“Maybe that’s your problem.” She meant it as a joke, but his expression darkened.
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“Nothing.” She stood up. “Let’s go get you some chicken soup.”
Daniel said he had to check on his mother first, so they agreed to meet in front of the elevators in five minutes. Lauren got there first.
“Your mom okay?” she asked him when he joined her a couple of minutes later.
“Define ‘okay’” was his response.
The elevator opened. It was already pretty full, but Daniel pushed his way in without hesitation. Lauren followed close behind, and people squeezed to the sides to make room for them. Once in, they turned and faced the front like everyone else. Lauren could feel Daniel’s body close behind hers.
The passengers were all silent for the ride down, except for one old lady in front who kept saying to the young man with her—presumably her son—“Why are they so long? Why are they so long?” Lauren wondered what that meant. The son didn’t answer, just patted his mother on the arm and murmured a weary “shush,” with no apparent faith in his ability to silence her. They got off on the ground floor.
Three other people accompanied them the rest of the way down to the cafeteria, which covered the entire basement floor. Half of the room was devoted to tables and chairs, the other half was scattered with kiosks offering foods that ranged from sushi to subs to desserts to the famous Mom-like chicken soup. Several cashier counters bridged the two areas.
“What looks good to you?” Daniel asked as they scanned the room.
“Frozen yogurt?” Lauren suggested. Daniel made a face. “Wait,” she said. “Don’t tell me. Partially hydrogenated fats?”
“Not that I know of. I just don’t like frozen yogurt. It’s got that weird tangy flavor and a wimpy mouthfeel. Give me real ice cream or just skip the whole thing.”
“I get that,” she said. “Especially if you’re talking Ben and Jerry’s Chunky Monkey.”
“Now you’re speaking my language.” He grinned at her and his face instantly transformed. He was a handsome guy no matter what—he had his mother’s wide-set blue eyes and patrician bone structure—but there was normally something cold and grim about the set of his face. When he smiled . . . it got better. Good enough to make her glad they had some time to spend together. Too bad he didn’t smile more often, Lauren thought.
On the other hand, maybe it was the rarity of the smile that gave it its potency.
They separated to get their food and reunited at the cash register. Lauren had scored a dish of chocolate frozen yogurt and Daniel a large Caesar salad. The cashier said, “You together?” and Daniel nodded and handed her his credit card. Lauren let him pay for her without comment.
They settled with their food at an empty table. Lauren stuck her spoon into her frozen yogurt and twirled it around. “So how is it your mother lives in L.A. but you live in New York? Where’d you grow up?”
“New Jersey,” Daniel said. He took his salad plate off of the tray and swiveled to drop the tray on the empty table behind him, then settled back in his chair. “Mom moved out here by herself about five years ago. She wanted to live somewhere warm—she’s always hated the winter. She thought Florida was for old people and Arizona for crazy New Age types, and she already had a couple of friends who’d moved to L.A., so she came here.” He picked up his plastic fork.
“Are her parents still alive?”
“No,” he said. “But my father’s father is. He’s in a nursing home in Connecticut now, and all he says when I call him is ‘It’s not right that a father should outlive his son.’ Can’t say I disagree with him.” He speared a mound of lettuce with a savage stab of his fork. “I’d trade the old son of a bitch for my father any day.”
“It does go against the natural order of things,” Lauren said. “But it’s not his fault.”
He glared at her. “Who said it was?”
“Relax,” Lauren said. “We’re in agreement here.”
“Yeah, I know,” Daniel said. “Sorry. I’m just in a bad mood. I hate hospitals. And I hate cafeterias.”
“So you’re really not crazy about hospital cafeterias,” Lauren said. “I’m just guessing.” She licked some yogurt off the back of her spoon.
“It’s depressing here,” he said, and looking around, Lauren knew what he meant—most of the people at the other tables were either doctors and nurses in their lab coats racing through a snack to get back to work or relatives of patients who ate without pleasure, the strain of dealing with illness showing in their exhausted faces. They all had the look of people who were only eating because someone had said they had to keep their strength up. You couldn’t pretend you were in a regular restaurant: the mood was too dark.
