greenwich. It’s so cutthroat down there, everyone jockeying to be more perfect than everyone else. Including me. I barely remember the person I thought I’d turn out to be.”
“Same here,” Micah says. “You guys knew me, warts and all. And given the accident and getting knocked up, I have to put up this front. Hap-hap-happy all the time. Sometimes I feel like even James doesn’t know the real me.
He just sees the version he wants to see.
Same as he always did.” She takes a healthy swallow and forces a smile.
Beck once had someone who knew the real her, someone outside of the Core Four, but it was a long time ago.
“We were special that way,” Jasmine says. “We didn’t know how special until it was gone.”
Beck’s eyes sting, and Mr. Littlejeans jumps in her lap, once again a therapy animal.
“So,” she says, clearing her throat, “maybe we drop the ‘I’m so blessed’ stuff and just tell the truth.
We already know our worst secrets.” She rubs her quad again, but the gin and Motrin have done their work.
“I’m being sued for sexual harassment, and I don’t know if I’m ever going to work again. ”
“I did read about that,” Jasmine admits. “Sorry. I wasn’t going to say anything, but it was in the Post.”
“You read the Post?” Beck says. “That scares me.”
“Just for the celebrity gossip,” Jasmine says hastily. “Not for the news.”
“What happened, Beck?” Micah asks. “I mean, obviously, it’s not true. You’re not the type. Unless you’ve changed drastically.”
“Thanks. So, nutshell version, I slept with a guy a few months ago, and then afterward, he wanted me to get an audition with Tarantino and make him a star. I passed. Now he’s saying I promised him a role in exchange for sex.”
“Jeezum crow,” Micah says, pouring herself another glug of bourbon. “Crying Harvey Weinstein, is he?”
“Exactly,” Beck says. “Weinstein was a monster. I’m not.
But this little rat bastard’s really milking his thirty seconds of TikTok fame.
My lawyer wants to settle and just get it over with.
You want to know what really happened?” Maybe she’s a little buzzed.
She sets her glass on the table, causing her cat to leap off her lap.
“After we slept together—which was very average, I might add—I was hinting that it was time for him to go. I already knew he wasn’t worth a third date.
Then he tells me he’s an actor and do I want to hear the Jack Nicholson speech from A Few Good Men. ”
“‘You can’t handle the truth!’” Micah barks, and Beck laughs.
“I love that movie,” Jasmine says. “Oh my God, how many times did we watch that?”
“At least ten,” Micah answers. “Tom Cruise at his most handsome. So what happened then, Beck?”
Beck takes a sip of her drink. “I told him I didn’t think I could help his career, he had a hissy fit and left.”
“So he’s the one who couldn’t handle the truth,” Jasmine says, quick as always.
“Right. But now the rumor is out there, and my business has taken a hit. Hopefully, I’ll bounce back. I have a good reputation, otherwise. But one of the reasons I could come up here is because I have absolutely no work at the moment.”
They’re quiet for a minute or two. The wind catches in the chimney, and the coals flare, then subside. Beck puts another log on the fire, sensing they’ll be up for a while longer.
“So what was the deal with you scooping Beck’s man, Jasmine?” Micah asks.
“That’s not how it happened,” Jasmine says, but pink blooms on her cheeks.
Beck tilts her head. “It kind of was, actually. Okay, Micah, so Oscar and I had been dating, he proposed, and I hadn’t exactly said yes yet.
Helluva ring, though. I was mulling it over.
He said we’d be compatible, not like, ‘I can’t live without you, my darling, my love.
’” She finishes her drink. She’ll need a very big glass of water before bed.
“Then, in this mulling time, he and I ran into Blondie over there. Total coincidence. But right away, I had a sixth sense you and he would hook up, Jasmine. You looked him up and down like he was a brownie sundae.”
“I did not!”
“You absolutely did. And you had dollar signs in your eyes when you saw my ring.”
“Well, it was huge,” Jasmine says.
Beck laughs. “I mean, it’s fine, honestly. We wouldn’t have worked out. I’m glad you two are happy. Three girls, that must be a trip.”
Jasmine looks out the window. “Sure. They’re great.
But if we’re doing honesty tonight, I hate living in Greenwich.
Even though we have so much, it’s never enough.
Lydia, my oldest, had a fit when we wouldn’t buy her a Versace dress for her prom.
Her best friend’s dress cost $12,000, and she and her date were driven in her parents’ Bentley.
And everyone knew about it well in advance, so Lydia felt like she was slumming it in a limo with a dress that only cost three grand. ”
Micah makes a sympathetic face. “So Oliver Twist. Your poor child.”
Jasmine has the grace to roll her eyes. “It sounds ridiculous, and it is. But that’s where we live. It’s all about status. If anyone there found out how I grew up, they’d never stop talking about it.”
“So you pretend to be someone else?” Micah asks, slurring a little. She will also need a big glass of water, Beck thinks.
“Pretty much,” Jasmine says, idly spinning her rings.
“As for being happy with Oscar . . . We go to parties and functions, and he’s always schmoozing and golfing, and I go to lunches and sit on committees and shop.
Lately, he’s been telling me not to spend so much, and again, it’s Greenwich.
If anyone knew we were cutting back, the gossip would ruin his business.
” She pauses, settling her hands in her lap.
“This weekend, there’s a tour-of-homes fundraiser, and I grabbed at the chance to skip out on it and come here, which means I’ve pissed off the richest women in Greenwich.
And Oscar is not happy because he has to stay home alone with his children for the first time in their lives. ”
“Jesus,” Micah says.