The View Was Exhausting

by Mikaella Clements

  “Alex?”

  “Who else?” Alex said. He was a tall, wiry guy with straggly blond hair, underdressed for the party in a brown leather jacket and wide-framed glasses. Once he and Leo had untangled themselves, he turned to Win and held out his hand.

  “Right,” Leo said. “This is Win.”

  “Your date!” Alex said.

  “Kind of, yeah.” Leo glanced at Win. “Alex is a friend from LA.”

  “This is crazy, right? Like five people have already asked if I’m selling coke.”

  Win gave Alex a sharp once-over. He seemed to be a typical Silver Lake hipster. A little drunk, maybe, but harmless. She thought he had decided to flout the Cherrybomb! dress code until she noticed his worn T-shirt, a 1960s motif reading BAN THE BOMB. “I bet he’s been complaining all night,” Alex said, jerking his thumb at Leo. “Oh, parties bore me. I don’t care for fireworks.” His imitation was so close to the real thing that it shocked Win into a laugh.

  “He wanted us to take a few selfies and leave,” she told Alex.

  “Lenny,” Alex said, mock distraught. “You never take selfies with me.”

  “You’re not very photogenic,” Leo said.

  Alex sighed, resigned, catching Win’s gaze and looking rueful. “It’s hard when you don’t meet his high standards.”

  “I wouldn’t know,” Win said, which earned her a laugh from Alex, but Leo was stony-faced. He had let go of her hand.

  “What are you doing here? Who else is with you?”

  “Hae got us invites from the label,” Alex said. “The European tour starts in a week anyway, so we thought, why not? We only landed a few hours ago. Lila and Hae are still sleeping off the jet lag, you know what they’re like. They probably won’t hit the after-party until four a.m.”

  “Did you follow me out here?” Leo asked. Win tried to touch his hand, but he brushed her away.

  Alex seemed taken aback by the question. “Of course not. We didn’t even know you would be here. It doesn’t really seem like your speed.” He gestured around at the crowd. Beside them two girls were posing for photos, passing a diamond ring back and forth between their teeth. One of the trees had already been knocked over by a couple making out against it, and now they were rolling around in its wreckage, while inside the band screamed on and on. It seemed exactly like Leo’s speed to Win, but maybe there were other sides to him, other Leos Win had never met.

  “Sorry,” Leo said, although he looked harried, as if Alex were an annoying fan, demanding something of him. “It’s good to see you. We’re just busy right now.”

  He put his arm around Win’s waist. The gesture felt awkward, because, Win guessed, he didn’t really want to do it.

  “I get it.” Alex nodded. “I don’t want to interrupt any secret Hollywood business.” He threw his hands up in a showy gesture. Win felt tension slip through her, iron in her spine, and she looked around reflexively to see if anyone was paying attention to them. Immediately she locked eyes with a smirking casting manager, a man who had labeled her a “high and mighty cockshrinker” a few years before. He wasn’t the only one watching them. She forced her smile.

  “I’ll see you at the after-party, though?” Alex asked.

  “Maybe,” Leo said. “Or I’ll call you tomorrow, okay?”

  “Better call Lila. My phone’s been dead for a week.”

  “Sure,” Leo said as he basically stage-managed Alex off of the deck. He gave Alex a solid pat on the back that was almost a shove. Alex looked a little hurt. Leo turned his back, his arm tight and demanding around Win’s waist, and started walking.

  “Nice to meet you,” Win said over her shoulder to Alex. Alex raised a hand, watching them fold into the crowd.

  Leo pulled her another couple of meters before Win disentangled herself as unobtrusively as she could. Smiling, keeping her lips close together, she said, “Leo, what the hell?”

  “Sorry.” Leo pressed two knuckles against his eyebrow, drew in a sharp breath. “God. Sorry. I wasn’t expecting to see—”

  He was actually starting to look upset, and Win caught his hand in midair, linked her fingers through his.

