The Last Place You Look, page 27
“It’s the best surprise. You look amazing. There are so many people I want you to meet.” Julia took her hand.
The flitting commentary felt like the Julia she knew, the one she loved. But her brain had yet to stop screaming about the presence of Julia’s ex-wife, not just at the event, but in the very intimate position she’d stumbled upon when she arrived. “I—”
“I need to warn you that Erica is here.” Julia frowned. “She’s on the board of the foundation.”
“Did you find that out tonight?” Even as she asked the question, Taylor knew she didn’t want to know the answer.
Julia winced. “A few days ago. I saw the program for the event and she was in it.”
“I see.”
Julia took her other hand. “It’s a story. I should have told you before, but, well, I’ll explain it all later, I promise. Is that okay?”
She could see the pleading in Julia’s eyes, mixed with that delight over Taylor being there in the first place. Love, paired with really wanting to believe Julia’s version of the story, won out. “Of course. I’m here to support you.”
Julia visibly relaxed. Then she squeezed Taylor’s hand and pulled her in the direction of the guy in the burgundy suit. “Let’s start with Kwame.”
They made the rounds, Julia introducing her to literally dozens of people. She was about to suggest they step out for some air when she caught Erica striding toward them. She tightened her grip around Julia’s waist and cleared her throat.
Julia looked at her, then followed her gaze. “Fuck.”
The flash of jealousy returned. Was Julia’s discomfort from the inevitable awkwardness of the moment? Or was she hiding something?
“You must be Taylor.” Despite the smile and extended hand, Erica’s eyes traveled up and down in a cool assessment. “Julia’s told me about you.”
She wondered if the subtext of the statement, positioning herself as the one with intimate knowledge of Julia, was intentional. How could it not be? Taylor settled for a cool, “Likewise.”
Julia made conversation and Taylor tried not to count the seconds until she could escape. It was low-grade torture until Sasha came over. “I need to borrow you for a minute. There’s someone I want you to meet.”
Julia shot Taylor an apologetic look and allowed herself to be led away. Taylor stared at her drink and willed Erica not to talk to her further. She also willed herself not to jump to any conclusions about how cozy Julia and Erica were when she arrived. Or how cozy they’d become in the last few weeks.
“I’d never have guessed this was how I’d lure Julia back to New York.”
A shiver of dread slicked down her spine. “Excuse me?”
“When Julia applied for the fellowship, I was convinced it was a different Julia at first. But then I saw the images and I’d recognize Kenota anywhere.”
The question formed in Taylor’s mind and she squelched it down. She didn’t want to know. She didn’t want to know. She didn’t want to know.
“If the photos had been lousy, it would have been different. But as I’m sure you know, she’s got quite the talent.”
The ice in her veins melted and hit the boiling point in about two seconds flat. The condescending tone, the fact that this woman had used her influence. That alone would have made her angry, but far worse was the stab of betrayal. Not from this woman she hardly knew, but from the one who held Taylor’s heart in the palm of her hand.
“I’m hoping I might convince her to come and work for me when this is all said and done.”
“You never know,” Taylor said stiffly.
She watched Erica’s gaze shift to where Julia stood chatting with other members of board. It was impossible to know if it was love in Erica’s eyes or simply lust, but it sure as hell wasn’t indifference. “Well, I’ve convinced her to let me put on a show of her work. I would really like to see her make a name for herself as an artist.”
Even as her blood boiled, Taylor could imagine it, imagine Julia getting the praise and recognition she and her work deserved. Maybe then she could finally believe, truly believe, in her talent.
“Besides, I know Julia pretty well and I’m guessing she’s more than ready to call the city home again.”
Taylor swallowed the rebuttal on the tip of her tongue, not because she didn’t want to pick a fight or because this woman’s opinion hardly mattered. No, at this moment, Taylor wasn’t sure her own opinion mattered. Or whether Erica maybe knew Julia better than she did after all.
She was spared trying to come up with a graceful exit when a man in a velvet tux walked up to them and started talking to Erica like Taylor wasn’t even there. Which was fine, since she didn’t want to be anyway. She looked over at Julia again, so at ease with these people. So happy. She’d been a fool to think her coming was the cause of that happiness.
Taylor made a beeline for the door. She needed some air and some space and some distance. Outside, on the sidewalk, she looked around, although for what she couldn’t say. There were no answers. No questions, either, really. Just an ache that took up all the space in her lungs and made it impossible to breathe.
Despite feeling like she couldn’t get enough oxygen, Taylor started to walk. She had no destination, or even a solid idea of where she was, but it didn’t matter.
Where did you go?
Taylor ignored the text and the one came after, asking if she was okay. When Julia texted her for the fourth time, Taylor unlocked her phone and dashed off one of her own. On my way home.
Julia’s reply was a string of question marks.
I figured it would make it easier for you to go home with Erica if I wasn’t lingering around like a puppy. It was more pathetic than scathing, but whatever.
Julia’s face and number appeared on her screen. She should let it go to voice mail. Nothing good could come out of talking right now.
Taylor swiped her finger across the screen. “What?”
“Where are you? What happened?”
