Dollhouse (19 page)

Chapter Thirty-Nine

Kamille

K
amille opened her closet door and ran her fingers over the row of dresses. The cucumber mask on her face was dry, and the thirty minutes were almost up on her teeth-whitening strips. She sipped her glass of champagne—one of her standard pre-glam rituals—and bobbed her head to Beyoncé’s “Beautiful Liar,” which was playing on her CD player.

Hmm, should she go with the Azzedine Alaïa? Or the Chanel? Giles had mentioned that tonight’s movie premiere, at Mann’s Chinese Theatre, would be especially celebrity studded, and there was going to be a reporter from
Vogue
there who’d asked to meet her. She finally settled on the Chanel, which she’d spent a small fortune on.

She plucked the filmy wine-red dress off its hanger and draped it across her king-size bed. She loved her new apartment on Westmount Drive, which was spacious in every way—big, airy rooms, massive closets, tall ceilings. It was so much better than the overcrowded family house in Los Feliz. Or the cramped little bungalow she’d shared with the sister-who-shall-not-be-named, until two months ago.

Or Chase’s place. That was probably her favorite thing about this apartment. There was no Chase in it. No assholes,
period.

For a while after that disastrous day in June, Chase had actually tried to get in touch with her, wanting to “explain things.” What a jerk. Kamille had ignored the countless messages, texts, and e-mails, and she’d tossed the three dozen cream roses with their pathetic “I’m sorry” note into the trash compactor.

Giles had come to the rescue, lining her up with a publicist to deal with the media aftermath. Including the humiliating
Happily Ever After
episode that had aired last month on the Life Network, showing absolutely
everything.

And somehow, miraculously, Kamille had come out on top. The magazines had portrayed her (rightly) as the innocent victim. The glut of publicity even ended up helping her professionally because suddenly, overnight, everyone in the country knew who she was. Giles had even managed to book her first cover, for
Mademoiselle,
as well as a guest spot on a wildly popular reality dance contest on one of the major networks. So really, her career was better than ever now.

As for Kass . . . they hadn’t spoken since the wedding. The nonwedding. Kamille had arranged through her mother and Beau to come to Sunday Night Dinner every other week, and insisted that Kass be there on the alternate Sundays only. Kat had tried to play peacemaker, among other things informing Kamille that Chase had actually committed a crime against Kass because she had been too drunk to give consent. She said she’d even tried to convince Kass to press charges for date rape, but that Kass had refused because she wanted to “move on.” Whatever. It was Kass’s fault for getting so wasted to begin with. She
knew
she couldn’t handle alcohol; she shouldn’t have put herself in that position. Kamille had zero sympathy. And why was her mother being so understanding about it, instead of disowning Kass’s sorry ass?

But enough about Kass. Kamille had to get ready for the party. Really, her life had less and less to do with her family these days, which was just fine with her. She, too, was moving on.

Kamille wandered into the bathroom, which was brand-new and all white with floor-to-ceiling mirrors. The dressing-room-style lighting was at once flattering and precise, which meant that she could apply her makeup perfectly—and also scrutinize back zits, excess body hair, and so forth without feeling
too
ugly.

She scrutinized herself now. Perfect.

The phone rang just as Kamille was spraying herself with J’Adore perfume. She glanced at the screen; it was her mother.

She almost let it go to voice mail, then changed her mind at the last second and picked up. “Hi, Mommy, I really can’t talk right now, I’m getting ready for that big movie premiere I told you about,” she said quickly. “At Mann’s Chinese?” She ran a clean washcloth under warm water and started removing her cucumber mask, hoping her mother would be suitably impressed by her very glamorous plans.

“Hi, doll. I won’t keep you. I just . . . listen, could Kyle come stay with you for a few days?”

“
Excuse
me?”

“We had an incident tonight. I can explain more later, but long story short, she broke into the liquor cabinet and helped herself to some vodka. But the worst part is, she left the house without locking it back up again, and Bree ended up, well, helping herself to the vodka, too. And getting sick.”

“Ohmigod, are you serious?”

“I’m afraid so.”

“Is Bree okay?”

“It depends on what you mean by
okay,
but yes, she’s fine.”

