That's What Frenemies Are For, page 25
Grace and Lindsay loved it, though. They giggled and twerked, their hands in the air, their diamonds glittering. When Brooke grabbed Tatum and kissed her hard on the mouth, then slapped her on the ass, Grace and Lindsay cheered and Tatum danced teasingly up the aisle to the podium.
“Hey, be careful!” I called, visions of broken necks and hair caught in resistance knobs making me panic. “Let’s stay off the bikes, okay? And we need to turn the music down. We’re not supposed to be here, we can’t—”
“Keep your shirt on, Grandma,” Tatum said in a singsong voice. Then she turned the music up so loud it hurt my ears. I ran to the podium, awkwardly dodging around her, and turned the music all the way down.
“Nooo!” Lindsay wailed.
“Yeah, don’t be a buzzkill, Julia,” Brooke said icily, wiping out any remaining illusions that she’d forgiven me for giving her name to the police.
“A buzzkill?” I repeated incredulously. I spent five hundred dollars on flowers, another two hundred dollars on the ruined cake, and I didn’t even want to see my bill from the liquor store—and all my so-called friends were acting like I was nothing more than a playground supervisor.
“At least don’t turn it all the way down,” Grace wheedled. “We’re in a basement. Who’s going to care?”
“Okay, but just for a few more minutes,” I said tightly. “I think we should leave soon. We can go to Elio’s, okay? I just don’t think it’s safe—”
“Where’s that other bottle? Did you open it?” Tatum demanded, holding one of the champagne glasses upside down so that the last drops splattered onto the floor. She tottered toward the cooler, pausing to kick off her shoes. “Oh God, that’s so much better.”
I closed my eyes, wondering how I could have been stupid enough to bring glass into the studio, why I’d thought a cake was a good idea. I turned the music up just loud enough to prevent a mutiny. At this point all I wanted was to get them out so that I could clean up. Someone had stepped on the cake and tracked it all over the floor, and there was a puddle of champagne next to the cooler. The room reeked of it.
Tatum worked the cork out of the new bottle with a huge pop, and everyone shrieked and applauded. Brooke and Lindsay held the flutes while she poured, and then they all clinked glasses and drank, not even seeming to realize I hadn’t joined them.
I took a trash bag from my tote and got down on my hands and knees, scraping up the ruined cake with my hands and dropping it into the bag. I used the pretty paper napkins I’d brought to scrub as much of the frosting off the floor as I could, but I needed some sort of cleaner to get the rest.
“Tatum,” I said. “Tatum! I need to talk to you a minute.”
She danced over to me, holding out her arms, but I grabbed her wrists and held them firmly. “Stop, just stop a minute.”
“You really should have taken the Molly that night,” she said in a disappointed tone. “None of the bad stuff would have happened if you did. Paige wouldn’t have gone to the hospital and Brooke wouldn’t be mad at you and—”
“Look, can you get me some spray cleaner?” I said.
She swayed a little. “I’m not sure where they keep it.”
“Fine, never mind.” I’d make do with the antiseptic spray under the podium. “Thanks a lot for ruining this whole night. Look, can you just take everyone to Elio’s on Second and Eighty-fourth Street?”
“But Brooke wants to go to the Ruby Room,” she pouted. “We got back together.”
I dug my fingers into her wrists. “Just tell Grace and Lindsay to wait for me at Elio’s and then you and Brooke can do whatever the hell you want, but we need to get out of here.”
“Julia,” she gasped, looking down at my hands. “You’re hurting me.”
I let go, staring at the red crescent marks my nails had left.
“Guys,” Tatum called, turning away from me. “The party’s over. Julia wants us out.”
“Unless you want to deal with the cops when they show up for a noise complaint,” I said, refusing to be cowed. “Grace, do you think you can manage to get Lindsay to Elio’s, and I’ll meet you there?”
“In this?” she asked, looking down at her leggings and tank top.
