by Joey Bush
She had moved from the foyer into the living room. “Everything looks the same and totally different,” she said. “It’s so strange.”
I held the bottle out. “Want some?”
She shook her head. “No, I better not.”
I took another sip. Either my mouth had started to go numb or I was developing a taste for this, because that burning, tingling sensation was much less. The stuff went down smoothly; so smoothly that I took another, longer sip, and barely tasted it at all. The room felt like it went out of focus for a second. I set the bottle down on the coffee table and lowered myself onto the couch.
Isla set her purse down and let her gaze travel slowly around the room. “You know, I never thought I’d see you again, after our parents got divorced.”
“I didn’t either.” Actually, I hadn’t given it much thought. By the time our parents split up, I’d discovered Ibiza, and was heavily into the party scene. When we were teenagers, Isla had been shy and overweight, like she was afraid to actually interact with people. Whenever I’d have friends over, she’d run off and hide in her room.
“I’m glad, though. It’s too bad it had to be under these circumstances, but I’m glad that we’ve had a chance to reconnect.”
She sat down next to me, her leg touching mine. I reached over, my hand on her thigh, not in a romantic gesture, but because I was trying to steady myself, stop the whole room from spinning. I hadn’t eaten much these past couple of days, but my stomach felt filled to the brim with scotch. I squeezed her thigh, feeling as though I was about to go flying off the couch and out into oblivion. My mouth was suddenly flooded with saliva, yet it felt very dry. I kept trying to swallow, but it didn’t seem to matter: The saliva kept coming.
Isla didn’t seem to notice, though. She moved closer, her hand on my thigh, not trying to hold on, but stroking, getting close to my crotch, which normally would’ve been a very welcome development, but right now just made me feel even dizzier. She leaned in, her face very close to mine, our mouths nearly touching.
“I’ve thought about you a lot,” she said in a low voice.
I squeezed my eyes shut and tried to breathe through my nose. Even with my eyes closed, I could feel the heat radiating off her body. Her lips brushed mine. My stomach lurched. I tried to kiss her back because I didn’t want her to think I didn’t want this, but my mouth couldn’t seem to find hers, even though I knew she was right there. My eyes flew open, and I tried to jump up but it was too late. I barely managed to push her aside before I started puking, all over her purse.
16.
Isla
My phone was ringing.
I reached over, without getting up, to the other side of the bed, felt around blindly until I found it. I picked it up.
“Hello?”
“Hey, it’s me. So I should be there in like fifteen minutes.”
I had drawn the blinds when I got back to the hotel, but sunlight was leaking in around the edges. I lifted my head enough to look at the bedside clock. It was almost ten.
“Okay. I’m in room 1018. I’m just going to hop in the shower.”
“I’ll be right up.”
I’d left Levi’s in a rush yesterday, after he’d finished puking scotch all over my purse. I’d almost left without the purse, but then I remembered at the last second it had everything in it that I needed—wallet, phone, key card to get back into my hotel. So I went into the bathroom, took one of the hand towels, and brought it back out to the living room where I wiped my purse down the best I could. Luckily, it’d been zipped, and he’d puked down one side of it, not over the whole thing. All liquid, it would seem, no chunks, but still. Ew. In my anger, I threw the hand towel at him, but he didn’t seem to notice. He was sitting there with his eyes closed, a pained expression on his face. I grabbed my purse and fled back to the hotel, alleged bed bugs be damned.
I took a scalding shower, scrubbed the shit out of my skin, and cried. It wasn’t so much out of sadness or frustration, but just the fact that I needed a release. Exercising had always provided me with that, but I hadn’t gone for a run today, and probably wouldn’t because I hadn’t brought my running sneakers with me and right now I sure as hell couldn’t afford to—
Except I could. I stopped crying, except there was still water from the shower running down my face. This whole thing with Levi and I’d all but forgotten the reason I’d been there in the first place.
I had a billion dollars.
Well, maybe not just yet, but I would, soon.
Could I even really fathom that much money? Not really. It didn’t seem possible such a sum would even exist, never mind that I would be in sole possession of it.
There was a knock at the door as I was finishing getting dressed. I went over and opened the door and Sophie came bustling in. I’d called her last night when I’d been lying there in bed, unable to sleep, because that whole incident kept replaying in my head. “You know what?” she’d said. “I’m driving up there tomorrow. I’m setting my alarm right now and I’m going to get up early and drive up there. And don’t try to tell me not to!” She’d hung before I could protest.
Now, she stood there, wrinkling her nose. “God, it still smells like vomit. I can’t believe he did that!” Her eyes were bright as she looked around the room. “Where is it?”
“What? My purse?”
“Yes. I want to see it. Well, first, give me a hug!”
We embraced, and already I felt better just by her being there. The most devastating part about my mom marrying Alex had been that I’d had to leave Maryland, and leave Sophie behind.
“It’s over there,” I said, pointing when we let go. She went over to the small table by the window and looked at the bag, a light-pink leather tote that I’d gotten at a yard sale several years ago. It wasn’t a name brand and it definitely was showing signs of use, but I loved it and used it every day.
