17.
Levi
I opened my eyes to find myself lying on the couch, a puddle of drool by my mouth, my back aching, head pounding. I slowly pushed myself up to sitting, felt the room lurch, my stomach contract, but nothing came up because—
Oh, because I had puked all over Isla’s purse. Had it gotten on her, too? I couldn’t remember.
I winced, trying to block the memory. What, was it amateur hour over here? I’d never puked like that before. I got up off the couch and surveyed the scene. The bottle of scotch sat, open, on the coffee table. I looked around for the cap but couldn’t find it, though it couldn’t have gotten far. The smell wafting from the bottle made me feel like I was going to puke again, so I picked it up and carried it out to the kitchen and poured the rest of it down the drain.
I went over and looked in the fridge. Now that I was up and moving around, I was starting to feel a little better, though what still felt questionable was my stomach, since I couldn’t remember when I’d eaten last. There was very little that looked appetizing—hummus, plain yogurt, orange juice, several types of cheese, olives. Perfect if I wanted to throw together some sort of ghetto antipasto plate, which I didn’t. What I needed was pancakes or a Belgian waffle—something to soak up all this stomach acid that I hoped wouldn’t try to make an exit up my esophagus again.
I leaned over the kitchen sink and splashed some cold water on my face. I changed my shirt and started to brush my teeth, but that made me start to gag, so I left.
Outside it was actually a rather pleasant day. No humidity, warm sun, a few puffy clouds drifting lazily along. Actually, the sun was a little too bright, so I backtracked and got my sunglasses.
“That was quick!” the doorman, Hank, said when he saw me coming back.
“Forgot my sunglasses,” I said.
“It is bright out here today. I keep expecting your father to walk out at any moment.”
“Yeah,” I said. “I know. Me too. It’s kind of strange that he won’t be.”
After I retrieved my sunglasses, I went back out, bid Hank a good day, and started to walk. Even though the sunglasses just covered a small percentage of my body, with them on, I felt as though I were protected by a shield, and that it didn’t matter what looks people threw my way, I was immune to all of it.
I was walking toward Midtown, with the idea that I’d find a place to eat and then head over to Isla’s hotel. I couldn’t recall exactly how it went yesterday after I’d finished puking, but she’d definitely left, and I was sure wasn’t too happy about it. Had I said something to her before she’d left? Had I at least offered to get up and clean her purse off? There was just a big blank spot when I tried to dredge up any potential memory of what had happened. Clearly, I wasn’t supposed to drink. I’d done loads more drugs and never had an entire section of memory completely gone like this. That just wasn’t right.
I heard someone calling my name, from behind me. I thought I could just keep walking and pretend that I hadn’t heard, but then there was the clippety-clop sound of high heels running on the pavement, and getting closer. I turned. It was Ella Carlisle. Her father was Frank Carlisle, one of my dad’s biggest clients. I knew that much about BCM; the Carlisles were one of the first clients and one of the biggest. Ella and I had a no-strings-attached sort of relationship that we’d never actually talked about; it had always been a silent agreement that whenever we were in the same city, we’d hook up. It had been that way since I’d been seventeen.
And, unlike myself, Ella had used her trust fund to start her own fashion line. She’d done modeling as a teenager but preferred to be the brains behind it, not the one strutting the catwalk. She was wearing a daffodil-yellow romper with turquoise pumps, her long, honey-brown hair flowing down over her shoulders. No makeup, of course, but still stunning.
“I thought that was you,” she said, catching up to me. She gave me a hug and kissed me; I turned my face at the last second and she ended up kissing my cheek. I kissed her cheek in return, to make it look as though I had planned it.
“I’m so sorry I couldn’t make it to your father’s funeral,” she said. “I had a big show in Paris that I couldn’t just—”
“No need to apologize,” I
said. “Dad wouldn’t have wanted you to miss something work-related for his
funeral.”
“I know. That’s what my father said. But still, I would’ve liked to be there.
How are you doing?”
“Eh.” I shrugged. “You know. It was definitely a surprise. I just kind of
assumed that Dad would be around forever. Well, if not forever then a lot
longer, at least.”
We started walking again; Ella slipped her arm through mine.
“Dad said you’re essentially the owner of BCM now.”
“That’s what I’ve been told.”
“That’s a big responsibility.”
“I know.”
“We don’t have to talk
about that now, if you don’t want to. I’m just glad I ran into you. I was going
to give you a call later today, actually. I’m here until Tuesday, and then I’ve
got to get back to Paris for a couple days. Then I’ll have some time off. Do
you want to plan on going somewhere? Just get away for a little while?”
“I’m not sure,” I said. “Maybe. I don’t know. I’m feeling a little . . . I
don’t know. Not sure what I’m supposed to do. I’ve got to give Cal a call
later, though, and I’m sure he’ll tell me.”
Ella smiled. “Good old Cal. Well, you can think about it. I’d even be down for going to Ibiza with you, if you wanted.”
I had to smile at that. Ella thought Ibiza was overplayed, a cliché, really. She preferred the sorts of places that the rest of the world didn’t know about. She’d probably have me traipsing about some remote mountain land in Tibet or something.
My stomach rumbled. I needed to find some place to eat. As we walked, I started to pay attention to the places we passed. Deli, bagels, bistro, Italian, French, no. I looked about twenty feet ahead, to a place called Lilac, and saw her sitting there at one of the outside tables.
Isla.
She was with another girl who I didn’t recognize at first. Isla saw me and glanced down quickly, hoping that I hadn’t noticed her and would just walk on past. Her eyes flickered over to Ella and then back to me. I stopped walking, and Ella did, too.
“Hey, listen,” I said to Ella, “it was really good to see you, and we’ll make plans to catch up, but I’m meeting up with someone at Lilac.” I hadn’t actually made any plans with Isla, but I took it as a sign from the universe that it was meant to be. One thing I knew for sure, though, was that Isla wouldn’t be too psyched to see Ella.
“Oh, okay.” She sounded a
little surprised. I was, too, a little; in the past, I’d always made time for
Ella. Her gaze followed mine and she saw Isla sitting there, trying not to look
our direction. “Levi,” she said. “Is that Isla? Your stepsister?”
“Yeah.” I held my hand up and gave a little wave. Isla stared intently at her
plate.
Ella smiled. “She looks thrilled to see you. She’s changed quite a bit from when I last saw her.”
“She has. I’m surprised you recognized her at all.”
“Well, I’d at least like to say hello. Then I’ll skedaddle.”
Ella started walking toward them before I could stop her.