Olivia I stare at the ridiculous trefoil-embossed birthday invitation from Ted Lasker, movie
producer extraordinaire. Even though everyone knows when his annual party takes place,
he always sends them out a week before the event, like a test of who considers him
important enough to drop everything and attend. I don’t usually go, but it seems like the
thing to do this time. Not because I’m particularly fond of the man’s parties—they’re usually
wild, with lots of inappropriate antics. But he’s harmless, and he invites everyone who’s
anyone. There’s a possibility that he might invite Liam. I stare at the invitation for a
moment, then text his assistant. –Me: Is Ted inviting Liam Kingswood to his party as well? A
few seconds later, a text arrives. –Joey: Does this mean you’ll be attending this year’s party?
Ted misses you, you know. He was very fond of your mother and he has lots of goodwill
toward you, which you may not realize the value of. You shouldn’t squander it by ignoring
his birthdays. Who knows, he might even cast you in his next movie! And make you a star! I
shudder. Like I ever want to be a movie star. It would be hellish— paraded around in public,
every action and word analyzed and judged. –Me: I’m thinking of going, but I’m curious if
Liam Kingswood will be there as well. –Joey: Well, he was invited, so OF COURSE HE’S
COMING. I told him it would be a great opportunity to get to know Ted even better.
Everybody who matters will be there and they’ll all love his diamonds.
Well, not as much as Ted because nothing is more amazing than him. And lucky for Liam,
AND YOU, the party’s free—Ted is paying for everything, as usual, because he’s just that
kind of person. Yeah, the kind of person you butt-lick every hour. I always thought people
exaggerated how much Joey fawns over Ted, but apparently they were right. –Me: Please
thank Ted for his generosity. I’ll be there. Ted’s party is massive and not the best place for
any sort of serious private conversation, but at least I’ll be able to see Liam. He’s been
impossible to reach in the last two weeks. I’m no longer able to access the back office at
Kingswood Stones & Designs. I’m self-exiled from his house. And I can’t just barge into his
brothers’ homes either, not that they’re talking. Frederich, of course, remains mum about
Liam, exc ept to say that he’s doing fine. Understandable—his loyalty is with Liam. I don’t
want to put the poor man in a difficult position, caught between me and the Kingswoods. No
light makeup or the white dress like before. Ted’s invitation specifically says wear bathing
suits—bikinis for women. Mom never took me to his parties, although I’m certain she went
to one or two to maintain her friendship with him. The man’s a bit self-centered, as
successful Hollywood types tend to be, but apparently he can be generous and useful
because he likes to be nice to people who make him feel good about himself. At least my
fuzzy memories of him are mostly positive, so he’s probably all right. Saturday comes, and I
head over to the party, a black bikini underneath a red sundress. I inhale de eply—a woman
on the mission of her life. I arrive exactly half an hour later than the time specified on the
invitation. Every top European car maker is r epresented in the carports and streets. Ivory
walls shine under the bright So Cal sun, and way too many turrets soar from the roof, like
some kind of misplaced medieval castle. The mansion is shaking with music and roars of
laughter. My mouth tightens. It’s much worse than I expected. How am I going to find Liam
in the crowd? And how are we going to talk? We’d have to yell to be heard over the
pounding beat and laughing shrieks.
Joey stands at the entrance with a tablet and the posture of a Praetorian guard. He’s still
the same—looking like a poor genetic mishmash of navel orange and semi-intelligent
primate from another epoch. His flaming orange hair stands straight from excessive gel
above a giant forehead that shines like he waxes it every morning. His murky mossy eyes
are wide and unblinking, burning with a zealous desire to shoot down anybody beneath his
boss’s notice. “No party crashing by D-listers.” He wags his finger as he turns away a trio of
men he deems unworthy of setting foot in Ted’s vaunted party. Bet if they’d been hot
women, they would’ve been allowed in. “Oh my God!” Joey says the second he notices me.
“Olivia Desmond, in the flesh! You’ve ignored our invitations for the last ten years! It’s been
breaking Ted’s heart! Ted still loves your mother, you know. He would’ve married her if
that horrible man hadn’t snatched her first. But don’t worry, nobody worth their salt
associates with Hugh.” I ignore his ridiculous lies about Ted’s romantic intentions toward
my mom. The only person Ted ever wanted to marry was Ted. “I know, and I apologize. I
was busy with school, and then work.” “Oh? Hugh letting you run the show now?” I scoff.
