Now That I've Found You

by Kristina Forest

  “No, no, wait.” Raf manages to avoid Milo’s hands. “I just want to say something.” He burps and then takes a deep breath. “What I want to say is that one day, Milo, you’re gonna be in the songwriting hall of fame. While I will be one of People magazine’s most beautiful people.” He looks at me. “Hey, Evie, maybe we’ll be in there together? Are you gonna be in a new movie soon?”

  I force a smile and take a step back. “I should really go now.”

  “You’re going?” Ben asks, suddenly appearing at my left. “Did you really like the set? Do you think we did okay?”

  “Yeah, you really did.” Another step back.

  “Hey, Evie,” Vinny shouts, appearing at my right. “I wanted to introduce you to my girlfriend, Michelle. She’s a big fan of your parents.”

  A short girl with long black hair and round brown eyes is standing beside him. She leans forward and says very quietly, “I loved their documentary about the aftermath of Hurricane Katrina, and I really loved you in Mind Games, but that’s all I’m going to say because I respect your privacy.”

  “Thank you,” I say, shaking her hand. “It’s nice to meet you.”

  “You know what, fuck that A&R guy,” Raf says out of nowhere. “We don’t need him; we don’t need anybody! We only need each other. Right?”

  The other boys laugh. “Right,” Milo says.

  Raf smiles wide and full of joy. “Come on, group hug.” I edge away, but Raf says, “No, you too, Evie, or whatever it is you want us to call you in that wig.”

  “Shut up,” Milo says, elbowing Raf in the side.

  Milo shoots me an apologetic glance as I’m enveloped in a group hug with a boy band plus one girlfriend.

  How did this happen? I only came here for house keys.

  “I love y’all,” Raf says, getting teary-eyed. “I mean it, I do.”

  Ben sighs. “Are you gonna start crying? Should I get Adrian?”

  “No,” Raf says, sniffling. “He’ll know I’ve been drinking, and he’ll kick me out!”

  I look around at their smiling faces, the genuine love they have for one another, and it suddenly all feels like too much. I had this once, but it wasn’t real. I’ll never be able to open myself up the same way again.

  My face feels hot, and my eyes well up. I have to get out of here.

  “Come on,” Milo says to me, grabbing my hand and leading me away from the group. His fingertips are calloused, I guess from all that guitar playing.

  I wait until we’re outside in the clear before I pull my hand away. My palms are a little clammy.

  “Are you okay?” Milo asks once we’re waiting for my ride. When I don’t answer, he sighs. “I’ll probably stay at my apartment tonight. But I’ll see you tomorrow morning to go to Esther’s. If you need me to come back tonight for any reason, just call me.”

  I can take care of myself is on the tip of my tongue, but I suddenly feel so exhausted. “Okay. I’ll see you tomorrow,” I say, facing forward.

  The entire ride back to Manhattan, I can’t shake how unsettled I feel.

  It was just a silly group hug, but it left me feeling so empty. And so, so sorry for myself.

  Is that what friendship is like when the people involved truly love and care about one another?

  Once I’m back in bed at Gigi’s, I go onto YouTube, fully intending to look up the viral Doves Have Pride video out of curiosity. But instead, I search for the video that I’ve banned myself from watching. The video loads and I see my flushed cheeks and the way I tightly hold on to the champagne bottle. I hear my wavering voice, the British accent and slurred speech. I hear Simone laugh in the background as she records.

  Then I scroll through my phone, searching for the one video of us that I still have saved. We were at McKibben, standing backstage during our production of The Crucible sophomore year. I was Mary Warren and she was Ann Putnam. We couldn’t stop giggling at how we looked in our white bonnets. I listen closely, trying to determine if Simone’s laugh in this video is any different from her laugh in the video she recorded in May. But I can’t tell. Both times, we look and sound so happy.

  Friendship might be for Gigi and Candice and for Milo and his friends. But it isn’t for me. I have a good reason not to be big on friends, and these videos are a great reminder.

