Father Knows Best (30 page)

I sighed miserably. “Shit. Sorry. That’s not what I wanted to say. I mean, all that was true, but none of it was the point.”

“And there is a point?”

She didn’t say it in a mean way. It was more of a subtle prompt. Now I know where Dylan got it from. Because I was skirting the issue, typical Lila, but no more. I braced myself, then looked her straight in the eye. “Yes. And here it is,” I warned. “I love you, Chloe, and I want you to know that, regardless of your thing with my dad, I’m glad you’re in my life. As my friend.”

Tears sprang to her eyes instantly, and her face flushed. She had to gulp several times before speaking. “Oh, sweetie,” she said. “I love you, too.”

My nose started to burn. Thank God we were in a desolate hotel hallway, because a blubbering could ensue at any moment, believe you me.

“I would never presume to replace your mom in any way,” Chloe said, gently. “But you can always come to me about girl stuff. Or anything. Regardless of the fact that I’m dating your father and you’re dating my son—all that stuff that doesn’t matter. My point is, if I had a daughter, I’d want her to be just like you.”

My heart expanded. Then we hugged, right there in the middle of the hallway, all awkward and everything around the stupid ice bucket, laughing and teary and all kinds of dorky.

But you know what? It was absolutely perfect.

*

New York City wound up being the ultimate bonding experience for all of us. Caressa was our guide as we did absolutely every touristy thing you can possibly conjure up, and then some, and all of it ruled.

Well, almost.

There was the moment I accidentally tried to take a photo of One Police Plaza for my dad, only to be pounced on by a couple of stern-faced NYC cops who informed me that photography wasn’t allowed because of terrorism concerns. And they had deep voices, wild eyes, and itchy trigger fingers, or maybe that part was my imagination.

In any case, it was kinda scary.

We walked all the way across the Brooklyn Bridge and ate some world-famous ice cream on the pier, using the excuse that Jennifer needed the calcium. We caught a water taxi back to Manhattan, then walked miles and miles back to our hotel in the theater district. Central Park ruled, Times Square ruled, the fashion district ruled. Greenwich Village ruled. The West Village ruled. Jennifer asked if we could stop at the Stonewall memorial, which signified a huge step forward in gay history, apparently. The girl had done her homework! We made makeshift signs: “Auntie Jen,” read one, and Jennifer held that. Then we propped the others—“Mom” and “Mommy” on the white statues of a lesbian couple before we took pictures of Auntie Jen sitting next to them. Reese and Kelly would love it, and Jennifer planned to have one framed as a gift for them.

But the best part, by far, was Caressa’s show.

Before curtain time, as promised, we got to hang backstage while she did her job, and I was so utterly impressed by how much she’d grown up, how confident she was in her work, it rendered me speechless—and we all know how abnormal that is. Caressa’s amazing in her element. All of us were awed by the chaotic energy of the makeup and costuming area. The actors, the dancers, the grips, the scary stage manager barking orders. All of them.

I watched from a short distance away as Caressa finished Joaquin’s makeup (and all reports of his hotness, incidentally, have been way understated. Oh my freakin’ God!). When he got up from the chair, he said, “Thanks, mamita,” then gave Caressa a kiss. Not a huge make-out kiss, but something softer and yet far more intense. His fingers against the side of her face, the way she leaned into him, the way their gazes locked. It spoke volumes.

Volumes I had yet to read, mind you.

My jaw dropped as he walked away to get costumed. I glanced over toward Jennifer, Meryl, and Chloe, but they were listening intently to something the amazing Sasha was telling them. They’d missed the entire exchange completely.

But I didn’t need confirmation from them.

I knew what I’d seen.

Before another dancer or actor plunked down in Caressa’s chair, I grabbed her arm and yanked her behind some…theatre set thingie. No clue what you’d call it. I had to ask Caressa now.

“Lila, what are you doing?” she said, laughing.

I stared up at her, wanting to push for details, wanting to laugh, wanting to cry. Everything was rushing through my brain, and I didn’t even know how to begin speaking.

Her smile faltered. “What?” she whispered.

“You slept with him, didn’t you?”

Instantly, tears filled her beautiful green eyes.

“Don’t cry,” I said, hugging her. “It’s okay.”

“I was going to tell you guys. I just wanted it to be in person, and only you and Meryl. It’s not an IM kind of announcement, you know?”

“Yeah, I know.” I held her, patting her back, but my whole reality reeled. Caressa and Joaquin. Oh my God.

What now?

What did a best friend ask now?!

“Were you…safe?”

“Of course, dummy.” She pulled away and patted beneath her eyes so as not to smear her mascara, then shook her head as if to get herself together. “Lila, I have so much to tell you guys. But please know, Joaquin and me, it’s not just a hook-up. I’m in love with him. We’re in love with each other. So”—her voice caught—“so much.”

“I can see that.” I smiled, really and truly happy for her. She’d had her first, and apparently it hadn’t sucked. At least, it didn’t seem to have. “Was it…weird?”

“No,” she said, almost as if this surprised her, too. “It was beautiful. Perfect. I know the first time’s not supposed to be, but he’s so…” She tried to smile, but her chin quivered. “God, Ly. I don’t know what I’m going to do without him all year long.”

I hugged her again. “Just hang with us, chica. We’ll help you suffer through.”

She squeezed me really hard. “I was going to tell you. Just…at the right time. Please believe me.”

“I know. I do.”

“You’re just too damn perceptive for your own good,” she groused. “Cop genes.”

Odd. A year ago I might’ve punched her for that statement, but I just sighed. “I know.”

