The Party Page 13

“So you’ve never used illegal drugs? And may I remind you that you’re under oath.”

  “When I was younger, I smoked some pot and stuff.”

  “And stuff? Can you elaborate?”

  He could feel his face getting hot. “I think I did mushrooms. Maybe tried cocaine. It was a long time ago.”

  “So when was the last time you used illegal drugs?”

  Kim didn’t flinch, she didn’t move at all, but he could sense her muscles tensing to granite beside him. “I have no idea,” he said.

  “Have you used LSD within the last year?”

  Jeff maintained his outward composure while his stomach plummeted. What the fuck was going on here? Did this lawyer know about that one tiny indiscretion? It had nothing to do with what happened to Ronni. It was completely irrelevant. Why wasn’t Candace objecting?

  His voice remained steady, “I don’t recall.”

  “So if we were to ask your colleague …” Paul looked at a piece of paper in front of him, found the name he was looking for, “Nathan McIntyre, from your Austin branch. Would he corroborate what you’re telling us? That you have not used LSD in the past year?”

  How did Paul know about Nathan McIntyre and his little vial of magic? Jeff felt the weight of Kim’s eyes on him and he met her gaze. He’d expected anger and accusation, but he saw only fear. And then he knew. Kim must have told Lisa about the LSD. This was Kim’s fault. He looked to Candace for help, but she was jotting notes on a pad like she’d just remembered to add toothpaste to her grocery list. Jeff took a breath and prepared to speak.

  “Lisa, please!” Kim blurted. “We’ll pay all Ronni’s medical bills. We’ll pay for counseling and set up a college fund for her. Just be reasonable.”

  Candace looked up from her grocery list. “Kim, calm down.”

  “I am calm!” Kim shrieked, sounding anything but. “We’re friends, Lisa. Why won’t you settle?”

  “My daughter is blind, Kim!”

  “She’s not blind. Give me a break!”

  “What would you do if perfect Hannah lost her eye? How would your disfigured daughter fit into your perfect little life?”

  Kim was crying now. “I would love her and help her… . I wouldn’t point fingers and lay blame!”

  Lisa laughed. “You’d lose your mind, Kim! You’d burn this city down to make someone pay for hurting her!”

  The volume of their discourse was attracting attention beyond the glass walls. Jeff noticed people milling about outside, peering in at the melee. He saw the concern on their faces and watched a woman dial on her cell phone. Security was being called.

  Paul said, “I suggest a recess,” but Kim was standing now. She stabbed a finger toward Lisa.

  “You’re jealous because we have money and a home and a traditional family. You always have been.”

  Lisa rose. “You’re a sad, bored housewife, Kim. Why would I be jealous?”

  The lawyers were on their feet now, so Jeff rose, too. He put his hands on his wife’s shoulders, but she shrugged him off. “All we want to do is help you and help Ronni, but you insist on trying to destroy us!”

  “You did that all on your own with your wine and your sleeping pills,” Lisa hurled back.

  “We’re not paying you three million dollars!” Kim screamed, marching toward the door. “If you won’t negotiate with us, we’ll go to trial! And you’ll get nothing!”

  Kim stormed out of the room just as an elderly, slightly fearful security guard arrived.

  kim

  THIRTY-SEVEN DAYS AFTER

  Jeff drove them home from the examination for discovery, his jaw set, his knuckles white on the steering wheel. They were racing up Market, going too fast in the ubiquitous traffic and uncharacteristic spring fog. Normally, Kim would have asked her husband to slow down, complained that he was being reckless, but she said nothing. The speed felt freeing somehow, almost comforting. If Jeff lost control and careened into an oncoming bus, at least all this shit would be over.

  “Why did you tell Lisa about the LSD?” Jeff said, his voice quiet with suppressed rage.

  “I didn’t tell her,” Kim snapped back. “I haven’t talked to Lisa about anything in years!”

  “Well, you must have told someone… .”

  “Why would I?” she cried. “I was humiliated!”

  Jeff snorted, like being humiliated about your husband’s use of psychedelics was a character flaw. “Slow down,” Kim demanded, regaining perspective. She did not want to die in a fiery crash just because she was being sued and having her reputation destroyed. Jeff let his foot off the accelerator ever so slightly.

