Bliss (35 page)

“Okay,” said Demi. “Under normal circumstances, we'd go back inside, have a good time with our friends, dance, drink, eat some food, and laugh our asses off. So I propose that we go do that. I will not leave your side.”

“I'm not sure I can face him,” said Sophia. “Them.”

“I hate to say it, but I think you have to. Just once, to prove you can.”

Sophia agreed. Hand in hand, they walked back toward the front door of the club. Right as they were heading in, Renee and her posse were coming out. Sophia and Demi stopped in their tracks on the sidewalk.

“I've got this,” whispered Demi, squeezing her hand.

Renee saw Sophia, and didn't hesitate. She came right over and said, “Hey. How's it going? Congrats on your show. Good luck with that.” The tone was snide.

Sophia tried to talk, but couldn't. Demi said, “I'm Sophia's friend from…”

“I know who you are. Demi. The fuckup.”

Sophia said, “I never called you that.”

Renee laughed. “Take it easy, Sophia. So sensitive. Anyway, it's dead in there. We're going to the Mondrian. Do you want to come?” Just then, the model boys followed Renee over to them. Sophia could feel their eyes on her, sizing her up, deciding if she were hot enough. Made her sick to her stomach.

Demi said, “We're going to stay.”

Sophia lifted up her eyes. They zeroed in on the two men she believed were the architects of the worst night of her life. Brody, who drugged her without her knowledge. Jared, who took full advantage of that.

Jared said, “How's it going, Sophia?”

“Do I know you?” she asked, her heart thundering in her chest.

Demi said, “You're Jared from
Nude and Stupid
, right? I'm a big fan!” Then, to Sophia's astonishment, Demi went in for … a hug? She put her arms around him, but in the process, accidentally elbowed him in the face. He pushed her away to hold his nose, and Demi started rubbing his back, comforting him. What the fuck? A sneak attack? Sophia knew Demi might get physical. She couldn't help herself.

He stepped away from her. The whole crew took off, walking briskly away. Demi cracked up because they had to hold up their too baggy jeans. “Look at them go!” she said. “Fuckers.”

Sophia asked, “What the hell was that? You just gave him a huge ego boost!”

Demi said, “I boosted something else, too.” She held up a black iPhone. “I figured you might want this.”

Oh, my god.
His phone! With all his photos! “How'd you learn to do that?” Sophia asked, taking the device in grateful disbelief.

“Just a little something I picked up in jail,” she said sarcastically.

“No screen lock,” said Sophia, amazed. She could go right to his photo library and see it all, but she hesitated. “I've been obsessed about finding out what happened to me. But now that I have the answer in my hand, I'm not sure I want to know.”

“Let's trash it.”

“How?”

“First, I erase his photo library and his streaming photos on the cloud.”

“How'd you learn how to do that?” asked Sophia again.

“Also something I picked up in jail,” said Demi. “I just do. I've worked office jobs for the last four years, and learned how to do the basic stuff.” She pushed buttons for a few minutes while Sophia's heart returned to normal. “Okay, it's done. All cleared out. Next, we shut it down, like so. We should destroy it, too. There are some high-powered blenders at Dory.”

That sounded perfect. “Let's do that later tonight. I'm not ready to leave the party yet. We have to dance first.”

Demi seemed surprised, but pleased. “Great!”

They went back into the club. Sophia felt shaken, but also stirred by her own strength. She'd faced them, and survived. She could survive anything with Demi at her side.

We've got each other.

Demi said, “Before we find them, what do you think of Harris?”

“Handsome,” said Sophia. “But, am I crazy, or does he
reek
of coconut oil?”

 

24

so go

Leandra had a bad night. The Abbey with Sophia and Demi was fun. But when they arrived back home, they found Tammy and Cherri on the couch, playing Halo, with Instacart bags on the floor and a pint of ice cream oozing on the table.

“Oh, I forgot to mention,” said Harris. “We're shooting
Eiffel Tower II
later this week, and the girls needed a place to stay.”

“Absolutely not,” said Leandra.

“It's just for a few days.”

“Get rid of them,” she said. “I mean it! It's a major turnoff to come home to find crab-infested slags on the couch. If you expect me to stay in this house, you're going to have to make some changes, Harris. No more bimbos. I want them gone, now. And no more porn. You're out of business. I could have been married to a banker or an earl. You can't possibly expect me to settle for the lowest of the low, no matter how good you are in bed. Which reminds me. We are getting rid of that ugly, stupid round bed.”

Leandra paused to draw breath. She noticed that Tammy and Cherri were staring at her now, the red-rimmed lips and fake-lashed eyes wide open. It was simply beneath her dignity to breathe the same air.

“If they're not out of here in five minutes,” she said. “I'm leaving.”

*   *   *

An hour later, Leandra and her fifteen suitcases were booked into the Days Inn on Sunset Boulevard. She'd never been dumped before, or sent packing, or given $100 and a kick in the ass on her way out.

Rejected by the scum of society. How could anyone recover from that? She'd just have to spin it, claim that she'd orchestrated the breakup, and that he'd just played his part in the script she'd written, which was more or less exactly what happened.

Leandra lay awake all night, thinking about what to do next. The obvious plan was to find another boyfriend. It was always easier to swing from one monkey bar to the next. She'd lost her grip this time, and would have to make a significant vertical leap to grab another rung. Where would she go to find a rich man? There was always Manhattan and Washington, D.C., but she didn't know anyone there.

She finally dozed off, and woke up to the sound of a vacuum and the knocking of the maid. It was one
P.M.
, which meant she had missed checkout and would have to pay for the room for another night. The last time she woke up, dazed, in a cheap hotel room, she was in Phuket, alone, with nothing. Months later, Leandra was just as alone, but now she had fifteen suitcases full of stuff to lug around. Luggage, or baggage? Both? What difference did it make?