“Didn’t you guys bring a change of clothes? Like we talked about?”
“You’re fine,” Brooke said, reaching behind Grace’s head and pulling off the elastic holding her ponytail. She fluffed Grace’s hair around her face. “Put on a little eyeliner and you’re good.”
“We’ll figure it out,” Lindsay said. “Come on, I want to dance.”
Tatum was already heading toward the door. “I called an Uber, you guys, he’s two minutes away!”
“An Uber?” Grace echoed. “It’s only a few blocks!”
“I’m not walking in these shoes,” Tatum said.
And with that my party was over, the sounds of their laughter echoing behind them as they left. I smelled something burning—somehow Lindsay’s gift had gotten too close to one of the votives, and flames were licking at the wrapping paper. “Fuck!” I yelled—if the smoke reached the sprinklers I’d have an even bigger mess on my hands. I grabbed the closest thing at hand and sprinted to put out the fire, knocking things over in my rush.
Disaster averted, though now my lamb’s-wool wrap lay ruined on the floor, singed and stinking among the shards of shattered crystal.
* * *
—
With the rest of them gone, it didn’t take long to clean up. Everything went into the trash bags I’d brought, except for the two crystal flutes that had survived and the ice bucket that had been a wedding gift from my aunt and uncle, which I stuffed into my tote bag along with my laptop. I wavered before throwing away Lindsay’s gift, but the flames had destroyed the corner of the box and the clothes stank. The whole studio still smelled faintly of smoke and champagne, even after I’d scrubbed the floor with towels and antiseptic spray, but I hoped the odor would be gone by morning. I took one last look around and turned off the lights.
I dragged the two trash bags into the narrow space between buildings and tossed them into the dumpster. I checked the service door to make sure it was locked, and then I walked down the street, waiting until I was a block away before checking my phone.
No messages. Are you at Elio’s? I texted Grace and Lindsay, then tried to decide what to do. I was dirty and sweaty and shivering, and I’d lost any desire to celebrate, but if I didn’t show up I risked being labeled no fun.
No fun—it was the accusation I’d spent my entire life fearing the most. I’d fought my way into the limelight and kept fighting to hold on to it. I’d worked so hard to be proper enough for my mom, smart enough for my teachers, clever enough for my friends, cunning enough for my foes. The only person I’d never had to be anyone but myself around was James—and I’d rewarded him by ignoring what he wanted, and making him live my dream.
I’d finish this wretched evening, because I had never been a quitter and I wasn’t about to start now, but then some things were going to change. I wasn’t going to forget the way everyone had treated me tonight—and not just tonight, but over the summer and at Flame and after Paige was released from the hospital. I bought a bottle of water and some breath mints at the deli on the corner and used the bathroom to change clothes and did my best to touch up my face and fix my hair. No one had texted me back by the time I got to Elio’s, but it didn’t matter; they weren’t there.
* * *
—
My only lucky break was that James and the kids were asleep when I got home, so I was able to wallow in self-pity all by myself. I left the ice bucket on the counter for Benilda and put the crystal flutes back in the cupboard, and then I took a shower, standing under the hot spray with my eyes closed for a long time.
I crawled into bed next to James, but I had trouble falling asleep. At a little after one in the morning my phone vibrated with a text on the bedside table.
Where were you, Grace had written. I scrolled through Instagram, and it didn’t take long to find the four of them with their arms around each other in a bar I didn’t recognize. Tatum had posted the photo at 12:38 A.M. and captioned it Happy happy!!! Blowing out the candles with @sparklerparker #birthdaygirl #bestyears #bestfriends #birthdaysurprise #instacake #lovemygirls
Grace had posted too, a selfie of her and Tatum in front of a dartboard, laughing. The caption: Winning dart in the Triple Ring! @tatumfarris #winner #squadgoals #GameSetMatch
I put down my phone; I couldn’t stand to see any more. But a moment later I picked it up again and typed I was at Elio’s where we said we were going to meet
I waited, but when she didn’t text me back I rolled over, already regretting my text, my stupid idea for a party, the entire evening, ever meeting Tatum at all. I tossed and turned for a while, but I was almost asleep when Grace finally texted back.
