Now it signaled danger.
She wanted to believe that he had come that night, in part, to show her that he too had been thinking about their mishandled moment. But something about his presence bothered her. It felt like an unavoidable iceberg, not a life raft.
Jasper hated Los Angeles, and his complaints went beyond the common gripes about traffic, pollution, and superficialities. He hated its essence: its country-town zoning, the lack of four seasons, the health obsession, and the elementary nightlife hours. He wouldn’t have made the trip for just any old picture his grandfather took, considering he had probably taken hundreds of thousands. That picture was paramount, Elise knew, though she couldn’t remember where it had hung in Kitty’s house. To find out why he was really there, she would have to cross the line on all fronts, sooner than planned.
She dreaded going there: opening the Pandora’s box hidden in her car trunk could obliterate any possibility of their happy ending. She and Jasper would be an unfortunate casualty of the whole mess, a relationship ended before it started. She wished that he was, in fact, disconnected from Kitty in all the ways it mattered but knew better, especially after he dropped almost nine thousand dollars for the side profile of Kitty at the pool at her old house in the Hollywood Hills and then left—without it—during the next bid. Unsure whether he had accepted her party invitation or not, she pretended to get a call and left, hoping to catch him before he boarded the Sprinter van.
Her questions were urgent, but she couldn’t go to him. Jasper’s popularity had grown immensely in the last year, and though Andy could make it happen, the paparazzi were probably keeping tabs on Jasper’s whereabouts too.
By the time she got to the end of Kitty’s driveway, there wasn’t a person in sight—except Aaron, who emerged from the shadows of Kitty’s trees as if he’d been hiding.
“You’re just getting here?” she asked.
“I just left set.” He scratched his beard. “Who was that?”
“My Vogue photographer.”
“You gave them access?”
“He was invited personally.”
“By you?”
Elise looked at him sideways. “Are you jealous?”
“You were sprinting after him, damned near.”
“He left his auction item.”
“So?”
“So … he may be trying to extort us.” It was her fear, but she only said it to Aaron because she knew he wouldn’t take her seriously.
Sure enough, he waved her along. “Come on; I need a drink.”
He reached out his hand, and she took it to put the room at ease, knowing his absence from her side had been noticed and interpreted. Sarah, standing with her friends across the room, looked relieved to see him, as if his whereabouts had also made her most-asked-questions list that evening. Giovanni made a beeline over with a drink for him, but Noele and their dad, engaged in conversation, only waved.
His grip was flaccid, did nothing to secure her, but the display worked as it always did. People rushed him to say hello, ignoring her until they wanted a photograph. Aaron was super personable and remembered tidbits about people Elise couldn’t care less about. He always had a ready anecdote for whatever question he was asked; Elise listened as he made up a story to Maude and Lucy to illustrate how lovely Kitty was.
He lied so easily. Kitty hadn’t been her lovely self to him. And Aaron knew that.
Kitty had never liked Aaron. He won’t be able to accept coming second. Elise had ignored her then because Aaron was the sweetest guy she’d ever dated: hand-holding, flower-bringing, date-planning. Suddenly she had the perfect someone to attend events with, someone who liked doing all the talking. She upped his stature, and he made her more approachable, more down-to-earth. Elise had come to find out too late that they only shone in public.
She wished he would stop pretending and admit that it wasn’t just her media tornado that had changed things between them. Even on the rare nights they were home together, Elise slept in their bed and he on the couch. Normally he opted for a hotel suite close to the Manhattan Beach studio, too tired to ride home in his chauffeured car. After one too many nights of that, Andy told her about Maya.
Only Andy knew Elise knew. He drove her to see for herself that first time, and every time since. Most people would shy away from knowing how their significant other was with another, but Elise couldn’t look away. Aaron couldn’t keep his hands off Maya or go more than a few days without seeing her. Elise was jealous—not of Maya, but certainly of their love. Well, maybe a little jealous of her too. There were memes about her ass, and her body did make any outfit. Elise had nothing against her; she was just insulted to come in second, as if brains and pedigree meant nothing. Aaron did things for Maya he never did for her. Elise had played the eye candy on-screen for millions of dollars, now she was competing with the real-life version, who was sexier, more confident—but couldn’t give him any of what Elise already had.
Watching them made her miss being loved. Loving someone. But calling off a wedding, when it was the only light news in her orbit, was unnecessary and would only bring more attention.
Also, Elise wasn’t going to lose him to her in front of the entire world. They worked well together, and Aaron was such a good actor that when the lights and cameras turned on, he made her feel as though they even had chemistry. Those were the times she thought she could marry him and actually be happy.
That was before Kitty’s passing. She didn’t need a celebrity partner if she no longer cared about the institution. When the timing was right, Aaron would make the perfect diversion, and she had the photos to ensure it.
CHAPTER 16
Kitty
June 1955
The weekly wage of a telephone operator was three times more than Hazel made working sixty hours a week. Kitty was astonished she could get paid so much just to answer phones, but soon regretted not inquiring about the secretary positions during her interview with Ida.
Ida had broad shoulders and wore her hair parted and rolled at the nape of her neck. She used to be an operator and showed Kitty some switchboard shortcuts. What Ida didn’t prepare her for was how disoriented the job would make her feel.
The telephone room was concrete, tile, steel, and hard plastic. It was cold, with harsh fluorescent light and no windows. Four rows of five telephone stations occupied most of the room. The operators did their best to bring personality to the space by decorating their stations; Emma’s station had a bouquet of yellow fake flowers, a gold tube of lipstick, and a picture of the ocean on it.
Daphne led Kitty two rows behind it, to the fourth row. “Sit next to me.” Her station was decorated with horses.
“Did you live on a farm?”
“God no, Meredith and I competed.”
Kitty didn’t know what that meant and was relieved when the phones started ringing, because she didn’t want to hear any more about Daphne missing a horse. She talked about it like it was a pet. Kitty had never had a pet; most families she knew were too poor to feed an animal that couldn’t help make them money.
“Telescope Studios, how may I direct your call? One moment, please.”
Over and over and over. Every time Kitty thought she’d get a break, her phone would ring again. After an hour, her tongue grew sluggish, and her throat begged for water.
Emma kept looking back at her with a smirk. Unable to tell if she was being sympathetic or enjoying her struggle, Kitty pretended not to notice and worked harder. Her only reward was more calls to transfer.
They took lunch in thirty-minute shifts. Kitty ate an egg salad sandwich and an apple in fifteen, preferring to take the rest of her time in silence.
After work, everybody walked to Mitch’s, where the subject of Kitty’s dating came up again.
“We should bring her dancing,” Judy said.
“Absolutely not.” Emma shot Judy a look.
“Emma’s right; they’d eat her up,” Daphne said.