Making It, #2

by Christina Ross

  Which the bitch probably does.

  “About your gown,” Tootie said to me. “Naturally, I recognized it on sight, and I have to agree with my husband that it is lovely. But if I’m not mistaken, wasn’t it part of Herrera’s collection two years ago?”

  “In fact, it was,” I said.

  “Well,” she said with a small chuckle. “How brave of you, Julia.”

  “I’m sorry?” I said. “I’m not following.”

  “Oh, you know, to have the guts to wear something that’s two years old—and here of all places.”

  I could feel Hunter literally bristle beside me when she said that.

  “Tootie, Julia looks stunning, regardless of the age of her dress. You should know that my tux is five years old. Beyond that, I’m thrilled to have Julia on my arm tonight, especially when it comes to this evening, which you’ve designed to celebrate my father’s documentary. As you know, that film features women who never could afford the kind of gown Julia is wearing—or yours, for that matter. They could never fathom the kind of wealth you’ve assembled in your home tonight. So, in the spirit of that, I’d like to thank you and Addy again for celebrating my father’s work, and by doing so, understanding that not everyone in this world is as fortunate as the majority of the people you’ve invited here tonight. As you must know, all of my father’s documentaries have a similar theme—they focus on people locked in some dire sort of need, much of which is financial. I hope you haven’t lost sight of that, or that material things are only things—as empty as the air we breathe. Anyway, thank you for having us. And thank you, Addy, for welcoming us. Now, Julia and I will get a drink at the bar, then we’ll find my parents.”

  “Well, goodness,” Tootie said as she placed a hand to her chest. “Your sudden change in tone felt like a flash of lightning, Hunter—and one coupled with a clap of thunder! Unless I’m mistaken, one would think you were angry with me right now.”

  Hunter reached for my hand before he nodded at both of them. “Life is too short for anger, Tootie,” he said to her. “And also for bullshit. Have a good evening.”

  He held tight to my hand in a way that felt oddly protective, and my head started to whirl as he led us into the massive, crowded ballroom, which was milling with the glittering, monied elite.

  And what am I to make of that? I thought as I glanced up at him and saw that his jaw was set tight in anger. He just stood up for me back there. Throughout what has turned out to be a difficult start to the evening, he’s been nothing short of a gentleman. What he’d just said to shut down Tootie was as brazen as it was amazing, and if I’m being honest with myself right now?

  Hunter is confusing me.

  Who is he, I wondered as I looked at him. Especially after our run-in with Immaculata? And then after the way he handled Tootie Staunton-Miller? She’s hosting this evening for his father, but still he was pissed off enough over her treatment of me to shut her down after she tried to shame me.

  This man is nothing short of an enigma, I thought as we stepped deeper into the cavernous room. Despite what Immaculata and Harper said about him, what he just did back there can’t be ignored . . .

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  “AND THAT’S WHY I HATE coming to these kinds of events,” Hunter said to me as we approached the bar. “As usual, Addy was a gentleman and he was kind. And also just as usual, his wife chose to be a bitch and belittle you—and in front of me, no less, the son of the man she’s celebrating tonight. I’ll never understand Tootie, Julia. She pisses me off. I’m sorry she tried to demean you. You deserved none of it.”

  “I appreciate that,” I said. “And I also appreciate what you said to her, Hunter. Thank you. Addy was a gentleman, as were you. I know that because of your father’s cause, you had a delicate line you needed to walk back there with her. But if she didn’t hear you when you thanked Addy alone for welcoming us? That woman has to be stone-cold deaf.”

  “I sure as hell hope she heard it,” he said in anger. “Because I meant it. But that’s over with now. Look, Julia, I don’t know if you’ll give me another chance to have an evening alone with you after the way tonight began, so I just want to enjoy the rest of the evening with you while I can. I want to savor all of it. Can we get past the last thirty minutes? Can I at least get you a martini?”

  He was upset—I could sense it in his words, see it in his expression, feel it in the heat he was giving off. After being ambushed by Immaculata and then by Tootie’s theatrics, I felt bad for him, because they had tried to diminish him in my eyes. And so I did what I always did when I wanted someone to feel better—I turned to humor. Because in my experience? Making someone laugh or smile often saved the damned day.

