41. Ice Cream
ICE CREAM
PRESENT
Our days together are so full, our nights so precious, I almost forget to follow up on Aurora’s request. Or rather, more truthfully, I forget until she texts me, asking whether I’ve looked into Algan, the tiny tech startup she interned at.
Doing so now, I text Aurora, wondering why it’s so important that this happen now, when I have so few days and hours left in Hawaii.
The rash has more or less subsided, my hair is black (still thin, but at least now dyed the correct color), and I’m in paradise, trying to squeeze what last little bit of joy I can, while I can.
For once, Lucas is the one napping, post-sex, after we’d decided on an early night, skipping the Nobu dinner everyone else seemed excited about.
I start reading about Algan Tech. Ten minutes later, I wake Lucas.
“You’re purchasing Algan?”
Lucas twists to half face me before finally propping himself up, squinting at me. “My company’s taking a controlling share, yes. Though not for another month.”
“And it’s Qi’s company.”
“Yes.”
“Qi, Brody’s old roommate from Caltech.”
I wait for a beat, certain Lucas will give in. “Brody and I were both original investors. But it was Qi’s partner—who refuses to marry him, for now—who floated the idea of a women in STEM internship.”
“So Aurora got this, fair and square.”
Lucas is silent for a beat too long. “I made sure we advertised at Aurora’s high school.
” I look at him, and Lucas holds out his hands palms up.
“She sometimes has emailed me questions. But she didn’t initially know I was involved, and I was completely uninvolved in the selection process.
Qi recused himself as well, once he knew of the connection. ”
“Was she okay with it, once she found out?”
“Mostly. We did . . . have words. But I assured her she was one of our top three candidates. And we took five.”
“What if she’d been one of the top twenty applicants?”
Lucas doesn’t try to lie. “I might have considered funding a larger class of interns, spread them out over a couple of companies.
“She first emailed me a few years ago, asking if I remembered her and saying she wanted to ‘grow her network.’ Later”—a faint smile, a shake of his head, as if my sister is a misbehaving puppy whose antics he can’t help but be amused by—“Aurora said she needed ‘people who aren’t Lorelai’ to look at her résumé. ”
“She just shamelessly exploited you as a résumé editor?”
“Basically.”
I don’t bother asking why Aurora might have hidden something like this from me. This was, after all, during the time when I also shared . . . nothing with her.
My phone beeps with alerts to indicate a new story right as someone pounds on our door.
I reach for the phone, and Lucas reaches for his pants so he can see who’s knocking.
On the phone is an alert from my program and several headlines, most of which say and show the same thing:
Over Before It’s Begun? Upstart Politician and Rising Starlet Have Blowout Fight Days Before Million-Dollar Destination Wedding!
And below that, pictures of Brody and Vi on their balcony, clearly in the midst of an intense battle.
There are close-ups of Vi crying. At least one of Brody burying his face in his hands.
And it’s a very, very long article, full of sources who have—exclusive!
—revealing details as well as purported snippets of parts of their argument, transcribed for the curious.
I join the boys in the living area. Brody sinks into the couch, looking exhausted. He’s wearing the same clothes as he was in the pictures, which means that they argued through the night or . . . he spent the night elsewhere? Neither is a good sign.
“I fucked up.”
It doesn’t take long for the entire story to come out: They went to Nobu, squabbled about the fact that Brody couldn’t name Vi’s favorite dish, that Khloe knew her twin better. It escalated from there, with passive-aggressive digs half veiled for the sake of company.
“Vi opened the balcony doors. She hates the humidity, says it does awful things to her hair. But she opened the glass doors, and because we were still arguing, even though I could have and should have stopped the fight, I chose to follow her.”
I think about what Brody said the other day, that happy couples aren’t particularly newsworthy. I remember Khloe’s words, about how much visibility this was giving them.
“You really think—”
“Yeah. I mean not at the time, but now that I’ve had a few hours to process it, yes, I think Vi knew there were paparazzi there. I think she leaked this story.”
Lucas and I sandwich Brody on the couch, leaning into him.
“What do you want to do?”