Kyle!
What an idiot. Kamille flashed back to when Kyle had been busted for showing Bree how to roll a joint. Kamille wasn’t exactly a saint herself, and she’d done some pretty stupid stuff when she was a teenager, too.

But not
that
stupid. All her drinking (and occasional pot smoking, and that one time she’d tried E with Jeremy Weinstein) had taken place at her friends’ houses, with parents safely out of town (or better yet, out of the country) and the nanny cams on the off position. And she’d never, ever exposed any of her younger sibs to that kind of behavior.

“Beau and I need some alone time with Bree so we can talk to her, get her back to normal,” her mother was saying. “I promise, it’ll just be a few days. Or a week or two, tops. Once school starts, we’ll be back to our usual routine here, anyway. Kyle will be too busy with homework to get into trouble, and same with Bree.”

Kamille wasn’t so sure about the “too busy” part, especially with respect to Kyle. “But, Mommy, I’ve got a big shoot coming up,” she complained. “Remember that bathing-suit ad I told you about? And Giles has me going to all these events at night. I can’t babysit Kyle twenty-four/seven!”

“I’m not asking you to do that, sweetheart. Just let her crash on your lovely new sofa bed that Beau and I bought for you. And if you have any liquor there, please lock it up!
Double
lock it!”

“But, Mommy—”

“Oops, that’s . . . uh, that’s my other line. I’ve gotta go, doll. I’ll call you back later, okay?”

“But, Mommy, I—”

The connection went dead.

“Shit!” Her superspacious apartment was about to get a lot less spacious.

Kamille went back to removing her cucumber mask, muttering in annoyance to herself. A couple of minutes later, the phone rang again. It was her mother,
again.
This time, she decided to let it go to voice mail. She didn’t want to hear about any more family drama, and she really did have to get out the door . . .

A box popped up on the screen, letting her know that she had a new voice-mail message. A second later, a text popped up below it. From her mother.

It said:

KASS JUST CALLED SHES AT THE HOSPITAL SHES IN LABOR

For a moment Kamille just stood there frozen in place, staring at the text message. Then the shock turned into something else: the old rage, stirring up inside of her and making her want to throw things. Kass was finally going to have her baby.
Chase’s
baby. A child that would remind Kamille forever of just how low people could go, how no one could be trusted.

Not even family.

But enough of the pity party. She had a
real
party to get ready for. Kamille took a deep breath, then reached into her makeup box and grabbed her favorite red YSL lipstick.

Chapter Forty

Kyle

L
ying in bed, Kyle wondered why she couldn’t stop crying. She hadn’t cried like this since she was four, when she forgot her pink, blue, and lavender kiki that Grandma Romero had made for her at Disneyland. Her father had driven back there, alone, after closing, and talked a security guard into letting him onto the grounds. He’d finally found the baby blanket near the Mad Hatter’s Tea Cups, covered in someone’s red slushie, and brought it home.

Kyle sniffed and blew her nose. What was wrong with her? Why couldn’t she pull herself together? She wondered if she still had a small stash of Xanax hidden in her underwear drawer, which had been Ash and Priscilla’s birthday present to her
last
year . . .

There was a knock on her door. Benjy poked his head in. “Can I come in?”

Kyle sat up abruptly and drew her kiki around her. “Why, so you can yell at me some more?”

Benjy walked into the room and sat down cross-legged on her bed. He gazed intently at her face.

“What?” Kyle snapped. “Why are you staring me?”

“You’ve got a giant booger hanging down—right there,” he said, pointing.

“Gee, thanks.” Kyle grabbed a tissue and blew her nose again.

“You okay?”

“No, I’m not okay. I feel like shit.”

“Bree’s downstairs eating an enormous bowl of mint chocolate-chip ice cream, if that makes you feel any better. With chocolate syrup and a mountain of that fake whipped cream.”

“Really?” Kyle was relieved. But only slightly. “I’ve like totally fucked her up for life,” she rambled on miserably. “She’s like this sweet, innocent kid, and now she thinks it’s cool to drink vodka, like me. Like her goddamned ‘hero.’ ” She added, “Plus, Mom’s kicking me out of the house.”

“What? Tell me.”

