Dollhouse (13 page)

Chapter Twenty-Six

Kass

K
ass walked—no, skipped—out of the film school building, clutching her backpack against her chest. She’d taken her last exam. The fall semester was over, done, finished. She could finally stop living in the library and start being a human being again.

She was not one to complain about hard work or a rigorous schedule. But this past “hell week” (and the weeks leading up to it) had been especially hellish since she’d overloaded on credits, which translated into more exams and papers than in previous semesters. She’d had enough caffeine, energy drinks, and not showering for a while. (She sniffed her armpit discreetly. Not too bad, thanks to Kamille’s baby powder that she’d dumped all over herself this morning.) She wanted to take a long, hot bubble bath, drink a glass of wine (yes, wine!), and watch back-to-back episodes of
Buffy
on TiVo.

And tomorrow she planned to book a beauty day at the spa, using the about-to-expire gift certificate her mother had given her for Christmas last year.

And after that, she was going to call Eduardo. Finally. And apologize for freaking out on him over that stupid tabloid story about her being a flat-chested man or whatever. And see if he might give her another chance.

This was the new Kass. After her disastrous lapse in judgment right before Thanksgiving (she had nicknamed it the SHE, i.e., Stupidest Hookup Ever), she had gone through a brief period of depression, self-hatred, confusion. She’d consumed countless pints of Ben & Jerry’s, lost sleep, and broken out in major zits trying to figure out what to do—all while juggling the pressures of studying for exams and writing several epic papers.

In the end, she’d decided not to tell Kamille what happened between her and Chase. She wanted to put the SHE monster behind her. What good would it do to break Kamille’s heart—not to mention sever their sisterhood and best friendship forever? And possibly get strangled in the process? (Kamille was definitely the most temperamental one in the family.)

So Kamille and Chase were still together. Big deal. Their relationship wasn’t long for the world, anyway. Kamille had never lasted more than a few months with any of her boyfriends. Besides, once a cheater, always a cheater, and Chase was sure to dump Kamille for someone else any day now. Or else Kamille would catch him in the act, one or the other. Kass intended to remove herself from their drama-filled, dysfunctional equation and move on. She had her own life to live.

Thankfully, Kamille hadn’t been around much, which had made it easier for Kass to cultivate her Noh mask, her fake smile, her neutral-friendly voice. (“How are you and Chase doing? Good? I’m so
happy
for you!”) Kamille was busy with her modeling, and she was crashing at Chase’s house most nights. And Chase seemed to be avoiding any contact with Kass. In fact, she hadn’t seen him at all since . . . well, since the SHE. Which was fine with her.

The thing was, Kass actually felt
good
now. Hopeful. Light—as though a weight had been lifted off her shoulders. And strangely, miraculously, she was eager to jump-start the spark she’d had with Eduardo. As awful as it sounded (and she would never admit this to anyone, least of all Kamille), her terrible tryst with Chase had made her realize that she actually
liked
sex. Wrong person, yes, but all the right feelings, sensations, impulses. She was eager to experience them again, this time with the
right
person.

With Eduardo, if he would have her?

Kass continued down the path, breathing in the cool, crisp air, grinning to herself. Loud rock music was blasting from a dorm window, and someone let out a euphoric scream. Students celebrating the end of the semester. She had to stop by the business school to pick up a paper. Then she had a date with Buffy . . .

She spotted him walking out of Marshall. She hadn’t expected to run into him. Not today. Not with dark circles under her eyes and her armpits reeking of baby powder. Had thinking about him made him materialize like this? Was some mischievous Cupid god messing with her?

“Hey.” Eduardo stopped in his tracks and adjusted the backpack on his shoulder. His face was as much of a Noh mask as hers was around Kamille.

“Hey.” Kass pushed back a lock of (greasy) hair and gave him a little wave. “How are you? I haven’t seen you in ages.”

“Yeah, not since the econ exam on Monday? How’d you do?”