  “Hey,” she said. “It’s okay. Come on, let’s go somewhere a little quieter.” She pulled him through the crowd. Inside the dancing had gotten dirty, desperate, and hands came grabbing for them. Cans of Cherry Chavanne were rolling between their feet. They took a door on the far side and ran into Zacharias himself, leaning against a locked porthole and looking bored. “Babies,” he was calling to a group of models, “babies, please, give the captain back and nobody gets in trouble.” Beyond him were stairs, and the way down to a blessedly quiet lower deck where there were only a few other people, huddled in circles, the click of lighters in the dark. If they were lucky, they might have five minutes’ peace.

  Win turned to Leo. His restless energy had infected her, left her on edge, her heart racing. “Do you want me to talk to security?”

  Leo let out a surprised bark of laughter. “No.” He passed his hand over his face. He looked very tired. “No. Sorry. He’s fine. I just wasn’t expecting to see him.”

  Win hesitated. Secret Hollywood business, Alex had said. She steeled herself, then asked, “Does he know about us? The…truth about us?”

  “I—no,” Leo said. “Maybe he’s picked up on some of it, but he wouldn’t…You don’t need to worry. It’s not about that. It’s just a little— I’m not sure about some of his friends.”

  “Sure about what?” Win said. Leo shrugged. They were quiet while Win tried to fumble her way through the confused fog of champagne and moonlight and her own apprehension to understand what was upsetting Leo. Finally she said, “I know you don’t like lying to your friends.”

  Leo shook his head. “It’s not that.”

  “You wanted to tell me something,” Win said. Leo’s lips were pressed tight together. He wasn’t meeting her gaze. “Leo.”

  “It’s…” Leo cleared his throat. “I don’t know how to start.”

  That was when Riva came teetering down the stairs, calling their names. She was in a red leather two-piece and flanked on either side by long-legged, beautiful girls. She had to lean down to hug them, cooing as she ran her hands over Leo’s jacket. Each of her friends wanted to hug Leo, too, and one of them demanded a round of photos, Win and Leo caught tight between them like rabbits in a snare. They smelled like expensive perfume and whisky and sweat. On the deck above them a fight had broken out, and Win could hear the grunts of men throwing punches and tables being upended.

  “Uh-oh,” one of the girls said, not sounding very concerned. “That’s probably about me. We should go and stop them.”

  Riva went with them, all of them doing an admirable job of stalking upstairs in their heels.

  “Leo,” Win said, “just fucking tell me.”

  Leo was pale. “Look, I hung out with Alex and his band for a few months earlier this year. We were friends but it ended weirdly and I’d rather not see them.”

  He looked away the moment he’d said it. Win watched him, waiting for more, but he only shrugged, staring out at the black sea. Upstairs Win could hear joyful cries of “Quentin, stop!” Win knew Leo was still holding back, and she had the sinking feeling that she’d let him down, and let Shift down, but she drew in a breath, taking his hand and pulling it toward her again. There would be time to talk later and tease out the real problem, whatever it was; there was always time to talk.

  “All right,” she said. “That sucks. But look, we don’t really have to be at the after-party. We’ll just get off the boat with everyone else, and Emil can have a car waiting. We’ll be there for five minutes and then leave. We don’t have to talk to your—friends. Alex said they probably wouldn’t even get there until four, right?”

  “Right,” Leo said, nodding fervently.

  “Everything will be okay,” Win said, and put her other hand up to touch his wrist. She curled her fingers around his, resting their hands on the rails.

&
nbsp; “Yeah,” Leo said, and managed a stuttering laugh. “Are you reading my palm? Does it say so there?”

  “I don’t know how to do that,” Win said. She wanted to distract him from his panic. “But maybe I’ll read your gaudy jewelry.” She slid her nail over the silver thumb ring Leo wore. “This says that you went to a fancy boarding school, and still attend reunions every couple of years, and laugh about it but secretly feel very fond of it. I bet you refer to the headmaster as a good old boy.”

  “Amazing,” Leo said. His shoulders relaxed. “Truly your psychic powers are unparalleled.”

  “Thanks.” Win touched the elegant gold ring that snaked up in a spiral from the base of his finger to his knuckle. “Here’s your India trip for you. It opened up your life, it changed your world, and now you have something tacky to remember it by.”