  “Is that even a question?” I asked. “I mean, come on, Hunter. After Tootie’s little shitshow, how about if you and I share a pail of martinis?”

  “You know what?” he said with a relieved grin on his face. “I can kind of see it now—you and I squirreled away in a corner of this beast of a ballroom sipping away at a pail filled with vodka and vermouth.”

  “I’m sure as hell not above it,” I said. “I’m from Hartford, remember? With no family from Greenwich—the horror! So, please, sign me up!”

  He laughed when I said that, and his laugh was so genuine, it made me smile in return. I hated that I felt I needed to throw up walls between us. I didn’t want to, but I felt that it was the safest choice.

  God, I hope I’m not misreading him, because parts of me really do like him . . .

  Then why don’t you start judging him by his actions and not by the rumors that hound him? Isn’t that how you’d want to be treated? People grow up, Julia. Why don’t you judge him by how he treats you tonight, and go by that?

  Because more than anything, I trust Harper with my soul. She’s never misled me. She only mentioned what she’d heard about him to protect me.

  People change, girl . . .

  And some don’t.

  But others do . . .

  “Good news,” Hunter said as he looked over at the packed bar. “I happen to know one of the bartenders. We work out at the same gym. I think we’re in luck to get served faster than I thought. Give me a few minutes, and I’ll be back with our drinks. Will you be OK here alone?”

  “I will be if Tootie and Immaculata don’t have their guns trained on me.”

  “If they do, get my attention. I’ll take them both down—and I mean that.”

  “Well, I do like chivalry,” I said.

  “And I’m filled with it. No olives, right? Just a twist of lemon?”

  “You got it.”

  “Be right back.”

  As he walked away, I took the opportunity to look around the ballroom. Like the foyer, it was paneled in dark mahogany, the room glowed from the warmth of the ten massive crystal chandeliers that stretched the length of the space, and at the far end of the room, an eighteen-piece orchestra was playing Tales from the Vienna Woods as dozens of couples waltzed.

  After all the press that surrounded his win at the Academy Awards, I knew what Hunter’s father looked like from all the photographs I’d seen of him since his nomination and win, but with so many people shifting this way and that, I was damned if I could spot him in this crowd. There had to be over five hundred people in this room, and more were entering by the second.

  Because I’d been poor for so much of my life, I had to wonder what it had cost the Millers to host an event as elaborate as this.

  I mean, there was the open bar, dozens upon dozens of waiters were swirling around the guests with bright silver trays topped with either flutes of champagne or a myriad of canapés, and there was the orchestra. While I knew that the proceeds earned from tonight would go to support Hunter’s father’s cause, I still had to wonder—especially after meeting Tootie Staunton-Miller in person—whether all of the proceeds would go to that cause. Or whether dear Tootie would take whatever tonight had cost her off the top, and then give Hunter’s father the rest . . .

 
Probably the latter, I thought.

  “You’re still alive,” Hunter said when he rejoined me with two gorgeous-looking martinis in his hand. He offered me one, which I gladly took. “So, no collisions with Tootie or Immaculata while I was away?” he asked.

  “Please,” I said to him. “I’ve turned myself into a force field when it comes to those two. You can now officially consider me their kryptonite. I’m untouchable.”

  “You know, I wasn’t joking when I said that you could make it as a comedienne, Julia.”

  I touched my glass to his, and we sipped.

  “Not a gig for me,” I said.

  “Why not?”

  “Too shy,” I said. “And besides, in this industry? I like to work on the sidelines.”

  “I get that,” he said. “Because I’m the same. But if you ever wanted to do it, I still think you’d kill it.”

  “Are you shy?” I asked.