Lauren didn’t like feeling depressed, so she quickly turned her attention back to Daniel. “What would you be doing right now if you were home in New York?”
Daniel glanced at his watch. “It’s after five there. I’d still be at the office, but working on finishing up so I could get home for a run and a shower and eventually a late dinner.”
“Do you usually cook or go out to eat?”
“I never cook.” He crunched on a crouton. “It’s a waste of time.”
“Cooking’s not a waste of time,” Lauren said. “What’s more important than eating? I mean, without food we’d starve and die.”
He snorted. “There are six restaurants on my block alone. I don’t place starvation at the top of my worry list.”
“You know what I mean: we have to eat, so we might as well figure out how to really satisfy our hunger and not just throw burgers down our throats.”
“There are lots of kinds of hungers,” he said slowly. “Might as well order in some takeout and spend your time satisfying the rest, don’t you think?”
“Sure,” Lauren said. “I’m all in favor of any kind of satisfaction.” Their eyes met and held for a second. They were definitely flirting, but Daniel didn’t smile or wink or even tilt his head toward her—he just watched her, like he was assessing her, doing some kind of metaphysical math in his head and trying to figure out whether she added up right or not. During the silence, a family dashed by their table, laughing, a father and his two small children. Their happiness seemed out of place until Lauren noticed that one of the kids held a balloon that read “It’s a boy!” The one happy reason to be at a hospital, she thought, and gave them a big smile.
She turned back to Daniel. “What?” she said, even though he hadn’t said anything.
He shifted suddenly in his seat. “You got any free time this weekend?” he asked.
Ava had given Lauren a brand-new American Express card shortly after she moved in, which surprised her since Carolina had instructed her to destroy all her charge cards. “It’s in both our names,” Ava had explained. “To buy necessities for the apartment. You’re only allowed to use it at supermarkets.”
Today Lauren had gone into Brentwood to shop at the Whole Foods there but decided to take a little walk first. It was a beautiful day, and it felt good to be out of the apartment. On one block, the window display of a clothing store caught her eye. She decided she should check out the merchandise, even if she couldn’t buy anything. After all, she intended to return soon to her retail career, and it was important to keep up with the trends.
Inside, she moved idly around the store, fingering items and listlessly checking price tags. Without the thrill of the hunt, looking at clothing lost a lot of its appeal and excitement. She turned to leave.
And then Lauren spotted the World’s Most Perfect Top.
The color was a dark turquoise that would, she knew, flatter both her skin tone and her hair color. It was cut long enough to wear over a pair of low-riding jeans but not so long it would hide the curve of her thighs. She loved the feel of the soft, silky fabric and the way the banded bodice was embroidered with delicate glass beads that caught the light and shimmered. It was sexy and classy and chic a
nd she wanted it. Desperately.
She checked the price tag. It was ninety-five dollars, which seemed like a fair price to her—it would have been twice that in Saralyn’s boutique. Lauren didn’t believe in spending a lot on something you could get at the Gap, like a simple T-shirt or a pair of cargo pants, but this . . . this was a transformative top. She eagerly unhooked the hanger from the rack and . . .
Stopped. Stood there, holding it, suddenly despondent.
What was the point of trying it on? She had promised Ava she wouldn’t buy anything that wasn’t a necessity for six months.
By making her sign that contract, Ava had turned her into a child, someone who couldn’t even buy something for herself—even something she needed—without a grown-up’s permission.
She clutched the hanger, waves of disappointment, anger, and frustration crashing over her, each in its turn. She couldn’t buy the top without Ava’s knowing and Ava would never understand the importance of this one special purchase—Ava, who ordered frumpy wool skirts online and didn’t care about shopping or owning beautiful things, who only cared about not being naked. She had no idea what a buzz you could get from the feel of something silky against your skin or from the looks of admiration you got when your clothes were tight enough in just the right places. She didn’t get it and would simply think Lauren was being irresponsible and wasting money. In her blindness, she would never see the necessity of this top, only that Lauren had broken her promise.
