Smothered
Page 8
I racked my brain for potential excuses, looking around at the circle of excited ladies around me—Mom included. Finally, I was forced to agree before running away to the kitchen, where I stuffed my face with more Pinterest guacamole and another glass of sparkly pink wine.
8:20 P.M.
* * *
Why? Why, Lord? Why must everything go to hell in a handbasket??
As it turns out, vegan cheese isn’t necessarily SOY free, which caused Lisa to break out into psychosomatic hives.
“Am I blotchy??” she’d ask every five minutes.
“You look fine, Lisa,” I’d reassure her.
“No, I think I’m blotchy. My nutritionist tells me my soy sensitivity is off the chart. Are my lips puffy at least? Somebody get me a Benadryl!”
I went to the bathroom to get her some drugs, only to find three of the Swaggin’ Six locked inside, sneaking sips of rosé. Instead of reprimanding them for the underage drinking, I grabbed each of their cups and gulped down the remnants in order to deal with Susan’s doctor nephew, who was now making his way into every conversation.
“You know, my nephew is environmentally conscious, too.” “Did you hear that Susan’s nephew graduated from Penn?” “I heard Susan’s nephew’s television show is going to be a hit!”
By the time I came back out with two Benadryl in hand, a tipsy Stacey had bumped into Val, sending her precious cell phone flying into the pool. Without missing a beat, Val dove headfirst in to save it, cradling it in her arms as she rushed out of the water and into the house, soaking wet. “HELP! HELP! SOMEBODY GET ME SOME RICE!!!”
Meanwhile, the Viking twins had tied all of the sparklers together with lit matches and shot them out of the Nerf guns—all of which landed in the rosebushes and started a small fire. Without a change of expression, Alberto emptied his mixed drink onto the grass, lightly jogged over to the pool, filled his mason jar with water, and calmly poured it over the tiny flame, extinguishing it faster than it started. I would normally be amazed, but Alberto makes a living putting out various Hansen fires, so I suppose he was only doing his job.
Is there more to drink? Did the kids take the last of it? I’m sure there must be something in the liquor cabinet. Let’s see what’s in the liquor cabinet.
11:30 P.M.
* * *
Mmmffffd thiss was a ggrreeaattt party!!! Sndonno why I was sooo uptigghtt. Thrs sooo mch alccohols in the cabbnets hahaha yes. I shoddd prolly go to shleepp I’m ttiiiirreds. Haappttyty forrh og Julyyyy, bitfchessss!!!! <3 <3 <3 <3 <3
JULY 5
Theo
JULY 6
Email
To:
Tyler Brian Jacoby
From:
Lou Hansen
Subject:
Introduction
* * *
Mr. Jacoby,
First of all, I hope you had a wonderful Fourth of July weekend filled with family, friends, and plenty of food! Second, I’d like to formally/virtually introduce myself. My name is Lou Hansen, and I’m a recent graduate of Columbia University. I’m also a close family friend of Lisa Van Williams, who was kind enough to pass along your information.
As Lisa will tell you, I’ve always been fascinated by the world of public relations, and have been looking at different companies that I might consider applying to. As someone who is also deeply committed to health and fitness, Holistic Public was a natural choice, since it’s easily the best health-food PR firm in North America. If you’re willing, I would love to meet with you to learn more about your work, as well as the company that you work for.
Thank you for your time, and I hope to hear from you soon!
Best,
Lou Hansen
* * *
1:40 P.M.
* * *
If I’m going to meet with Tyler Jacoby at Holistic Public to discuss my apparent deep commitment to fitness, I better get back on the health horse. My regimen was completely blown over the Fourth of July weekend … but to be fair, holidays don’t count as cheating, and the plate of cookies I managed to eat were both gluten-free and vegan, which has to count for something.