  “Who did you tell, Jeff? Were you bragging to your friends about getting high behind my back?”

  “Fuck you. I didn’t tell anyone.”

  “Fuck you! Neither did I!” They traveled in indignant silence until they pulled into their attached garage. It was only then that Kim realized her outrage was unjustified. She had told someone about the LSD. Despite her shame, she had told Tony. What had he done … ?

  Jeff was too upset to go back to the office, so he took his road bike out (of course). The kids wouldn’t be home for a couple of hours, at least, and Kim knew she had to make the most of the empty house. She hurried to her office and dug out the legal file she’d started the day she received the summons from Lisa’s attorney. There, on that official document, was the name of Lisa’s law firm: Lazar, Neville, and Stenton. Kim hurried to her computer and pulled up their website.

  As expected, the site was professional and user-friendly. Lisa wasn’t going to hire some mini-mall solicitor to ruin Kim and Jeff. “Meet Our Team,” one of the tabs invited, so Kim clicked. As she scrolled through the professional photographs of stiff-looking attorneys, she couldn’t quite believe that Tony would betray her this way. Of course he was angry; he felt she’d used him and led him on, but would he really do something so cruel? So unethical? Did he hate her that much? And then her questions were answered. There, in the senior associates section Kim saw her: civil litigator Amanda Hoyle.

  Tony’s wife was polished and attractive, with dark hair and arched eyebrows. If it weren’t for the length of her face, giving her a somewhat horsey appearance, she could have been a TV lawyer. Amanda looked intelligent and confident, an image validated by her résumé: Pepperdine University School of Law, bar admissions in Northern and Central California, various awards and distinctions. Would this accomplished woman really sink so low as to feed gossip she got from her husband to Lisa’s fat lawyer? And what exactly did Tony say to his wife? “You know that civil suit your firm is handling, where the girl lost her eye? I was messing around with the defendant and she mentioned that her husband used LSD last year.” Of course, he’d spin it so he appeared totally innocent. “The defendant in that case where the girl lost her eye … she’s the copywriter for Apex Outerwear. She’s been really unreliable lately, so I asked her what was up. She told me about the lawsuit. And she admitted that her husband took LSD last year.”

  Suddenly, Kim was overcome with fury. She picked up the manila file full of legal papers and threw it across the room. “Fuck!” she screamed, as the papers escaped the folder and wafted to the floor like wounded birds. She swiped the desk organizer off the desk, sending pens, pencils, and paper clips clattering across the concrete floor. Kim was angry at Tony, but she was even more angry at herself. How could she have shared Jeff’s indiscretions with a stranger? How could she have thought that Tony could be her confidant? When she thought how she had kissed him and touched him, how she had thought she might have loved him … Jesus, he wasn’t even her type! So skinny and hairy and artsy-fartsy. He designed flyers, for Christ’s sake! Jeff was vice president of global strategy at a multimillion-dollar tech company!

  Tony was clearly emasculated by his attorney wife, so he was trying to screw around on her to make himself feel like more of a man. But when Kim rejected him, he attacked her like the puny, pitiful flyer designer he was. Kim reached for the phone, the
n hung it up. No, this was not happening on the phone. She needed to see Tony’s face when he admitted what he had done to her. She needed him to see how his petty vendetta over blue balls had damaged her life, her family. She opened her filing cabinet and withdrew one of Tony’s invoices. His address was printed prominently on the top.

  Kim hurried to the kitchen and grabbed her car keys from the bowl full of glass pebbles. She halted near the door and checked the mirror that hung there for last-minute touch-ups. As angry as she was, she still wanted to look good. She still wanted Tony to want her so she could laugh in his face. Luckily, rage seemed to suit her. Her cheeks were flushed and her hair was sexily disheveled. Maybe Kim should lose it more often? With the way her life was spinning out of control, it was a definite possibility.

  TONY’S HOME WAS one of three suites in a reclaimed Victorian on Russian Hill. Kim pressed the buzzer for A AND T HOYLE. She knew Tony would answer. Amanda would be at work, and the kids would be at school, followed by one of their numerous extracurricular activities that Tony often moaned about. After a few seconds, she heard Tony’s upbeat voice through the speaker. “Hello?”