“She said I have to go live with Kamille for a while, or something. I guess she hates me and she doesn’t want me around anymore.”

Benjy regarded her. “Look. Kyle. Nobody hates you. And you haven’t ruined Bree for life; she’ll recover. As for her thinking that drinking’s cool . . . it’s probably the opposite. The stuff made her sick. Maybe it’s even a
good
thing that she knows how gross booze is, this young, so she won’t end up like . . .” He hesitated.

“Like me?”

“I was actually thinking about our mom. But yeah, like you, too. ’Cause you did screw up, big-time. I don’t know what you were thinking. Frankly, I don’t know what you’ve been thinking for months, now. You were acting like a human being for a while, and then after the whole Kamille-and-Chase thing, you kind of lost it again.”

“Yeah, I know.” Kyle buried her face in her hands. “It’s just that . . . everything got so fucked up with this family, and stressful, and I just don’t know how to deal with that.”

“So you thought that going into self-destruct mode was a good idea?”

Kyle shook her head. “No! Well, yes! Maybe! I don’t know.” She took a deep breath, trying to express all the complicated, jumbled-up feelings she’d kept buried for so long. “See, it’s like when my dad died,” she began. “I never told anyone this, but when he . . . when
that
happened, something happened to me, too. I kinda just went cold inside. And I didn’t want anything to do with this family, especially my mom. She . . . they all . . . reminded me too much of my dad. So I just distanced myself. But at the same time I was so
furious.
I don’t know why, but I was. So I figured I’d take it out on my mom . . . on people . . . or whoever . . . by getting wasted and flunking out of school and all that other stupid crap.”

Kyle began sobbing again.

“Kyle, Kyle.” Benjy scooted over and hugged her tightly. “Shhh, it’s okay.”

“No . . . it’s . . .
not
!” Kyle sobbed.

“No, I guess it’s not. But it will be, someday. Listen—I can’t pretend to know what it’s like to lose your dad. I can’t imagine losing mine. But for whatever it’s worth, you have this huge family,
our
family, who loves you and will always be there for you. You’re not alone.”

“Whatever,” Kyle sniffed.

“You know, you really should sit down and talk to your mom about this stuff,” Benjy said softly.

Kyle jerked back. “No!”

“Or Kass, or Kamille, or me, or whoever. You need to talk to
somebody
.”

“What are you, my shrink now?”

Benjy pushed back a lock of her hair. “Yeah, well, someone’s gotta make sure you don’t go off the deep end again. It’s pretty lame, how you keep doing that over and over again.”

Kyle swiped at her eyes and laughed weakly. “I guess?”

There was a sudden commotion out in the hallway. Footsteps, yelling . . . then her mother rushed into the room.

Kyle sat up. “Mom? Is everything okay?” she said worriedly. “Is Bree—”

“Kass is about to have her baby!” Kat cried out. She looked happy and hysterical at the same time. “We’ve got to get down to the hospital, now! Where are my car keys? Has anyone seen my car keys? And my shoes, where are my shoes?”

Ohmigod, Kass’s baby!
“Can I go, too?” Kyle said meekly. “Even though I’m, uh, grounded for the next hundred years?”

Kat put her hands on her hips and glared at her. “No! Okay, yes. Just this once. But stay close. And don’t get into any trouble, or I’m sending you away to live with your great-aunt Beatrice instead.”

Ouch.
“O-kay, I won’t make a peep,” Kyle said. “Thanks, Mom.”

Kat’s expression softened. She came over and gave Kyle a quick, fierce hug. “I could kill you for what you did, you know that,” she said quietly. “But I love you. I will
always
love you, no matter what. You’re my baby girl.”

It was all Kyle could do not to start crying again.

Where in the hell was that Xanax, anyway?

Chapter Forty-One

Kass

“T
his . . . hurts . . . like . . .
HELL!
” Kass screamed.

Kat squeezed her hand. “Just breathe, darling! In and out, in and out! Just like they taught you in Lamaze!” she said cheerfully.

“
Screw
Lamaze! I need some drugs,
now
! Where is the goddamned
nurse
?”

Kass saw a worried glance pass between her mother and Beau. The two of them had been at the hospital for the last few hours, along with Kyle and Benjy, who had taken Bree down to the cafeteria for a snack.

