Most Hated, page 11
The conversation was frenetic and awkward as everyone tried to steal some screen time. Budgie’s one-liners were too good to be missed, and they had to back up a few times to catch what she said.
“Dahlia is a gold digger and thirsty,” said Nicole, out of seeming nowhere. “There, I said it.”
“What makes you say that?” Sabrina asked.
“I see how she treats him. We have a mutual friend in common, and … I don’t want to be disrespectful,” she folded her napkin over in her lap, “I’m not going to say anything specific, I don’t want to break that confidence, but yes, trust me, Dahlia is not what she seems.”
“She seems like a bitch. Maybe she is exactly what she seems like,” said Mariana.
The whole, long dinner was like that, catty and badmouthing. At one point, when the conversation grew stale, Zoe had them pause and told Sabrina to talk about what had happened at Lexi’s apartment the other day.
Although Sabrina looked like she detested the idea, she played along.
“Lexi, I’m sorry about what happened the other day. I should have kept my mouth shut and left if I couldn’t. I apologize.”
“What happened?” asked Mariana, hungrily.
Everyone waited to see who was going to give the rundown.
“Sabrina and I had a super great time the other day, and then my man came home, and he was in one of his stupid moods, he gets like, in this work-mode and he’s impossible.” Lexi explained, “It’s best to meet him on like vacation or something, I see him for who and how he is, but most people never get to because he comes off stiff. He and Sabrina sort of got into it because he was a real douchebag about Sabrina and Robbie. You don’t need to apologize, for one thing that was between you two and for another thing you were right.”
Lexi tossed Sabrina a genuine smile and then started off talking about the cocktail she had ordered and what spirit she ordered it to be made with, and it became clear she was talking up a brand with which she was involved. Given this permission, soon Mariana was off and running and talking about her sex toy line.
By the time they got everything they needed for the scene, the sun had almost set. The street was dark and shadowed, though Sabrina knew that if she was home right now, she would have been able to bathe in the last bits of sunshine. Not that she would. She would have likely been curled into a ball, watching Bridesmaids again.
Budgie asked her if she wanted to get a real drink, and the pair went down the block to a bar off the beaten track enough that it wasn’t filled with tourists who thought Times Square was the city and not the belly of the beast.
Budgie ordered for them both, getting Sabrina a vodka soda with three limes squeezed, one left in, and getting herself a Willet Old Fashioned with a few extra bitters.
“What’s really bothering you about this Robbie bullshit?”
“It’s Lorna bullshit, not Robbie bullshit.”
“Sure, the Lorna and Robbie bullshit then.”
Sabrina winced. “No, don’t put them together like that. Oh, that’s very good. That’s very good, sir, thank you.”
“No problem,” the bartender said, and then something spread over his face as he seemed to realize she was somebody though he couldn’t place exactly who, “That one’s on me.”
“That’s not necessary,” Sabrina said.
He flushed red and walked off, pulling his phone out of his pocket.
Budgie laughed. “Look at that, you’re still star-striking the young folks, that ought to make you feel better.”
Sabrina gave her cousin a look.
“It should, honey. You wanted to be a star, right? You might not have become a movie star, but … this is still something, right?”
“No, it’s not, that’s the point. There’s nothing that I’m passionate about anymore. Once upon a time I thought I wanted to be an actress once upon a time I wanted to make a living doing something I loved. And I suppose it feels like maybe I could have either gone all the way up or I could have settled all the way down. Now I’ve done neither, and I can’t do either, and I can’t for the life of me figure out what the hell I’m supposed to do next.”
“Bri—”
“Was I even good, Budgie? I don’t even think I was very good. Was I?”
She had never asked this of Budgie. Never asked her to give her professional opinion on something that could be potentially explosive.
Her cousin drew a deep breath. She paused for dramatic effect. “You were great, Sabrina. You were. You gave up. That’s the problem, not your talent. Cheers.”
“Cheers.”
They clanged glasses.
“You’re not placating me are you?”
“Saying that you were good? No, I’m not, but it doesn’t matter. Because you’re still the one who gave up and didn’t try anymore. You had a shot there. One bad movie does not end a career. Ask everyone.”
“Maybe you should have given me this tough love routine back then.”
“You weren’t clear on what you wanted then. It only seems clear to you now.”
“You have always been so sure. So clear. You knew when we were kids that this is what you wanted to be.”
“Yes, I knew one thing about my life and I achieved it. The rest has been a fiasco at best and a disaster at worst. I’ve got a good attitude. That’s the only difference between me and a lot of people.”
“Yeah, well we also grew up with wealth, didn’t we?”
“Oh, buckets!” she laughed. “But I could have failed. Hell, I did fail. Lots. I got here eventually, and at times my advantages set me back and at times they made it easier. It’s the case for most of us. But we’re not talking about me. We’re talking about you. You who was once full of life and who now thinks her life is over. And it is.”
“Leave it to you for a plot twist.”
“You gotta be born again, hon, that’s it. You don’t have much left over from that old life, the resentment, the anger, the bad reputation. You need to stop living in your heyday, if that’s what we’re calling it.”
