Now That I've Found You - Kristina Forest Page 0,27

down his help.

“It’s black tie,” I say. “Do you own a tuxedo?”

Ha. This is where I’ll get him. What nineteen-year-old boy randomly owns a tuxedo?

“Yes,” he says. “I do have one. I get off at four. What time should I be ready?”

“Seven thirty,” I say reluctantly.

“Got it.” He takes a step to walk away, then pauses. “Um, I’m gonna get ready for work … Will you be okay here by yourself?”

“Of course,” I say, annoyed. “I’m perfectly capable of taking care of myself.”

If only he knew just how much time I’ve spent alone.

“Okay, okay.” He holds his hands up. “Well, if you need me, just call the store.”

And with that, he turns and walks down the hall. I hear his door close, and I let out a deep breath.

Gigi is gone. That much is clear. But I still don’t know why. What I do know is that she left around 4:00 A.M. after talking to Milo, and last night around midnight, she was wide-awake in her office. That’s where I need to start looking for answers.

Chapter Seven

Gigi’s office is only an office in the sense that there’s a desk and a chair where she occasionally sits. The rest of the space is devoted to her personal Evelyn Conaway library. Bookshelves line the walls, containing every magazine with her on the cover, along with each of her movies in VHS, DVD, and Blu-ray format. Besides all her movies, she has footage of every appearance and performance, and she even owns cassette tapes, CDs, and vinyl records of each movie soundtrack she’s ever recorded. Pictures from her various photo shoots over the years decorate the walls.

The champagne-colored carpet is made of expensive silk, and shoes aren’t allowed, so I’m barefoot as I cross the room and look down at the envelopes covering her white marble desk. Last night she mentioned that she’d been overwhelmed by the amount of people who’ve reached out to her since the FCC Lifetime Achievement announcement. I sift through the envelopes and see that she’s been invited to parties and screenings, most of which took place earlier this month or toward the end of July. There are at least thirty invitations on her desk alone. I’m sure there are more that she’s thrown out.

Gigi wasn’t always so antisocial. When I was little, she had parties at her house in Beverly Hills all the time. She’d walk me around, accepting hugs and kisses from her guests as she held my hand, glancing down every now and then with a reassuring wink. That was back when she was married to James Jenkins for the third time, years after my real grandfather, Freddy, had died from cancer. The parties were mostly James’s idea, and Gigi always put on a good face to entertain everyone.

Some of my best memories took place at Gigi’s house. I was homeschooled most of my childhood because I traveled around with my parents, depending on where they were filming their next documentary. But I spent my summers with Gigi, and it was always something I looked forward to because it meant I actually got to spend time with someone. My parents never ignored me, exactly. They were just understandably busy, which meant I was understandably lonely. I never felt that way when I was with Gigi.

Then she and James got divorced for the third and final time when I was ten, and everything changed. I didn’t really understand what happened between them. Just that James had upset her so much she’d yelled at him on television.

After that, Gigi sold her house and moved to New York City without telling anyone, calling my parents weeks later to let them know she’d settled into a town house in Manhattan. She said she was tired of living in Hollywood, of paparazzi following her around, wanting to know what happened between her and James. So she got her peace and quiet, and New York was where I spent my summers. But as time went on, Gigi became more secluded, to the point that she barely left her house at all. Her constant companions were Esther, Frank, and me whenever I came to visit. My mom tried to get Gigi to move in with us back in California, but Gigi insisted she was fine and just wanted her own space.

Then I started at McKibben, and my parents took a break from filmmaking to settle in LA until I was old enough to be home alone. Once school got underway, I stopped spending