Brooklyn Girls (33 page)

CHAPTER 28

So the first thing I do is call Angie, and we drive Toto and some freshly made SkinnyWheels salads straight to her workplace in Chelsea.

“You’re
sure
this is okay?” I ask for the sixteenth time.

“The Bitch is in Miami this weekend. And it’s a food photography studio, I mean, it’s just sitting there! Now, listen, we’re gonna drive the whole truck into the underground garage, we have an area where we do big shoots.”

Two hours later, I’ve got thousands of incredible shots of Toto and my salads.

“You are so talented!” I exclaim, looking at the shots on my laptop. Angie is brandishing a state-of-the-art digital camera like a pro, and even set up all the lighting, all by herself. I just watched in awe.

“You have no idea how
not
talented I am,” she says. “These shots would make the Bitch scream in pain.” She grins, and lights a cigarette. “She would be like this.
Angelique? Angelique?
” Angie puts on a pretend high-pitched Dutch accent. “Fail, Angelique! Why is my latte so cold? Angelique? You are failing, Angelique! Why is my driver not outside? Angelique? Why am I such a total fucking bitch to you every single fucking day?” She jumps on the table and starts humping the air. “Angelique! Why does no one want to fuck me? Angelique!”

“Angelique?”

Another voice. From the door.

We both whirl around in shock. It’s the Bitch. Tall. Tanned. And angry.

“Why are you smoking? In my studio? And using my camera? And my lights?”

Angie pauses, still standing on the table, mid-hump.

“Um…”

“You’re fired.”

“You can’t fire me!
I quit!
”

Angie jumps down, puts the camera carefully on the table, and then turns to give the Bitch the finger from both hands. “See that? That’s a big bag of
I quit
with your name on it!”

“Okay, Angie, let’s go.” I quickly close my laptop and start dragging her toward Toto.

“And you know what else? All those lattes I got you were
full-fat
!”

I can still hear the Bitch screaming from the street.

Angie cackles all the way home, and dismisses my apologies.

“That was my fault, I’m so sorry—”

“Are you kidding? I can’t believe I lasted two months! Don’t you worry about me. New York is a big city. I’ll find another job.” She pauses. “Or maybe I’ll just start a food truck business.”

“Ha!”

Then, as we drive over the Brooklyn Bridge, that niggling thought I’ve been pushing to the back of my brain for the last few hours returns with a thud. Tonight, Cosmo is coming over with his monkey boys, Nicky and Nolan, to get his ten thousand dollars. And I don’t have it.

What did I think was going to happen? Did I think Lina would have ten thousand dollars to just hand over? Did I think she’d find someone to buy the entire business on a Sunday afternoon? I am an idiot.

I’m simply going to ask Cosmo—okay, beg him—to give me a forty-eight hour extension. I’ll explain that my money was stolen—because of crazy Nolan!—that I need a little longer to get it together.

Then, if whatever Lina is planning tomorrow works out, I’ll do that.

If it doesn’t, then when my parents arrive on Tuesday I’ll explain to them, in person, why I need the money. Maybe actually seeing Toto, and seeing how hard I’ve been working, will make a difference. Maybe they won’t be so disappointed.

I’ll leave Brooklyn with them, go to Zurich, get some boring desk job, and pay them back every last penny. Then I’ll come back to New York, and start again.

And that’s just how it has to be.

CHAPTER 29

Letting ourselves into Vic’s house feels wrong, somehow. Like we’re sneaking in illegally, even though we have a key.

Julia breathes in sharply as we enter, as if to steel herself against the inevitable grief.

“This time two days ago, Marie was sitting right here,” she whispers. “Talking, eating, breathing.… How can it be possible that someone can be alive and then be gone so fast?”

I don’t know what to say. My life hasn’t been touched by death before, not really, not like Julia’s has. Imagine your mother dying … I can’t. I don’t even want to imagine it. I don’t know how you’d ever get over something like that.

I just want to make today easy for Julia. Cosmo coming over in three hours really isn’t a problem compared to what she’s going through. It’s not fair for one person to have to say so many good-byes to people she loves.

So I reach out and give Julia another hug and for a second she is shaking, and I think she’s going to cry. But instead, she mutters “boobsquash,” and pushes me away.

“Let’s get this over with.”