The street noise probably gave away that she wasn’t really on her way home, but it didn’t matter. “I’m sorry I came and crashed your fancy evening. If I’d known, I wouldn’t have shown up.”
“What are you talking about? I’m thrilled you came. You know that, right?”
“I thought I knew a lot of things, but don’t worry, I’ve been set straight.”
“Taylor, you’re confusing me right now. And scaring me, for that matter. Where are you? I’m coming to you and we’re going to talk.”
“It’s your big night. You can’t leave. Think how disappointed Erica would be, especially after she went to all that trouble to get you the fellowship in the first place.”
Julia’s silence was telling if not satisfying.
“Seriously, enjoy your night. And your life.” Taylor ended the call and resumed walking.
Julia called again, but this time she did let it go to voice mail.
Chapter Thirty-one
Julia stalked back into the gallery and over to Erica. Her professional reputation was the only thing that stopped her from screaming. “I need to speak with you.”
Erica turned to her with a smile. If Julia didn’t know better, she’d think it held desire. “I was thinking how nice it would be to catch up. I’m sorry we weren’t able to at the open house when you first arrived. I was leaving for Paris early the next morning.”
Julia gritted her teeth. “This is more urgent than catching up. Could we step outside for a moment?”
Erica’s gaze traveled down her body and back up. “Certainly. Give me one moment.”
Erica stepped away and exchanged a few words with Sasha. Julia used the time to try to calm down. Because no matter how angry she was, and no matter how justified she was, picking a public fight with Erica would hurt her more than Erica in the long run.
When Erica returned, her smile had the same warmth as before. “Shall we?”
Julia led the way toward the exit, working to keep herself from storming out. When Erica’s hand rested in the curve of her lower back, she flinched. She turned back only long enough to glare at Erica. “Don’t.”
Outside, guests of the event loitered on the sidewalk, smoking and chatting. Julia stalked up the block, trying for something resembling privacy. She spun around and folded her arms. “Did you get me this position?”
Erica regarded her, the epitome of polish and poise. “What makes you think that?”
“Whatever you said to Taylor gave her that impression.” And stirred up a fear she’d mostly managed to quash.
Erica’s expression gave nothing away. “Would it be so very bad if I did?”
“Yes.” How could she possibly think otherwise?
“You have talent, Julia. Real talent. If I saw that and did what I could to foster it, you couldn’t blame me.”
Dread knotted in her stomach. “You never bothered to do that when we were together. And you still haven’t answered my question.”
Erica didn’t respond right away, giving Julia’s rage the chance to mingle with self-doubt into a dangerous cocktail of emotion. “You’ve come into your own since we broke up. It suits you.”
Through the haze of fury, Julia couldn’t make out whether the comment was a compliment or a come-on. Not that it mattered. “You left me pretty low. It wouldn’t have taken much to be an improvement.”
A line formed between Erica’s brows, the one tell of frustration she’d never been able to suppress. “You can’t blame me for growing bored. We both had. I was just the one willing to do something about it.”
“You could have broken up with me without breaking my heart.” Why were they even discussing this? She needed to bring the conversation back to the issue at hand—the possibility that everything she thought she’d accomplished was a sham.
“I didn’t mean to hurt you.”
She couldn’t stop the snort of derision from escaping. So much for keeping her cool. “Did you pull strings so I got this fellowship?”
Another pause, followed by a deep breath. Julia held hers. “I did not.”
Julia believed her but only because it came out so reluctantly. Air tumbled out of her lungs and a wave of dizziness washed over her. Had it not been humiliating, she might have bent over and stuck her head between her knees. Since it was, she dug her nails into her palms and willed herself to stay upright. “Why did you say you did?”
“I didn’t, actually. Taylor assumed and I didn’t correct her. You have to watch out for those women who are always ready to assume the worst.”
For as powerful as the relief was only a moment before, it evaporated in a cloud of entirely new dread. She could see Erica choosing the exact words to make Taylor do just that. “You had no right.”
Erica sighed, a trace of exasperation coming through. “You can’t tell me you plan on staying with her, staying in Kenota. Your life is here.”
Despite her anger, a burst of laughter escaped. “The life that centered around yours? The one you blew up without a second thought?”
“I backed you into a corner. I regret that. But look at what you’ve discovered, what you’ve grown into. You could do great things. Surely you’re not so stubborn you’d throw it away to spite me.”
Julia laughed in earnest then. Even now, in this moment of being all about Julia, Erica made it about herself. How could she have been blind for so many years? “Spiting you is literally the furthest thing from my mind.”
“Good. I should get back inside. I’ll call you next week to discuss your show.”
Since Erica didn’t frame it as a question, Julia didn’t bother to answer. Even though there was no way in hell she’d let Erica represent her or her work in any way, shape, or form. When she stood alone on the sidewalk, she pulled out her phone and tried Taylor again. Again it went to voice mail.
* * *
Taylor pressed a thumb to her sternum and told herself to relax. She was not having a panic attack in the middle of Manhattan. She closed her eyes and breathed in for a count of four, then out. Again. And again after that. There. That was better.
