by Sadie Hayes
She giggled again. “Oh, they definitely are!” She opened a third album. “Look at this one.” She pointed to a picture of T.J. as a toddler, naked, sitting in a diaper covered in brown goo, crying with a look of pure anguish on his baby face.
“Oh my God, that’s not his—”
“Ha ha, no. It’s chocolate pudding. Apparently he got upset while his nanny, Odelia, was making it, and he splashed the whole bowl all over himself.”
Adam smiled. “How about your baby pictures? I bet you were really cute.”
Lisa got quiet and looked down at her purple polished toes. “Those aren’t out. I mean, there aren’t many.” She hesitated. “There aren’t many pictures of me when I was a baby.”
Adam grimaced. It was going so well and now he’d upset her! “Oh, that’s cool. I didn’t mean to—”
“No, don’t apologize. It’s not your fault. I just don’t really like the earlier memories, that’s all.”
“Is that why you skipped the page before?”
Lisa looked up at him, her eyes peering deeply into his, as though she was searching for a sign that she could trust him. He could lose himself completely in those eyes.
“Yeah, it is,” Lisa said. She fiddled with the corner of the second album and then, as if deciding that Adam was someone she could open up to, turned back to the page she’d skipped.
The photo on the page showed a smiling toddler, pudgy with a head of blond curls, holding the hand of a younger Mrs. Bristol, who was grinning as she led the girl up to the front door of the house they were now in. The door was covered by balloons and a sign with a painted clown and the words WELCOME, LISA! WE LOVE YOU!
“I don’t understand,” Adam said.
“I was—I mean, I am—adopted,” Lisa said quietly.
Instinctively, Adam reached for her hand. “There’s nothing wrong with that, Lisa.” He wanted to hug her, to hold her and press her head against his chest and kiss away her tears.
“I know. It’s just—well, I think I always feel guilty, like I don’t really deserve any of this. Like I’m an outsider.” She looked up at him. Her eyes were brimming with tears, but she smiled through them. “I don’t know that I’ve ever admitted that to anyone.”
Adam smiled warmly back, his gaze meeting hers. “I think it makes you deserve it even more. And I think it makes you even more incredible.”
Lisa blushed and forced a laugh to try to lighten the mood. “I can’t believe I told you all that. I just met you last night. I don’t know what it is about you. I guess I just really feel like I can trust you.”
Adam’s heart was beating so fast he worried she’d hear it. “You can.”
She smiled back at him and squeezed his hand, which still rested on hers.
Just then they heard the back door open, and Maria, the housemaid, called out from the kitchen. “Miss Lisa, are you home?”
Lisa stood up as she called back. “Yes, Maria, I’m in here,” she said, and then turned to Adam. “Can I drive you back to campus?”
“No, no, I can bike back. I think I’m ready to brave the weather now.”
9
Poached Salmon with a Hint of Blackmail
Every Sunday for as long as she could remember, Patty’s family had gathered for the Hawkins family dinner. The dinner was mandatory for any Hawkins within a fifty-mile radius, and often included close family friends.
Tonight’s dinner was going to be awkward, and there was no way around that. Patty’s sister Shandi was home from college; Shandi’s fiancé, Chad, was joining the dinner; and Patty could still feel Chad’s hands on her body. So, yeah. Awkward. Mrs. Hawkins had texted Patty earlier to let her know that she’d invited T.J. Bristol to make up for the fact that they’d been out of town for his graduation party, and did she want to text him about sharing a ride from campus? No, thank you, Mom, she thought. I don’t share rides with people trying to blackmail me.
The dinner was going to be so awkward, in fact, that Patty was trying to think of it as a sitcom she was watching, rather than one she was a part of. Don’t get emotional, she told herself as she drove her red-and-white-striped MINI Cooper convertible from campus to Atherton. Just be an observer, like they teach you in yoga.
She got to the house at six o’clock and snuck in through the kitchen door, giving a big hug to Felicia, the Puerto Rican cook who had been with the family since Patty was in preschool.
“Everybody here?” she asked Felicia as she poured herself a glass of pinot grigio. She immediately took two huge gulps.
