Best Of Everything (9 page)

“Slut-shaming time. Want to put money on it?”

“Melody!” My tone’s shocked, although I’m giggling.

“Come on, Miss Moneybags. Ten bucks says the kid’s half-Chinese.”

“I should take that bet. I saw him. Definitely not Chinese.”

“So it’s a bet? No way little miss hot pants would be all up in his face if she hadn’t been spreading a little honey around for all the other bees.”

“I’m not sure that’s how it works with bees and honey. Maybe ants? Or bears?”

“Whatever. Girl, she is going down! Boom! Swicked payback!”

“I hope you’re right.”

“Haven’t you learned by now that Mama Mel is always right?”

I call a cab and get to Dan Tana’s five minutes late, which in L.A. is on time. Sebastian is already there, and when I ask, the host shows me to a booth at the back. June looks so much better than she did the last time I saw her; she’s like a new person. She stands, smiling, when I approach. I give her a tentative hug, and she pulls away and looks at me.

“Don’t worry. A hug from you won’t break me,” she says.

Sebastian raises a glass of red wine in a toast as I take the seat next to June. “You look great. How do you feel?” I ask.

“Aside from a painkiller and vodka addiction, super,” she says, and winks. “Kidding. Although I do miss those little white pills. Who knew they were so popular?”

“But the pain’s mostly gone?”

“It’s tolerable. I do physical therapy every day, and they assure me I’ll be on the Olympic ski team in time for the next games.” She sits back and takes a sip of her white wine. “But enough about me. I see you’re more beautiful than ever. I’m completely jealous, of course.”

“You’re such a good liar.”

“I
am
going to law school. But it’s true. You look…radiant.”

“The eighteen-hour workdays must agree with me.”

“Remember what I told you. All work and no play…” We both smile. “If I wasn’t on my best behavior, I’d take you dancing.”

“Did you get a new car yet?”

“Still waiting for the insurance company to cough up. I think I’ve heard every excuse in the book. But they’ll pay. They just like holding onto their money till the last possible second.”

“Are you going to get another Benz?”

“Of course. I’d say they’ve proven they’re pretty damned safe, since we’re both still breathing and all.” She glances at me. “How’s your arm?”

I flex my hand. “Still stiff, and in the mornings it hurts for about ten minutes. But it’s getting better every day. Just not fast enough for my liking.”

The waiter arrives and we order. My soda comes and I take a long sip. “I talked to Melody,” I say, and Sebastian’s eyes light up.

“Yeah? What did she have to say?”

“That she hates San Francisco since her trip here,” I lie, figuring it’s something Melody might have said.

“She should come down more often.”

June smiles. “I think my brother has a little crush on your friend.”

I return the smile. “It’s possible my friend feels the same way.”

Sebastian clears his throat. “I
am
sitting right here.”

We’re interrupted by the salad arriving, and by the time our plates are filled with greens, Sebastian’s off the hook. I don’t want to give him grief over Melody, even if it’s fun to watch him squirm. June doesn’t eat much, and I notice that she’s even thinner than before the accident. I wonder how much of the upbeat attitude is an act, but decide it’s none of my business.

Sebastian entertains us with stories of his aging rockers and their antics, and as always, he’s a riot. It’s so easy to forget that everyone he knows is famous, and as I listen to his quips I can’t help but wonder again at what he and Melody talk about. He’s worldly, smart, and a serious player. I take another bite of salad. Maybe there’s not a lot of conversation when they’re together. After my long weekend with Derek, I can see the appeal of long stretches of nothing but heavy breathing.

I blush at the memory, and June looks at me funny. “Something go down the wrong way?”

“I must have gotten some pepper in my throat,” I say, and take another gulp of soda.

Then the lasagna comes and we’re mostly quiet as we chomp away. I notice again that June hardly eats anything, although she’s on her third glass of chardonnay. I make up for her by packing it down with my usual gusto, and when I’m done I immediately regret my appetite. Sebastian does his part, and soon we’re at the front door saying goodbye.

I watch the valet bring Sebastian’s Porsche around and wave to them as they pull off. My taxi arrives moments later. I text Melody on the ride home, but don’t call her – the heavy pasta did me in, and it’s all I can do to get out of my clothes and brush my teeth before I’m face down in bed. I turn the light off and roll over onto my side, and my last thoughts are of Derek’s emerald eyes in our final moments together as he inspects his tattoo in the mirror, his shirt off, his skin glistening in the morning light.

