‘ This, the spoils? Hardly,’ he scoffed. ‘ My advance was minuscule. The home is thanks to Grandmum, who died several years ago.’
‘ I’ m sorry& .’
‘ Don’ t be. She was an evil, bitter hag who made everyone miserable.’
‘ I loved your book!’ Susan gushed out of nowhere, making me start.
Sebastian beamed. ‘ And June, who is your lovely friend?’
I made introductions as he escorted us into the main living area. Susan launched into a breathless swoon about how the earthquake metaphor he used to parallel his tumultuous relationship with his mother had brought her to tears.
About a dozen people milled around the room, which had high ceilings, minimal furniture, and-instead of walls-massive windows opening to a sparkling, twinkling city below. The night was clear but nippy. We’ d seen a sky full of stars on the drive over, which-because of the perpetual haze and smog and city lights-is a rare treat around here. From my apartment, I can usually spot only a handful on any given night. It’ s ironic: Los Angeles is the city of stars, but only the kind that are on the ground, attending premieres and getting the best tables at fancy restaurants.
‘ It’ s still early, so you’ re among the first here,’ Sebastian said.
‘ Early? It’ s ten-thirty!’ I cried.
‘ I know-a pretty good crowd so far, don’ t you think?’
I hoped Susan and I didn’ t stand out. We both wore black on black, although she had a classic silk sort of thing going. My outfit looked as if it were off the rack from Express-which it was, but it had seemed a whole lot more sophisticated in the dressing room than it did here.
I was helping myself to a crab puff off a passing tray when a swarthy, well-built man walked by in what appeared to be standard men’ s trousers, only cut so low in the back that his crack showed. He wasn’ t ‘ sagging’ the way the kids do-that is, wearing them low with his underwear exposed. They were just plain low, no underwear in sight.
‘ Man-ass,’ Sebastian supplied when he caught me staring.
‘ Excuse me?’
‘ It’ s the latest style from New York. They refer to it as man-ass. Call me old-fashioned, but I prefer to limit my butt-crack viewing to repairmen and dockworkers.’
I felt immediately better. There wasn’ t a chance in the world I could compete with the sort of style that would be on display this evening. The pressure was off. My outfit may have lacked panache, but at least no one could accuse me of trying too hard.
‘ Get whatever you want to drink,’ Sebastian said, gesturing to the bartender set up in the corner before leaving us to go mingle. ‘ And then why don’ t you say hello to my publicist, Hillary. You remember her from the reading, don’ t you?’
But by the time we got our drinks, Hillary was deep in conversation with Man-ass, so I used the opportunity to eat a deviled egg and tell Susan about my first outing as a Big Sister with Deedee earlier that afternoon. I’ d picked her up, we’ d gone to a movie, and then I’ d taken her home.
‘ That was it,’ I complained. ‘ Not exactly life-changing stuff.’
‘ What were you expecting? It was a movie.’
‘ And popcorn,’ I added defensively.
‘ Did she have fun?’
‘ It’ s hard to tell. She’ s sweet, but not exactly a chatterbox. I find myself doing that thing I know kids hate, where I drill her with stupid questions.’ I grimaced as I thought back to snatches of our conversation:
How do you like school?
It’ s okay.
What’ s your favorite subject?
(Shrug) Language arts, I guess.
That’ s right. Rose mentioned you want to be a writer.
(No response, as I hadn’ t officially posed a question.)
What sorts of things do you write?
Fiction, I guess.
Oh? What type of fiction?
Short form.
‘ She’ ll open up,’ Susan assured me. ‘ As to whether or not you can change her life, you’ ll have to be patient. Sounds to me like she hasn’ t had much of a chance to let loose and be young. She may not even know how. Maybe taking her out and introducing her to a little fun-even if it’ s a movie on a Saturday afternoon-maybe that’ s enough.’
‘ I guess I’ m hoping for trumpets and revelations.’
‘ Aren’ t we all.’
It took only an hour or so for the room to fill. Sebastian delivered on those celebrities he promised-that is, provided one used the term celebrity loosely. There was a guy I recognized from one of those bachelor shows and a woman who had earned her fifteen minutes of TV fame for drinking a blender full of slugworms and managing to keep it down.
‘ June! Susan! Come here!’ Sebastian waved us over to where he stood with a group of people-one of whom immediately caught my attention, being as she was a magnificent giantess of a woman with pale blond hair, cheekbones you could ski off, and the shoulder span of an Olympic swimmer.
He introduced her as Mjorka, the Latvian model/actress who’ d originally been cast to play JJ before I stepped in as understudy to capture the role so brilliantly. Also there was his publicist, Hillary, Man-ass, and Sebastian’ s boyfriend, Kip, who was adorable in that you-want-to-pinch-his-cheeks kind of way with his goatee and wire-frame glasses.
‘ I was telling everyone about your list,’ Sebastian said. ‘ I tried to remember some of the things on it, but all I could come up with was the blind date& and running a 5K.’
‘ If I found out I was going to die,’ Man-ass interjected, ‘ I’ d want to skydive.’
Susan gave a little hand clap. ‘ Me too!’
I rolled my eyes-enough with the skydiving!
The topic veered to a story Man-ass once read in Chicken Soup for the Soul about a man who at age fifteen made a list of 120 things he wanted to accomplish. (I knew the one he was talking about: I’ d read it myself at my parents’ last Christmas when I ran out of things to do. His list included learning languages, climbing mountains, studying primitive cultures, owning exotic pets, photographing the great sites in nature-things you couldn’ t imagine any one person achieving in a lifetime. I remember remarking to my mom that it said he’ d done most of the things and still managed to get married and have five children. She’ d huffed, ‘ Sure he did, but I’ ll bet he never changed a diaper’ -which surprised me, because my mom’ s rarely cynical.)
‘ What’ s so interesting about June’ s situation,’ Sebastian said, deftly bringing the topic back around to moi, ‘ is that she’ s completing someone else’ s list.’ He turned to me. ‘ What else is on it?’
I named a few off the top of my head. When I got to Eat ice cream in public, Mjorka looked puzzled. She asked, her voice thick with accent, ‘ Do you mean while nude?’
‘ Or while skydiving?’ That was from Man-ass.
I shook my head. ‘ You have to understand. The girl who wrote the list used to be very overweight. In fact, she’ d lost a hundred pounds. So the simple act of eating in public would be-’
‘ You Americans eat too much of the potato chips and of the sugars,’ Mjorka interrupted.
‘ We do love food,’ Hillary said agreeably, patting her ample hips.
‘ You do not love the food. You are afraid of the food. So you eat the garbage. You poison your bodies and become fat and ugly to watch at,’ Mjorka said. Hillary looked stung.
Kip turned to me. ‘ Sebastian told me she’ d recently lost the weight?’ I nodded, and he said, ‘ That’ s so sad. I can’ t imagine what it must be like to be obese your whole life. People are so mean. I’ ll bet that list was her first shot at trying to live a normal life. And then’ -he snapped his fingers-’ gone. She’ ll never have a chance at happiness.’
Um, Kip, I know you meant well, but& ouch.