Kass’s due date wasn’t for another couple of weeks, so she’d been taken by surprise when she’d woken up this morning with weird cramping sensations in her belly. She’d waited them out, thinking they would go away, figuring it was just the pad thai, sour cream and onion potato chips, and three chocolate mini donuts she’d eaten for dinner last night. But by evening they’d gotten more intense, so she’d called Dr. Chen. Who’d told her to come in right away because she was likely in labor.

And now the cramps were pure agony. Like ferocious lions gnawing and ripping at her stomach muscles from the inside. Which sounded delusional. But she
was
delusional, from the incredible, mind-numbing, apocalyptic waves of pain that had become her entire universe.

Why didn’t someone
tell
her that childbirth was such torture? She would have taken an oath of celibacy a long, long time ago.

“Did I miss anything?” Kyle sauntered into the room, chugging a Red Bull.

“Where’s Benjy and Bree?” Kat asked her.

“Buying crap in the gift shop. Your stomach’s still ginormous, so I guess that the baby’s not here yet,” Kyle said to Kass.

“Fuck you, you little bitch,” Kass said testily.

“Our Kassidy’s a bit stressed right now,” Kat explained.

“Can I get you anything, honey? Some more ice chips?” Beau offered to Kass.

“No!
Arggghhhhhh!
It
hurrrrrts
!”

“Maybe I’d better just go and leave you ladies to this,” Beau whispered nervously to Kat.

“Okay, honey. Why don’t you try Kamille again? I left her a bunch of texts and voice-mail messages,” Kat whispered back.

“I
heard
that!” Kass yelled. “Kamille and I are no longer sisters, so please don’t call her anymore! If you people
really
want to help, call the goddamned doctor and tell her to give me some goddamned drugs.
Now!
”

“You know, sweetie pie, when I had you girls, I did it completely naturally,” Kat said in an infuriatingly calm voice. “Serenity, that was our midwife, and Rainbow, that was our doula—we used them for all three of you—really, really felt that the epidurals and so forth were counterproductive and not very good for the—”

Kass put her hands over her ears. Would her mother shut up about natural childbirth, already? Or just leave, so the doctors could come in with their high-tech arsenal of pharmaceuticals and knock Kass out cold? She could wake up, say, tomorrow morning, and they could just hand Annabella to her, all bundled up in a cozy receiving blanket and sleeping peacefully . . .

For a moment Kass desperately wished Kamille were here. They hadn’t spoken in months or even seen each other. Kamille had moved out of their house right after the wedding disaster. She’d gotten her own apartment in West Hollywood and was busy with her modeling career. Once in a while, late at night, Kass found herself Googling Kamille’s name. Various photos and stories would pop up with headlines like
GETTING OVER CHASE
, showing her at fancy, celebrity-studded events with different, homogenously cute guys—but no boyfriend.

Kamille hadn’t tried to contact Kass, not even once. She had even insisted on their splitting up the Sunday Night Dinners so they wouldn’t run into each other at the house. Kass had complied; what could she do, if Kamille hated her so much that she couldn’t even sit down at the dinner table with her? Even their birthdays, at the beginning and end of July, had been celebrated separately. It was like a divorce.

Kamille was—used to be—her best friend in the entire world. She was supposed to be here: holding Kass’s hand, talking her down, and navigating her through the crazy, hellish, impossible, wonderful (okay, well, maybe not so wonderful) journey of childbirth.

As for Chase . . . Kass had gotten several calls and e-mails from him, offering financial assistance for the baby. Kass hadn’t returned any of them. Maybe it was a nice gesture from a repentant asshole—or maybe it was another piece of sleight of hand. Or a way to keep her from pressing charges against him. Whatever. Kass wanted nothing to do with him ever again. She only hoped he would have the good sense to stay away from her and Annabella.

Another wave of pain. Kass screamed.

“Breathe, sweetheart,” her mother said encouragingly. “Picture something happy, like Coco and Chanel when they were puppies. And breathe!” She winced. “Mmm, yikes.”

“What is it?” Beau asked her, sounding concerned.

“Nothing. I, um . . . would you mind taking over for a sec, honey? I’m feeling a little queasy. I’m just going to step out for a bit and get some fresh air.”