Chapter 11

I’m at the coffee shop down the block from the apartment, sipping a triple-strength drip that’s only a hair’s breath from being lava, when my cell buzzes on the table. I put down my book and glance at the screen. Jeremy’s calling.

“Hey, girlfriend. Saw all the drama llama stuff about the radio show on the web. Look at you with your attention-getting. Way to go!”

“I wasn’t trying to get attention. The guy was a dick.”

“Well, you got your moment in the spotlight. Even out here in the islands we hear about that stuff. How’s your tour prep going?”

“Good. Some rework, but it’s coming together. How’s your show?”

“Sold out every night. Can’t complain. Looks like I might be able to afford the lavish lifestyle I’ve always aspired to.”

“I can totally see you cruising around in limos wearing a mink jacket and a pricey watch. Maybe some pinky bling, too.”

“Nugget jewelry.”

“Gold teeth never go out of style.”

“Maybe a diamond in each incisor.”

“Now you’re talking.” I wait for Jeremy to get to the point. I know he hasn’t called long distance to banter.

“I’m a weak man, Sage.”

“Which is why I love you, Jeremy. What’s wrong?”

“I swore I wouldn’t see Eric again. And I did. Last night.”

“And what happened?”

He sighs. “It was magic. I want to kill myself.”

“No contradiction there or anything.”

“You know what I mean. It’s incredible, and then he has to go home to his wife. I live in hell.”

“Mmm, all due respect…he doesn’t
have
to go home to her. He goes home because he wants to. He chooses to.” I hesitate. I don’t want to moralize, but I feel for the wife. “He’s okay lying to the woman he promised to stay true to for his whole life, Jeremy. I have seriously mixed feelings about this.”

“It’s complicated, Sage.”

“Is it? If you were a woman, would it be as complicated?”

That stops him. He either hasn’t considered that question or has deliberately avoided it.

“Ouch. I’m the other woman. I’m kind of an idiot, aren’t I? You make it sound so simple…”

“We both know it’s not simple. Look, right now he’s having his cake and eating it too. Because you’re allowing it. Imagine if you were his long-term partner, though. You and he took vows. How would you feel if you found out he was cheating on you? Doesn’t matter with a man or a woman. Maybe I’m too inexperienced to understand all the nuances, but isn’t this about honesty?”

His voice gets quiet. “When did you get all grown up?”

“I’ve had a lot of time to think about this kind of stuff because of Derek being in New York and me being in L.A. Because I worry about his ex. If he’s seeing someone else, their gender isn’t the most important thing. What matters to me is whether he’s cheating on me, and that’s about trust and what kind of person he is.”

“Things aren’t so black and white, Sage.”

“Really? I remember reading something I’ll never forget: it’s not what you do when people are watching, it’s what you do when they aren’t that defines you. I think you’re so infatuated with this guy and the way he looks and stuff that you’re cutting him too much slack. If he doesn’t want to be with his wife, fine. But if he wants to stay with her and live a lie, you have to ask yourself whether that’s the kind of guy you really want to be with, and whether you’d be okay with that if you were the one being cheated on. I have a feeling I know the answer.”

“People are shit, Sage.”

“Says Mr. Not-Everything’s-Black-and-White. How about this? People are shit if they don’t decide it’s more important not to be. Try that. You aren’t shit. I’m not either. I’d never cheat on Derek. And I have just as many opportunities as you do. As Eric does. You want to know why I wouldn’t do that? Because it’s wrong, because I respect Derek and myself too much, and because I wouldn’t want it done to me.”

“I’m so not going to call you when I want to talk about this anymore,” he says, but I can tell from his tone that he gets what I’m saying.

“Oh, Jeremy. I’m sorry. I don’t mean to bag on you. It’s just such a sore subject with everything that’s going on. I can’t help but look at it from the wife’s perspective. And the truth is, Eric’s using her and playing her for a fool. And that’s wrong, for lack of a better word. It is, and you know it.”

We’re both quiet for several seconds, and then he sighs again. “For someone who’s only had one boyfriend, you’re pretty smart about relationships.”

“I may not know much, but I know how I feel about this.”