“What a fucking disgusting piece of shit,” Sophie said. “Levi, not the bag.” She shook her head. “Come on. Get dressed—we’re going out to breakfast and you’re going to tell me everything.”
“There’s nothing to tell,” I said. “Nothing that you haven’t already heard. And the quick version is: I tried to kiss him and he responded by puking. Is that supposed to make me feel good about myself? I mean, this is a guy I was trying to hook up with to get back at, and instead, I’m the one who gets left feeling like shit!”
“Was he drinking?”
“Yes.”
“What was he drinking?”
“I don’t know, scotch, I guess. He tried to give me some.”
“Sweetie, you know it wasn’t because of you that he puked. He obviously had too much to drink and . . . and it was unfortunate timing. This really has nothing to do with you.”
“Yes, well, it’s kind of hard to feel differently. The fact of the matter is, he wasn’t puking until I tried to kiss him. Thanks for coming up here, by the way. You didn’t have to.”
“I know I didn’t, but I wanted to. I had the day off today, anyway, and I don’t have my first appointment tomorrow until the afternoon. It was an impulse trip and it feels good! We’re not fifteen-year-olds, anymore; I can come and go as I please. Trust me—there were plenty of nights when I thought about sneaking out my bedroom window and finding my way to the city just so I could get into that stupid penthouse and kick Levi in the balls. And if he started puking when you tried to kiss him . . . that just tells me he’s probably gay.”
I shook my head. “He’s definitely not gay.”
“Come on,” she said. “We’re going out to eat.”
“I’m not that hungry.”
“Well, let’s at least get a coffee, then. Maybe you’ll change your mind. I bet a ton of new awesome restaurants have opened since I was last here. It’s a beautiful day and you shouldn’t be stuck inside this hotel room, moping about Levi, of all people. Don’t let him ruin this for you, Isla! This is like the start of your new life or something. You’re beyond rich! It
’s crazier than even winning the lottery, if you think about it.”
“I’m probably the only person in the world who’s inherited this much money and then been puked on.”
“It wasn’t you, it was your purse.” She looked at it disdainfully. “You should really just throw it away.”
“I don’t want to throw it away. It didn’t get on the inside at least. I cleaned off the outside the best I could and I’ve been airing it out on the air vent over there. I think it should be fine.”
“Well, it still smells like barf. You should get rid of it and buy a new one. It’s not like you can’t afford it!”
“That’s not the point.”
“I’d still let it air out some more, then, before you try to use it. Come on, let’s get out of here. I’m starving.”
“Let me just put my wallet in your purse then.”
“Breakfast can be on me,” Sophie said. “I’m sure you’ll be taking me out to a restaurant or two at some point in the near future.” She grinned, and I followed her out the door.
17.
Levi
I opened my eyes to find myself lying on the couch, a puddle of drool by my mouth, my back aching, head pounding. I slowly pushed myself up to sitting, felt the room lurch, my stomach contract, but nothing came up because—
Oh, because I had puked all over Isla’s purse. Had it gotten on her, too? I couldn’t remember.
I winced, trying to block the memory. What, was it amateur hour over here? I’d never puked like that before. I got up off the couch and surveyed the scene. The bottle of scotch sat, open, on the coffee table. I looked around for the cap but couldn’t find it, though it couldn’t have gotten far. The smell wafting from the bottle made me feel like I was going to puke again, so I picked it up and carried it out to the kitchen and poured the rest of it down the drain.
I went over and looked in the fridge. Now that I was up and moving around, I was starting to feel a little better, though what still felt questionable was my stomach, since I couldn’t remember when I’d eaten last. There was very little that looked appetizing—hummus, plain yogurt, orange juice, several types of cheese, olives. Perfect if I wanted to throw together some sort of ghetto antipasto plate, which I didn’t. What I needed was pancakes or a Belgian waffle—something to soak up all this stomach acid that I hoped wouldn’t try to make an exit up my esophagus again.
I leaned over the kitchen sink and splashed some cold water on my face. I changed my shirt and started to brush my teeth, but that made me start to gag, so I left.
Outside it was actually a rather pleasant day. No humidity, warm sun, a few puffy clouds drifting lazily along. Actually, the sun was a little too bright, so I backtracked and got my sunglasses.
“That was quick!” the doorman, Hank, said when he saw me coming back.
“Forgot my sunglasses,” I said.
“It is bright out here today. I keep expecting your father to walk out at any moment.”
“Yeah,” I said. “I know. Me too. It’s kind of strange that he won’t be.”
After I retrieved my sunglasses, I went back out, bid Hank a good day, and started to walk. Even though the sunglasses just covered a small percentage of my body, with them on, I felt as though I were protected by a shield, and that it didn’t matter what looks people threw my way, I was immune to all of it.
I was walking toward Midtown, with the idea that I’d find a place to eat and then head over to Isla’s hotel. I couldn’t recall exactly how it went yesterday after I’d finished puking, but she’d definitely left, and I was sure wasn’t too happy about it. Had I said something to her before she’d left? Had I at least offered to get up and clean her purse off? There was just a big blank spot when I tried to dredge up any potential memory of what had happened. Clearly, I wasn’t supposed to drink. I’d done loads more drugs and never had an entire section of memory completely gone like this. That just wasn’t right.