“Do you want me to get the doctor, darlin’?”

“No, no, I’m fine! Really! Just be the labor coach for a bit, okay?”

“Uh, okay.”

Kass closed her eyes and tried to shut out the chattering voices—why was her mother acting like
she
was the patient suddenly, when Kass was the one who was dying here?—and picture the puppies. No. No good. All she could see was Chanel scarfing down an entire coffee cake when she was two months old and then throwing it up on Kass’s lap.

Which made her want to throw up right this second . . .

“Now,
how
does this labor-coach thing work?” Beau was asking Kyle. “I mean, should I tell her to breathe, or should I breathe
with
her, or should I get the nurse, or the doctor, or—”

“I only went to like one Lamaze class with her,” Kyle replied. “Yeah, the Candy Cane made us do all these breathing exercises, plus Kegels, too. You know, like, holding in your pee?”

“Holding in your . . . pee?” Beau said uncomfortably.

“Don’t you remember how to do this, Beau? From when Benjy and Bree were born?” Kyle asked him.

“Not really, sweetheart. I think I fainted with Benjy, and I might’ve fainted with Brianna, too.”

“Lame,” Kyle snorted.

“That
is
lame. Okay, you two, get the hell out of my way!”

Kass’s eyes snapped open.

She couldn’t believe it.

Kamille had come. She was standing in the doorway, looking impossibly gorgeous in a burgundy silk dress and black stiletto heels.

“Ohmigod, Kamille!” Kass tried to sit up, but she couldn’t. “You’re here! I’m so happy to see you! Ohmigod!” She began crying.

“Whatever. I was at a movie premiere at Mann’s, and I think Robert Pattinson was about to ask me out, so you’d better be grateful. How far apart are your contractions?”

Kass swiped her tears away. “Like every three minutes?”

“And how many centimeters are you?”

“The doctor said nine, almost ten.”

“Holy shit, he’s coming out any second now!”

“
She.
Kamille, I—”

“Shut the fuck up and breathe. Ready? Take my hand. Good! Now, breathe in . . . one, two, three, four . . .”

A
lexander David Romero was born at 11:06
P.M.
that night. He weighed seven pounds six ounces and was twenty-one inches tall. Kass would have to save the name Annabella Grace for the next one . . . if and when she was insane enough to go through the experience of childbirth again.

Alex was perfect. And beautiful. And brilliant—Kass could tell by the way his tiny, almost translucent eyelids would flicker at the sound of her voice, as though he could already separate her from the rest of the loud, bubbly female energy in the room. He would no doubt go to Princeton or Yale someday. Or maybe USC like his mom and his grandpa David, so he could be close by, and so Kass could do his laundry every week when he came over for Sunday Night Dinners. He also had long, slender fingers—so maybe he would be a surgeon? Or a concert pianist?

“Ohmigod, he’s so adorable!” Kamille said, for the hundredth time. “Can I hold him now, Kassie? Are you done holding him? Seriously, stop hogging, you are so selfish!”

“Kam, you just had him like a second ago,” Kass pointed out.

Bree waved her hand in the air. “Me, me, me! What about me? I’ve gotta start practicing for babysitting!”

“I think he wants to cuddle with his old grandpa,” Beau cooed. He leaned in and made a goofy face at Alex.

Benjy shook his head. “Nope, I think he wants his big brother. Besides, I only got to hold him once.”

Kyle stepped in front of Benjy. “This is so awesome, having a baby bro. I can’t wait to teach him how to—”

“No!”
everyone said at once.

“I’m the grandma, so I get dibs,” Kat said, reaching for Alex. “Besides, none of you are holding him right. You have to support his head and neck with your arm—like this—because he doesn’t have any muscles back there yet,” she added, demonstrating.

Just then, Alex’s lips moved, and he made a tiny sputtering sound. There was a loud, adoring chorus of “awwwwwwww.”

Kass wondered if he was ready to nurse again. He seemed to want to nurse almost constantly. “I think he’s hungry. Do you guys think he’s hungry?” she said out loud.

“I don’t know. Put him on your boob and see what he does,” Kamille suggested.