“No. And stop fishing for information.” I hand him a nicely wrapped box. “Here. For Ted.”
Joey brightens instantly. “Thanks. He’ll love this. What is it?” “Nope. For Ted’s eyes only.” I
lean closer, watching his Adam’s apple bob. “Thanks for the invitation, though. It’s about
time I expanded my network.” I lay it on thick to hide that I’m here just for Liam. Ted might
laugh it off, but Joey could turn petty. I walk inside the mansion. The black-and-white
squares spread out like a chessboard through the foyer. I’m certain Ted doesn’t play,
though. No patience for it. A few impeccably polished medieval knights and alabaster horse
heads dot the walls, probably props from one of his movies. He said in an interview once
that he ke eps some of them like trophies “to relive the creative brilliance.” The bass from
outside thunders through the house. Shrieks come from the pool. I st ep out and duck to
avoid a popped red balloon flying in my direction. “Sorry!” a girl says in a voice that says
she’s anything but. Then she giggles.
I start to stride past her, but a guy stops me. “Wait, you gotta hit this first before you can go
in.” I stare at two huge salmon-colored balls attached to an enormous flesh- colored cannon
that’s shaped to look like... an erect penis. “You’ve got to be kidding me.” “Come on. Just
aim and smack the ball. The key is to hit one of them.” He points to the young women. Red
and purple balloons that look like open mouths and red orchids are tied to their waists or
heads. “We’re ke eping score.” To my left is a scoreboard. Rolling my eyes, I smack the ball
as hard as I can, then spin around and walk de eper into the party. Behind me, more
laughter and groans come. This is even more insane than I’ve been bracing for. The party is
full of A-list celebs, Hollywood studio executives and investors, whoever Ted deems worthy
of being part of his inner circle. Plus a lot of wannabes who want him to cast them and turn
them into stars. I see Ryder Reed holding court with a gaggle of women. Catherine
Fairchild, Barron Sterling’s art buyer, is talking with someone who looks like he st epped out
of the sixties. “I told him the day I cast him is the day I join a monastery!” Ted’s loud voice
cuts through the chaos of chatter. People go ooooh and aaaaah and laugh. But underneath
their reaction is thick relief that they aren’t the “him” Ted’s talking about. I squeeze
through, and Ted turns his dark head. “Ophelia?” He comes over, his thick, muscled arms
spread wide. “Look at you! All tall and grown up now!” I smile, ignoring the fact that he’s
always misremembered my name. “Hi, Ted. Happy birthday.” I hug him and air-kiss his
cheeks. “Aw, you’re so sweet.” His eyes crinkle. “Why couldn’t I have a daughter like you?
Huh? I only have a bunch of boring sons.” “You have some very accomplished
daughters-in-law,” I remind him, since all his sons are now married and settled. “And
grandkids!” He leans in. “A couple of ’em sing better than Josh Singer’s grandkids, too.”
Ted’s eyes glint and he gives me a conspiratorial wink. “I’m sure they do.” I take a moment
to look around. Maybe I could be an actress. “Is Josh Singer here so you can grind him
under your heel?”
“Ah, Joey invited him, but he always turns me down. Says he’s too busy, that asshole.” He
squints, probably imagining kicking the other man’s ass. “I went to his parties.” I pat his
shoulder. “Probably didn’t want to come and get d epressed. I mean, who could top a party
like this? He’d never be able to host one if he were to see this in person.” Ted nods. “You’re
right. I should’ve thought of his insecurities. Here, have some mimosa. It’s the good stuff.” I
start to decline then give up and just hold the glass. The man can barely remember his own
sons’ names. He won’t remember or care that I’m pregnant. “By the way, have you seen
Liam?” “Who?” “Liam Kingswood. The lab diamond mogul?” “Oh...” His eyes light up, and
he starts to speak faster with excitement. “No. Why? Do you want me to introduce him? I’m
sure I can hook you guys up. A favor to your mother, but”—he leans in—“honestly, you can
do better. There’s this guy I spotted. I’m gonna turn him into a star with my next movie. Lot
of raw talent, great cheekbones, looks even better on camera, which works for you since
you can then post photos on your Instagram or whatever. His dick’s adequate from what
I’ve heard, although nothing like mine—” “Uh, yeah, no, it’s okay. Let me just change into
my bathing suit so I can go join the people over there.” He can go on forever, just to listen
to himself talk. And I really don’t need a comparative analysis of anyone’s dicks. “Come to
Daddy Teddy if you need anything. Joey isn’t bad, but you have the special direct line access
to me.” He winks, then blows a kiss like a prince at a parade. I finally es cape and exhale as I
walk along the pool. My God, this is hard. Where’s Liam? Maybe he didn’t come. This
doesn’t seem like his kind of scene. And even if he did come, how am I going to find him in
this massive crowd? Suddenly, the hair on the back of my neck bristles. I lift my head and
look around. There! Across the pool stands Liam in his bathing trunks. My heart thumps
wildly, and then I spot—
A skimpily covered redhead, who is talking animatedly to him, her hand on his shoulder.