Speaking of food: Theo comes back from the Bay Area tonight, so I’m going over to the Treehouse for road-trip stories! Apparently Jett’s mother loved Theo so much, she gave him an Apple Watch—just for the hell of it—as well as a free subscription to her beauty app.* How crazy is that?! Now if only my own mother would love him enough to just accept his very existence. Ugh.
This is ridiculous. I have to tell Mom by the end of this month. Natasha is right—it’s silly to spend all of this time terrified of her disapproval. And why? Because it might burst my little happy relationship bubble? Pshh! That bubble was popped long ago with the serial-killer comment. And besides, if I love him, then she’ll love him, too.
… that being said, I doubt losing a little weight will hurt my cause.
* * *
FOOD JOURNAL
• Breakfast—Oatmeal with walnuts, honey, and apple slices (perfect).
• Snack—2 bags of Skinny Pop popcorn (okay, because it’s skinny.)
• Lunch—Turkey burger with only half the bun, side salad instead of fries (excellent)
• Snack—Celery with garlic hummus (celery negative calorie effect should counteract the hummus)
• Dinner—Veggie and brown rice stir-fry with low-sodium soy sauce (thank you, Theo).
• Dessert—Skinny Cow ice cream bar (once again: “skinny”)
Notes: I’ve decided that counting calories is both a dangerous and ineffectual way of losing weight, so I’m going to try “listening to my body” instead. As of today, my body is telling me that Skinny Cow is a sad excuse for ice cream. Blegh.
JULY 9
4:15 P.M.
* * *
Another day, another existential crisis.
I spent all morning and afternoon with Mother … again. Unless I’m spending the night at Theo’s or working out with Val, I am pretty much always in Mom’s company, which is making it increasingly difficult to stay rational. Wow, Mom was never this crazy while I was growing up. I mean, she was always a bit unusual; after all, she did have me on my first apple juice cleanse at age ten. But she was also dedicated to pickups and drop-offs, science fairs and choir rehearsals … even “twice-a-year temple,” as our rabbi affectionately put it. Sure, she has always been a helicopter parent, but now she’s more like a party chopper with a neon searchlight on me at all times.
Even my sister has noticed the difference. Ever since Val started applying to college, Mom’s insanity level went from a 6 to a 15.5, and has only gotten worse from there. Luckily for us, we have Dad, who is a perfectly normal and rational person.
What am I even saying?? Of course he isn’t! I once heard a rumor around my elementary school that Dad could build a house using nothing but super glue and a thumb tack. It was also rumored at some point that he marinated steak with the tears of his real estate enemies. When I asked him about this, he reassured me that the rumor was ridiculous, and that it was with blood, not tears.
I really need a job. Dad’s right: living at home would be a lot easier if I had somewhere to go every day. In the meanwhile, I suppose I’ll focus on getting fit … That way, if nothing else, she’ll have one less reason to nag me.
* * *
JULY 10
Email
From:
Tyler Brian Jacoby
To:
Lou Hansen
Subject:
RE: Introduction
* * *
Hi there, hun—
So glad to hear from you and your talented self. Columbia, huh? What a spectacular school! Me? I never went to college, but the university of life will teach you quite a bit, let me tell ya!;)
Lisa, Lisa, Lisa … she is such a riot, isn’t she? Of course she is! Get this: Lisa told me to expect an email from you an entire day after I’d already received yours. Says something about you, doesn’t it? Clearly
ahead of the game, li’l missy!
Fabulous that you want to come join us here at Holistic Public. Would love to chitchat. How does coffee sound? A little conversation over cold brew? I can tell you a bit about our company, our vision, and your potential place in our fam bam … so long as you’re not too good for us, Miss Columbia Grad.;)
Does July 17 work for you? At Bud and Bean. Let me know!
Ciao,
Tyler B. Jacoby
Associate at Holistic Public, PR
Health—Happiness—Holistic
* * *
3:15 P.M.
* * *
I GOT AN INTERVIEW! I GOT AN INTERVIEW! I GOT AN INTERVIEW! I GOT AN INTERVIEW!!!!