“I have to break it off, don’t I?”

“Or make him do the right thing. For everyone. Maybe he doesn’t get to be banker guy anymore, but he gets to live an honest life, and gets you.”

“And if he chooses banking?”

“Then he’s someone who’ll do this to her again and again, because he’s okay about it being all about him, and he doesn’t care about anyone else. Hot or not, do you want to be with someone like that? Because isn’t he pretty likely to do the same thing to you?”

“Touché, my dear.”

“I’m not saying he’s a bad guy, Jeremy. I’m saying you’re a good one. So either help him be a good one too, or don’t play a part in him being a bad one.”

“I’d give you a box of chocolates if you were here.”

“I’d eat them with you if I was.”

“Liar. You’d be too busy eating yourself a big bowl of Derek.”

I smile. “You got me.”

“All right. No more preaching necessary. Sage’s tough love sermon is over for the day.”

“I didn’t mean to bum you out,” I apologize.

“No, you only said everything I already know. I just needed to hear it from someone else.” He clears his throat. “I’ll be strong, dahling.”

“Of course you will. Remember Liza. What would Liza do?”

“The. Show. Must. Go. On.”

“Exactly.”

Chapter 12

I’m in a taxi on the way to the record company when my phone vibrates again. Today must be my day for it, I think, until I see the number.

“Hi, Dad.”

“Hi, beautiful. Did I get you at a bad time?”

“No, this is perfect. What’s up?”

“Not a lot. I’m on a break at work and just wanted to touch base and let you know I sent you a package.”

“A package?”

“Yes. I’ve been going through the boxes of your mother’s things, and there was a diary wrapped up in one of her sweaters. I…I thought you should have it.”

“Why?”

“It has a lot of memories in it that might be important to you at some point.”

I close my eyes. The image of my mom passed out in her recliner pops unbidden into my head. I consider saying something unpleasant, but I bite back the words and instead take a deep breath.

“That’s great, Dad. I’ll look for it. You sent it to the apartment?”

“Of course. I have a tracking number if you want it.”

“I’m in a car and I don’t have a pen. I’ll just call you back if I don’t get it in the next couple of days.”

“Okay. How’s life treating you otherwise? Have you talked to Derek again?”

I don’t feel like discussing paternity tests with my dad, so I skip past that. “Yeah. He’s coping. Everything will work out.”

“That’s good to hear. What about your band? The tour? Still on track?”

“Yup. We’ll do some shows around L.A., then kick it off here before moving up the coast. I’ll let you know when the dates are scheduled in the Bay Area.”

“I’ll be the oldest person at the concert.”

“Don’t be so sure. I hear forty is the new thirty.”

“Hmm. There’s optimism for you.”

We chat for another minute and then he has to get back to work. He’s on a job, and I can hear his boss calling for him. We hang up and I stare at the phone. The last thing I want to do is read my mom’s diary. I’ve spent the last half year trying to forget my life with her and Ralph – the fights, the abuse, the binges. Reading about it would be…I don’t know, but nothing pleasant comes to mind.

Ruby is waiting for me when I arrive, along with a designer, who’s eager to make me into the next Cher. I listen to her ideas for a half hour, page through her drawings, and politely tell her I’m going to try a different direction. She seems confused, as though I’m not speaking English, and I patiently explain that my vision of how I plan to present myself to the audience has little to do with looking like something out of a science fiction film. The woman takes it in stride, but I can tell she’s annoyed.

Next up is the photographer with the latest set of shots from my photo session. As I feared when they were doing it, I had on way too much makeup. I explain to the photographer that’s not what I’m all about, and suggest we schedule another shoot. He counters that he’ll need to get the label’s permission, and I nod. Whatever. But I’m not going to have my publicity stills going out with me looking like a hooker.

Ruby calls Terry and proposes a summit, and we break for lunch as we wait for Terry to arrive. There’s a pretty decent Japanese restaurant a block down, and I walk there and order the teriyaki chicken bowl and a Coke. My book’s getting good, and the hour passes quickly.

When I return, Terry has just arrived, and Ruby invites us into a conference room. The creative director, a smiling forty-something man with bleached white hair and a pomegranate silk shirt, enters and sits across from us. He starts off by complimenting me on the record and telling me how excited he is to be working with me, and then he leans forward with his hands folded.