“Mr. Hawkins and Miss Shandi are in the living room. Mrs. Hawkins is still upstairs getting ready, yeah, yeah, yeah.” Felicia waved her hand as if to say, “You know Mrs. Hawkins is always upstairs getting ready.” She went back to furiously mixing sugar in a bowl.
“What are you making?” Patty asked, stalling in order to finish her wine.
“Ice cream. Vanilla mint with a touch of lavender.”
Patty reached out her finger to take a taste, but Felicia batted it away. “No, no, no! It’s for the baby shower your mother is hosting on Wednesday for Mrs. Jacobson.”
Patty gave Felicia a pouty face until she conceded. “I’ll save you a bowl and put it in the freezer. But don’t tell your mother. And get in and say hello to your sister already.”
Patty nodded, satisfied, and downed her wine. “Thanks, Felicia,” she said as she skipped through the swinging door to the living room.
“Hello, family!” she exclaimed with sarcastic enthusiasm as she entered the room. Mr. Hawkins and Shandi were deep in conversation, seated on plush armchairs in front of an antique coffee table. When Patty entered the room, they both looked up. Mr. Hawkins smiled and got up from his chair, embracing his younger daughter and kissing her on the forehead. “Hello, my dear! You’re looking lovely!”
Shandi remained seated, propped on her left hip, her slim legs crossed at the ankles, a champagne flute elegantly suspended between three fingers. She looked like she was posing for an oil painting. She was wearing a simple purple silk slip dress and gold sandals with turquoise stones at the toe strap; her long brown hair fell in gentle curls down the front of her shoulders, and her three-and-a-half-carat princess-cut engagement ring sparkled obnoxiously atop the thin finger that could barely support its weight. Shandi smiled politely at her younger sister and held out her right hand. “Hello, my dear,” she said to Patty, who reluctantly obliged her beckoning, taking the hand and kissing her still-sitting sister on the cheek. The way her sister pretended to be some proper society princess from a Jane Austen novel made Patty want to gag.
“Hi, Shandi. Welcome back.”
“Thanks, love. You look…” She struggled to come up with an adjective. “Tan.”
“Can I get you a drink, Patty?” her father offered as she took a seat on the sofa facing the two armchairs.
“Yes, please,” Patty responded, as though the thought of having a drink (or having had one already) hadn’t crossed her mind. “Is there any pinot grigio open?”
“Coming right up.”
The doorbell rang and Patty heard Felicia open it for T.J., who sauntered into the living room grinning and carrying a bouquet of white roses.
“Hello, ladies!” he said jovially to the Hawkins sisters. “How is everyone this evening?” He walked over to Shandi, protesting as she started to stand up, and leaned down to kiss her on either cheek. “Aren’t you looking lovelier than ever?” Shandi blushed. As much as she wrote him off as an asshole, the part of her that had had an enormous crush on him from fifth through ninth grade couldn’t help smile whenever he gave her a compliment.
T.J. crossed to the sofa and plopped down next to Patty. “Mind if I join you?”
Patty rolled her eyes. “Of course not, T.J.” He stared straight at Patty and smiled coyly, as if inviting her to start the charade.
“So,” he asked, “where’s Chad?”
Not picking up on where he’d directed the question, Shandi answered. “He’s at a bu
siness school mixer but should be here any minute. I can’t wait for you two to meet.”
As if on cue, the doorbell rang again and Mr. Hawkins, who was walking back from the kitchen, welcomed his future son-in-law.
“Look who I found,” he announced to the room as he brought Patty her glass of white wine.
Shandi stood up from her chair and let Chad rush over to embrace her in his strong arms, kissing her gently on the lips. “My beautiful bride-to-be. Man, have I missed you.”
They stayed for a moment in that sickeningly perfect embrace. Patty watched them, and T.J. watched Patty.
Finally, Chad crossed to the sofa and stuck out his hand to T.J. “You must be T.J. I’m Chad. Great to meet you.”
With a sly grin, T.J. returned the firm handshake. “It’s great to meet you, Chad. I’ve heard so much about you. And…” T.J. glanced at Patty. “I’ve seen so many photos, I feel like I practically know you already.”