  I try to go to sleep, but I can’t. My brain goes on a loop: video, getting fired, backlash, how to make it better. Over and over. Finally, after too much tossing and turning, I get out of bed and go into Gigi’s office, carrying Candice’s USB. I watch the old videos until I feel myself dozing off at Gigi’s desk.

  Footage from homemade video—August 12, 1970

  *Evelyn Conaway and James Jenkins sit side by side in a limo on their way to the premiere for Every Time We Meet. Evelyn is wearing a black sleeveless silk gown with clusters of tiny pearls sewn into the bodice. A white fur shawl is wrapped around her shoulders. James, with his arm resting on Evelyn’s knee, has on clean-cut black slacks and a maroon blazer. Candice Tevin sits across from them, recording.*

  Candice (off camera): How are you feeling about tonight? Are you nervous?

  *Evelyn looks away from the camera and shifts in her seat*

  Evelyn: No.

  *James chuckles*

  James: Yes, you are. You just told me—

  Evelyn: I’m not nervous.

  Candice: James, are you nervous?

  James: Nothing to be nervous about. We worked our butts off and put out a good film. The way I see it, all we’ve gotta do now is smile for the cameras and look good.

  Candice: Well, the reviews are positive so far. Everyone is talking about your chemistry.

  *James smiles and nudges Evelyn. She rolls her eyes but also smiles*

  Candice: The press doesn’t know that you’re officially dating … Are you going to tell them tonight? You do make a lovely couple, I have to say.

  Evelyn: Thank you, Candice. But no, we’re not telling them. It’s none of their business.

  *James turns to Evelyn, frowning*

  James: So, if they ask, you want me to lie?

  Evelyn: We can tell them that we’re friends. That’s not a lie, technically. I just want to keep what we have between us for as long as we can. Before they start writing about us in the tabloids. You’re too important to me. Is that such a bad thing?

  *James stares at Evelyn for a beat. Then he puts his arm around her shoulder, pulls her close, and kisses her on the mouth*

  James: No, it isn’t.

  *James turns to Candice*

  James: I’m gonna marry this girl one day.

  *Evelyn laughs and shakes her head*

  Evelyn: You’re mad. But I love you.

  James: You hear that? Candice, did you get that on camera?

  Candice: Absolutely did.

  *recording ends*

  Chapter Eleven

  FRIDAY, AUGUST 14

  There are a ton of videos on Candice’s USB, so many that I was too tired to watch them all last night. There’s a video of Gigi standing backstage at the 1970 Academy Awards, the year she was nominated for her role in Every Time We Meet. She’s slowly swaying back and forth with her eyes closed and her head angled toward the floor. It almost looks like she’s having a peaceful moment, but after what Candice told me about Gigi not always being so confident, I’m wondering if she was just trying to calm her nerves. There are videos of Gigi traveling to different countries or on the sets of her photo shoots. At one point, it looks like Gigi must have owned the camera, because James often recorded her around the house.

  When I’m fully awake, I rewatch the footage from each of Gigi’s weddings. The first time she and James got married, only a few months had passed since they’d filmed Every Time We Meet. She wore a simple white dress, and her hair was big and curly. James wore a button-up and a pair of slacks. They stood in the living room of the house they shared in California. Apparently, lots of people were married in their homes back then. Gigi said they got divorced because they tho
ught it was too hard to focus on their careers and their relationship at the same time. But that mind-set didn’t last for too long, because in 1974 they remarried. Gigi wore a white gown that was clearly more expensive, and James actually wore a tuxedo. They shared the same wide, youthful smiles, almost naively hopeful, as if they expected everything to work the second time around. It turned out that Gigi wanted kids, but James didn’t, so they divorced again.

  The third wedding video was recorded in 1979, and Gigi stood across from my grandfather Freddy. This time her dress had an empire waist because she was five months pregnant with my mom. While my grandfather was known for being a producer, he acted as Gigi’s manager as well. They’d always been close friends, but it turned into something more after her second divorce from James. From the way Gigi and my grandfather stared into each other’s eyes during the ceremony, it’s clear that their love was real.