She gave me one last bone-crusher squeeze, then pulled away. Her eyes wide, worried. “Do you think I’m a tramp?”

I huffed. “I’m not even going to dignify that with a response. Of course not.”

She laughed. “Okay, news flash? The ‘of course not’ part of your answer was you dignifying it with a response, dork.”

I groaned. “You sound like Meryl. Not that that’s a bad thing, of course.”

She glanced over her shoulder. “I have to get back. Can you let me tell Meryl myself?”

“Of course!” I frowned, righteously indignant. “I don’t pass gossip, and this isn’t even gossip, it’s your life. Who do you think I am, Miffany?”

She barked a laugh, then covered her mouth with her palm. As we walked back to her makeup station holding hands, she said, “I hope you enjoy the show. It’s really awesome.”

“We will.” I released her hand and smiled.

“And I’ll see you right after?”

“Definitely.”

She grabbed my shoulders. “Love you, girl.”

“Love you, too.” As I backed away so she could do her job, I blew her a kiss and returned to Meryl’s side. And Jennifer’s. And Chloe’s. All normal-like and stuff, but—oh my God—I stood there dumbstruck and dizzy realizing just how profoundly everything had changed this summer.

*

The show ended, and I clapped so hard I think I busted a blood vessel in my palm. Let me just go on record saying, once again, all reports of Joaquin’s mad dance skills and stage presence and, oh, utter hotness were grossly underreported. That boy’s dancing indeed could bring tears to a person’s eyes, regardless of whether or not you were having sex with him. Caressa hadn’t been biased in the least!

We were utterly high on first-Broadway-show giddiness as we shuffled backstage to congratulate Caressa and Joaquin and the rest of the cast and crew. I’d been blown away, and although I know I have a tendency to exaggerate on occasion, this time I wasn’t. The show rocked. It was the best thing ever, and the perfect cap to a strange, surreal, but really special summer.

The moment we saw Caressa, Meryl and I squealed with excitement and ran over to envelope her in a huge three-way hug, bouncing and giggling and basically being high school.

“It was phenomenal, Caressa,” Meryl said, in this breathy voice that totally wasn’t Meryl. “I’ll remember it forever.”

“It really was.” I sighed. “And Joaquin—holy crap. You weren’t kidding.”

Caressa laughed, a bubbly, happy sound. “Didn’t I tell you? Like, a million times?”

“You did,” Meryl and I said, in stereo.

“You know what made this performance better than any other for me?” Caressa asked.

We waited.

“Having the Three Amigas reunited. You have no idea how much I missed it.”

“Yes,” Meryl said, with a sigh. “The Three Amigas.”

We hugged again, and I caught a glimpse of Jennifer over Meryl’s shoulder. She looked winsome and awkward, out of place. Chloe was deep in conversation with Sasha, and Jennifer stood simply alone, lips pressed together, eyes focused down. I felt a pang in my tummy.

Been there.

In a penultimate un-Lila-esque move, I pulled away from my best friends in the world and yelled, “Hey!”

Jennifer’s gaze darted my way.

I gestured for her to join us.

With a tremulous smile, she waved me off. “It’s okay.”

“Jen, come on.”

She approached hesitantly, as if I were the coyote and she were the cottontail bunny. Oh, how much a season changes things. “Seriously, I’m fine,” she said, in an unsteady voice. “I don’t want to barge in on a Three Amigas moment. Really.”

“Oh, shut your hole.” I yanked her pregnant ass into the fold and wrapped my arm around her.

She searched my eyes for some clue as to my total turnaround.

“Three Amigas, Four Amigas…whatever.” I smiled, genuinely feeling it down to my soul. “I never was very good at math anyway.”

Her eyes glistened, and she squinched closer. “Thank you,” she whispered.

“Don’t thank us,” Meryl said. “Just be.”

Jennifer bit her bottom lip and nodded.

The four of us broke apart and hooked elbows. Meryl and I on the outside, Caressa and Jen in between. Caressa glanced down at Jen with the regal confidence that scared off (well, used to scare off) all the guys. “From now on, you’re part of us, we’re part of you. Got it? As for your stupid non-friends come the first day of school?”

“Evil flying monkey posse,” I said with derision.

Jennifer looked baffled.

“That’s what we call Miffany and the others,” Meryl explained, calmly.

Jennifer muffled a laugh. “It’s so true.”

“Duh.” She doubted me? Scoff. “You don’t have to worry about them anymore, okay?” I told her.

“But—”

“But nothing,” I cut in. “True friends always have each other’s backs.”

“But—”

“Ah-ah!” I said loudly, as though training a puppy. “Trust me, those fairweather hags even come near the Three—”

“Ah-ah!” Caressa said, as though training her own puppy. Then she smiled at Jennifer. “The Four Amigas stick together through the good times and the bad. That’s what Lila’s saying.”

“And believe me,” Meryl interjected. “I suspect there will be a lot of bad times. Sorry.” She scrunched up her freckly nose.

“But you won’t be alone,” Caressa said.

“Yeah. You’ll always have us,” I told Jennifer, even surprising myself. “We mean it. Those vapid wenches don’t stand a chance against the Three Amigas.”

“Four Amigas,” Meryl reminded.

“Yes, sorry, habit,” I said, pulling away. “Four. Strong and Solid.” I smiled at Jennifer. “Trust me, they’re powerless as long as we stick together.”

I extended my hand into the center of the circle, palm down. Caressa laid hers on top of mine. Meryl followed suit. Then Jennifer—hesitantly, which made us all laugh.