Page 95 of The Lovers
They both come in for cheek kisses and I scream like a kid trying to escape.
“I have to ask, why are you telling us now? At three a.m. instead of over coffee at a reasonable hour?” Mom feigns a yawn. “Not that I mind.”
“I’m going viral,” I say.
Mom blinks in surprise, going for her phone in the pocket of her robe. I press her hand away.
“It’s a really long story, but I kind of fell in love with someone at the wedding I was working.” I cringe, bracing for how the last part will hit them both. “You know her. Julia Kelley, from high school.”
Mom screeches, gripping me by the shoulders and forcing a hug.
I’ll have to tell them the whole story—or, like, the PG version of the story. But for now I settle on, “I may need to stay here for a while. I need to figure some stuff out.”
Mom looks to Dad. “I’ll get the air mattress from the garage.”
Dad shuffles off toward the garage, Mom calling out orders to him towatch out for black widowsandwhile you’re in there could you get my old aerobics videos down from the top shelf?
I drop back into the rocker, leaning my head against the wood.
This is what it feels like to trust your gut and follow it. Feel the fear and do it anyway.
Being with Julia this weekend reminded me that I am a person capable of doing that. I need more of that in my life. I need more following my compass. I need more faith in myself.
Then I need to find my way back to her.
Chapter Thirty-Six
Julia
ONE MONTH LATER
It’s been a dream of mine to have a space in the Arts District in downtown LA ever since I started working on Rodeo Drive at Love, Always. Most people would argue that reaching Rodeo Drive is a better life goal, but Angelenos know what’s up. The Arts District is where innovators set up shop, and all kinds of people from all walks of life flock.
I check my phone to see if Zoe has replied to my text, but she hasn’t. Probably driving. She is a stickler for theno texting and drivingrule, and I am respecting her boundary about it.
I’m still at the beginning of my six-month noncompete clause after resigning from Love, Always on mostly amicable terms. My boss tried to keep me on by dangling carrots she hoped I’d chase.Three more weeks of vacation time. A forty-five percent pay increase. A title change that allows you to have first pick of clients.The job security and the money were hard to let go of, but I’m getting pretty good at relinquishing control. Not expert level yet, but learning fast.
The first thing I did when I got back from the desert was hand in my resignation.
The second thing I did was immediately donate half my wardrobe to charity, including the green Versace I wore to Millie’s wedding. Piper’s gift to me, now tainted not only with her touch, but also with the scent of that night’s painful memories. It was a purge of more than just my work wardrobe and other morbidly meaningful items, and it’s taken me a while to come to any kind of equilibrium with how this new, less buttoned-up Julia Kelley wants to look.
Today, for instance, I’ve paired some moto boots with belted pin-striped slacks and an old Fleetwood Mac t-shirt that used to be my stepmom’s but was stolen by me one Christmas in college. It shrunk, and I cropped it, then added a fitted leather jacket since it’s a little nippy in LA today. December usually is, and it’s been uncharacteristically rainy already. No white Christmas is likely, but a wet one seems guaranteed.
I haven’t minded the gloom. It’s suited my mood a lot better.
The third thing I did when I got back to LA was send out emails to Piper’s editors, letting them know about her behavior and threatening to expose it. The very real implied threat that the information would be used against her discouraged them from continuing to hire her. No one wants that kind of bad press. Not even the press.
I know it’s vindictive as fuck, but it’s also well-earned. My own “Vigilante Shit,” and I believe Taylor would be pleased to know the day I hit send on those emails, I drew my cat eyes sharp enough to kill a man.
Or, in this case, a woman.
Millie, Coco, and Natalie made a group text that included me and was largely dedicated to keeping tabs on Piper. I think she most recently published an article in the Martha’s Vineyardperiodical all about their annual regatta gala. How the mighty have fallen.
The only thing I haven’t done since I got back to LA—even though every day I consider taking the leap—is DM Kit.
I never got her phone number before she left the desert, and in the weeks since then she’s been mostly MIA from all her social media accounts. The one exception was a post she made a couple days after she left Millie’s wedding. It loaded on all her accounts and was just a simple text image saying she was taking a break from content creation. She gave no indication of when she would be back, and did not address the still heavily shared and commented-on viral video of us dancing.
For a few weeks, I gained new followers as her fans figured out who I was and came over to my Instagram to lurk. Many have since unfollowed me for lack of Mystic Maven sightings, but a hefty number remain and even engage with my content.
