Did You Hear About Kitty Karr?, page 15
Elise had pushed back: evening would make it difficult to see the auction items. Sarah hired a lighting crew and a videographer—and a deejay. Elise was working hard to give her mother the benefit of the doubt, but her ignoring Kitty’s last wishes felt spiteful. Worse, Elise didn’t appreciate her own forced complicity, having to now share her private memories about a private person in front of people who didn’t know Kitty personally.
But this wasn’t why she kept the trigger line in her speech. Mostly, it felt disloyal to Kitty to exclude it.
“Kitty was a friend to me, and now that she’s gone, I realize I’ve lost the closest thing that I had to a mother.”
Elise saw the flinch of her mother’s cheek, always the first indicator of a simmering eruption, out of the corner of her left eye. Her mother had scurried to her side before her first words tumbled out, as if the speech was hers, too, and left with the same disruptive commitment. Alison trailed after her, leaving her own mother, Mrs. Pew, whose eyes were still fixated on the floor as if she couldn’t stand to look at Kitty’s things. Though she was blameless, Elise wondered how the old lady felt being the heiress of the biggest tobacco company in the world, at the funeral of someone who had died from cancer after years of smoking. Elise knew such things bothered Rebecca, who, like her grandmother, had never smoked—anything.
Elise scanned the room for someone to take the floor, avoiding her sisters and Rebecca, who would defend Sarah to keep the peace.
The voice of her savior came from beyond the crowd. Dr. David King, Kitty’s beau, came from the sitting room across the hall, where Kitty’s jewels had been partitioned off until the auction began. A fit senior man, his olive-toned skin had retained most of its elasticity, and except for his entirely gray, but full, head of hair and beard, he could have passed for a man in his sixties.
Elise stepped away from the fireplace and went to paw the guest book on the entry table. The night’s event was part memorial, part auction, and anyone who wanted to speak could, but from the lengthy passages on the pages, it seemed that most wanted to write. She didn’t see the point—who were these messages for, exactly?
Hearing someone behind her requesting to sign the book, Elise stepped aside. “Sure.” Her stomach flipped like a cliché when she saw it was Jasper Franklin, the photographer she’d requested for her Vogue cover story. “What are you doing here?”
“Hello to you too.”
She resisted a smile at what felt like flirtatious scolding. She reached to hug him, and he kissed her jawline near her ear. He smelled like cologne and mint. Jasper was the type of man who anyone who could see would say was handsome. Intrigued first by his talent and further by his Google summary, Elise had formed an attraction to the thirty-something Black photographer even before they met.
Credited for resurrecting coffee-table books as an art form, Jasper’s photographs won awards and were commissioned for ads and displayed on billboards and on the sides of buildings. His prints depicting college life, first love, growing pains, Black masculinity, and substance abuse sold for upward of five figures apiece.
Elise had learned of him a year ago, but they had only officially met that March in New York, in the rooftop restaurant of her parents’ apartment building. He was out celebrating his current show’s sold-out success; Elise was escaping the drama of her viral post. They had shared a bottle of wine and even took a snowy 4:00 am stroll. Elise would have let him kiss her had he not offended her.
She rushed her words, remembering what was weird about the moment. “Did Vogue send you?”
“I’m here for personal reasons.”
Elise looked doubtful. “None of which have to do with me?”
“You were a side benefit.” He grinned in a mischievous way that said he wouldn’t elaborate.
“How’s that?”
“Six degrees of separation.”
She smirked. “Six exactly?”
“Don’t you like the mystery?”
She shook her head. “I do not.”
“I’m here for my grandfather. He wouldn’t have missed this, but he died two years ago.”
“Oh, he was invited?”
“Guess Kitty didn’t know he died.”
“Who’s your grandfather?”
“He was a photographer for the Los Angeles Times,” Jasper said.
“So he’s why you started shooting.”
He nodded. “He gave me my first camera. Taught me everything he knew.”
“Was he Black?”
Jasper chuckled as if he was used to the question. “Yes. A trailblazer.”
“How did he get started in photography?”
“He had a mentor.”
“Who?”
Jasper winked. “Guess you’ll have to read my next book.”
“Ah! Good for you; you figured it out.” The night they met, he had been at a creative standstill.
“It all fell in my lap.”
“I bet your family is proud.”
His fingers went to his chin. “They’re supportive but worried about its reception.”
“Why? Sounds uplifting.”
“Quite a bit of our family business is involved. My grandfather has an extraordinary tale.”
“I bet. Send me a copy.”
“How’s a preview?” he said. “We can have dinner at my place when you get in Thursday.”
