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“Not with open seats. And they told me I had a better shot with layovers on standby. Or maybe another California airport, and I could rent a car to finish the trip. There’s a two p.m. into San Francisco—”
“Don’t go to San Francisco!” she blurted. Her heart had picked up speed and was beating somewhere near her tonsils.
“What? Why? What’s wrong with San Francisco?”
She didn’t know how to explain that a stranger had told her he’d get stuck in any attempt to cross the country, and that the stranger had so far been right. Sounding unhinged over the phone would only make Patrick try harder to get home, and who knew where he’d end up then.
“That’s... a really long drive.”
He sighed. “Well, you’re the one who wants me home so badly, Gem.”
Guilt roiled inside her. He was right, she was the one making demands.
A silence stretched before he spoke again.
“I’ve been thinking, and I think you should still go see him if I don’t make it in time.”
Fear that he would say such a thing had been quietly simmering in the back of her mind since she first got word he was delayed. She hadn’t liked the idea then, and she didn’t like it now.
“No, Patrick. I’m not going without you.”
He paused and came back soft, knowing that her opinion on the matter was tainted by a painful history with their father that he did not share a memory of. “Gem.”
She did not want to have the argument, and especially not over the phone. Thankfully, she had arrived at Lila’s complex.
“I have to go. Try to find a direct flight,” she said with big-sister authority she rarely wielded. She ended the call without giving him the chance to protest.
She parked in one of the guest stalls below Lila’s apartment and fought off the negative feelings threatening to cloud her already challenging morning. Patrick meant well, but he did not understand on her same level. He would never understand because his infant brain hadn’t been developed enough to grasp the significance of the events that had torn their family apart. But she remembered everything.
She shook herself from the thoughts and remembered why she had come to see Lila.
She needed a reality check.
The small stucco apartment building had emerald trim that set off the palms rustling in the breeze. Lila lived on the second floor, which made for challenges when her sponsors sent large packages that needed hoisting and extra hands. Once, an online bespoke furniture company had been making a play for Millennials, and they wanted shots of Lila lounging in their signature piece. Gemma had helped her carry the blue velvet armchair up the switchback stairs while they giggled and shoutedPivot!at each other like that episode ofFriends.
The things Lila had done to maintain and elevate her status.
People often thought influencers lived easygoing, relaxed lives, simply taking selfies with beautiful things in beautiful places, because that was the image they carefully cultivated online, but Lila hustled nonstop. She filmed and edited almost all her own content. She only slept in because she was up late working every night.
She hadn’t responded to Gemma’s text, which Gemma hoped didn’t mean she was about to wake her with a knock on the front door.
Gemma climbed the outdoor stairs with the sun on her back. The smell of someone’s breakfast, bacon in particular, wafted through an open window. She made note to ask Lila for a cup of coffee once she confirmed she was not losing her mind.
She knocked, and the door opened almost immediately.
One of Lila’s manicured hands with bright red nails appeared on the doorframe. She pulled the door partway and rested the other hand high on the wood like she wasposing inside the slim opening. “Good—” she started with a sultry smile, and stopped. “Oh. Gemma. What are you doing here?”
She wore a silk robe with a loud palm tree print to match the silk scarf tied above her forehead. The ensemble made her look like an old Hollywood siren and set off her green eyes. Her bright face was dewy with a morning acid peel or chemical cleanse or organic moisturizer Gemma was sure she was testing. She smelled like grapefruit.
“Hi,” Gemma said. “I texted you that I was coming over. I need to ask you something.”
Concern flashed over Lila’s face. She let go of the door and folded her arms. “An a.m. house call; this must be important. What’s up?”
Gemma took a breath and mustered the courage to say what she had settled on to start things off. “I need you to tell me what day it is today.”
Lila laughed. “What are you talking about?It’s my birthday, bitch,” she said in her best Britney Spears impression while jerking her neck side to side.
Gemma normally would have laughed, but she kept quiet.