Well, it’s actually just coffee, but IT MIGHT AS WELL BE AN INTERVIEW!!!
Take THAT, Megan and your Parisian Instagrams! Next week, the seventeenth, I’ll be meeting with Tyler B at Bud and Bean (never heard of it!) to discuss work possibilities. OH, GOODNESS, THIS IS SO EXCITING!! Time to do some research. The more I know about Holistic Public, the better I seem to my potential employers.
I’m back, baby!
JULY 12
5:20 P.M.
* * *
Things I now know about Holistic Public:
• The PR firm specializes in health-oriented food products.
• They are frequently mentioned by various blogs and health gurus, including a coveted shout-out from Gwyneth Paltrow.
• Holistic’s CEO, Phoebe Rietz, is an ex-model, and though she does not have a degree in nutrition, she is responsible for most of the fitness fads of the past decade.
• Holistic was once sued for claiming that their client’s turmeric products cure cancer. However, they won the case, arguing that “can cure cancer” doesn’t mean “will cure cancer.”
• As an employee, I would receive free food products from the companies they represent (score).
• Skills desired as a potential employee: a degree in communications or PR (drat), experience in brand relations (check), strong writing skills and good grammar (YESSSS!), and a love for the world of fitness (sure).
• Key phrases to know:
• Activate your potential.
• Flush out toxins.
• Radiate.
• Glow.
JULY 15
5:41 P.M.
* * *
I need more friends.
Mom is going to Red Hot Mah-jongg Night at Stacey’s, Theo and Jett are grabbing drinks after work with a few catering buddies, Megan is wasted somewhere in Europe with her sorority sisters 4lyf, and Natasha has probably started a local meditation circle in an abandoned warehouse in New Delhi … all of which is making me nostalgic for the days when I too talked to other human beings.
I miss college, where being social required no more than stepping outside my dorm room and walking half a block. Now, all my friends are either on the East Coast or going to graduate school, leaving me a completely isolated introvert in La-La Land.* This is pretty much the equivalent of dropping a blind person in the Sahara and asking him to find water.
Ugh, I am so bad at initiating contact. It makes me feel so desperate and sad. Why can’t more people just reach out to me? It’s really not that hard!!
… Unless I have to do it. Then it’s really hard.
All right. Officially replacing “clear out closet” with “make new friends” on my list of short-term goals.
JULY 16
Mama Shell
JULY 17
4:15 P.M.
* * *
That went … er … well?
As it turns out, Bud and Bean is a coffee shop/weed dispensary that Tyler often frequents. He frequents it so often, it would appear, that the barista knew both his coffee and cannabis orders: a black Ethiopian cold brew, and something called “Girl Scout Cookies.”
Tyler was alarmingly handsome for a PR person. Had I seen him on the street, I definitely would have taken him for an actor or a model or personal trainer or something. But I guess that’s everybody in Los Angeles … everyone is unnecessarily pretty and has a “personal brand.”
“It’s all about your brand, hun,” he explained, leaning back in his chair, one foot crossed over his knee, hands behind his head.
“Everyone, everything, everywhere needs a brand. Actors, writers, dogs, breads, restaurants, TVs, bubble gum, water … If it exists, it needs a brand, and that’s the way we like it at Holistic. How many followers do you have on Twitter?”
I stiffened.
“Um … eight?”
Tyler’s mouth tightened into a sort of grimace.
“No, no, that won’t do. You’re a brilliant young voice who needs to be heard in the Internet space! You’re so authentic, so real … Real is such a great sell these days.”
He took a sip of his cold brew before continuing. “So if you were to describe your personal brand in two sentences or less, what would you say?”
I opened my mouth twice before any words came out. “My brand? As in my personality? What I like to do?”
He leaned forward with a clenched fist, shaking it to the sky like a preacher. “No, no, I mean your brand. Your trademark. Your style. Your niche. Here: What three words do people use to describe you?”
