Shit.
What the fuck am I going to tell Phil? There’s no way I can deny his request about Susan Kendicott.
Fuck me.
I call down to security to let them know what happened and then wait while they call the police.
When they come I show them the picture I took of Giselle. Their questions make it clear they think is a lover’s spat and when they leave, I know they’re not going to look for her.
Rabbit Hole of Frustration
CARTER
“This is so amazing. I can’t believe we’re here,” Nadia wraps her arm around my waist and squeezes me.
“Remember we’re not staying long, okay?” I adjust the cuffs on my jacket and sweep the crowded room for signs of my agent and his wife.
I spot my best friend, Dave by the bar talking to Lucia Carras, a bona fide star in the literary world who is also the wife of one his best friends.
“Come on, I see Dave, let’s head over.” I put a hand in the center of her back and try to steer her in their direction.
“Wait,” she hisses and digs her heels in.
“What?”
“How do I look?”
I give her a quick once over. “You look nice,” I say honestly and her frown deepens.
“Ryan’s here tonight, Carter. I know he’s your friend and all, but ugh…I really want him to like me.” My irritation fizzles in the face of her confession.
“You like Ryan? The pediatrician who wears bow ties and doesn’t own a television?”
She sighs dreamily. “Yes, him. On top of all of that, he’s hot. And he’s a doctor that takes care of kids. I mean…what’s not to like?”
“It’s just… your last boyfriend was a football player and the one before that was a model. I thought you liked…you know, those type of guys.”
She groans in annoyance.
“No, but they’re all I seem to attract. I have never ever been so crazy for anyone in my whole life, and he’s so out of my league.”
“I’m sure he’d say the same about you, Nad,” I reassure her. “Unless of course you make that face you’re wearing right now.”
She harrumphs and crosses her arms over her chest. “You’re used to seeing him, but this is a big deal for me. I need to make a good impression.”
I have to stop myself from asking the “why” on the tip of my tongue.
“Come on, let me introduce you,” I say instead.
She nods, solemnly. Her eyes sparkle, though and I can’t help but smile at her irrepressible excitement. I let her take my hand as we make our way through the crowded living room of Dean’s apartment.
“Hey, there you are,” Milly, his wife says, stepping into our path with a soft scold turning down the corners of her lips even as she presses a kiss to Nadia’s cheek.
“Sorry we’re late. Traffic was murder,” I apologize and shrug out of my coat.
“If you took the subway, you wouldn’t have to worry about that,” Ryan drawls as he walks up with Dean.
“I’d rather be late,” Nadia says at the same time.
Ryan looks at her and smiles. “When you’re the party, you’re never late,” he says and Dean and I exchange surprised smiles over Nadia’s head.
He’s their kid’s pediatrician and we all play basketball together on the weekends we’re in town, but he hardly says more than a few words. That might the longest sentence I’ve ever heard him say.
“We’re just waiting for a few more people before we sing happy birthday to Dean,” Milly informs us before she takes our coats and walks away with them.
“Hey guys,” Hetal chirps happily as she joins our little group.
She drops air kisses on our cheeks, even on Ryan’s who I’m sure she’s never met before. But Hetal is the kind of person who has never met a stranger.
She’s been like this her whole life and we’ve been friends since we were kids. She was adopted, too. She’s of South Asian descent and her parents are Mayflower Blue bloods who were my parents best friends and neighbors in Brooklyn.
She started an organization for kids who have been in the system for more than a year without being adopted and also provided help for the transition from being wards of the state of New York to being fully independent.
They help with housing, jobs, educational access, healthcare, mental health services, everything. When she asked me to join their board, I said yes right away.
When she asked if I would give some of the kids piano lessons, I’d been less enthusiastic. I wasn’t sure what to expect with these kids. A lot of them are either fresh out of a crisis or still in the throes of one. I expected them to be unfocused and reluctant.
I’ve been so glad to be wrong. Some of them stopped coming or half assed the lessons. But there are a few who are hungry to learn, restless with creativity, and really talented.
It’s turned out to be one of the best things I’ve ever done.
The kids have given me a perspective on life I was sorely missing. They all tell me how lucky they feel to get to study with me. But it’s me who’s lucky to have the chance to do for them what my father did for me.
Being away on tour hasn’t stopped our lessons. We play on Skype once a week.
Hetal slips an arm through mine. “I know we closed nominations for the Citizen Hero award, but there’s someone I think we need to consider,” she says with a conspiratorial smile on her face.
The nominations just went out and the ceremony is in a month. All of the plans are finalized.
“Isn’t it going to be expensive to change all the graphics and stuff we’ve printed already?”
“Yes, but once you see, you’ll understand,” she says with a wide grin.
“See what?”
“Come on, it’s in Dean’s office.” She pulls me down the hall with her.
We step into the small room and she flips on the light. “Ta-da! Dean helped me set it up in here, so all the board members could see it. I thought it would be easier to convince you if you could see it up close. It’s an experience, right?”
My heart nearly stops beating when I see the painting in the center of the room.
I know right away that it’s Beth’s work. She’s got this distinctive style - the fantastic mixed with real - human faces and bodies with accents that are only found in the wildest imagination. The use of metallic gold and silver, and blue, was also her signature.
“Hetal, where did you get this?” I try to sound like my mind isn’t screaming.
“Isn’t it amazing? I was totally blown away,” she smiles dreamily at the painting.
The painting is Hetal’s face, but reimagined. She’s got golden suns for eyes, her lips are formed from a cluster of tiny metallic red hearts, her eyebrows are streaks of silver lightning raised in defiance. It’s beautiful - like something out of a fairytale, and yet, it is so clearly Hetal - the eternal optimist, who lifts everyone up with her loving words and her lightening quick wit.
Something’s wrong with my lungs. I can’t tell if they’re working overtime or malfunctioning, but I can’t breathe.
“Where did you get it?” I ask again. This time my voice sounds as coarse as my insides feel and she looks at me, concern furrowing her brow.