  My mom and Gigi always say life was really hard for them after my grandfather died. Somehow, James came back into the picture and helped Gigi when she needed him the most, and in 1990, to no one’s surprise, they got married again for the last time. In that wedding video, Gigi is wearing a white suit, and James stands across from her, flashing a huge smile. My mom stands to Gigi’s left, holding a bouquet of flowers. They were together for twenty-two years by the time they divorced in 2012. The reason behind their final separation is still a mystery.

  Simone and I were friends for four years, and when she betrayed me, it felt like the worst sucker punch to the gut. I can’t imagine how Gigi must have felt when James hurt her after all they’d been through. It’s sad to think that a love like theirs can’t last.

  I don’t really have time to dwell on that this morning, though. Milo texted that he’d meet me outside on Gigi’s stoop at 10:00 A.M. I quickly get dressed, and my foot is almost out the door when my mom FaceTimes me.

  “Crap,” I mutter. I forgot to call her and Dad yesterday. Gigi is AWOL. What am I supposed to say to them?

  I contemplate not answering, but I know that will only make things worse. I’m already on thin ice with my parents. I just need to pretend that everything is okay.

  “Hi, Mom,” I answer, smiling brightly.

  As usual, her face is too close to the phone, so I get a nice view of her nose before she leans away. My dad is sitting right beside her.

  “We’ve been waiting to hear from you since yesterday,” Mom says, frowning.

  “Sorry,” I say. “I’ve been really busy.”

  “How is everything going?” she asks. “How’s Gigi?”

  “She’s good. Everything’s great.”

  “I tried calling her too, but she didn’t answer.” Mom raises an eyebrow. “That’s unusual, don’t you think?”

  I shrug, sitting down on the couch in the living room beside Mark Antony and Cleo. They narrow their eyes and scoot a few inches away from me.

  “I don’t know,” I say. My heart is beating a mile a minute. I really need to relax. “She didn’t answer when I tried to call at the airport either. She’s doing this thing where she screens all of her calls. But she’s also been really busy getting ready for the ceremony. I’ll tell her to call you when she has a chance.”

  My dad leans over into the camera. “I hope you’re taking care of yourself out there. No partying or drinking, remember?”

  “Yes, Dad.” I hold back a sigh.

  “Well, is Gigi busy at this very second?” Mom asks. “I’d like to talk to her if she isn’t.”

  “She’s asleep,” I say quickly. “She isn’t feeling well. I’ll tell her to call you back once she’s awake.”

  I watch my mom’s face closely. She can smell a lie from a mile away. She says it’s one of the skills she gained while growing up in Hollywood.

  “How bad off is she?” Mom’s eyebrows draw together. “Would you mind going to check on her while you have us on the phone?”

  “Umm … well, actually, she…” Oh God, Evie, think of something.

  “Meowww.” Cleo saunters across my lap and glares at me over her shoulder. Catspeak for “I’m hungry.”

  “Actually, Mom, I’ve gotta go. I promised Gigi I’d feed her cats. See.” I flip the camera so that it’s facing Cleo. “I’m helping out since she doesn’t feel well. I have to call you back later. Love you! See you on Sunday!”

  I hang up while they’re in the middle of saying goodbye so that they can’t find a way to continue the conversation. I don’t know how much longer I can lie to them.

  After feeding the cats, I finally step outside, and Milo is waiting for me on the bottom stoop, dressed in his work uniform.

  “Is the wig-and-sunglasses combo going to be an everyday thing?” he asks as I walk down the steps toward him.

  “Yep.” I readjust my sunglasses for good measure.

  “I thought we agreed on ten o’clock?”

  “I know. I’m sorry. My parents FaceTimed me and wanted to talk to Gigi. I didn’t know what to do.”

  He raises an eyebrow. “Wouldn’t it be easier to just tell them what’s going on?”

  “No. They’d shut everything down and make me come back home. No FCC ceremony. No nothing.” I sigh. “Our relationship has become … complicated during the last few months. I’m starting to think maybe it always was.”

  He nods. “I feel you on that.”

  “You do?”