“I’ll do Marie’s bed,” I say. “You go make sure the kitchen is all in order.”

Marie slept in a single bed with pink, rose-covered sheets, which gives me an immediate lump in my throat, though I don’t really know why. All her knickknacks are still out on her dresser and bedside table: dozens of photos, her tiny wristwatch and a tiny travel alarm clock that looks like something from the set of
Mad Men,
a well-worn copy of
Mariana
by Monica Dickens open next to it.

Quickly, I strip the bed and bundle the sheets into the corner. Then I fold the quilt and stack the pillows on top of it. The mattress looks so tiny and helpless by itself.

Heading into Vic’s room, I strip his bed, too, and put on fresh sheets. Then I open his curtains. The place is immaculate: not a speck of dust anywhere. He only has one photo: a black-and-white picture of a girl smiling happily, shielding her eyes from the sun. She looks like Katharine Hepburn, except with bigger eyes and a pointy little chin. It must be Eleanor. His wife.

Now I feel even more like I’m trespassing.

“Julia?” I shout. “You okay?”

There’s no reply.

Picking up the bedding, I hurry into the kitchen. Julia has her head in the fridge, and is rearranging the food.

“We need to buy fresh milk, butter, and bread,” she mutters. “And I’d like to get some kind of soup or casserole thing to put in here for Vic when he comes home tomorrow.”

“I’ll go to Esposito’s. He likes the lasagne.… Jules, I’m going to wash this bedding upstairs, okay? Why don’t you come up with me? The place is immaculate. You don’t need to be here.”

Julia nods. She’s hardly even listening to me.

I take her hand and we head back upstairs. The leaves are falling, and Union Street feels unusually empty. Depressing Sunday night back-to-school type weather.

I put the bedding in the wash, head up to my room, and lie on my bed.

Only a few more hours till Cosmo is here.

You know what’s almost the worst about all this? I hate the idea of asking my parents to bail me out again. They’re in Zurich right now. It’s the city that sleeps all day Sunday: there’s nothing to do, nowhere to go. My dad is probably planning their trip over here, or reading the
Zürcher Zeitung
and making
tsk tsk
sounds to himself. My mother is probably on the phone, rolling her eyes, talking to her sisters about how I’m spoiled, silly, and a deeply disappointing daughter.

In twenty-two years, I’ve never surprised them.… Well, not in a good way. And they’ve never, ever said they’re proud of me. Not once.

It’s like they thought saying they were proud of me might make me complacent. It backfired: I became detached, instead.

Now that I haven’t spoken to them in so long, I can sort of see our relationship for what it is. How I’ve always been ostensibly obedient but figured out how to float around them and get what I wanted, whether that was more spending money or supervision-free vacations with Angie. And I’m about to do it again, by asking them to bail me out of a ten thousand dollar debt.

If I were them, I probably wouldn’t be proud of me, either.

But I’ve changed. I really feel like for the last six weeks, I’ve had a purpose: SkinnyWheels. I feel sure of myself for the first time in years, like I know what I want and if I work hard enough and am just a teeny bit lucky, I can get it. I feel, for the first time, that I’m where I belong. I’m home.

I start tidying my room and putting away clothes. I have dozens of pairs of heels, yet I’ve worn the same pair of Converses every day for weeks. Ridiculous.

Oh, God, I love this room, I love this house, I love everything about it, from the peeling wallpaper to the creaky floorboards. I don’t want to leave. I want to stay here and make this my home for good. I want to help my friends figure life out. And I want to talk to Aidan and apologize for everything.

I want it all. But I can’t have any of it.

I head downstairs to the laundry to put the bedding in the dryer, and walk outside to the deck. It’s cold and windy outside. Summer is definitely over.

Lying down flat on the wooden table, like a snow-free snow angel, I gaze up at the dull gray sky above my head. Closing my eyes, I begin to speak.

“Thank you for getting me this far.”

My voice sounds clear and thin in the chilly afternoon air.

“In the past six weeks I’ve been fired, broke, threatened, drunk, high, and arrested. My ideas have been copied, my property has been vandalized, and my love life is MIA. And I’m still here. I can keep going, no matter what happens. I am stronger than anyone thinks, and I promise I will figure out what to do with my life next, and I’ll do it. I’ll be fine.”