“Oh, is that all?”
“That’s all. You gotta let go of it. When was the last time you did something that was about the next part of your life? When was the last time you did something that wasn’t a response? When was the last time you wanted something in real time and took it and lived it out?”
“I’m doing this show.”
“That’s not what I mean and you know it. This show is about repairing the past, not about you wanting something and going for it.”
Sabrina shook her head. “Maybe when I was dating Robbie and he ignored me that one night in Milan and I told him in front of the whole crowd that he could have me or he could lose me. That was right before he proposed.”
“Damn, that bastard even has ownership over the last time you did something for yourself? I’d say that doesn’t seem possible, but I hate to say that it absolutely does.”
“That is terrible. Isn’t it? Terrible.”
“It is. You must change something about it,” Budgie insisted.
“Your phone has rung three times. You can answer it.”
“I loathe people who do that.”
“I want a moment to think anyway. It’s fine.”
“It’s only Oliver.”
“Oliver Oliver?”
“Oliver Oliver.”
Oliver was in advertising. Oliver was a silver fox with the squinting wrinkles of Clint Eastwood. His tailored suits never missed a stitch, and he had a boat, a plane, and seven cars. Before he sounds like a total jerk, he also donates an annual quarter-million to charities and does pro-bono ad work for any business that can’t afford him. He’s a wonderful man. He was the first man to ever propose to Budgie. They were sixteen. She said yes, but they didn’t do it. Not until Budgie’s first marriage ended and she was ready for a second one. Then after ten months, they called it quits. Budgie was the breaker; she claimed he loved her too much and that she couldn’t stand watching him love his work less from distraction.
Their divorce was a whirlwind.
And now, it seemed, he was back. If he was calling her, he was back.
“Alright, I’ll step out, I’ll be right back.”
Her cousin stepped out front, and Sabrina watched her talking on the phone to him. She got the same dumb lovey look on her face she used to get when they were teenagers together. She was always smitten. Even during their divorce. The night the papers were finalized, the two of them went to a gala together. A gala, what could be more sarcastic?
She came back in a few minutes later and had those perky cheeks one can only attain when trying not to smile.
“And what did Oliver want?”
“He’s got a table at Balthazar and hoped I could meet him for a late dinner.”
“Your ex-husband wants to take you on a very romantic date?”
“Yes, what’s wrong with that?”
“I don’t know, what’s wrong with that, Budgie?”
“Come now. For one thing, I told you the rest of my life is a fiasco. And for another, I’m not going, I’m here with you.”
“Budgie.”
“Yes?”
“Go.”
“Please, you’re acting like there’s any reason in the world Oliver and I should spend time together.”
Sabrina had adored Budgie with Oliver and never understood why they divorced. They had been the kind of couple that people call you two. She had always suspected they’d end up together again.
“I swear I cannot think—and I mean this—of anything in the world that would make me happy right now but to know that you and Oliver are out having a date like you did when you were kids.”
“Okay, are you—okay. I’ll go.”
“Go.”
Budgie finished the rest of her drink. She handed the bartender a rolled up hundred-dollar bill. “Buy her another round with this or keep it if she doesn’t. Alright, Bri, I’ll see you soon. Are you sure you’re alright?”
“Budgie get the hell out of here.”
“I love you.”
“I love you too. Leave.”
“Leaving.”
She left, and Sabrina was downing the last sip of her drink when in walked the blonde Aussie himself.
Leo.
He recognized her right away, which shouldn’t—perhaps—have surprised or flattered her. But it did. He gave her a big smile and asked if the seat was taken beside her. Sabrina replied, “My cousin just left. What a coincidence running into you here.”
“Not really, I was with Lexi before your shoot, and I spent a few hours working down at the coffee shop on the corner.” He lifted the strap of his messenger bag off his shoulder and set it on the bar.
“Can I get you a drink?” asked the bartender, this time trying to figure out if this guy was also someone he should know. A Hemsworth, perhaps.
“I was drinking vodka soda. I might switch to wine.”
“Red or white?” asked Leo.
“I’m a red drinker, but it’s about a hundred degrees out there.”
“Sauvignon Blanc?”
“Sure.”
“Let’s do a bottle of Cloudy Bay, eh?”
“Coming right up.”
“A bottle?” Sabrina’s surprise was growing by the second.
“Listen, I need to celebrate. I was willing to do it alone, but then I ran into you. No pressure, of course, if you want to have a sip or two and then leave me to my celebration, I under—”
“Sir?” she said, and ad the bartender turned. “Forget the Cloudy Bay. Bring us your finest and coldest champagne.”
“Finest? It would be … Krug, we have—”
“That’ll be fine.”
“It’s on me,” she said.
“You really don’t have to. You don’t even know what I’m celebrating. I could be celebrating the dropping of murder charges.”
“Any celebration is worthy of champagne.”
He laughed. “If you’re sure, then I can’t say no. But you let me pay next time.”
Next time? “Alright.”
His gaze lingered on hers as her smile faded, and then, a skip of her heartbeat.