  Leo managed a grin. “Actually, that’s an old one of my mum’s that I found a couple of years ago. I used to have a ring from India, but it turned my finger green.”

  “I’m sorry. That was a misstep.”

  “It’s okay. Do you want to go to India together? Think how much fun you’ll have telling me about all the stuff I’m doing wrong.”

  Win wrinkled her nose. “I’ll pass.” Going to India was tied up in childhood trips with her parents, the crush of hot cities and dozens of strangers waiting to greet them as family, and she wasn’t sure how she’d fit Leo into those memories. Most of those family ties had dissolved now, anyway. Win couldn’t remember her relatives’ names, the places they lived. She took his other hand instead, touching the gold ring, and Leo turned his hand over and let her run her fingers over his palm, skimming down to touch the pulse in his wrist. His forearms were tanned. Her mouth felt dry.

  “This one’s nice,” she said, touching the delicate silver ring that sat on his index finger. “Pretty.”

  “Hannah made it for me. She went through a metalworking phase.”

  Win tapped another ring that sat under Hannah’s, a bronze band with a greasy pink gem pressed in the center like a dead bug. It glimmered like broken glass. “And this one?”

  “Don’t actually remember,” Leo said. His voice was strange. Win looked up at him and swallowed; his eyes were fixed on her but something about him was closed off, as if he had pulled down the shutters to keep her out. “I think I picked it up in Vegas.”

  “Appropriate.”

  If Leo would just tell her what he was thinking, then at least she would be able to react. If it was a problem, they could solve it. If it was about the two of them, they could talk about it. If she knew what he wanted, she could give it to him, or let him down gently. But she wasn’t used to Leo not talking to her. Leo was happy to piss her off and happy to fight with her; she wasn’t used to being shut out like this. Her heart was pounding in her throat, fluttery and panicked.

  There was another round of commotion on the upper deck, and then a shriek as someone—presumably Quentin—was shoved overboard. He fell right past Win and Leo, but the drop at this end wasn’t so far and he landed in the water with a splash, coming up spluttering. His nose was bleeding and he turned back up to his adversary, shaking a pathetic fist. “Fuck you, Antoine!” he cried, and behind them the staff came pattering down to calmly fish him out, tossing down a life preserver.

  “You really know how to pick a party,” Leo said.

  “You can talk,” Win said. She realized she was being stupid, and turned back. “I just…I want you to know.” She spoke slowly, like she was feeling her way across unstable ground, one foot scuffing forward before the other. “I know this is maybe not the right setting, but I want you to know, you can tell me anything.”

  Leo’s voice was rough. “I can?”

  “Yes,” Win said, “and we’ll sort it out, whatever it is, you and me.” She looked up at him. “Sometimes it feels like everyone’s either lying to me or telling me what I want to hear, but it’s not like that with us. You showed me there are still people I can trust. You can trust me, too.”

  Leo looked stricken, turning away.

  “Whatever you need, whenever you need it,” she said, and Leo snapped back to her as though she’d tugged on a leash, his eyes dark. Win swallowed. “That’s the deal, isn’t it?”

  Leo nodded, mute.

  “Then everything’s okay,” Win said.

  They stood next to each other in the dark beneath the pinpricks of the stars. Leo opened his mouth and closed it, frowned and tried again, and then gave up. Win’s heart was beating, too hard.

  “What?” she said. “What is it?”

  Very quietly, Leo said, “Do you want to do the Titanic thing?” and above them, the fireworks took over the sky.

  Chapter Nine

  The faster Win got Leo out of there, the faster she could solve whatever was bothering him. But it was a slow, stately crush as they filed off the yacht, broken glass crunching underfoot and a weeping socialite behind them who demanded Leo’s jacket to cover up the candle wax stains on her dress. He shrugged it off wordlessly.

  There were golf carts waiting at the bottom of the hill to carry them up to the château, and Leo climbed into the first one they could reach, tapping his hand on the wheel while Win buckled herself in. Usually he would have wanted to race her, or hijacked the cart altogether and swerved them off into the grounds for a joyride. Tonight he was pale and tense, and they didn’t speak until they lurched to a halt at the top.

  “Where’s the car?” he asked.

