Look - Zan Romanoff Page 0,70
talk about this,” Bea says.
“What’s left to say?” Lulu drains the last drops from the champagne bottle. “Is there more?” She likes the fuzzy faraway soft feeling the booze is lending her. She wants more of it.
“No,” Bea says, “and, to start with, I need to know what exactly happened here. Did Ryan not tell you he was taking the photographs? Or that he was going to sell them? Or post them online?”
“The black-and-white ones are security footage,” Lulu says. “The pictures of us in bed? We definitely did not pose for those.”
Bea sucks in a sharp breath.
Lulu says, “I just. I know it doesn’t look that bad. But I didn’t know he was watching. Much less that anyone else ever would be.”
“Fuck.”
“Pretty much.”
“Wow. Wow. Wow. That’s, like, that’s got to be illegal, right?”
“I don’t know. Probably. Kind of. There were signs up saying there were cameras at the hotel.”
“Still, though. You should sue him.”
“Sue the Riggs family?” Lulu’s laugh is hollow. “Waste of time. Or money, I guess, mostly.” Her family is rich, but there’s a difference between second-generation immigrant lawyers and a hundred years of Riggs men getting away with whatever they fucking please in America. She thinks about that Supreme Court justice, the one who assaulted a girl when he was younger. No one believed the women who came forward against him. And the Riggses have way more money and history than he did.
“It would mess with his reputation, at least,” Bea argues.
“I can’t really think about this right now,” Lulu says. “I’m sorry, B, I just—”
“No, no, that’s fine, I’m sorry, I’m just—I don’t know what to do about this.”
“I don’t either.”
“You want to make Rich give up the PlayStation so we can watch a movie or something?”
“Yes,” Lulu says. “Please. Thank you.”
* * *
It doesn’t seem possible, but Lulu falls asleep midway through the Hannah Montana movie. She wakes up to Bea shaking her gently, apologetically. “Rich just left,” she says. “My parents are on their way home. They’re gonna think it’s weird if you’re passed out here instead of upstairs.”
“Right,” Lulu says. “Of course.”
Usually when she stays here she sleeps in Bea’s room, but tonight Bea leads her to the guest room.
“You need anything?” Bea asks.
“Nah,” Lulu says. “I’m fine.”
“Okay.”
Before she can talk herself out of it, Lulu says, “Hey.”
Bea turns around.
“Thanks for letting me in.”
“Of course.”
“I know I haven’t been an awesome friend lately.”
Bea smiles gently. “We should probably have this conversation another time.” Which isn’t a No! You’ve been great! She doesn’t move, though. Instead, she says, “But as long as we’re talking about stuff. Can I ask you something?”
“Sure.”
“Why do you keep doing it?”
Lulu frowns. “Keep doing what?”
“Flash,” Bea says. “After—after Sloane. Did you ever think about stopping?”
Lulu closes her eyes and falls back on the bed.
Of course she thought about it. She wanted to do it. But she knew that if she did, she would be admitting something: that she’d screwed up; that everything had changed; that she wasn’t who she’d said she was. Or who she wanted to be.
So she didn’t.
“I’m not blaming you for what happened tonight,” Bea adds hastily. “I’ve just been wondering.”
“Well, I will now,” Lulu says to the ceiling.
“I’m sorry,” Bea says.
“Don’t be.”
“Don’t tell me what to do!” Bea seems almost startled by the force of her own outburst.
Lulu has to laugh. “Okay,” she says. “Be sorry. It’s fine with me.” She kicks her shoes onto the floor, and they land with a satisfying thump. “Why are you asking?”
“Um. In terms of you maybe not being the best friend in the last few months. I guess it felt sometimes like you didn’t want to talk to me about anything, but you were still always, like, performing. For this audience.”
“I had a beautiful life,” Lulu says. “Wasn’t that what I was supposed to do with it? Make sure everyone knew just how beautiful it was?”
“Even when it was kind of fucked up?”
“Especially when it was fucked up.”
Bea nods, and sighs. She says, “If you’d called and asked if you could come over, I don’t know if I would have said yes.”
“That’s why I didn’t call. I knew I shouldn’t. But I also didn’t want to go anywhere else.”
“Well,” Bea says, “for the record, I think I’m glad you did.”
CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE
IN THE MORNING, Cass has sent Lulu a text. Can we talk?
Sure, Lulu says. Should I come there?
Let’s meet in the middle.
They pick a diner in the Farmers Market at Third and Fairfax, which is nearly