Lauren hung the cami back on the rack with an effort that was almost painful. Someone else would come along and buy it, she thought bitterly. Someone whose sister didn’t interfere in her life. And she would wear it, and a guy—maybe a guy like Daniel—wouldn’t be able to stop staring at her.
But it wouldn’t be Lauren.
Chapter 9
When Ava walked into the apartment Friday evening after work, Lauren was busy switching purses, removing items from her large leather shoulder bag and packing them into a small glittery clutch. She was dressed to go out in tight jeans, black patent leather spike-heeled boots, and a silky black top.
“You look nice,” Ava said. “Where are you going?”
“I have a date,” Lauren said.
“Of course you do!” Ava said. “You just moved back to town and you don’t have a job and you don’t really know anyone here anymore, so it makes sense that you already have a date, whereas I—who’ve lived here for years and years and see tons of people every day—I have no date.”
“See what I mean?” Lauren said. She pulled a used tissue out of her purse, made a face, and dropped it on a pile of similar items. “You’re always putting yourself down.”
“That wasn’t putting myself down. That was being truthful. Well, sarcastic, but also truthful. Truthfully sarcastic.” Ava eyed the growing pile of trash on the table. “You’re going to throw all that out, right?”
“No,” Lauren said. “I thought I’d sauté it with some soy sauce for dinner.”
“Such a wit. It’s no wonder the men flock to you.” Ava dropped her briefcase on a chair, then thought better of it, pushed the briefcase off and onto the floor, and sat down on the chair herself. “So who’s tonight’s lucky guy and how did we meet him?”
“His name’s Daniel,” Lauren said. She took out her wallet and unsnapped it. “Look, Ma, no cards,” she said, showing Ava. “I’ve cut them all into tiny pieces, except for the one you gave me for buying groceries, and I leave that at home all other times. Are you proud of me?”
“Yes, actually, I am. You need some cash for tonight?”
Lauren checked inside the wallet. “No, I have enough to pay for a cab if I get abandoned in a bad neighborhood. Just like Mom taught us.”
“Good girl,” Ava said. “You got some condoms in there too?”
“Mom never told us to carry condoms.”
“Not directly, but she always left little brochures from the Women’s Clinic lying around. What about money for dinner?”
“The guy always pays for dinner.” Lauren pulled a few old receipts out of the wallet and added them to her discard pile.
“Not in my experience,” Ava said. “But I’m willing to believe that in your universe they do. So how’d you meet this so-called Daniel, anyway?”
“At the hospital, when I took Mom in for chemo. His mother’s going through it, too. We started talking and— What’s so funny?”
Ava had let out a loud hoot of laughter. “Only you!”
“Only me what?”
“Only you could turn taking your mother to chemotherapy into the Dating Game. You’re incredible. How do you do it?”
Lauren shrugged. “I’m just friendly. That’s how you meet people, Ava. You act friendly. You should try it.”
“I’m friendly,” Ava said. “But I know that if I took Mom to have chemo, Mom would have chemo. And I’d probably get through a few more chapters in whatever book I was reading. I would almost definitely not end up with a hot date on a Friday night. He is hot, isn’t he?”
“He’s not unhot,” Lauren said.
Ava reached forward and picked up a compact that had fallen out of Lauren’s purse and absently pressed the mechanism that opened it. The makeup inside was dry and crumbly and some small chunks fell out. “Oops, sorry.” She quickly closed it. “Maybe I should start taking Mom to the hospital—I mean, if the chemo ward is just one big singles bar . . .”
“Frankly, the martinis are a little weak.” Lauren held out her hand. “May I have my compact back?”
“You need a new one,” Ava said as she handed it to her.
“No duh. But someone said I wasn’t allowed to buy anything that’s not a necessity.”
