“With…”
“Larissa.”
“What the fuck, Allegra?”
“I know, I know! It’s insane, I know—but you don’t understand how weird Dusty’s been! And when Larissa told me about her going to yoga, I decided to… a few weeks later, to, like, call her — to call Larissa — you know, like, hoping she’d tell me more. I just wanted to find out what the fuck was going on, Jeremy, because I was feeling so totally gaslighted or gaslit or whatever… and it just — I needed to — and then — I don’t know. And with me and Larissa, I don’t even know who seduced who. It just — whatever happened, just happened—”
“Whoa.”
“—I saw Bunny’s earring in her bed! I gave her those fucking earrings, Jeremy! What do I do, what do I do?”
He hushed her as she sobbed. Buying himself a moment, he reverted to a campy old standby—“Why do I feel like I’m trapped in an Almodóvar movie?”—before growing scoutmaster serious.
“It’ll get sorted out, Allegra, one way or another. It will. I know Dusty loves you, she does, I know that. She’s just going through some changes. In her life.”
“What about me, I am too! And I know she is, Jeremy, I know she’s going through shit. There are things I can’t even tell you.”
“Good! And please don’t. Because I’ve heard enough for one night.”
“Really heavy things I can’t even talk about.” She dried her eyes and said, “But should I tell her?”
“Tell her what?”
“About Larissa? That I’ve been seeing Larissa?”
“Are you out of your mind? Allegra, why would you do that?—”
“Because I just can’t deal anymore! I am so angry at her, Jeremy, I feel so betrayed!”
“You feel betrayed? She has a fling and you seduce the flingee?”
“I know, I know, I know!” she said. “And I do feel really horrible …”
She covered her face with her hands while rocking on the bed like a penitent in petit mal.
It was time to get firm. “Now you have to listen to me, okay? Okay? Are you listening, Allegra?” She nodded, still shielding her eyes, ready to take her punishment. “You have got to stop seeing Larissa. Okay? Call her and tell her that you’re just not comfortable anymore. Or you can fucking text her… and then hope to God she doesn’t tell Dusty, which I strongly doubt she will, but you never know, that train may have already left the station. Just call her, Allegra — or don’t! You could just cut it off and ghost her… though maybe that’s not such a great an idea.” He was thinking out loud. “Just email her, okay? And find your friggin’ jollies elsewhere. All right? Okay? Leggy? Are you taking this in?” She nodded in anguish. “Look: all couples go through this, right? But the general rule of thumb is, don’t shit where the other person is temporarily eating! So you just have to stop because, aside from anything else, it’s totally self-destructive! Ultimately, right? Because you’re not just hurting Dusty, you’re hurting you. I mean, look how fucked up you are, girl! And I know the whole deal was fucked up to begin with — or has been — and I understand how it happened with Larissa—kind of — but Jesus, Leggy! Here’s another fine mess you’ve gotten yourself into…”
She threw her arms around him and held on for dear life. He melted.
“Come on now, it’s gonna be all right. We’ve all been through a lot, puppybunbear. But it’s gonna be okay.”
“Is it? Is it, Jeremy?”
“Yes.”
“And you won’t tell anyone?”
“Of course I won’t.”
“I’m sorry, Jeremy! I’m so, so sorry… I know it was stupid. I knew it was stupid when I was doing it. I so hate myself for letting it happen.”
“Well, don’t. Because hating yourself’s only going to make it worse. You’re human, okay? And people do stupid things — that’s pretty much all they do. Now, freshen up and come back downstairs.”
“I just want to sleep!”
“You’ll sleep when you’re dead,” he chided, leading her from the bed. “Go splash water on your face, you need to make an appearance—come one, it’s just a bunch of Buddhists and celebrities, it’s perfect. That’s about as good as it gets, ever! And stop being such a drama queen or she will get tired of you.” That set her off and he had to majorly backpedal. “I’m kidding. She won’t — she isn’t. She loves you, girl. For-evah.” Though he wasn’t so sure about that anymore. “But you know what? You need to let her go through whatever she’s going through. And you need to let you go through whatever you’re going through. It’s a moment, Allegra, a moment in time. And whatever happens, you guys’ll be totally stronger.”
“What do you mean, ‘whatever happens’?”
He hushed her again, steering her to the bathroom sink.
—
Waiting for Allegra to emerge, Jeremy stood in the hall doing mental gymnastics. Life was growing stranger by the hour.
Poor Allegra!
And Jeremy knew more about Larissa Dunnick then he’d let on…
After their encounter with her at Soho, he went home and took one of the most satisfying bubble baths in the history of mankind. Emerging from those healing waters with a powerful sense of gratitude for the unexpected gifts this short life bestows, he was encouraged to plumb Tristen’s depths in more ways than one. That was when the boy recklessly opened up (in so many words) about his mum, unpacking the darker intimacies of her CV: the youthful arrests for check-kiting, the more recent for doctor shopping, and even more recent for shoplifting, from Kitson on Robertson. Since the divorce, she’d stayed afloat as a Jill-of-all-trades — yoga teacher, masseuse at Equinox, Neptune Society sales rep, and occasional “featured movie extra.” When Tristen almost pridefully informed that on her latest studio gig his mother got an out of left field “bump” (production asked her to sub for Dusty Wilding’s ailing camera double), a gob-smacked Jeremy managed to hold his mud, and refrained from disclosing his ties to the actress and even the film itself. He wasn’t sure why; true, he’d been way circumspect with the boy about all things showbiz, though not because he was paranoid… it was more an experiment in taking the focus off himself.