Well, of course, she’d seen him in econ. Sitting two rows over and not looking in her direction, not once. That wasn’t what she meant.

“I think I did okay? Although that essay question about globalization kind of tripped me up.”

“Yeah, me, too. I think Professor Mueller threw in a superhard one just to be nasty.”

“He’s such a sadist. I’m so glad that class is over. I won’t miss him at all.”

“Yeah, me neither.”

Silence. They stepped aside to let a girl pass with her rolling suitcase dragging behind her. A couple of guys walked by, talking animatedly about their digital photography final. In the distance, somebody yelled, “Fight on!,” and then more voices joined in. The USC battle cry. Kass stared at the ground, wondering if she should say something, or just wish Eduardo a happy holiday and take off. She really should at least wash her hair before she tried to win Eduardo back . . .

“Listen. Eduardo.” Her voice cracked.

Eduardo gazed at her. At that moment she saw something in his eyes . . . something familiar, warm, wistful. Not Noh-like at all.

It was all the encouragement she needed. To hell with a makeover. She dropped her backpack to the ground, threw her arms around his neck, and kissed him.

He hesitated only for a second, then kissed her back. Kass melted into his embrace, his lips, giving in to the moment completely. It was better than the empty physical heat she’d shared with Chase . . .
way
better, because she cared about Eduardo. A
lot.

“Get a room!” someone called out.

Kass stepped back, breathless.

“Um . . . wow!” Eduardo said, laughing awkwardly. “Does this mean . . . are you . . . that is, are we . . .”

“Yes,” Kass said, nodding happily. “I am. We are. This is my apology—for being such a jerk.”

“Um . . .” Eduardo laughed again. “Look, I’d love to pursue this further, and I guess we have a lot to talk about? But I have to race home and pack. I’m flying home tonight, to Austin, to spend Christmas with my family.”

“Oh!”

“Maybe I can call you?” he suggested.

“Yes, definitely! Please call me!”

Eduardo smiled and touched her face. “You’re nuts, you know that, right?”

“Yeah, I know.”

“It’s a good thing I like crazy girls, then,” he joked.

Kass grinned.

He turned and left, waving. Kass stood there watching him go, positively goofy with happiness. Everything was right with the world again. It felt like Christmas morning, and it wasn’t even the middle of December yet.

Chapter Twenty-Seven

Kat

C
radling a glass of 1982 Château Margaux in her hand, Kat regarded the carnage of presents, gift boxes, wrapping paper, and ribbons under the tree. It looked as though a storm had passed through their living room.

Christmas. It was her favorite day of the year, mess and all.

She wandered over to the dining room and gave the dinner table a last look. She and the girls had set everything out earlier, including the red embroidered tablecloth and napkins that David’s grandparents had brought over from Hungary . . . the napkin ring holders that her mother had made out of antique silver spoons . . . and the nice china, the white-and-gold Wedgwood, which had been her and David’s wedding pattern.

She knew she had so much to be grateful for. Beau. Her incredible children. The restaurant. She remembered those terrible days after David had died, not knowing if she was going to be able to survive, to raise the girls on her own, to pay the bills. But somehow, she had created a new life for them all. It wasn’t perfect, but it was good. Some days, it was even great.

And on this day, it seemed downright amazing. The delicious smell of roast turkey wafted from the kitchen. Her favorite Christmas CD, by Ella Fitzgerald and Louis Armstrong, was playing on the iPod dock. The Château Margaux was sublime, from David’s personal collection of “special-occasion wine.”

Unfortunately, she was down to the last three bottles of it. She wondered what it would be like when she opened the very last one.

She felt the sharp sting of tears in her eyes. She raised her glass in the air and whispered, “Merry Christmas, sweetie, wherever you are.”

“
Mommmmmy!
Coco threw up on my
shooooooes
!”

Bree ran into the dining room, looking so pretty and way older than her ten years in her formfitting red velvet dress and red lipstick. Bree had taken to calling Kat “Mommy” lately, which pleased her to no end. (Their real mother, Angie, who was spending the holidays in the French Alps with a twenty-one-year-old ski instructor, apparently insisted that her children call her by her first name.)