Not sure if he’s paying attention to her. It’s impossible to see his eyes through the
sunglasses, but my gut burns. Hands off, you bitch! He’s mine. I glare at the redhead, then
look back at him again. He stiffens for a second—he’s definitely noticed me. For a second,
hope flares, leaving me shaky. His head turns slowly away. Not a hint of a smile crosses his
expression. My whole body chills, as though I’ve just plunged into an icy lake. It’s like I’ve
been relegated to an irrelevant extra in his life, not his spouse. I look down at the Rubedo.
Do I not matter anymore? He never asked for it back. Maybe he doesn’t want it because it
lost its significance the moment he decided to walk out on me. I feel ridiculous. People
shriek. Wine fountains gurgle around me. A new tune throbs in the air until my head pounds
to the beat. Ted gestures wildly, surrounded by scantily clad women. What am I doing here?
I bite my lip. Trying to talk to Liam here was a stupid idea. He didn’t come to the party to
see his wife. He came to... what? See other women? Explore his options? Brielle wasn’t the
problem. It was— “Oh my, what’s the uptight princess bride doing here?” Speak of the
devil. I pinch my eyebrows together at Brielle’s grating voice. “How did you get in?”
“Walked, just like everyone else. Why are you surprised to see me?” “Because you aren’t
anybody important enough for Ted to care?” He wouldn’t associate with Deena and Brielle
after calling my mom his friend. At least not closely enough to invite to his birthday party.
“Did you sneak in as somebody’s guest?” Her face reddens. Bingo. “Fortune isn’t glitter that
rubs off on you just because you’re desperately hanging around it all the time. But sure, go
ahead.” Brielle sneers. “And yet Hugh picked my mom, not yours.” She makes a swe eping
gesture with her arm. “This is what I deserve. When I got a lousy American Girl doll, you
got a fucking pony. When I got told they couldn’t afford piano lessons for me, you got not
only piano lessons but ballet too! Why? What makes you better than me? We have the same
father!”
“Ask your mom. Better yet, ask Hugh. He’s the one who was irresponsible enough to bang
another woman right after marrying my mom. He supported you and Deena with my mom’s
money. You deserve nothing —not the mansion, not the cars, not the designer clothes.
You’re just a parasite.” “Is that why you set me up?” Tyler st eps up from my right. I quirk an
eyebrow. What is this? An ambush of the desperate? “Because of you, I lost my job!” he
hisses. “Me?” I lay a hand on my chest and try to look innocent. “And how would I have
done that?” “You let it slip that I have some debt. I woulda been able to pay it off.” “Pay off
a million-dollar debt, on your salary? Wow. How did that math work out?” He turns red. His
breathing roughens. “Who told you to gamble, Tyler? Me? It sure as hell wasn’t your boss or
clients. You knew the rules, and you broke them. So you pay the price.” “You bitch!” “It
wasn’t me telling you to pick my dear sister here, who of course never meant to steal you
from me, but somehow still did.” I let out a dramatic sigh. “If only you hadn’t fallen for her
unintentional seduction—” Trembling, Tyler glares at me and takes a st ep forward. His
pupils are dilated, and he smells strongly of alcohol mixed with sweat. “No baby, no money
for you.” What? Before I can think, he lunges and wraps his hands around my neck. Panic
burns in my chest. I scratch him hard enough to draw blood. Snarling, he pushes forward,
tightening his grip. My foot slips, and we both fall into the pool with a splash. The water
slams against my back. My hair billows like seaweed as we sink down. I claw at Tyler and
try to push upward, but he’s too heavy, his arms too thick and strong. I’m not going out like
this. I’m not letting these assholes hurt my baby, too! I flail to get away, but Tyler pushes
me de eper. The edges of my vision start to dim. My lungs burn and scream for air. No! I let
out a silent scream before my grip on consciousness slips.