“I don’t get in till late.”
“You should still come by.” His eyes settled on her, making her think things she shouldn’t be thinking at a memorial. She pulled open the front door, needing some air.
He stayed on her heels. “This is Kitty’s house?”
They sat on a bench just inside the first entrance to the jungle.
“It is,” Elise said.
He gestured around them. “It’s beautiful.”
“Yes, many memories.”
“I’m sorry for your loss.”
“Thanks … though I probably shouldn’t have been so candid.”
“It was honest.”
Elise changed the subject. “So, who else did your grandfather photograph? I’m sure he had more interesting subjects and events to cover than Kitty.”
Jasper raised a brow. “There was no one more interesting to him than Kitty. He kept every photo he ever took of her.”
“Are you trying to tell me your grandfather and Kitty had an affair?”
“No, they didn’t even know each other then.”
“I’m confused.”
“The times. Him being Black and her being White—unless she introduced herself, he wouldn’t have.”
“But I thought you said Kitty invited him here?”
“They met years later.”
Elise thought about the RSVP list. “What’s his name?” Hearing more guests flooding into the yard, she peered through the trees, halfway wondering if Aaron had arrived yet. “Are you bidding tonight?”
“Yes, one of my grandfather’s photographs is being auctioned.”
“Which one?”
“Kitty’s at a pool, looking to the side at something off camera.”
Elise knew the one. It had been taken at Kitty and Nathan’s old house in the Hollywood Hills. “I hope you’ll buy more than just one photograph. The night is for charity.”
“I told you, I’m here for personal reasons. That photograph completes my grandfather’s collection.”
“Which you need for your book.”
“Yes.”
“Well, being that my sisters and I are the heirs of her estate, you’ll have to get permission before publishing any photographs of her.”
“Not exactly true. But I do owe you the courtesy of a first look, which is why I’d like to make you dinner on Thursday.”
“I deserve more than a courtesy,” Elise said. “And that photo of Kitty—how did your grandfather take it? It was a private moment at her home.”
“I told you he was the original paparazzo.”
“He stalked her?”
“You’re going to make me talk about this right now, aren’t you?”
“No, that’s your style.” He pretended to look hurt by her reference to the sour way they’d parted seven months ago. Her need to remind him of it was evidence that she had missed him, though she hardly knew him.
“I’m sorry about all that,” he said. “I was rudely opinionated for having just met you.”
“And wrong. People certainly think I’m Black now.”
Jasper had challenged her post, insinuating she knew nothing about the Black experience. “I didn’t say people didn’t think you were Black, I said no one cares what color you are. You’re above race.”
“You’re still wrong, is what I’m saying.” What made her angriest was that she never got to start fresh, to filter the story. She liked Jasper but hated how his assumptions put her in a position to prove that she wasn’t what people said she was. It was a handicap.
“I’ll take that. I apologize.”
He’d apologized that night, too, so she wasn’t convinced he meant it. She got angry remembering. You’ve been treated like a princess your whole life; when have you ever really experienced racism?
“Still think people would trade their problems for mine?”
Jasper’s head cocked to one side. “Hell nah. Not after this Kitty news.”
“Okay. I’ll accept your apology then.”
Guests started migrating back toward the house. She stood, receiving the signal. “You came into town just for this?”
“My flight leaves at eight in the morning.”
“Stay for our Halloween party,” Elise suggested.
He held Kitty’s door open for her. Giovanni was standing in the hallway, directing guests back into the living room. She waited for Elise and Jasper to approach. “Mom’s ready.”
Elise nodded. “I’ll be right there.”
Giovanni waited for an introduction, whirling the extra cherries in her old-fashioned around with the stirrer.
“Jasper Franklin, my Vogue photog. Jasper, this is my middle sister, Giovanni.”
They cringed at the sound of a bell.
“Mommie dearest calls,” Elise joked before touching her cheek to Jasper’s. “See you later.” She and Giovanni walked off together into the front room.
“You invited a guest.” Giovanni called her a hypocrite for complaining about their mother’s additions.
“I didn’t.”
“Small world.”
“Itty-bitty.”
“Need me to occupy Aaron?”
“Is he here?” Elise waved her sister off. “What? Gio, Jasper didn’t come here for me.”
They slipped into place for photos before their father commanded the attention of the room to outline the auction process.
* * *
Elise hadn’t told a soul about the night she and Jasper met but thought of it every day since. The time with him had changed her. It was a welcome, intense attraction, one that rendered her mute for a few moments every time they locked eyes.
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.