  “It’s waiting for us out the front, on the other side. We just have to get through the party.”

  Leo nodded grimly, and when they reached the castle, he treated these instructions as though they were a military mission, catching Win’s hand tight and pulling her through the crowd. It was slow-going: the castle was a series of warren-like rooms with wood-paneled ceilings and marble surfaces, guests already draped over them like expensive furniture. It was hotter inside than it had been out at sea, and people were fanning themselves and dabbing at their brows as they waited for someone to bring them their next drink. Every room was already packed, everyone smoking and chattering and glancing over at Win like they thought she wouldn’t notice. A hundred hands reached for Win’s and Leo’s sleeves, pulling them in, exchanging exuberant greetings.

  “This is a nightmare,” Leo said.

  “Just relax,” Win said. “We’re almost out.”

  “Leo, Win! Wait up!” Alex caught up with them, now with a tall, stylish girl on his arm. Her eyes were lined into thick black points.

  Leo faltered when he saw her. His hand tightened on Win’s hip.

  “Hae,” he said. “I thought you weren’t coming until later.”

  “Couldn’t sleep,” Hae said. “Whitman Tagore, it’s such a pleasure.” Win shook her hand warily; Hae had a self-satisfied look to her, with eyelashes that seemed to catch and release every time she blinked, and she wound her arms around Alex and surveyed Win like she didn’t trust her.

  “Let’s go,” Leo repeated.

  “You can’t go!” Alex looked heartbroken. “We just got here. And I think the others will be around, too—”

  “The others?” Win asked.

  “Our band,” Hae explained. Her voice was lush Californian, raw gold. “Leo hung out with us for like, a year, he even came on tour—”

  “It was just a few months,” Leo said. “I’ll catch up with you guys later. It’s too crowded here, Win, let’s just—”

  “Yes,” Win said. “Sorry, maybe next time. We really have to get going—”

  “Lenny!” someone shrieked, and Leo took a step backward, his face blooming with horror.

  Shoving her way through the crowd, a girl in faded denim shorts and a halter top broke into a run, wild blond hair falling everywhere, and launched herself at Leo. Win stepped quickly away from the line of impact.

  Leo stumbled back, hands coming up to grab the girl’s waist as she threw herself onto him. He said, “Lila,” and his voice was strained like Win hadn�
��t heard it in years.

  “Where have you been, motherfucker?” she asked, climbing Leo like a tree. “You never check your goddamn emails—oof—” Leo had dropped her and tried to shake her off, but she clung on, her bare thighs tight around his hips, and instead climbed higher, trying to put him in a headlock. Leo struggled and the two of them went stumbling across the floor, the girl continuing as though there was nothing strange about this at all. “Hae and Alex got invites to this schmoozy yacht party—”

  “Lila,” Leo said, shaking himself about like a dog trying to lose a tick, “Lila, c’mon, get off—”

  Lila flung herself upward, catching herself over his shoulder with a yelp. “And I said, hello, you know I get seasick, but I’ll come to the after-party, and now you’re here as well!”

  Leo put his hands up in the air, flatly refusing to hold her up, and Lila shrieked again and slid further, saving herself with her arms tight around Leo’s waist. She hung upside down over his shoulder, her cheek pressed to the small of his back. They were making a scene. A lot of people were staring. Win tried to smile as if she thought the whole thing was hilarious.

  “Lila,” Leo repeated. “Seriously, get off me,” and he gave another determined wriggle and Lila said, “Oh, fine,” and dove forward into a—mildly impressive—somersault, nearly kicking Leo in the nose in doing so.

  She landed on her feet with a flourish. When she straightened up, she was still a head shorter than Win. “I’m so underdressed,” she drawled, that nasal Californian accent like a skinnier version of Hae’s.

  “Leo,” Win said. Leo turned to look at her, his expression frozen. There was an awful, hollow feeling expanding in Win’s chest.

  Before he could say anything, Lila turned to Win and stuck her hand out. “And you must be the girlfriend,” she said, with a certain derision in her voice that made Win feel on show, seen.

  Win took her hand and shook it. “That’s right,” she said, keeping her voice pleasant. “And you’re…?”