  “It’s Kim. I need to talk to you.”

  There was a long pause and then, “I have nothing to say to you.”

  “I’m not leaving here until you let me in.”

  Click. The bastard had hung up. She pressed the button again. And again. She would buzz until Tony opened the door. Or lost his mind. Eventually, his voice came through the speaker. “Calm down, Kim.”

  “I’ll calm the fuck down when you talk to me like a man!” she screamed into the tiny speaker. “You can’t hide from me, you cowardly fuck! I’ll buzz all your neighbors until someone lets me in and then I’ll—” BZZZZZT. It was the door unlocking.

  Kim marched up the stairs to the Hoyles’ second-floor suite, her heart thudding in her chest from exertion and rage. The door swung open before she’d reached the landing and Tony appeared. He looked rumpled and handsome. A few weeks ago, she would have been ready to jump his bones. The thought made her ill. “Get inside,” he growled, and she knew she would have found his gruff tone erotic in their previous iteration.

  She crossed the threshold into Tony’s abode. Despite her anger, she had to admire the refurbished apartment. Walls had been removed to open up the late-nineteenth-century space. Gleaming hardwood floors, an embossed tin ceiling, and elaborate cornices were indicative of the era, but modern furnishings and contemporary art pieces made the home current. The place had been decorated by a couple who knew art and design. Kim refocused herself. “How could you?”

  “How could I what?”

  “You told Amanda that Jeff used LSD.”

  Tony gave an incredulous laugh. “What?”

  “Lisa’s hired your wife’s law firm. We just had an examination for discovery and they knew about Jeff’s drugs. You’re the only person I told.”

  “Jeff must have told someone.”

  “He didn’t!” Kim screamed. “That incident nearly destroyed us! Why would he tell someone?”

  “I don’t know… .” Tony ran his hands through his hair. He seemed at a loss for words. Finally, he said, “What do you want from me?”

  “I just want to know … do you really hate me that much?”

  “I don’t hate you,” he muttered, his eyes on some of his kids’ sporting equipment stacked in a corner.

  “You must. You’re helping your wife’s firm destroy me. Jeff and I could lose everything.”

  Tony looked at her then. “I don’t hate you. I feel sorry for you.”

  Kim snorted. “Why?”

  “You’re so unhappy. And you won’t even admit it to yourself.”

  “I’m unhappy?” she barked. “If your life’s so perfect, why did you try to have an affair with me?”

  “My life’s not perfect!” Tony yelled. “I’ve got plenty of fucking problems! My marriage is hanging by a thread. My career is a fucking joke. But at least I’m aware of it… .”

  “I’m extremely aware that my life is a disaster,” Kim said. “And thanks to you, it’s about to get a hell of a lot worse!”

  “I just tried to be there for you, Kim. You’re the one who made it sexual.”

  Kim felt a surge of humiliation. “That’s a fucking lie! I’m not even attracted to you!”

  “Really?” He grabbed her shoulders and kissed her hard on the mouth. His tongue pushed between her lips, pressing against her clenched teeth. She wanted to fight him, but her body was responding. She felt her jaw release and open up to his probing tongue, her back arched toward him as his hands gripped her ass. He was right: she was attracted to him. But only for a moment.

  She pulled away and slapped him, hard, across the face. They stared at each other, chests heaving, both of them in shock. Kim had never hit anyone in her life, and it appeared that Tony had never been hit. Kim found her voice. “You make me sick.”

  There was a metallic noise, a key fumbling in a lock, and Kim and Tony turned toward the door. It opened to reveal a heavyset Mexican woman, probably Kim’s age, trailed by two, sandy-haired kids: Ruby and Declan. The woman stopped short, clearly sensing that she had walked in on something intense. No one spoke for a moment, then Tony said, “Hey, guys,” in a hoarse voice.

