Page 39 of The Alibi Club

Holly Kim, Radically Honest

LORNA

Lorna had spent the better part of an hour in the private office of Basil Grimsby, curator of the Antiquities Department at the Los Angeles County Museum of Art. He sat behind his massive mahogany desk, a classic English tea set in the center, the walls adorned with African art, as he espoused how important his job was. She hadn’t seen him since the gala, and while he droned on, Lorna bided her time and waited for the real reason she was here.

Grimsby had made a few embarrassing passes at her in his repressed English way through innuendo and ill-timed jokes about the bawdy nature of the Romans. Whenever he fumbled another move, she would look down as if trying to ignore a rising stench permeating the area. A sheen of sweat would form, evaporate, and reform on his forehead every fifteen minutes, likely alcohol sweats, as he pushed his filmy glasses up his red, puffy nose.

“We are incredibly proud of our collection. As resplendent as it is ever changing. Of course, we are hoping for your support again this year, even though your circumstances, as I understand it, have changed, Ms. Gray.”

Lorna leveled her gaze at Basil Grimsby. How dare he bring up her personal life. How could he have even known?

“I see no reason why you shouldn’t have my usual endowment. Your collection is ever impressive, Mr. Grimsby,” Lorna said in a frosty tone.

At that moment, the door to his office opened and in walked Holly Kim. Finally.

“Excuse me, Mr. Grimsby, I need your attention on a small matter.” Lorna’s eyes locked with the slender Asian woman she’d met at the gala, sharing a private look of recognition.

Grimsby quickly raised his hand in her direction and nearly spat, “Ms. Kim, can’t it wait? I’m with a patron.”

“’Fraid not, sir, this person is demanding to speak to you right away.”

“Good God, the place would crumble without me. Excuse me, Ms. Gray.” Grimsby rushed through introductions, “this is my assistant, Holly Kim. I’ll be back in a moment.”

Basil Grimsby promptly fled the office before he could hear Holly correct him. “Not assistant, you pompous British twat. It’s Deputy Curator of Antiquities.”

“I see Grimsby can’t seem to get your title right.”

“Grimsby hasn’t gotten anything right since the Tories were in power.”

Lorna smiled; she couldn’t help but admire Holly’s blunt honesty. She could use that.

“Forgive me for being so forward, but are you single?” Lorna asked.

The question was completely out of context, as Holly’s expression plainly stated. “Yes? But also, what? Bit of a hard pivot there.”

“Well, I might be able to help you. I’m a matchmaker.”

Holly raised an eyebrow. “And I look like someone who needs help?”

“Do you want the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the holy-shit-that-is-brutal truth?” Lorna quipped.

“Touché,” Holly said. “But it might be too late for me. I have tried a dozen different dating apps, sought out singles events at bars and bookstores, even followed a friend’s advice to ‘stop looking for love and it’ll come to you’ horseshit.” As if reading Lorna’s mind, Holly continued, “I even considered freezing my eggs and calling it a day, but I stupidly attempted one last-ditch effort that involved a hypnotherapist who promised me he could break down my mental defenses and open me up to the idea of love. But, after three sessions, I wasn’t unblocked. And that’s when it happened.”

“What happened?” Lorna asked.

“That quack unlocked some unknown bonus level in my brain and now it can’t be closed. It’s an unfortunate side effect that I can’t undo.”

“Come on. It can’t be that bad.”

“I cannot tell a lie.”

“I know that.” Lorna paused, “But what do you mean, exactly? Like you cannot tell a lie like George Washington?”

“No, he told the truth out of integrity and moral code.” Holly added, “What I mean is I am unable to tell a lie at all. My filter is gone. I can’t even tell the little white lies that are required in polite society, lies designed to save feelings and strengthen relationships. I cannot stop telling the truth. Like, you need a breath mint.”

“Oh.” Lorna breathed into her hand and smelled stale coffee. “I see.”

Holly’s eyes filled with tears. “I should have just frozen my eggs!”