I had nodded silently, trying to reconcile this kinder, gentler Magda with the one who had fired questions at me like bullets the entire way there.
“Okay? So pull it together. I don’t want to have to fire you,” she said, and laughed quietly to herself, leaving me to wonder whether or not she was joking. I never did find out—I had held my shaking hands steady as I’d impressed the executives, signing them as my first client. I have given countless pitches since, but I have never forgotten that moment—or the tip that had gone along with it. Advice that would come in handy tonight.
As we all sit silently in the valet line that wraps around the block for Nikki’s party, Max’s Jeep Cherokee trapped between Escalades and SUV limos, I wish I could read everyone’s mind. Max stares straight ahead with a blank expression. Ben and Jules sit in the backseat, their hands brushing lightly, almost as if by accident.
“Liam’s already in there,” I say, my voice almost echoing in the quiet car as I glance back at Jules, who looks up from her phone, her emerald eyes slightly vacant despite how stunning she looks in her cap-sleeved charcoal-gray sequined dress, her legs crossed tightly to combat its short length.
Max had whistled as she walked out her front door, shooting me a guilty look immediately afterward. “It’s okay,” I had said, laughing. “She looks smokin’ hot.” And when Ben had materialized through the same doorway a few beats later—the entrance to the two-story house they’d owned for nearly a decade, the home they’d been so proud to be able to purchase, me helping them move in and paint because they’d used all of their savings for the down payment—there was something that felt disconnected between them, like an unplugged power cord straining for the outlet. I watched Max as they slid into the backseat, curious if he had noticed. He hadn’t seemed to, launching into a debate with Ben over whether Los Angeles would ever get another professional football team, both of them laughing as if they didn’t have a care in the world, and I decided I was just being sensitive because I knew that Jules’ fidelity to Ben was hanging on by a tiny thread.
I quickly reapply my lipstick as we inch toward the valet stand, while all of us attempt to guess which celebrity is going to emerge next from the sanctuary of their limousine. Jules and I let out a squeal when we spot her favorite celebrity couple stepping out of the car ahead of us, him grabbing for her hand as they expertly maneuver the microphones and cameras assaulting them as they meander down the red carpet.
“They’re going to be pretty damn disappointed to see us.” Max chuckles as he puts the car into park, the valet, a young model type with a shaggy haircut, opening our doors with a flourish. We hurry self-consciously down the carpet, the flashing of the cameras stopping briefly as we shuffle past, me looping my arm through Jules’ and pulling her back slightly from Max and Ben.
“You doing okay?” I ask, glancing over my shoulder at Ben and Max.
“Yes!” she snaps. “Don’t be like that, Kate.”
“Like what?”
“Reading into every single thing, each look or moment of silence. It’s not that simple,” she whispers. “Please don’t make me regret confiding in you.”
“Sorry,” I say, slightly hurt by her tone.
As if reading my mind, she squeezes my arm. “I know you’re just trying to be a good friend. But, I promise, it’s all going to be okay. I’ll figure it all out.”
“With you and Ben?”
“With everything. Stop worrying so much.” She touches the thin skin under my eyes. “It’s going to give you wrinkles!” She laughs and I join her, deciding she’s probably right. Here I am, at this incredible party, surrounded by the rich and famous, with Max and all of my closest friends—I need to take a deep breath and enjoy it.
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