  “Not in real life. But because of my upbringing, when you put me in a situation such as this? I still can’t help feeling like a fish out of water. I wasn’t born into this world. After being bounced around from home to home for so much of my early life, I’ll never feel as if I belong here. And I shouldn’t. When my parents adopted me, success had already touched them. Sure, a lot of years have passed since then, but as hard as my parents have tried to acclimate me to society, I still feel like a stranger in it. But because of everything my parents have done for me, I feel that at the very least, I need to do the right thing and show up for every event held in their honor. Because that’s the right thing to do. Evenings like this aren’t about me or how uncomfortable I might feel. Instead, they’re about me supporting my parents because they deserve my support. That’s why Abby has been so great over the past year. She’s the kind of friend who will always step up for you—as she would have for me tonight if her son hadn’t become ill.”

  “Have you ever dated her?” I asked.

  “No,” he said. “When we first met, the vibe we shared was kind of this instant, long-lost brother-sister kind of thing. Neither of us can explain it, but it is what it is, and we’re as grateful for it as we are for each other. Wait until you see her on set—she’s an incredible producer. Balls of steel. When I can’t get through to those girls? Abby sure as hell can. She’s a total pro.”

  “I’d love to meet her,” I said.

  “You’ll meet her this week,” he said. “Because even if her son is still ill, Abby doesn’t mess around. Her parents live in the city, and she’ll bring in her mother to make sure that her son is cared for so she can be on set when shooting starts. What I can tell you about her is this—there’s no way in hell that she’s going to miss the first day of shooting for season two.”

  “She sounds like an amazing friend,” I said.

  “I don’t have a lot of friends,” he said. “But the few I have mean the world to me. Abby is one of them.”

  I immediately thought of Sienna when he said that.

  “I totally get that,” I said. “I’d be lost without my best friend, and I know that she feels the same about me.”

  “Kindred spirits,” he said. “Our best friends can get us through anything.”

  I clinked my glass against his again when he said that, and we sipped.

  “We’re lucky to have them, especially in this town,” I said.

  “Right?” he said.

  At that moment, we were interrupted.

  “Oh!” a woman’s voice called out behind us. “Heyzeus Cristo! Look at who it is! Besides me Rudsy, it is the most handsome man in the world!”

  “Is Sophía Vergara here tonight?” I asked Hunter. “Because I’m pretty sure I just heard her voice, and that it was directed at you.”

  “Sophía Vergara?” Hunter said to me with a furrowed brow.

  “You heard her voice, and that’s what she sounded like.”

  He swept the crowd with a glance before a smile broke out on his face.

  “Actually, Epifania is kind of like her,” he said to me. “But only if you took Vergara to the tenth power. Epifania is a good friend of mine, and just so you know, she’s charging like a bull toward us right now. What I can promise you is this—never in your life have you met anyone like her. And I already know that you’re going to love her. Because everybody loves Epifania.”

  “So, you’re telling me that I’m not about to meet another Immaculata?”

  “Hell, no. Epifania is a friend. If anything, you’re about to be entertained, and maybe even make a new friend in the process. Because that’s just who she is.”

  “The cookie!” I heard the woman wail at my back. “Epifania came here tonight to celebrate your the papi! But Epifania also came here knowing that she’d see you the here! And just look at you! Such a good son! So, part the seas, the babies, because Epifania coming in for a beeg hug and an even beeger kiss!”

  I turned toward her when she said that, and when I did, I was met with the sight of an impossibly beautiful, voluptuous brunette who wasn’t just stunning, but who was wearing such a saucy, low-cut gown, by herself she offered enough cleavage for the entire room to motorboat. With her arms outstretched, she went straight for Hunter to give him a hug. I watched them kiss each other’s cheek, and as they did, I had to wonder if Epifania had once been another notch in Hunter’s belt? He’d admitted to his past, so it certainly was a possibility.

  And then she surprised me.

  “Who the you?” she said when she turned to me. “Because you are the hotness, the cookie. That gown of yours! Dios mío! Tonight, you are the fleeping and the flopping and the dressing on the topping!” She held out her hand to me, which was covered with diamonds, and I shook it. And when I did? Her grip was firm with meaning, which I liked, because one of the things I hated most was a weak handshake. “I’m Epifania Zapopa!” she said. “Otherwise known by many in this hoitsy to the toitsy crowd as the loose cannon of Park Avenue. But what the hell, right? I kinda like my nickname. It make me sound like a badass boss beech. What your name, my gorgeous chica?”