Chad nodded politely. He didn’t care to fraternize with so many people who were younger than him. An unfortunate ramification of marrying someone four years your junior was that you didn’t always get along with her friends.
As if he had delayed the inevitable long enough, Chad finally turned to Patty, who remained seated. Walking across the room, he lifted his hand into a high five. “What’s going on, little sis?” She furrowed her brow, cocked her head to one side, and looked up at him just long enough for them both, and T.J., to notice, but not long enough for anyone else to pick up on the exchange. She grabbed hold of his hand to help her stand up from the sofa and smiled. “I’m great, Chad. It’s really swell to see you. I’m also starving. What does everyone say to forcing Mom downstairs so we can eat?”
“I’m coming, I’m coming,” Mrs. Hawkins called from the stairs, which she was hopping down in a cute Lilly Pulitzer sundress and sandals, her hair perfectly coiffed and her makeup impeccable. “Felicia, can you go ahead and start serving the salads?”
The first course went smoothly enough. T.J. and Patty sat on one side of the table, facing Shandi and Chad, and Mr. and Mrs. Hawkins sat at either end. Shandi dominated the conversation, going on and on about Yale—she was staying an extra year to finish a master’s degree in art history—and about the latest parties in New York at the Frick and the New York Athletic Club and you-just-wouldn’t-believe-how-sophisticated-New-York-parties-are-compared-to-California-ones. Gross.
Patty watched T.J. politely nod as Shandi continued, but she could feel him waiting to say something and was terrified of what that something was.
As Felicia served the main course—poached salmon with dill-cucumber sauce, Israeli couscous, and grilled asparagus—T.J. saw his opportunity. “So, tell me about the wedding planning,” he said.
Mrs. Hawkins was delighted. This was her favorite topic of conversation.
“Well, it’s going to be in Maui. I wanted the Glen Ridge Vineyard in Napa Valley—have you been there? It’s stunning and very difficult to book. It was listed in Vogue last year as one of the top twenty-five most beautiful places in the world to get married.” Mrs. Hawkins shrugged. “But our Shandi wanted Maui, so Hawaii it is.”
“Patty, are you a bridesmaid?” asked T.J.
Shandi answered for her. “Of course; she’s my maid of honor, but I’m having nine other bridesmaids.”
“You must be very excited to watch your sister marry Chad, Patty.” T.J. turned to her. “I’ve never been best man, but I’ve heard it’s tremendously special to watch two people you care so much about give their vows to each other from the front row.”
Mrs. Hawkins was touched. “Well aren’t you sweet, T.J.!”
T.J. smiled gleefully and took a bite of his salmon. Patty took another gulp of wine.
“You know what would be really cool?” T.J. said. The table all turned to him. Patty cringed. “Remember in the royal wedding, when William drove Kate off in that classic sports car? You should do that. Dad has this great 1968 Lamborghini that would be perfect.”
T.J. paused and grinned at Patty.
“I don’t know if you got a chance to check out the collection at my party the other night, but this Lamborghini is something else. It’s navy—oh, it would suit you so well, Shandi—and I’m sure if you promised to take care of it, Dad would let you drive it, Chad.”
“T.J. Bristol,” Mrs. Hawkins said, her eyes bright with if-only-I-were-thirty-years-younger affection. “You are too much. That is a lovely idea. Don’t you think, Shandi?”
“That’s really sweet of you to offer, T.J., I’ll definitely think about it. I mean, we’ll think about it.” She turned to Chad, who was midbite, and squeezed his hand affectionately.
There was nothing that bored Mr. Hawkins so much as wedding talk, and he used the pause to switch the conversation. “How long has your father been collecting those sports cars, T.J.?”
“Oh, I think he bought his first one after the Kadence sale. His celebration present to himself.”
Mr. Hawkins smiled. That deal had been huge. It had set a new bar for Silicon Valley wealth. “Well, he certainly deserved it. My, what a deal that was. I only put fifty thousand dollars in and the return was enough to cover both these girls’ college tuition, plus some. Wish I’d taken your father’s advice and put in more. He’s truly a visionary.”