No we said Ruby Room we waited there at least an hour
This time I turned my phone completely off and stuck it in the drawer of the nightstand.
CHAPTER 30
I woke up angry, remembering the cake lying smashed on the floor, the playlist I’d created with such care, the beautiful gift that was moldering in a dumpster. I could hear James and the kids in the kitchen making breakfast, but I lay in bed for a while, fuming. I’d been loyal to Lindsay from the start, putting up with her competitive side, laughing off her accusation that I’d gone after her husband. I’d hosted her for holiday dinners, cooked a week’s worth of meals when she had her gallbladder out, spent a month creating a scrapbook for her for her fortieth birthday. And what did it get me? She’d left the party I’d thrown for her without even saying goodbye.
I forced myself out of bed, and wandered into the kitchen in my pajamas. Half-eaten waffles and abandoned glasses of milk littered the counter, and there was a long streak of something red on the floor. Henry was glassy-eyed in front of the television while Paige worked on a friendship bracelet, and James was putting on his jacket.
“It lives!” he said, coming over and sniffing my neck. “At least you don’t smell like a skid row bum this time. How was the party?”
“Great,” I lied, faking a yawn. “Everyone had fun. Are you headed to work?”
“Yeah, sorry about that but I have to catch up on a few things.”
Given that our whole future now rested on this project, not to mention the fact that James had been on his best behavior, I couldn’t really give him a hard time.
“Okay. Maybe I’ll take the kids to a matinee or something. I think it’s half off at the first show.” I stood up on my toes to kiss him goodbye. “Maybe I’ll even buy Junior mints at CVS and sneak them in. See? I bet you never thought I’d learn to live within my means.”
I was teasing, but he had a haunted look in his eyes as he said goodbye.
* * *
—
James was true to his word and came home in time for dinner with a greasy paper sack full of wings and fries. After we ate, he challenged the kids to a game of Monopoly and I joined in, to their delight. James cheated, trying to steal the money from the middle of the board to make the kids laugh, and I sipped at a single glass of wine and tried to pretend that nothing had changed. This is what matters, I reminded myself, looking around the table, family and our health and our marriage, all the stuff money can’t buy. I almost convinced myself.
James headed back to the office the next morning and I made a pot of coffee and told the kids to stay in their rooms until they’d decided what they wanted to be for Halloween and then I sat down at the kitchen table and finally turned my phone back on. I’d ignored it since Grace’s late-night text over twenty-four hours before, the longest I’d gone without my phone since I lost it at La Guardia a few years ago.
It turned out Lindsay had texted to thank me, at a little after eight yesterday morning. Thank you SO MUCH for a birthday to remember! I’m so sorry we left you with a mess I definitely shouldn’t have started drinking so early She’d added a row of hearts and the blushing smiley face emoji. After struggling to compose a response that didn’t sound passive-aggressive, I finally gave up and didn’t respond at all.
No word from Tatum. It took even longer to decide what to text her; finally I came up with Thanks for ruining Friday night. Would have been nice to know you had no intention of doing what you promised. Feel like I might need to talk to the cops again after all.
She texted back a few minutes later as I was reading the comments on Lindsay’s birthday photos.
I made sure your “friends” had a good time not sure what else you were expecting and go ahead and call the cops if it makes you feel better tell them anything you want to about me I don’t care
I stared at my phone, feeling almost punch-drunk from yet another hit. Tatum was calling my bluff; she must have done a little asking around and found out that she and Brooke weren’t in any trouble. As I tried to absorb this new development, the phone rang in my hand, a local number I didn’t recognize.
“Hello?”