Kat turned away slightly so that Bree wouldn’t see her crying. “Where did you get that lipstick, young lady?” she demanded.

“Ky let me borrow hers. Mommy, my
shoes
! They’re
gross
!”

Kat took a peek. Bree was holding a pair of black wedges that were most definitely “gross,” covered with something resembling guacamole. Coco had probably been eating crayons again.

“Set them down, honey. I’ll get some paper towels,” Kat said with a sigh.

At that moment Benjy and Kyle ambled into the dining room arm in arm. Benjy was so handsome and grown-up looking in a navy-blue suit, white button-down, and gray tie (which Kat recognized as one of Beau’s). Kyle was more casual (if that was the right term?) in a black vintage tux, Sex Pistols T-shirt, and purple high-top sneakers. Kat started to tell her to go change; dressing up for the holiday dinner was a die-hard Romero (now Romero-LeBlanc) family tradition. She herself was in an emerald-green Dior that she wore only for the holidays.

But she willed herself to keep quiet. It was Christmas, after all, and she didn’t want to get into an argument. Besides, Kyle
was
dressed up, in her own weird, unique, Kyle sort of way. She’d even bothered to style her short auburn hair in curls and put on glittery makeup.

“When’s dinner?” Kyle said, grabbing an olive off the crudités plate.

“Soon. Kamille and Chase should be here any second. And your dad—I mean Beau—is getting changed. Where’s Kass?”

“She’s upstairs taking a nap,” Bree piped up. “Mommy, my
shoes
!”

A nap? In the middle of the day? Maybe the Christmas-morning excitement had been too much for her.

Tending to Bree’s shoes, Kat thought about Kass, about
all
her children. They were doing so well these days—no major crises or drama. Thank God. Kass was done with her semester, and she seemed much more cheerful lately, and much less stressed. Kat had overheard her talking on the phone with someone last week—an Eduardo?—and her voice had sounded so animated, so happy. Maybe a new boyfriend was responsible for her good mood?

As for Kamille . . . her modeling career was thriving. She was still dating Chase, whom Kat continued to have doubts about, although their relationship seemed to have waned in the media spotlight, which was progress. Kat secretly wished Kamille would break up with him and find someone less . . .
controversial.
But that would come in time. Kamille was young, and Kat predicted many, many boyfriends in her future.

As for the other kids . . . well, Kyle’s GPA was up to a 3.2, and Kat had gotten only a couple of calls from the school administration recently (versus the usual two, three times a week). Benjy and Bree were such good kids and so responsible and never caused Kat or Beau a moment of trouble. She wondered, not for the first time, how they had turned out so remarkably well with the globe-trotting, booze-swilling, man-eating Angie as their mother—correction,
one
of their mothers. What had Beau ever seen in her? She was certifiable. Of course, she also looked like Sofia Vergara.

Beau came downstairs just as Kat was finishing up cleaning the green dog vomit. He was wearing his traditional Christmas outfit: black tuxedo pants, black smoking jacket, and a red silk tie with a picture of Santa Claus on it.

“Hey, sweetheart,” he called out. “Smells incredible. Everyone here?”

“We’re just waiting on Kamille and Chase.”

“Wow, you look hot. Am I allowed to say in front of the kids—hot?”

Kat blushed. “Yes, you’re allowed.”

“
Ew,
you guys,” Kyle complained. She, Benjy, and Bree wandered into the living room and started hip-hop dancing to “Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer.”

Kat went over to Beau and wrapped her arms around his neck. “Hey.”

“Hey.”

“Do you love me?” she whispered, suddenly feeling vulnerable.

Beau hugged her fiercely. “I’m crazy in love with you, you know that,” he whispered back.

“And you married that other woman, why?”

“Because you were already taken. ’Sides, I could ask you the same question. About David. But I won’t.”

