37
SLOANE
The club is on a stretch of cliff-top road north of Malibu, in a glass building whose west wall is nothing but ocean.
I'm wearing a black slip dress and brand-new heels I found in a box on the bottom shoe-shelf of my walk-in closet. After the helicopter dropped us on the roof of my building, I had the longest shower of my life, washed my hair twice, and stood in front of my closet for ten minutes before I could decide what to put on.
The DJ is in a booth suspended above the bar, a woman in a sheer black shirt and headphones over her pink hair. The walls between the booths are covered in white orchids — real ones, hundreds of them. Past the sushi counter a chef is torching the top of something in a black bowl. The flame goes up four feet and nobody at any of the surrounding tables looks over. Because everyone here has seen a chef torch something before. I look up though. It's been a while since I've seen something impressive in a pretty setting.
It's nice here, but I don't feel even a hint of excitement about checking out a new venue. My body is in a club in LA but the restof me hasn't left Duster. The whirlwind of getting from a wallow to a cliff-top in four hours is too much for my brain to process and I'm still mentally lying in the mud with Maggie's mouth on mine. The butterflies haven't settled since.
I kissed a woman today. I kissed Maggie. And if Sita hadn't come down out of the sky, where would we be right now? In Maggie's bed, probably. The thought hits me with a jolt.
The hostess escorts Sita and me to a booth by the glass where our friends are waiting. Two tables over is an actress I recognize, and at the table beyond her is a man my father used to do business with.
There are six of us. Sita, Nicole, Mel, Lola, a woman called Bee I'm pretty sure I've met before, and me.
Compliments fly around and I return them. Nicole hugs me when I sit down and she tells me I look amazing. Lola also tells me I look amazing without looking up from her phone. They've decided I'm safe to be associated with again, and that we're all going to act as if Palm Springs never happened. Well, it didn't happen, for me, at least.
"I've missed you so, so much," Nicole says, placing a hand on my arm. "Tell me everything. Is it horrible? It must be horrible there."
"It's fine."
"Oh, stop. It looks horrendous, what they had you doing. Those photos." She squeezes. "We were all worried sick about you."
I glance across the table. Lola still hasn't looked up from her phone since I sat down. Bee is telling Mel that her purse is divine, and Mel is telling Bee that hers is the one she's been trying to get hold of for months. Nicole hasn't taken her eyes off her own reflection in the window.Sure you were all worried sick.
"It hasn't been that bad. Honestly," I say.
"Well the good news," Nicole says, leaning in, "is you're officially not canceled anymore."
"Not even slightly," Mel agrees. "The media loves you. That picture of you with the goat? In the cocktail dress?"
"Iconic," Bee chips in. "I've seen it everywhere. It's so cool."
I look at them and the penny drops. This is why I'm here. Not because they missed me. Not because they want to know how I've been. It's because I'm interesting again. Because the picture of me with the goat on my back is apparently iconic.
The drinks come. A bottle of champagne on ice, two espresso martinis, a vodka soda, and a glass of red wine for Lola, who only ever drinks red wine after someone told her it had antioxidants in it.
Mel pushes a champagne flute across to me. "Krug. Drink up."
"I'm pacing myself," I say. I already had a glass of champagne on the helicopter ride and two vodka tonics while Sita's stylist did my hair and makeup. The last thing I need is a picture of me stumbling out of here tipsy at midnight.
Mel blinks at me like I've started speaking Dutch, then looks at Nicole. Nicole looks back and a small silent conference happens between them.
"Babe," Nicole says, "you've just done a month of community service. You're allowed."
I shrug. "And I'm not done yet."
"All the more reason."
The champagne is pushed into my hand. Sita catches my eye and lifts an eyebrow —want me to step in?I shake my head, barely. I can handle this myself.
"So what are you doing out there all day?" Bee asks, leaning across Mel. "Like, actually. I've been trying to picture it."
"Honestly? Everything. I muck out the barns and help with repairs. I collect eggs, brush down a one-eyed donkey and try not to get pooped on by emus, among other things."
Bee laughs and the others laugh along. Nicole says stop it with her hand on her chest. Bee is waiting for the joke and when she realizes I'm serious, her face does a recalibration.