I heard someone calling my name, from behind me. I thought I could just keep walking and pretend that I hadn’t heard, but then there was the clippety-clop sound of high heels running on the pavement, and getting closer. I turned. It was Ella Carlisle. Her father was Frank Carlisle, one of my dad’s biggest clients. I knew that much about BCM; the Carlisles were one of the first clients and one of the biggest. Ella and I had a no-strings-attached sort of relationship that we’d never actually talked about; it had always been a silent agreement that whenever we were in the same city, we’d hook up. It had been that way since I’d been seventeen.
And, unlike myself, Ella had used her trust fund to start her own fashion line. She’d done modeling as a teenager but preferred to be the brains behind it, not the one strutting the catwalk. She was wearing a daffodil-yellow romper with turquoise pumps, her long, honey-brown hair flowing down over her shoulders. No makeup, of course, but still stunning.
“I thought that was you,” she said, catching up to me. She gave me a hug and kissed me; I turned my face at the last second and she ended up kissing my cheek. I kissed her cheek in return, to make it look as though I had planned it.
“I’m so sorry I couldn’t make it to your father’s funeral,” she said. “I had a big show in Paris that I couldn’t just—”
“No need to apologize,” I said. “Dad wouldn’t have wanted you to miss something work-related for his funeral.”
“I know. That’s what my father said. But still, I would’ve liked to be there. How are you doing?”
“Eh.” I shrugged. “You know. It was definitely a surprise. I just kind of assumed that Dad would be around forever. Well, if not forever then a lot longer, at least.”
We started walking again; Ella slipped her arm through mine.
“Dad said you’re essentially the owner of BCM now.”
“That’s what I’ve been told.”
“That’s a big responsibility.”
“I know.”
“We don’t have to talk about that now, if you don’t want to. I’m just glad I ran into you. I was going to give you a call later today, actually. I’m here until Tuesday, and then I’ve got to get back to Paris for a couple days. Then I’ll have some time off. Do you want to plan on going somewhere? Just get away for a little while?”
“I’m not sure,” I said. “Maybe. I don’t know. I’m feeling a little . . . I don’t know. Not sure what I’m supposed to do. I’ve got to give Cal a call later, though, and I’m sure he’ll tell me.”
Ella smiled. “Good old Cal. Well, you can think about it. I’d even be down for going to Ibiza with you, if you wanted.”
I had to smile at that. Ella thought Ibiza was overplayed, a cliché, really. She preferred the sorts of places that the rest of the world didn’t know about. She’d probably have me traipsing about some remote mountain land in Tibet or something.
My stomach rumbled. I needed to find some place to eat. As we walked, I started to pay attention to the places we passed. Deli, bagels, bistro, Italian, French, no. I looked about twenty feet ahead, to a place called Lilac, and saw her sitting there at one of the outside tables.
Isla.
She was with another girl who I didn’t recognize at first. Isla saw me and glanced down quickly, hoping that I hadn’t noticed her and would just walk on past. Her eyes flickered over to Ella and then back to me. I stopped walking, and Ella did, too.
“Hey, listen,” I said to Ella, “it was really good to see you, and we’ll make plans to catch up, but I’m meeting up with someone at Lilac.” I hadn’t actually made any plans with Isla, but I took it as a sign from the universe that it was meant to be. One thing I knew for sure, though, was that Isla wouldn’t be too psyched to see Ella.
“Oh, okay.” She sounded a little surprised. I was, too, a little; in the past, I’d always made time for Ella. Her gaze followed mine and she saw Isla sitting there, trying not to look our direction. “Levi,” she said. “Is that Isla? Your stepsister?”
“Yeah.” I held my hand up and gave a little wave. Isla s
tared intently at her plate.
Ella smiled. “She looks thrilled to see you. She’s changed quite a bit from when I last saw her.”
“She has. I’m surprised you recognized her at all.”
“Well, I’d at least like to say hello. Then I’ll skedaddle.”
Ella started walking toward them before I could stop her.
18.
Isla
I was in the middle of telling Sophie that maybe the plan to seduce Levi wasn’t such a good idea when all of a sudden, there he was. Like he had just appeared out of thin air.
Of course, walking next to him was a tall, gorgeous woman I recognized immediately. Ella. His girlfriend who wasn’t really his girlfriend.
“Oh my fucking god,” I said, ducking my head.
“What?” Sophie asked.
“It’s Levi.”
“Where?”
“Right behind you. Don’t turn around—”
But it was too late. She turned, and then turned back. “What the fuck is he doing here? And who is that giraffe with him?”
My eyes widened. “Shut up!” I hissed. “They’re coming over here.”
For a fleeting second, I hoped that they were just going to walk right by, that they hadn’t actually noticed us, despite Levi having just waved to me moments ago. I’d only been around Ella a few times when my mom and Alex had still been together, but a few times had been more than enough. She was one of those women who was just so stunningly gorgeous that you couldn’t help but stare at her and try to figure out just how she managed to pull it off.