Chapter 18
“I’m sorry. Cassie can be so dramatic,” Ingrid apologizes in the car.
It’s half past six a.m. She and Maggie are in a black Escalade on their way to LAX.
Ingrid’s holding a thermos of coffee, sipping quietly, her legs crossed, reading glasses in her other hand, Louboutin dangling as precariously as her mood.
Last night was the first night since the transfusions began that she didn’t sleep well. Her old friend insomnia was back. How could Cassie just leave school like that?
All night she thought about her daughter’s record, her other classes.
She texted her girlfriends Laura and Joanne, asking them how to explain the big, gaping hole Cassie’s going to have in her transcript to her future employers.
They texted back with various suggestions, some more helpful than others. Kyle, meanwhile, slept like a baby.
“Please don’t apologize,” Maggie says. “I’m fine.”
Ingrid glances at the driver, who thankfully is preoccupied studying the traffic routes on his screen. Last time, they sent a guy who listened to every word of her call with the studio, then told her which actor he thought they should cast.
“She’s just so coddled,” Ingrid says, putting the coffee down and rubbing her temples.
“So different from my son. She gives up at the first sign of anything hard. It’s always someone else’s fault.
” She turns to Maggie and holds up a finger.
“If there’s one thing I can teach you, it’s not to blame anyone else for your problems.”
Maggie nods. “I won’t, I promise.”
“I mean, why is she plastering her nudes everywhere in the first place? Why is showing her body the only way she’s interested in getting attention?”
“I think she’s trying to figure it out,” Maggie offers softly. “That’s what being young is about. And she will!”
“I don’t know about that. She never really has to sit in it, does she? The discomfort of the mess she’s created. Because that would require giving up her privilege. And she knows that if she fails badly enough, we’ll bail her out…” Ingrid rolls her eyes. “Even if I don’t, Kyle will.”
“So just don’t bail her out?” Maggie suggests.
Ingrid laughs. Sweet Maggie. She obviously doesn’t know Ingrid’s husband.
He can’t do anything hard. Can’t tell his daughter to grow up.
Can’t resist putting his hand on a young woman’s arm, even after everything he’s put Ingrid through.
This is perhaps the biggest reason she didn’t get a wink of sleep.
It wasn’t Cassie. It was the blatant way Kyle was flirting with Maggie all night.
He thought Ingrid didn’t see, but it was all she saw.
The way he kept refilling Maggie’s wineglass.
Making jokes at Ingrid’s expense. Why did he have to tell Maggie how she got Rebecca’s rights?
That was private. They’re about to get on a plane to go see Rebecca, for Chrissake!
What was he thinking? He wasn’t. He doesn’t think.
“Kyle’s exactly like Cassie,” Ingrid says. “That’s where she gets it from.”
Then Maggie says something so completely unexpected that it throws her off guard.
“I think it’s so beautiful how you guys are together. I met plenty of couples at the passport agency. You guys are the real deal.”
It’s such a nice thing to hear, and Ingrid instantly feels bad for all her horrible thoughts about Kyle and Maggie. She plunges her gaze to her phone, afraid to make a sound. Her agent has forwarded her another email from Camila’s agent. She puts her reading glasses on and reads it.
Just checking in re: Summer Rain. Camila and I need to know where you guys stand on this project. I spoke with Charlie who said that the film is not in active development. I spoke with another producer saying the option is actually expiring. Does Ingrid even have the option?
“I’m fucking working on it,” Ingrid mutters out loud. Maggie glances at her, alarmed. “Sorry. Work.”
As awkward as the outburst was, she’s grateful for the reminder of why they’re going to New York.
This isn’t the time to stew over Kyle or stress about Cassie.
She has business to do. She’s going there for a very specific reason—which is to remind Rebecca Thomas, the studio, the world, that she is the best person to make this movie.
As they turn onto the 101, Ingrid tries her best to ignore the flashy billboards for movies and shows that are not hers.
“So what’d you think of Summer Rain?” she asks, taking off her reading glasses. “Did you read it?”
Maggie nods.
She expects the girl to give her some long, gushing, flattering review, but what comes out is the opposite.