“You’re right. Who cares about his secrets,” I say, crossing that one off my mental list of bullet points. “The problem is, hehas no idea what he’s doing. I need to get rid of him. For the good of the show.”
“Of course,” Liv nudges me. “For the good of the show.”
I watch her and Masha exchange glances over my head. I put down my champagne because I need them to take me seriously. I need to focus, to make a plan.
“That’s not the worst part,” I tell them.
Olivia and Masha look at each other again.
“Jude de Silva also…bears an uncanny resemblance to…to…” I hold my face in my hands.
“To who?” Olivia demands.
“To a man I met this weekend.”
“WHAT?” Masha and Olivia say together.
I close my eyes and tell myself I’m safe. I try to transport myself to that beach on Catalina. To Friday night, when I’d been happily sheltering in my tent, preparing for the shoot that wasn’t to be. I’ve lived so many lifetimes since that sundown, but still, it’s strangely easy to go right back to the moment when Sam unzipped my tent.
“His name is Sam. We met Friday night, and I ended up staying with him. At his cabin. All weekend.”
“Girl, you’ve been holding out on your friends,” Yas says.
“There’s more. When we slept together, it melted my bones,” I say. “Or maybe my brain. I think something’s wrong with me now. Because this morning on set, I really thought that JudewasSam.”
Masha nods at me. “Unpack that a little for us.”
“Do they look alike?” Olivia asks.
“Yes and no. Jude is older. And their hair and clothes andvibes could not be more different, but somehow I still…acted like an absolute lunatic when we met. I acted like he was Sam.”
“I used to see my ex everywhere,” Yas says. “Cutting me off in his Audi on Crescent Heights and Melrose—”
“You’re right,” I say. “I’m losing my mind.”
“That’s actually not what I was saying—”
“There’s nothing wrong with you, Fenny,” Masha says, putting a hand on my arm. “You just had a big shock today.”
“And this weekend, too, it seems,” Olivia says. “Meet-cute,now. How did all this happen with Sam?”
And so, while Yas helps Olivia back into her thousand-buttons dress, I tell them this story, too. About the weekend, the storm, the evacuation, Sam’s Jeep and the cabin, and the beauty he showed me on the island. I keep my eyes closed so I can see him, keep him distinct from Jude. It’s easy—it’s a warm and happy memory. But when I open my eyes, it feels so far away that it hurts.
“Name, age, occupation?” Masha asks me. “You and I agree, these details matter.”
“And what about the first moment you knew you wanted him?” Olivia says.
“Sam. Twenty-three.” I wait for my friends to finish whistling. “Catalina Island Conservancy Search and Rescue.” I look at Olivia, grateful for her question. “I knew I wanted him when…well, first we had a little disagreement over whether or not I needed to evacuate the campsite.”
“Go on,” Oliva says, sitting down on a stool facing the couch.
“At a certain point he kind of tossed me over his shoulder. And climbed the mountain with me in his arms.”
“Holy shit,” Masha says.
“For a split second, I was furious, but once I felt myself in his arms, everything shifted. I pretended to be just as pissed as ever—”
“I’ve seen you do that very convincingly,” Olivia says.