Brody shrugs. “Not be a lawyer. Move out of LA. Have a fiancée who doesn’t see our engagement as a marketing opportunity.” Brody shakes his head. “She locked me out of the bedroom because she said she needed space. I was trying to sleep on the couch when the first story broke.”
Lucas places one hand on Brody’s shoulder, his tone light. “Tell the truth. You came to find Red, and I just happened to be here.”
“She’s traditionally been the better listener.
Also, even if you’re big brain, big wallet these days, it wasn’t your sentiment analysis program that dug me out of these last few days.
” Brody buries his face in his hands and lets out an audible groan.
“Tell me, Lorelai, when does it actually get better?”
“I might not be the best person to answer.”
“Actually, you’re the best person to ask.
I’ve been following someone else’s path this entire time.
But you? You don’t want black hair? You dye it green without needing to ask whether it will test well with a particular demographic.
You’re the only one who looked at the predicted path and said, Fuck. That. Shit.”
“I’m—”
Speechless.
Convinced Brody has completely misunderstood every aspect of my life.
“Not all of those choices were ones I made completely willingly.”
“But you’ve never once sold out who you were. You came into Tech so you could support your family. You left having protected not just them but Lucas. You remained true to yourself the entire time.”
It’s uncomfortable just how antithetical this all is to how I view myself. “I mean, I don’t make $1,250 an hour.”
Brody lets out a short, humorless laugh. “Beyond being able to say it, do you think I give a fuck?” Brody points to Lucas. “Given the choice, do you think Lucas would rather make $1,250 an hour or have you back in his life?”
“Me,” I whisper, knowing it’s not even a contest, as Lucas says, “Not a question.”
“And see? For most people, it’s a question.
” He looks down now, resting his arms on his knees and staring down at the carpet.
“For me, it was the fucking conclusion. And the wrong one. Vi would never sacrifice a single thing for me. And I can’t even be mad about it, because that’s exactly how I feel about her. ”
The silence that stretches between us is as long as it is uncomfortable.
“The hotel has gingersnap ice cream sandwiches,” I offer, because thank you, useless brain that stayed up reading about the hotel.
Ice cream always used to make everything better.
“They’re apparently really well reviewed and filled with pineapple coconut ice cream that’s like . . . a specialty here?”
Lucas offers a tentative smile. “I’ll take one.”
Brody looks up, finally. “Yeah. Order me one.” A beat passes before he looks over at Lucas. “This is why I came to Red’s room first. How long would it have taken you to remember to feed me?”
I put a movie on, and like the boys-at-heart they are, they eat their ice cream sandwiches and then fall asleep midway through my choice.
They’re leaning on each other as they do so, and it’s tempting to take a picture, compare it against the surely countless ones I have of them in similar poses, from when we were all undergrads.
Instead, I grab the throw pillows and extra blankets that are spread around the room and try to reposition both of them.
Brody prefers to sleep with his shoes and socks off, and so I start with him.
Lucas prefers to have his watch off, because he’s always worried he’ll break his last link to his father.
It’s as I’m taking off his watch that I notice the hairbands he’s been storing underneath. They’re cutting into his skin a little, and so I remove these as well. I tell myself it’s not a sign that even the hairbands he keeps for me are cutting into his skin.
Because not everything is a metaphor.
I tuck the blanket around him carefully and pick up the Four Seasons brochure again, because it’s the tiniest bit better than doomscrolling.
Ten minutes later, I’m nudging Lucas awake.
“I need your wallet.”
He smiles at me sleepily, untucking one arm, long fingers curving against my cheek. It’s adorable the way he’s not the least bit put out. “Check the nightstand?”
It takes some doing, and thankfully, Lucas carries emergency cash, and also the concierge knows it’s Brody’s wedding coming up and that Brody and Lucas have been charging all sorts of things all week, while tipping well.
I get confirmation within half an hour because that’s the power of thick wallets.
Lucas has gone back to dozing, apparently completely uninterested in why I needed his wallet and commandeered his cash. Brody is completely out.
Because I’m a complete brat, I don’t just nudge them awake, I blast the main title theme to what else, The Cutting Edge, until they both startle awake.
Lucas rubs his eyes while Brody wipes drool from the corner of his mouth. “What the actual fuck, Red?”
“I have a surprise.”