  “I’m Julia Jacobs,” I said to her.

  “Yulia Yacobs,” she said. And then, almost at once, she shook her head in frustration and started over again. “Yulia—no, just look at that, I screw it up again. Julia Yacobs—no, even that the wrong. Let Epifania try again. Julia Jacobs—is that right, the cookie?”

  “It is,” I said with a smile.

  “You know—your name almost like movie-star name!”

  “I’m no movie star,” I said. “My best friend is, but I’m not.”

  “But you could be,” she said as she turned to Hunter. “Look at her, the Hunter. She so the pretty, isn’t she?”

  “She’s beautiful,” Hunter said in a way that made me blush.

  “And so the stylish. I mean, her face is beyond the gorgeous, right? And then there’s her pretty hair, and those diamond earrings!” She punched him on the shoulder. “What the hell wrong with you, Hunter! You a producer! Put her in a goddamned movie, for the goodness sake, and watch the bank roll in! You both get super reech!”

  OK, she’s clearly just a friend of Hunter’s, and not another Immaculata. And let’s just thank God for that.

  “Actually, Julia is an assistant agent at CAA,” Hunter said. “A client of hers was just signed to become part of The Terrible Teens.”

  “Oh, the holy to the moly on the rolly in my holey, I love your show!” Epifania said at the top of her lungs, which caused several people to turn our way with exasperated, disapproving glances. “That show of yours is why we become the fast friends when we first met a year ago. All of those spoiled, bickering leetle beeches having at each other over the nothing has consumed my life! I never miss even one show, and whenever I watch it, it like the best dessert ever! Because as you know, the Hunter—and as you should know, the Julia—I was born on a fucking banana leaf, OK? And I’m not joking, because it true. Before mi familia came to America, I was so the dirt to the poor that if you could find a speck of dir
t in this room right now? It would probably be a relative of mine. So! Whenever I see the Hunter’s show, I cannot believe what I’m the seeing. Those terrible beeches have no idea how good they have it! When I was their age, I was eating fried grasshoppers, because we so the poor, we had to catch whatever we ate—and thank God those leetle motherfuckers were the everywhere, that’s for the sure, because otherwise we go the hungry. But those girls on that show? The only thing they the have is a major bug up their ass! But even so, Epifania live and the breathe for them. So, I have to ask you, Hunter, because of my addiction to your show, what the hell is wrong with me?”

  When she asked him that, Hunter wrapped his arm around her waist and kissed her on the forehead.

  “There’s nothing wrong with you, Epifania. Because you’re one of the good ones. You’re another of the reasons I come to these sorts of events. There’s no pretension when it comes to you. You’re as real as they come, and I love you for it.”

  “I love you too, the cookie—but as your friend, Epifania cannot press the wax to her leeps any longer! Because she dying to know the truth! Where is the Abby? I know she just your friend, but now here you are with Julia. Are you finally gonna start the dating again? Because, the papi, it been over a year since you dated anyone. We’ve talked about this, and I know this about you. You took yourself off the market so you could focus on your show, which I get. But now that you’ve settled into your show, please tell me that you and the Julia are a thing, because you are the most beautiful couple in the room tonight, that’s for the fucking sure. I need you to be with her! And not just because she a knockout, but because I like her and I don’t want you to be lonely. If you lonely, that make Epifania the sad!”

  So, there it is, I thought with a sense of relief. Immaculata had been lying, because Epifania and Hunter clearly are close and what she just said matched exactly what Hunter had said to me earlier. He’d slept with Immaculata a year ago—not a month ago, as she’d claimed. And he’d stopped sleeping around with other women to focus on his show, which made perfect sense to me. Just like me now, a year ago Hunter had just brushed against success. And also just like me now, he’d hunkered down and focused on his work so he could build upon that success. So, what am I to make of all of this? And how is Hunter going to respond to Epifania’s question about us being a couple?