Kat pulled away and stared into Beau’s eyes, which had become dark, inscrutable. This was a subject they never discussed.

Although maybe, one of these days, they should open one of David’s special-occasion bottles of wine and do just that?

“I love
you,
” Beau went on solemnly. “The day we got married was the happiest day of my life, right there next to when Benjamin and Brianna were born.”

“Really?”

“Really. Darlin’, what is it about Christmas Day that makes you feel so . . . fragile? Is that the word I’m looking for?”

That was
exactly
the word. Kat smiled slightly, marveling at how her husband always knew her better than she knew herself.

“I just love you so much, and I love our children so much,” she said passionately. “I just want us all to be happy and healthy and safe and . . . well, you know.”

“I know.”

“I only wish that—”

But she was interrupted by the sound of the front door opening. Kamille pranced in, hanging on Chase’s arm. Kamille had on her faux-mink jacket over a long, slinky black gown and pearls. Chase, in a dark gray suit and tie, was
GQ
-gorgeous, as always. They both looked a little drunk.

“Guess what?” Kamille cried out. “Guess what guess what guess what?”

“What, doll?” Kat pulled away from Beau to greet Kamille and Chase.

Beaming, Kamille held out her left hand and wriggled her fingers. On the ring finger was a ring.

A diamond ring.

An
enormous
diamond ring.

For a moment Kat couldn’t breathe. Or speak.

And then she found her voice. “Oh . . . my . . .
God
!” she burst out. “Kamille, I don’t understand. How can you even think about—”

“Can I be a bridesmaid? Can I be a bridesmaid?” Bree cut in excitedly.

Kyle sauntered over and kissed Kamille on the cheek. “Congratulations or whatever. Just promise me you’re not gonna wear one of those puffy white princess dresses, ’kay?”

“Yeah, ’cause you’re the fashion expert in this house?” Benjy joked. “Congratulations, you guys!” he said to Kamille and Chase.

Chase grinned. “Thanks, man.”

Beau enfolded the two of them in a massive hug. “Wow! I am speechless! And that’s not something that happens to me often. Kat, honey, let’s break open some champagne! The expensive stuff. I think we should have the wedding in Dodger Stadium, don’t you? Just kidding, I promise I won’t be one of those parents who take over the wedding planning . . .”

“You’re getting
married
?”

Kat turned around. Kass was standing at the bottom of the stairs, pale as a ghost.

“Kass, you’re up,” Kat said, forcing a smile. “Dinner’s ready. How was your nap?”

But Kass didn’t reply. She was staring at Kamille with an expression Kat couldn’t even begin to translate. Shock? Anger? Confusion? In response, Kamille was giving Kass an incredulous “what the hell?” look. And Chase—well, Chase had dropped his gaze to the ground as though his black Prada loafers had suddenly become very, very interesting.

What was going on?

“Oooo-kay, so who’s gonna help me get the champagne?” Beau said loudly. He, too, seemed to sense the weird tension in the room.

“Me me me!” Bree said, jumping up and down.

“All right, pumpkin, as long as you promise not to drink it all.”

“Ha-ha, Daddy!”

Still in shock over Kamille’s news, and now doubly worried about Kass’s strange reaction, Kat just stood there frozen as Beau and Bree went to get the champagne . . . and Kyle and Benjy went to change the music . . . and Kamille and Chase went to help themselves to the Château Margaux. (Couldn’t they wait for the champagne?)

Which left just her and Kass in the front hall.

“Doll, you okay?” Kat asked her gently.

Kass wouldn’t look at her. “I’m fine. I, um, need to go upstairs and, um, make an important call. I’ll be down in a sec, okay?”

“Kass, what’s wrong?”

“Nothing. Just start without me.”

“But—”

Kass didn’t wait for the rest of Kat’s sentence. She turned around and raced back up the stairs. A moment later, Kat heard a door slam shut.

And now Kat was alone.

So much for a drama-free Christmas.