She opened her eyes just as a chorus of horns blared behind her. Her heart rate spiked again, which was dumb. She was standing on a sidewalk. They weren’t honking at her.
Taylor shook her head and continued walking. She’d ended up in Greenwich Village, full of shops and bars and queers and college students. It didn’t make her feel at home necessarily, but it was an improvement over the stuffy gallery crowd. She looked down at herself. Even if she was wearing a tux.
When she looked up, she found herself staring at Stonewall. Like, the Stonewall. She knew it still operated as a bar, but she expected it to be, what? More like a museum, maybe.
The door opened and a group of boys stumbled out. Not technically boys, but she couldn’t help but think of gay men in their twenties as that. Fondly, of course. With them, the thumping bass of club music. They laughed and linked arms and headed up the street.
Taylor looked at them, then at the door. Why the hell not? She could use a drink.
She sat at the bar and marveled at the queerness around her. More men than women, but people of all ages and genders and gender expressions milled around her. Some talked, some danced, some made out without even bothering to sneak off to a quiet corner. She could never live here, but she could appreciate the community of it. Jeb’s rarely had this many patrons of any orientation, and it was entirely possible there weren’t this many gay people in the whole county.
She ordered a Jack and Coke, then another. After her third, her brain had the fuzzy edges of a nice buzz. She’d expected it to soften the anger and the hurt, calm the roiling in her stomach, but it didn’t. Whiskey, apparently, had its limits.
She pulled out her phone. Julia had sent two more texts, pleading to explain, and another voice mail she wouldn’t be able to hear in the bar anyway. But then communication had ended abruptly about an hour ago. Maybe she’d decided to go home with Erica after all.
Taylor left the bar just after two, a little too drunk to drive home, but too restless to check into a hotel. She followed another gaggle of boys and landed at a Greek place with counter service. Although food was the last thing she thought she wanted, the aromas wafting from the grill pulled her in. It would do her good to soak up some of the alcohol anyway.
She left the restaurant, gyro in hand, and continued walking. She somehow ended up on Broadway and worked her way up to Midtown and Times Square. Other than her senior trip in high school, she’d never visited Manhattan. Seeing so many of its landmarks as she wandered felt kind of surreal. The press of people she imagined during the day had thinned, but what they said was true. The city didn’t sleep.
By the time the sun came up, her feet were screaming and she was completely sober. She popped into one of the sixty or so Starbucks she’d passed and got a coffee, then mapped herself back to the garage where she’d parked hours before. Time to go home.
On her walk back to SoHo, she checked her messages again. She had a worried text from Chris. Julia had called him when Taylor wouldn’t pick up. She assured him she was okay and would explain it all when she got home.
She decided to listen to the messages from Julia. The first was confused and seemed to be laced with irritation. The second picked up the pleading tone of her texts. The third went on for close to two minutes and included a vitriolic account of having it out with Erica and understanding why she left.
The last one did her in. Julia’s anger morphed into sadness and her plea to talk had an almost desperate element to it. Taylor had put that there. She’d been reactive and defensive and had jumped to conclusions. And she’d hurt the woman she loved.
She flipped back to the text conversation and pulled up the keyboard. Hey.
It was a weak opening, but she didn’t want to lead with apologies and desperation. That seemed like the sort of thing she should build to. And she still needed to hear Julia’s accounting of how Erica came into all this.
It occurred to her suddenly Julia might not answer for hours, or at all. Should she go to Julia’s apartment? She’d just started to panic about Julia maybe not wanting to see her when her phone vibrated in her hand, startling her so much she nearly dropped it.
Hi.
Never had two letters had such an immediate and calming effect on her. Even if they were on the noncommittal side. She decided to lead with a little bit of groveling, so Julia would know where she was coming from. I’ve been an ass. Can we talk?
I’d like that. Where are you?
Taylor took a deep breath and looked around, then typed her response. At the corner of Bleeker and Bowery.
Read but no reply bubble. Seconds ticked by. What if Julia told her she should just go? What if—
Haha. For real.
It was hard to know if Julia not taking her seriously made things better or worse. I’m serious. I walked the city all night and now I’m back where I started.
Another pause, probably less than a minute but it felt like ages. You didn’t go home. Shit.
How was she supposed to respond to that? But now we can talk in person?
There was no lag in her response now. We could if I didn’t just get here.
She’d included a shocked face, a crying one, and the one laughing and crying at the same time. It was sort of like the five stages of grief in emoji. On her end, Taylor was processing things more slowly. Despite there being no room for mistaking her meaning, she felt the need to reply with, What?
You said you were going home, so I followed you. Only you weren’t at your house. So now I’m home.
If she wasn’t stuck in the middle of New York City, five hours away from home and Julia and pretty much everything she cared about, she might be able to find the whole thing funny. But she was stuck, and Julia felt impossibly far away. Oh.
Instead of a text reply, her phone lit up with Julia’s face and number. “Hi.”
“Why are you still in the city?” Julia sounded incredulous, but not angry. That was good.
It was a fair question, after she’d declared so strongly she was leaving. She decided to go with the truth. “Leaving would have felt like giving up.”