And as I say it, I realize it’s true. I really will be fine.

“But I need you to help protect my friends tonight. It’s my fault Cosmo is coming over, and it’s my fault that I don’t have his ten thousand dollars. And I’m sorry, from the bottom of my heart, that I ever thought it was a good idea. I’ve learned my lesson. I promise. I promise I won’t make the same mistakes again. Just don’t let anyone get hurt. Please give me a sign if you can hear me.”

Opening my eyes, I take a deep breath.

“One sign. That’s all I’m asking.”

At that exact moment, it starts to rain.

Not
trickle-trickle-splash-splash
gradual rain, but a sudden angry torrent like the special effects people in the sky typed “downpour” into their magic weather machine, and the clouds obeyed.

My eyes close again as I smile up at the sky, feeling the drops splatter over my face and body. I’m wearing a big sweater and some scraggy old jeans, so I’ve got a while till I’m drenched through, then I’ll go shower. But right now I just want to lie here and enjoy it, let the cool rain run over my face and down my hair and neck.

Two hours till Cosmo is here.

CHAPTER 30

One hour before Cosmo-time, everyone is home and in the living room. I’ve asked them to leave me to deal with him alone, repeatedly. They’ve refused, repeatedly.

“We’re all in this together,” said Julia. Which pretty much made me want to cry and hug her at the same time.

We’re ostensibly watching some reality program about bridesmaids gone wild, all locked in the torture of anticipation. Angie is shuffling cards nervously, Julia is tapping her foot, Coco is reading the same page of
Little Women
over and over again, and Madeleine is chewing her hair. And me? I’m just running through doomsday scenarios in my head.

Then the doorbell rings.

“I’ll get it!” says Coco, leaping up off the couch. I hear the door open, then a second later, “Piiiaaaaaaa?”

Julia and I exchange a look and both run out of the living room.

It’s Cosmo.

Early.

With Nolan and Nicky behind him.

“Pia! Honey!” says Cosmo, smiling so widely it looks like his face might burst.

I haven’t seen Cosmo face-to-face since the day we met. He’s wearing jeans and another perfectly pressed shirt; he’s freshly shaved and smiling widely. He doesn’t look suave, though, I suddenly realize. He looks creepy. Standing next to him is Nolan, his arm in a sling, looking less focused and even more dangerous than he did on Friday. And on the other side is Nicky, the man-mountain.

“You’re early,” I say, slightly redundantly.

“I’ve got dinner plans,” Cosmo says, looking at me with cold, hard eyes. “And anyway, I’ve
missed
you, Pia. I wanted to catch up.”

“Aren’t you going to invite us in?” says Nolan.

“No,” says Julia, by my side. “This is my house. You are not welcome.”

Cosmo barely acknowledges her. His gaze is exclusively on me. “So give me my ten thousand, little Pia.”

I clear my throat. “I was hoping, um, you might give me an extension. Just forty-eight hours, that’s all I need.”

“What a bad girl you are.” Cosmo puts his head to one side and gazes at me, and then takes a few steps inside the door to the hallway. Automatically, Julia and Coco and I step back. “I thought this would happen.”

“I’m good for it, in fact I had it all, but because of, uh, the incident with Nolan, I crashed my truck and then I was arrested and the money was stolen.”

“That sounds unlikely. But maybe we can work something else out,” he says, taking another step inside. Again, Julia and Coco and I step back.

In my panicked mind, I start planning exit strategies. We could run to the kitchen and out to the deck, but the five of us would never all make it before the three of them caught up. We could run upstairs to one of the rooms, but none of them have locks.

“Please, please leave, and come back for the money in two days,” I say to Cosmo, my voice coming out far stronger than I thought it would.

“No one’s going anywhere,” says Cosmo.

“What happened to your arm, Nolan?” I ask, in an attempt to create a distraction.

“Car accident. Friday.”

So that’s why he never made it back here to break any windows or hurt anyone. He was so out of his mind that he crashed his car.

“Ah, the whole gang is here,” says Cosmo. I glance behind me and see Angie and Madeleine are now standing in the hallway. “Let’s do it, boys.”

At that moment, Nolan grabs Coco by the neck, pushing her toward the living room. She makes a scared yelping sound and pulls away from him, twisting in panic.