I thought for a moment. “I would say driven, thoughtful, intelligent—”
“BOOM.” He slammed his fist down on the table, spilling my latte. “Sexy bookworm. I like it. That’s real hot right now: geek chic. Tell me: have you ever considered dying your hair red?”
“Uh … red?”
“Yes, red. Blond screams, ‘fun, carefree, bright-eyed bombshell,’ while red whispers, ‘quirky, smart, intriguing. Reads Nee-chee.”
I contemplated this idea for a moment, ignoring the fact he had mispronounced Nietzsche. What did my hair color have to do with PR?
“Right. Red. Maybe. So … in terms of the company—”
“The company is all about the new wave. It’s taking old products and flipping them on their head. Ice cream? Who eats ice cream in Los Angeles anymore? No one, that’s who. But what if it’s made from all-natural, organic ingredients? If each batch is hand-churned every morning by a group of ten-year-old spiritual exchange students from Japan?”
I considered. “You’d have a violation of labor laws?”
“What you’d have is a new angle. The hip man’s ice cream. Artisanal, thoughtful, totally sellable.”
He leaned back again, his point made. I nodded slowly. “Right … but it’s still just ice cream?”
“Exactly.”
“Huh.”
The idea was compelling. Anything can be sold if it has a brand, huh? Including me?
“When I was working with the Getty, I was in charge of their online marketing … My primary job was to make art and art history more accessible to young people. If I can do that, I can definitely build a brand for myself.”
He smiled with blindingly white teeth. “I like you, Lou. I think you’d make a great addition to Holistic. Let me have a chat with the higher-ups about ya … and I expect to see your application in my email inbox soon, yes?”
He gave me a wink and downed the rest of his cold brew before walking to the counter to get another prerolled joint.
JULY 19
5:15 P.M.
* * *
What on earth is my brand??
I’ve been wracking my brain for the past twenty-four hours, and I can’t decide on my personal package. Why didn’t I learn about this in college?? I know that a tesseract is a convex regular 4-polytope, but was blissfully unaware that my career would be contingent on the way I describe myself in three words.
I brought up the question at Theo’s tonight, while he was rummaging through his collection of LPs. I sat on the couch, therapist style, while he pulled an album from the pile.
“Theo, what’s my brand?”
“Your brand?”
“Yeah … Like, if you were to sell me, what would my description be?”
&nbs
p; He chuckled, sliding the record from its case and checking both sides before gingerly placing it on the turntable.
“First of all, I wouldn’t be selling you, because that’s human trafficking.” He lowered the needle onto the LP and the Decemberists started to play. “Second, why are you asking this? Did your mom secretly submit you for modeling jobs again?”
I shook my head. “No, it’s just this interview I had with Tyler yesterday. I can’t stop thinking about it. He’s right: everything has a brand.”
“But you’d be working at a desk. It’s a behind-the-scenes job, not one in the public eye. Why would you need a brand?”
I bit on my lower lip, lost in thought. Theo walked back to the couch and plopped himself next to me, kissing me on the cheek.
“Do you think I’d look good as a redhead?” I asked.
He pulled back, brows knit tightly together. “Red? Like, fire-hydrant red?”
“I don’t know. Like ‘reads Nietzsche’ red.”
He snorted before grinning, then kissed me on the other cheek. “I think you’d look good with red, brown, blond, black, pink, or blue hair, or no hair at all.” He ended with a kiss on my lips and I giggled, which is gross. Giggling is definitely off-brand.
“Come on, I’m serious. What about you? Do you have one?”
Theo thought for a second.
“I’d say I’m a health-conscious chef with a personal emphasis on farm-to-table cuisine and a geometric aesthetic.”
I blinked at him. His grin grew more lopsided.
“Basically, I make healthy food look pretty.”
“I got that, smartass.” I threw myself across the couch face first, shoving my head between the cushions.
“Ughhhhhh, WHY am I so bad at real life??”
“You’re not bad at real life! Tyler said he liked you, didn’t he?”