That’s exactly what Max had done, and why he’d done it.
My dad didn’t look happy for the entire meal. In fact, he didn’t say much at all.
Mom, though, seemed to have developed a knack for surreptitiously glancing around the room looking for famous people. I’d heard that Spago was a good place for celebrity spotting, but it looked like we picked the wrong night.
That is, until a large entourage entered the place and people starting looking to see who it was. Turns out it was Linda Evans, an actress who starred on one of my mom’s favorite prime-time soaps, Dynasty. I’d never seen it. It was before my time. But mom was happy to tell us all about it, and we let her go on and on because she looked so star-struck and elated. Dad told us it had ruined many a baseball game for him—my mom would insist that they switch the channel for that hour, and they only had the one TV.
“Do you think we’ll see Krystal?” Grace asked.
“Doubt it. But let me see.”
I got my phone out and texted her to warn her that we’d be stopping by the apartment. She texted back and said she was going to the movies with a friend. I briefly worried about whether that was true—she’d been doing well all week, getting ready for the big change—but I had my own things to handle at the moment.
“Krystal’s at work again. She works so much,” I said, taking a big bite of my entrée.
I couldn’t wait to get home and go to sleep. All the deceit was wearing me out.
ELEVEN
I was nervous leading the way up to my apartment. The way things were with Krystal, there was no telling what we might walk in to. She could be sitting there perfectly normal, having found a bit of courage to see Grace and my parents. Or she could be on the den floor, having a threesome or a full-fledged orgy for that matter.
But it appeared she wasn’t there. The apartment was dark, except for the lights over the island in the kitchen, shedding enough illumination for me as I turned on the lamps in the den.
“Well, this is it.” I shrugged. “Not very big, I know, but by LA standards this is huge.”
My dad frowned. Mom immediately asked why we didn’t have curtains on the windows and I pictured a day when I’d get a UPS package with some of her homemade curtains that were suitable only for people over sixty. Grace said she liked the place.
It was then that I noticed a flower arrangement on the coffee table. I picked it up, looked at the card, and saw that it just had a hand-drawn heart on it. Maybe someone had given them to Krystal. Or maybe it was from Max and Krystal had put them there so I wouldn’t miss them. I couldn’t tell, either way, without there being any handwriting.
We weren’t there even five minutes before there was a knock at the door. It was two people, a guy and a girl, who said they were Krystal’s friends—I’d never met them before—and they said she didn’t show up for dinner and the movie was starting soon, and did I know where she was?
“No. She told me she was going out. Did you call or text her?”
The guy nodded.
The girl said, “She’s not answering.”
They had a look of concern on their faces that I knew was probably matched by mine.
“Everything okay?” Mom called out from the den.
“Yeah, just a sec.”
I stepped outside and closed the door behind me.
“You guys know she’s in kind of a bad place, right?”
“Yeah. She told us everything,” the girl said. “We’re not part of that same crowd.”
“Okay, good. But I bet that’s who she’s with.”
“We’ll go looking around at the usual spots,” the guy said.
The girl told me her name was Molly; the guy was Kevin. I hated even hearing that name now.
I said, “I’d go with you but my family is here visiting. If you find her, let me know.”
We exchanged numbers, and they went on their way.
My parents and Grace stayed about an hour or so. Most of the time was spent focused on the baby, which was great in so many ways, not the least of which was that it closed off a lot of opportunities for my parents to resume their campaign to bring me home with them.
Although, Mom tried in her own not-so-subtle way. She brought up things that she thought would make me homesick. Each time, Dad would say something like, “But you’d know that if were you were still home.”
I was getting frustrated with this. So much so that I couldn’t keep it inside anymore.
“This is my home. You’re looking at it.”
They looked surprised.
“Olivia…” Grace said in a pleading tone, her voice trailing off.
“What, Grace?” I snapped, then looked back at my parents. “I’m living here now. I’ve started my life. I’m happy, okay? Really happy. And you should be happy for me.”
“You’re right,” my mom said with a look on her face that told me she was simply trying to put an end to this little spat.
Dad, for once, didn’t say anything.
The baby started to cry. Grace gathered her up and checked her diaper.
Mom said, “Does she need to be changed?”
“No,” Grace said. “I think she needs a nap. Can we get going?”
The tension was heavy. I hated it. Hated every second of it. What had started out as a relatively nice weekend was turning out exactly as I had feared. The bickering, passive-aggressiveness, control—all of it, everything I had left behind in Ohio—was now in my den in my new home.
I just wanted them to leave.
And as they did, we made half-hearted plans to have breakfast before they hit the road the next morning.
I tried calling Krystal when they were gone. No answer. I left a voicemail, then texted her. I was becoming increasingly convinced that she was off with the “friends” who had the cocaine.
I called Max.
“Hello, dream girl,” he answered.
“Can you come over?”
“What’s wrong? Where’s the family?”
I felt the sting in back of my throat that I get just before I cry. But I fought it back. “My family’s gone back to their hotel, and they’re what’s wrong.”
“Oh no. I’m sorry.”
“Can you just please come over here? I need you.”
“Give me thirty minutes.”
My phone served as a good time-killer while I waited for Max. I checked Twitter to see what was up with the people I was following, and the trending topics. Nothing much interested me. So I opened the browser and went to People magazine, where they had photos from the red carpet at the Emmys.