Once the champagne was poured, she asked what they were celebrating.
“Damn, that’s good. I’ve never had good champagne, I don’t think. I think I’ve had Mumm’s once in my life.” Sabrina feigned surprise. “Struggling entrepreneur raised in the countryside. Not a lot of bubbly. Or celebrating, for that matter.”
“I love good champagne. I never tire of it.” She looked at the bubbles bouncing in her glass, shrugged, and took a sip.
He smiled at her.
“What?”
“Nothing,” he said. “You’re sweet.”
“That is contrary to the general opinion.”
“I’m pretty comfortable on the other side of popularity. And I’m sure they’re wrong anyway.
She blushed. “Tell me what you’re celebrating.”
“What we are celebrating is that I finished my book.”
“What? That’s … unbelievable, what do you write?”
He went on to describe in detail his passion for travel and wellness that had shaped his life for the past twenty years, and how he had been mentored by a monk in Sri Lanka who changed his life with Ayurvedic medicine. Sabrina listened and found herself focusing on how his lips moved over his perfect teeth more than his explanation of how he had realized he had been gifted with sacred knowledge. He had compiled a series of essays and believed with all his heart that “even if it only improves the life of one person who reads it,” awareness was not meant to be hoarded but shared.
He cut himself off. “Sorry, I’m rambling.”
“No, no, I love it! Please. I promise I’ll still buy the book, but tell me … I don’t know, tell me everything.”
When she drank alone at home, she got tired. But here she felt alert and buzzing.
He was interesting. He had had a life. He was not fulfilling anything for anyone else. Even when he talked about his past partners, it was with such quiet respect and appreciation for the time and the impact of her, whoever she was.
He didn’t wax rhapsodic. He didn’t speak as though he had the whole world figured out. He was another lost soul on a completely different path than she had ever been allowed upon.
Leo was warm and friendly and pleasant to the people who struck up conversations at the bar. He had an inside joke with the bartender by the time Sabrina returned from the restroom. And when they left, they went out onto the hot, muggy streets and were hit with a wave of the city’s mineral smell and the rich smell of candied nuts for sale on the corner.
They walked for block after block.
The streets of Manhattan have a strange and beautiful palette. The warm glow from the headlights, the dusty blue as the lights reflected onto the night sky. The striking reds, purples, and every other color in the fluorescent rainbow. There were always puddles; there was always steam and smoke. Something nearby was always moving fast, and somewhere else nearby there was always something still and steady.
It was one of those perfect summer nights that Sabrina had forgotten about so completely that she thought she might be dreaming. Girls had their hair thrown up into ponytails; women had an extra button open. Boys smelled like sweat and soap; men had their sleeves rolled up. The drinks on the patio tables sweated condensation onto table surfaces and were refilled quicker than if it were chillier.
“I love this city,” said Sabrina, shutting her eyes briefly as a rare breeze crossed her cheek.
When she opened her eyes, he was staring at her.
She started to ask what, again, but before she knew it, he had taken a step toward her, planted his hand around her chin, his fingers in her hair, and his lips on hers. There was an eagerness to his touch, but he was gentle—almost too gentle. She put her arms around his neck and pulled him closer. Her legs felt shaky, and her body was hot and cold at once, and her stomach was filled with pop rocks.
He broke away. “Sabrina, I hope this isn’t a kiss goodnight.”
She shook her head. “No.”
“I know a place, a fun place. I’ve been looking for a reason to go back. You up for it?”
“Sure, yes.”
They hopped in a cab that he whistled for and wrangled quick as a whip. In the backseat, he put his hand on her thigh. High enough that it felt dangerous and against the rules. It was a big, strong, well-worked hand. Not soft as silk like he who must not be named. Not now, not when she had Leo here.
She put a hand on his and moved it up a little higher. Beside her, he turned to look at her. Each of their faces was lit by the strobe of passing lights. She felt as though she could not breathe.
She felt nervous and more herself than she could remember being.
Men had always fallen for her. And she had loved that feeling. Loved knowing that she was in control. That she could do anything, say anything, tease them, make them wait, tell them to hurry, anything, and they would do it. Until her marriage, she had always been fulfilled that way.
Leo squeezed her leg.
How had this happened? Why did he want her?
No, she reprimanded herself, do not lose confidence.
They pulled up out front of Ito’s Hideaway—an underground Tiki Speakeasy.
It was dim inside, all warm dark wood, the tables had small tealights under red lampshades. The vibe was very retro. Up front there was a stage, and there was a show going on, hula dancers with fire and golden spotlights.
“This is wild,” said Sabrina.
“Isn’t it? I came here for a mate’s bachelor party. I didn’t know him that well and I didn’t know any of the others. Bit of a strange place to get to know a bunch of men.”
She laughed, and the noise of the place carried away the sound of it.
He reached for a menu and put it on the bar. She leaned on it, reading, and then felt him wrap his arm around her, reading too, but standing close enough to her that no light would be able to get through—if there were much to begin with.
Her heart and her inner thighs ached at this proximity. She pointed to a drink on the menu. “That looks good.”