She could sell everything. The designer clothes and jewelry would net her enough to get a studio apartment, maybe in Sophia's complex. She could wait it out among friends until she found a new benefactor. Or she could always go home to Vancouver, live with her parents, write this off as a gap year, and apply for internships and entry-level jobs in Toronto in the spring like all her sorority sisters.

Leandra took out her phone to call Sophia, and saw that her friend had sent a text inviting her to Dory, Demi's restaurant, for its soft opening. At the dinner at Red O, Demi had described the owner as a big burly Australian who owned a bunch of places in Sydney. He sounded like a possibility.

She suited up for seduction in a skintight Hervé Léger bandage dress, stiletto sandals, and took a taxi to Venice.

Dory was on the beach side of the boardwalk. The building itself was a clapboard bungalow that reminded her of clam shacks in Maine. There was a line to get in, which confused her. She headed to the front of the line, catching a heel in the slats on the boardwalk.

“Leandra!” said Demi. She was manning the door and handing out menus. “You made it.”

“The place hasn't even opened yet,” she said. “Who are all these people?”

“Between Aiden, Sophia, and I, we know a lot of people in town. We marketed to the right groups and partnered with a few brands for the launch,” she said.

“How did you know how to do that?” Leandra wouldn't have known where to start, and she had a marketing degree.

“I worked my ass off! Sophia is out back. Come on, I'll show you.”

Demi took her into the main dining area with modern yet simple picnic tables topped with a slab of raw wood and square iron rods crossing underneath to mount the tabletop, which elevated the rustic vibe. It was hard to get a good look at the furniture, though, because each bench was occupied, and the tables were laden with plates of yummy-looking food.

“We debated the bench seating. But hipsters think they're post-ironic and people love them. We're hoping to attract locals and…”

Leandra zoned out, her mind having to adjust to an elevated impression of Demi. Leandra had expected Demi to go down in flames, or wind up in prison, before her twenty-fifth birthday. Shouldn't she be passed out drunk somewhere, or in the kitchen washing dishes? It unsettled Leandra to bear witness to Demi's success, keenly so, given recent changes in her own life.

“Can I get you a drink? You look like you can use one,” said Demi.

“A glass of rosé would be great, thanks. Just … where's Sophia?” Her voice cracked a bit.

“Right this way. You might have some trouble on the sand in those shoes.”

Demi guided Leandra to the rear entrance of the building, to a fenced-in beachfront area with more tables, these weathered to silver. She spotted Sophia at a crowded table, sitting on the lap of that writer. What was his name? David? Sophia's costars were there, too, and some other people she recognized from the party last night. One of the girls was playing the ukulele. The barrel-chested older guy with the booming voice had an Austrialian accent. “Is that man the owner?” asked Leandra.

“Yup, stuffing his face when he should be helping me in the front of the house. Hey, Aiden!” Demi yelled. “A little help?”

The big man got up and walked toward them. He flung an arm over Demi's shoulder, and said, “Who's this?”

“A friend from home,” said Demi. “Leandra, this is Aiden.”

“What was Demi like at thirteen? Gawky? Braces?” he asked her. “Sophia won't tell me.”

“Don't you dare say a word,” warned Demi.

Leandra said, “She was cute. Sophia was exotic. And then, there was me. The sexy one.” And she threw in a wink.

“Back off, Leandra,” said Demi. “He's married.”

Aiden froze for a second, his arm dropping off her shoulder like a dead weight. He turned to Demi and started to speak, but couldn't seem to. All he got out was “Ummmmm…”

“Yeah,” said Demi. “It's like that.”

Aiden said, “Can I see you inside for a few minutes? We have some important restaurant matters to discuss.”

“Absolutely,” said Demi, smiling at him. “Excuse us.”

“You're excused.”
What was that about?

Leandra took one step toward Sophia, and sank into the sand. If she took off her Louboutins, she'd look even sillier. A waiter whipped by her with a huge tray of margaritas and tacos. He placed it on Sophia's table, and they all dove in. She'd have to sink low to get over there, in so many ways.

“Hey,” said Leandra when she made it across the sand.

Sophia turned toward her with a mouthful of food. She held up a finger and finished chewing before she said, “So glad you made it! Did you bring Harris?”

“About that. We broke up, actually.”

“I'm so sorry. What happened?” Sophia slid off of David's lap and stood up (on bare feet), to give Leandra a hug.

“It wasn't working,” she said. Leandra almost made up a lie that painted him in the worst possible light, as was her way. “He pressured me to do anal,” something like that. But what would be the point? “He wasn't who I thought he was,” she said. “And I'm not who he thought I was.”
I'm not who I think I am
. Was she one in a million, or just another girl who came to LA, hoping to find a man to take care of her for a while?

Leandra's wine arrived, and she drank half of it in a single swallow. Sophia said, “Have a seat.”

The benches were low, and her dress was tight, she didn't think she could sit even if she wanted to. She also hated to eat and drink on the beach. Sand got in the food, and fleas and the taste of salt water on her tongue. Also, that redheaded girl kept plucking on the ukulele, which was beyond annoying.

“Ukulele and tacos on the beach?” asked Leandra. “I don't remember seeing this on your vision board.”

“My vision board has beaches on it,” said Sophia.

“But here? What about Bali? What about the villa in Tuscany?”

“I'll get there one day. But right now is pretty great, too,” she said, sweeping her hand at the beach, the restaurant, the people at her table.

“But what about dreams? You said if we followed our bliss, doors would appear where there were only walls.”