  Kim was still breathing hard and her head was swimming, but she had to pull herself together. She couldn’t let these children know that, mere moments ago, she was kissing and slapping their father. She addressed Tony in a professional voice. “Thanks for the information on Apex. I’ll forward it on to them.” The nanny and her charges cleared the way as Kim hurried out the door.

  hannah

  THIRTY-SEVEN DAYS AFTER

  Ronni had been back at school for a week, but Hannah had yet to run into her. Phoebe Winslow, who was a Christian, so she was really nice to everyone, had been supporting Ronni and updated Hannah on her revised schedule. According to Phoebe, Ronni only came to school for half days and spent most of them talking with Mrs. Pittwell, the counselor, about her feelings. She spent the rest of her limited time going over the lessons she missed with a resource teacher. Phoebe said that Ronni was having a hard time and had already missed a couple of days. It was wrong to be relieved, but Hannah was. The less chance there was of running into Ronni, the better. Hannah spent every school day on edge, waiting to round a corner and find her old friend, disfigured, depressed, and probably ready to stab Hannah in the neck with a pencil. It didn’t help that this morning Hannah’s parents had gone to their lawyer’s office to face off against Ronni’s mom. There was no way that had gone well.

  So Hannah nearly jumped out of her skin when she closed her locker to find a female face mere inches from hers. But this face had two eyes with crow’s-feet, and an unflattering haircut. “Mrs. Pittwell,” Hannah said, trying to compose herself, “you scared me.”

  “Can we talk, Hannah?”

  “I have English.”

  “I’ll talk to Mr. Morrel… .”

  Hannah obediently followed the older woman through the crowded halls to her office. As she trailed behind Mrs. Pittwell, she passed Noah and Ryan, another kid from his circle. Their expressions said it all: Shit. Hannah gave them a casual nod: Don’t worry. I got this. But she didn’t have it. She was terrified. The counselor had no reason to talk to her except about Ronni. And she knew it wouldn’t be good.

  When they were enclosed in Mrs. Pittwell’s windowless office, she got to the point. “Ronni’s not doing well.”

  “There’s a lawsuit,” Hannah said, her eyes spontaneously filling with tears. “Her mom is suing us.” Her voice cracked, and she silently berated her lack of control. Why couldn’t she be more like Lauren and tell this “do-gooder bitch” to leave her out of it? She wasn’t even Ronni’s best friend! Why was Mrs. Pittwell singling her out? But she couldn’t say any of that. If she spoke, she’d dissolve into sobs.

  “I know about the lawsuit, hon… . But I think there’s an opportunity for you to be the most mat
ure person in this whole situation. What do you think?”

  Hannah shrugged. She didn’t know what being the most mature person entailed, but she was pretty sure she wasn’t up for the job.

  “I know your parents are upset. And Ronni’s mom is, too. But Ronni just wants things to go back to normal. She needs her friends, Hannah.”

  Hannah stared through her tears at a framed photo on the desk: two boys, around eight and ten, with haircuts much like Mrs. Pittwell’s. Her sons, obviously … poor kids. “It’s just really awkward,” Hannah croaked.

  “But you can be the bigger person here. You can reach out to Ronni and be there for her. You can rise above the anger and blame, and you can show your parents and Ronni’s mom what true friendship looks like.”

  “Ronni’s not mad at me?”

  “She’s not mad at you… .” Mrs. Pittwell leaned forward in her chair. “She misses you.”

  That’s when Hannah broke down. “But … Lauren said …” She was sobbing so hard she could barely get the words out. She was relieved when the counselor cut her off.

  “Lauren is dealing with her own issues. She’s not supporting Ronni because she doesn’t have the strength of character. But you do, Hannah. You can stand up to these other kids. You can stand up to your parents.”

  But Hannah didn’t want to be the girl with strength of character. She wanted to be the cool girl, the popular girl, the girl with the hot boyfriend. The counselor was asking her to throw all that away just so Ronni wouldn’t be lonely. How could Mrs. Pittwell be trained to work with teenagers and be so clueless?

  Mrs. Pittwell slid a box of tissues across her desk. Hannah took one and blew her nose loudly. “I can’t go to English,” Hannah said, “I’m too upset.”

  “Go home early. I’ll explain it all to Mr. Morrel.”

  Hannah jumped up, eager to get out of there, but the counselor wasn’t quite finished. “Just promise me one thing.”

  “What?”

  “That you’ll think about being a friend to Ronni. If you turn away from her, you’ll look back on this one day and be filled with regret.”