  “My parents agreed that I could take a year off before college to focus on music and that I’d have to start taking classes and move back home if nothing happened. Now my year is almost up, and they don’t think the band is going anywhere, so they want to know which CUNY classes I’m signing up for in the fall. My mom wants me to rejoin the church choir because she thinks I’ve gone too long without God. It’s like she’s afraid I’m going to become the Antichrist of R&B. So, yeah. I think that our relationship is complicated too.”

  “Wow,” I say, blinking.

  We fall into a silence, like we’re taking a moment to acknowledge that we understand each other a little better.

  Milo speaks up first. “Can I have my keys back? I can get copies made for you if you want.”

  “I have my own keys,” I say. I’ve had keys to Gigi’s house since she moved here. What does he think this is? “I just forgot them last night.”

  As I hand over his keys, our fingers lightly brush, and we both quickly pull away.

  “Sorry,” I mumble, my cheeks heating up. Then I wonder why I’m apologizing.

  Milo clears his throat, glancing away. “It’s cool.”

  This time the silence between us is a little awkward. After a beat, we start walking toward the subway.

  “Um, so where does Esther live?” I ask.

  “Harlem.” He looks at me. “You ever been there?”

  “No.” I start to tell him that I’ve never been higher up than Eighty-Seventh Street, but then I notice a black car idling a few houses down. Something about it unsettles me, but I can’t figure out why.

  I turn to Milo. “Didn’t Gigi say there was a black car waiting outside a few days ago? She thought it was the paparazzi.”

  Milo squints at the car and nods slowly. “She did see one, but that’s pretty common for this neighborhood. Everyone has drivers who take them to work.”

  “Hmm,” I say, still not entirely convinced.

  For good measure, I readjust my sunglasses and turn away. We continue on toward the subway, and I hope that each step brings me closer to Gigi. I’m still worried about missing the ceremony, but now I just want to know that she’s okay.

  Chapter Twelve

  Harlem has a completely different feel from Gigi’s Upper West Side neighborhood. I mean, there are definitely more Black people around. Maybe one day when I’m not in the middle of a crisis, I’ll come back and see it properly.

  We turn onto 123rd Street, and Milo continues to use his “memory” to find Esther’s apartment.

  “It’s right … here,” he says, stopping in front of a brownstone. The
re’s a tidy little garden to the left of the stoop.

  One thing I remember about Esther is that she loves plants. She had an office at Gigi’s house in Beverly Hills, and when I visited during the summer, Esther would “hire” me as her assistant and pay me a dollar each morning that I watered her plants. After dinner, she and Gigi would take me to get ice cream, and I’d spend that money on two scoops of cookie dough. Frank used to drive us around, and Esther, me, and Gigi would sit in the back seat together, Gigi dressed in whatever disguise she felt like wearing, and Esther dressed in her sensible button-up and knee-length skirt.

  “Esther and Evelyn—we’re a package deal,” Gigi always said.

  Milo rings the doorbell, and I hope that package deal is still true. Will Esther know where Gigi is? Is it possible that Gigi’s here?

  We wait for a few silent moments, and then a woman’s voice calls, “I’m coming, I’m coming.”

  Esther opens the door, and her mouth breaks into a wide smile. She’s wearing a bright-yellow sundress, and her hair is shorter now than it was the last time I saw her over Christmas. It’s cut very close to her scalp, almost like mine. But, you know, her haircut was intentional and looks nice. Her brown skin is a little wrinkled, but she looks just as cheerful and energetic as I remember.

  “Milo!” she says, ecstatic. She hugs him so tight it looks as if his eyeballs might pop out of his head. “I didn’t know you were coming by today. How are you, sweetheart? And where have you been? You haven’t stopped by to visit Ruby in weeks!”

  I blink, surprised. This is a much warmer welcome than I was expecting.

  “I’m sorry,” Milo says. “I’ve been really busy with band stuff.”

  “Oh, that’s all right. We aren’t mad at you. We know you’re on your way to becoming a big star. Ruby will be happy to see you, either way.” She finally turns to me and shoots Milo a coy glance. “And who is your lady friend?”

  “Oh no,” he quickly says. “It’s nothing like that at all. She’s—”

  “Hi, Esther,” I say, taking off my sunglasses. “It’s me, Evie Marie.”