T.J. was focusing on his food, but he looked up politely at Mr. Hawkins, his affability somewhat diminished. “He got lucky, that’s for sure.”
“Luck doesn’t build the kind of reputation your father’s got. He fucking gets it; he sees where things are headed.”
T.J. looked down at his plate and mumbled just loudly enough for Patty to hear, “Here we go again.”
Mr. Hawkins was on a roll. “I remember him talking about changes in music, practically forecasting the whole demise of the recording industry. We all thought he was nuts. I wouldn’t even have put in fifty thousand dollars if it weren’t for the fact that I wanted to keep him on as a client.” Mr. Hawkins chuckled. “Now, when your dad offers me a deal, I don’t think twice. I mean, Gibly? Didn’t even hesitate. I don’t get it, I don’t get why it sold for so much, but if Ted Bristol tells me something’s going to be big, I know it’s going to be big. I put in a ton of money, and now look: It’s like Christmas around here, all thanks to your dad.”
T.J. finally looked up and forced a smile. “Perhaps he’ll have a new sports car for you two to try out,” he said, looking at Patty.
Felicia, God bless her, interrupted to clear the plates, and the conversation devolved into gossip at the tennis club.
As Patty ate her crème brûlée, she smiled. She’d just figured out a strategy for persuading T.J. to get rid of the tape.
10
Deuce
After dessert, Mr. Hawkins asked if anyone wanted to join him in the movie room to preview a new documentary on the drug wars in Mexico. Like most homes in Atherton, the Hawkinses’ house had a room in the basement with fifteen reclining theater seats, a massive projector screen, and a surround-sound stereo for watching films. Mr. Hawkins’s latest hobby was an investment in Franklin Media, a socially conscious film production company. The investment made him no money, but getting early DVDs of upcoming releases made him feel cool and hip.
“As riveting as that sounds, I think Chad and I will head back to his place,” Shandi said. Chad shrugged his shoulders to his future father-in-law. “She makes the calls,” he said.
T.J. claimed he needed to get back to campus, and Patty declined on the basis of schoolwork. “I’ll walk you out,” she told T.J. Then, so that only he could hear, she added, “We need to talk.”
T.J.’s grin returned as he followed her outside to the patio, where she pulled out a chair from a round wrought-iron dining table. “Sit down,” she said as she took the seat opposite him.
He followed her instructions, pushing the chair back and leaning with his hands crossed behind his head and his right ankle crossed over his left knee. “Miss Hawkins, you are really something.
Quite a performer.”
“Where did you get it? Who taped it?”
“You sweet little naïf,” he said. He loved this and she hated him for it. “Do you really think my father would leave all those sports cars in a garage without a full security system?”
“Fuck,” Patty said. She shook her head as she realized her stupidity. Of course there were security cameras in the garage.
“Don’t worry, no one knows except me and a security guard. He had quite a good time watching you, by the way. Or, I guess I should say that no one else knows yet.”
“Why are you doing this? I’ve never done anything to you.”
“That’s not the point, Patty. The point is power.”
“What?”
“The point is to accumulate power,” T.J. said slowly, as though he were giving a lecture to a child. “I have something on you now, and therefore if I ever need something from you, you have a reason to give it to me.”
“How clever of you. And what do you think I might one day be able to provide?”
“I don’t know; you’re a popular girl. Maybe there’s a sorority sister I want to meet or a rumor I need to start. I think you could prove very handy, Patty.”
“What if I told you I had something that could help you deal with your daddy issues?”
T.J.’s smile evaporated and he glared at her. He uncrossed his hands from behind his head and said with contempt, “What are you talking about?”
Now it was Patty’s turn to smile. “Your daddy issues, T.J. You know, your inferiority complex? Your hurt feelings that Ted never makes time for you, even answers phone calls during your graduation toast? The fact that you’ll never, ever, no matter what you do, live up to him in this town?”
T.J.’s jaw was clenched and his lips pursed. “You have no right to—”
“Oh, T.J., I have every right to. You started this game, not me.” Patty’s mischievous smile acknowledged that she knew she’d struck a chord. The power had shifted in her favor.
T.J.’s anger was mounting, his chest expanding with every breath. “What have you got?”