Page 36 of Christmas Crisis
I was in the kitchen boiling pasta when Miranda’s phone rang. She stepped into the second bedroom to take the call.
Five minutes later, she emerged with a bewildered look on her face.
“Everything okay?” I asked, turning off the burner.
“That was Stone,” she said. “He was just calling to check in. I guess Shoshanna told him everything was going well, which is true, but he just seemed…not stressed about it at all. It was almost bizarre how calm he was. I was worried when I hadn’t heard from him earlier that something might be wrong, but it’s obvious that he’s just super chill about the whole thing. He didn’t call because he straight up sees no urgency here.”
I stepped to the side of the counter. Stone would always be a sticky topic, and I knew I needed to tread carefully. “Does it bother you?”
“I don’t know if ‘bother’ is the right word. It’s more like you and I have turned our whole lives upside down to fix this. Even Naomi is in on the game, giving that interview and reaching out to me. His people are buying burner phones and working on crisis management. Meanwhile, Stone is like, ‘Man, the prop guns they have us using on this shoot have a real kick. I almost fell over today.’”
I knew she was annoyed because she did avoiceimitating Stone, and it wasn’t her usual MO to belittle him.
As much as I didn’t want to defend Stone, I was fairly sure I knew what was happening.
I drew out my words. “Panda, from everything you’ve told me, it sounds like Stone has been happy to hand off the business side of all this to his PA and the other people who work for him. And it’s basically their job to make him feel as little discomfort as possible. I’m guessing they’ve been underplaying the potential damage to his career, trying to fix it for him, because that’s the dynamic that exists. The plan for triage with you and me—it’s dictated by Stone’s handlers, correct? Even if the solution was your idea. He’s good at the videos and being charming, and it’s clear he loves to act, but he’s also in the habit of not worrying about this type of stuff.”
Her nod filled me with relief. “You’re right. Shoshanna pulls the strings. I’m sure she just gave him the burner phone and told him she’d take care of it and let him know if he needed to do anything.”
“That would be my assumption.”
Miranda sat down heavily on the couch, placing her elbow on her knee and leaning her chin into her fist. “I can’t imagine letting someone have that much power over me.” She put her arm down, leaning back. “But Stone is incredibly busy and dedicated to his career. There are so many places—this problem, our relationship, the possibility of standing up to Shoshanna—where what looks like a lack of effort is really just him not seeing that effort is needed.”
He doesn’t see you,I wanted to scream.Not the way he should.I gritted my teeth as Miranda excused Stone’s behavior. Then again, she had been a willing accomplice in his lack of effort. Because, as bad as it was that Stone basically half-assed everything other than his career, she had noticed his lack of attention to their relationship and shrugged her shoulders at it.
She deserved so much more from him. And settled for so little. Why?
As if on cue, her phone buzzed. She stared down at it before holding it up for me to read.
SHOSHANNA (STONE’S PA):Thanks for your hard work. Pretty sure you’re winning the internet. Please keep doing what you’re doing.
SHOSHANNA (STONE’S PA):I’ll tell Stone not to worry and that everything is handled.
13 MONTHS AGO - NOVEMBER
I arrived at Miranda’s placein record time, even stopping to nap. The drive from my apartment in Tacoma to hers in Los Angeles was a long one. But the more I did it, the shorter the distance seemed.
We had decided that I would come down and spend a few days with her before we drove back to Coleman Creek together for Thanksgiving.
The holiday was early this year, and afterward, she had to fly back to LA for school, then back to Washington the first weekend in December for James and Marley’s engagement party, then back to California to complete her classes for the quarter, and finally back to Washington to spend Christmas and New Year’s in Coleman Creek. It was a dizzying schedule with lots of flying, so I figured driving this first time might be fun.
My initial guess was that I’d get into town around eleven in the morning, but when I rang Miranda’s bell, it wasn’t quite nine.
And it wasn’t Miranda who answered.
The door swung open. A young, tanned surfer-type dude stood on the threshold. He was shirtless, with a smooth chest, and the band of his underwear stuck out above the top of his low-slung shorts. His skin practically glowed with energy.
He stepped back and opened the door wider. “’Sup, man. You must be Leo.” I walked in, the heavy footfalls of my boots somehow a contrast to his tone. “Miranda’s still in bed, I think.”
Depositing my duffel near the entry, I eyeballed the couch. It didn’t look like it had been slept on.
The guy wandered into Miranda’s kitchen. No, it was more of a swagger. A saunter, even. He pulled a package of donuts off the top of the fridge, extending the box to me. “Want one?”
I put up my hand. “Um… No, thanks.”
He pulled out a chocolate donut before putting the box back. “Cool. I just made some fresh coffee. Still in the pot. You’re probably tired after your long drive.”
“Uh-huh.” Utilizing my knowledge of Miranda’s kitchen, I pulled a mug from the cupboard and poured myself a cup.
