Page 46 of Swan Song

“That’s precisely what we were thinking as well,” Eddie says, though this isn’t at all true. They were hoping Bull would agree to 40 percent while they each took 30, although they decided they would entertain the idea of him taking 50 percent while they each took 25. But Bull sees their value as equal to his, even though they aren’t investing a dime of their own money. “A third for each of us.”

Handshakes all around. Bull suggests that Eddie and Addison choose the attorney, whoever they feel most comfortable with.

“Val Gluckstern,” Addison says. “She’s the best.”

When Bull walks them out to the driveway, Eddie can’t help asking about the landscaping project.

“Leslee wants a round, hedged-in garden for the octagonal hot tub she’s custom-ordered. Benton Coe is doing the work.”

Eddie takes a breath. He nearly says, I’d watch Benton Coe around your wife. Take it from someone who knows. But no, Eddie won’t get into it. He needs to let go of the past, especially now that his future is looking so bright.

Kacy wakes up to a text from Isla: Good morning, Bun. I miss you.

Part of Kacy swoons; another part is furious. Isla can miss Kacy all she wants but it means nothing until she leaves Rondo.

Kacy scrolls through her phone to the pictures from Saturday night and finds a selfie of her and Coco. The picture is good; their faces are side by side, Kacy’s glass of champagne is in the frame, and the sun hits Coco in a way that makes her blue eyes pop.

Don’t do it, she thinks. It isn’t fair to Coco.

But Coco seems pretty into Lamont, and if Kacy asked Coco if she could use the pictures to make Isla jealous, Coco would probably say yes. (Kacy would never ask; it would be too mortifying.)

She sends the photo.

Even though it’s three in the morning in San Francisco, there’s an immediate response from Isla.

Are you two together?

Kacy decides not to respond.

Another text comes in: I want to jump on a plane right now.

Please forgive me, Coco, Kacy thinks. This is working.

17. Amalfi Lemons

In the days following the Pink and White Party, Coco expects life at Triple Eight to quiet down, but she’s busier than ever.

One of her duties, which wasn’t mentioned earlier, is applauding Leslee as she congratulates herself.

“I heard multiple people saying that Saturday night was the best party they’d ever been to. Like, in their lives,” Leslee says.

“Everyone had a great time,” Coco says.

“Rachel McMann, the dentist’s wife, is leaking all kinds of videos,” Leslee says. “You know what that gets her?”

“Followers?” Coco says.

“Blackballed,” Leslee says. “Bull and I loathe social media. We prefer to experience our lives in person.”

Right. Coco checked for both Bull and Leslee online and came up empty, which she finds strange. Leslee loves attention and could easily cultivate a devoted following on Instagram in the aspirational-lifestyle space. Coco nearly mentions this—but why feed the beast?

“Lots of people reached out to thank me,” Leslee says. “And I’m keeping track of the ones who didn’t. I haven’t heard from the Kapenashes. I haven’t heard from Delilah Drake, but that tracks because I’m pretty sure she hates my guts. I haven’t heard from Blond Sharon.” Leslee pauses. “She’s apparently a vicious gossip. I need to know what she thought.”

Blond Sharon? Coco thinks. That’s a person’s name? Then she remembers. “Oh, she and the Steamship guy had to leave during the dancing. She said she had some kind of emergency at home, but she made a point of telling me she had a fabulous time.”

Leslee winds her long dark hair around her wrist and forearm. Coco has learned this is a nervous tic, but it’s actually kind of fetching, so much so that Coco is considering growing her hair out.

“Someone killed my Rothschild’s slipper orchid,” Leslee says. “It was fine before the party, and the morning after I found it wilted.”

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