“Make sure he latches on correctly, Kassidy. Like this, let me show you.” Kat started to unbutton her blouse.

“Mom!
Gross!
” Kyle grumbled.

“I think I’m gonna step out and grab a Coke,” Benjy said, making a beeline for the doorway. “Can I get anybody anything?”

“Yeah, son, I think I’ll join you. Let’s give the ladies a little privacy,” Beau agreed.

“Wait, Beau! You, too, Benjy!” Kat called out.

“Mom,
pssssst,
” Kamille said, pointing. Kat’s black lace bra and part of a nipple were still showing.

“What? Oh, big deal, there’s nothing here anyone hasn’t seen,” Kat said, buttoning up. “Anyway, I was going to wait to make the announcement, but since we’re all here . . . for the first time in a long time, I might add . . .”

Sniffling, she wrapped one arm around Kamille and the other arm around Kass, squeezing them in an awkward three-way hug. Four-way, including Alex, who had fallen asleep on Kass’s chest with milk dribbling down his chin and onto her toothpaste-green hospital gown. Kass was beginning to realize that parenting was going to be very messy, in more ways than one.

“So. I have some very happy news I want to share with everyone!” Kat went on.

Beau raised his eyebrows. “News? Do I know about this, sweetheart?”

“No, you don’t. I was waiting for the right time.”

“You’re selling the restaurant and moving to a retirement home in Florida to enjoy your golden years,” Kyle said with a straight face.

“Ha-ha, very funny. Actually, my news is . . . well, it’s very relevant to
today,
to the arrival of our precious, darling little Alex. Because . . .
ta-da!
Alex is going to have a new aunt or uncle!” Kat exclaimed, throwing up her arms exuberantly.

Kass frowned. A new aunt or uncle. What did that even mean? Did her father have secret, illegitimate children that no one knew about until now? Did Beau? Kass was too exhausted from hours and hours of labor to sort out their complicated family tree.

Wait.
Labor. Childbirth. Was Kat saying . . .

“Mom, you’re not pregnant . . . are you?” Kass gasped.

Kat beamed. “I am! I’m three months along. The baby’s due next February.”

There was a stunned silence in the room. Then Alex woke up and began wailing. And everyone began talking at once.

“Mom, you’re joking, right?” Kamille said loudly, trying to be heard above Alex’s cries.

“Yeah, aren’t you, like, too old?” Kyle added.

“My friend Portia’s mom just had a baby, and she’s like fifty,” Bree said helpfully. “Portia said she did fertilizer treatments.”

Poor Beau looked as though he was in shock. “But, sweetheart . . . darlin’ . . . we didn’t . . . that, is, this wasn’t part of the . . . that is, how did this even . . .” His voice faltered.

Kat squeezed his hand. “I know we weren’t planning on this, honey. But it just happened. I think it was maybe that morning we got that call from Irvine, and we ended up spending most of the day in bed, remember? I think we forgot to put in the—”

“TMI!”
Kyle and Benjy yelled at the same time.

“What call from Irvine?” Kass said curiously. She rocked Alex back and forth, trying to calm him down. But he only cried louder.

“It’s not important right now. That’s another conversation for another time. For now, we can just be happy about my—that is, Beau’s and my—baby news. Beau? Oh my gosh,
Beau
?”

But Beau had fainted. The top half of his body was draped awkwardly across the foot of Kass’s bed. Benjy rushed over and tried to prop him up. “A little help here?” he said, panting. “Jeez, Dad needs to go on a diet, like, immediately.”

Kamille leaned over to Kass. “Why does Mom always have to make it about her?” she whispered. “This is
our
day,
our
baby.”

Kass grinned
.
“
Our
baby?”

“Well, yeah. You didn’t think you were going to do this parenting thing alone, did you? I mean, you’re good at math and econ and all your other nerd subjects. But you totally suck at people stuff.”

“Gee, thanks, doll!”

“You’re welcome, doll! Here, give him to me.”

Without waiting for a reply, Kamille took Alex from Kass and readjusted his receiving blanket snugly. He snuffled and stopped crying. “See? He loves his aunt Kamille best. Don’t you love your aunt Kamille best? Your aunt Kamille rocks!” she said, nuzzling Alex’s nose.