“Oh, right. Well, good for you for staying the course.” Ava brushed the makeup crumbs off of the table with the side of her hand.
“Of course, if you want to buy me a new one as a reward for being so virtuous—” The phone beeped twice, which meant someone was at the front door. “That’ll be Daniel,” Lauren said. “Buzz him up, will you?”
“Oh, good, I get to meet him.” Ava jumped up. “Hey, where’s the phone?” she said. It wasn’t in its base.
“I was using it before . . .” Lauren cast about vaguely.
“Do you ever put anything back where it belongs?” Ava spotted it over on the coffee table. “There it is.” She went over and picked it up. “Come on up!” she said, and pressed the button to let their guest in.
Lauren went to open the front door. She glanced down the hallway, then let out a little “eek!” before quickly pulling her head back and closing the door. “Oops,” she said, laughing. “I totally forgot.”
“Forgot what?”
“I am so dumb. I already had plans for tonight—for you and me to do something with Russell Markowitz.” She hit her forehead with the palm of her hand. “Can you believe it? I double-booked.”
“What?” Ava said. “What do you mean? Russell’s here?”
“Oh well,” Lauren said, with a sudden, cheerful, and, to Ava, suspiciously quick reversal. “You and Russell will just have to figure out something to do without me.” She went back to the door and flung it open before Ava could say another word.
“Welcome!” Lauren chirped as Russell came in. She pecked him on the cheek and then went back to the table to grab her clutch and a cropped wool jacket that was hanging on the back of a chair. “Don’t get mad, but I’m actually on my way out. An out-of-town friend called me to say he’s here for just this one day and tonight’s my only chance to see him. Sorry I didn’t let you know ahead of time, but you’ve still got Ava.”
Ava covertly watched Russell’s reaction. He stared at Lauren for a moment and Ava could have sworn that his expression darkened noticeably.
Great, Ava thought. I’m not just a consolation prize—I’m a bad consolation prize. “Sorry,” she said. She could have killed Lauren, who she was sure had engineered the whole thing. Hadn’t she said she wanted to get them alone together?
&nbs
p; “No worries,” Russell said with a start, as if it had suddenly occurred to him that his hesitation was rude. He came over and dropped a quick air kiss near both of Ava’s cheeks, patting her absently on the shoulder at the same time. “Lauren’s right—we’ll have fun. You girls just don’t give a guy time to get his bearings. I’m already confused and I only just got here.” He was once again wearing a suit and tie and must have come straight from work.
“I better go down and wait out front for my friend,” Lauren said. “You two have fun.”
“We’ll do our best,” Russell said, and with a flurry, a quick rap of her shiny shoes, a good-bye wiggle of her fingers, and a big slam of the door, Lauren was gone.
There was a pause. Ava realized they were both staring at the door like they were waiting for Lauren to come right back through it and take charge again. She blinked and said, “I’m sorry. She only just told me—not just about her other date, but about this one, too. Not that I—” She halted. “It was just all a surprise. You know how it is with Lauren.”
“Yeah,” he said with a weak smile. “I’m the extra bag of bagels.”
“No, no,” she said. “The other guy’s the extra one. You were the original bag.”
“Doesn’t seem to have mattered,” he said. Then: “But it’s fine, really. I’m delighted to have the time alone with you. Sometimes with Lauren around, it’s hard for anyone else to get a word in.”
“Really?” Ava said. “I think she’s a perfectly good listener.” She could criticize her sister, but there was no way she was letting anyone outside of her immediate family get away with it.
“I was just joking.” There was another pause, a more awkward one. “So,” Russell said, with a restless glance toward the doorway. “What shall we do? Dinner? A movie? Both?”
“A movie.” Always her choice for a first date because it minimized the need to make conversation—not, she hastened to remind herself, that this was a first date. “Let’s see what’s playing.” As she went to get the newspaper that was on the table, she noticed with no surprise that Lauren had left not only her everyday purse lying there but also the pile of garbage she had cleaned out of it.