“Julia? This is Linda Mendelsohn calling from the TomorrowMakers Foundation. We met briefly at last year’s gala, but I’m sure you don’t remember me.”
“Of course I remember!” I said, forcing enthusiasm as I tried to place her. “Didn’t you introduce the speakers?”
“Yes, it’s one of my favorite duties as director of development.”
Now I remembered; she’d worn a long shiny blue gown that looked like it belonged on a Texan mother of the bride. I pitied the staff at these events; they weren’t paid enough to compete with all the couture on display.
“You must be busy, with the gala less than a month away!” I said, wondering uneasily if she was calling to twist my arm to increase this year’s donation. It was a common practice when committee members were announced; the position came with certain obligations, among them ponying up eye-popping sums that you could then use to browbeat your friends into making big donations themselves.
“Oh, you know it.” She had one of those pleasing, smooth voices that seem tailor-made for asking for money. “Listen, I don’t want to take up too much of your time, but we’re working on the press release announcing next year’s committee so that it’s ready to go the week after the gala, when excitement around TomorrowMakers is hopefully still high.”
“Oh, that’s a great idea,” I said with effort, trying to inject some enthusiasm into my voice. “If the gala gets even half the coverage it did last time, you could probably sell out the event a year in advance.”
Linda laughed. “Well, we received forty percent more applications for press credentials this year, so we have high hopes.”
“And your social media presence keeps getting better and better.” Look at me piling on the praise—apparently I was still willing to sell my soul for the right price. I was sure Linda could see right through me, but I didn’t care as I imagined being photographed with Lindsay for Page Six and Town & Country and Hampton Sheet.
“Aw, thank you! I remember that you’re good friends with Lindsay Parker, right? So you may already know she’s agreed to chair next year’s gala.”
“Lindsay’s fantastic. She’s going to do such a great job.”
“Well, she had very nice things to say about you too. In fact, she’s put forth your name for a position on the committee.”
“She has?” I said innocently, preparing to act surprised and delighted.
“Yes, she thinks you’d make a wonderful volunteer coordinator. I’m sure she’ll be calling soon to discuss it, and I don’t mean to steal her thunder, but I’m just trying to finalize our list.”
“Oh. Wow.” Volunteer coordinator…I tried to hide my shock. It was the worst position on the committee, requiring a ton of work and earning almost no recognition, the sort of job you took if you were desperate to break into an organization and didn’t mind paying your dues. Which, given TomorrowMakers’ rapid ascent on the charity circuit, meant plenty of women would be thrilled—but Lindsay had all but promised me assistant chair. How many times had we talked about the fun we’d have, the planning meetings we’d host, the favors we’d call in?
“I’m incredibly honored, obviously,” I said, attempting to recover. “I’ll look at my calendar this week and make sure I don’t have conflicts with any of the key dates. Just out of curiosity, who else is serving on the committee?”
“Let’s see…this is preliminary, of course, because everyone needs to look at their calendars. But there’s Lindsay, and then Celeste Zapata for assistant chair, Mary Frances Whelan for promotions coordinator…” I stopped listening as she rattled off half a dozen more names. Celeste Zapata! I couldn’t believe Lindsay had picked her—she hated Celeste almost as much as I did. But apparently things were different now; Celeste was probably a very different person when she wanted something from you. And since I’d heard Celeste was on the nominating committee for the American Folk Art Museum gala, it wouldn’t surprise me if there was some quid pro quo going on.
I managed to end the conversation with a promise to get back to Linda. My answer would be no, of course—but first I wanted to find out if there was any way to quietly get my donation back. TomorrowMakers was a good cause, but my priorities seemed to have shifted.
* * *
—
Monday morning arrived too soon. I knew I’d see Lindsay at drop-off, and we’d have to have an awkward conversation about the gala committee. Grace and I appeared to be in a standoff, neither of us willing to apologize for what we’d said over text. And considering Tatum’s part in ruining the evening and how we had left things, I was in no mood to go to Flame.
