Psychos: A White Girl Problems Book (3 page)

BOOK: Psychos: A White Girl Problems Book
2.22Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
ads

Genevieve and Roman had apparently invited all of Malibu, half of the Lakers, and anyone who’d ever slept with James Franco. In a word, it was
merde.
I’m talking magenta balloons,
WELCOME HOME
banners, plastic cups, teenagers, and a keg.

My body must’ve gone into shock. If that Laker hadn’t been there to catch my fall, I would have broken my nose from fainting, again. I found the closest unoccupied room and stood in silence with my eyes tightly shut, trying to calm myself.
I am peace. I am me. Me is peace. I am peace. I am me. Me is peace. I am peace. I am—

BAM! The door swung open so hard that it almost flew off of its hinges.

Standing before me was a very drunk Genevieve and some girl I didn’t recognize, whose presence at that particular moment baffled me because she was also wearing vintage Pucci and a lot of foundation.

After I struggled to stomach Gen’s inappropriately formal, one-shouldered Christian Siriano gown, I released the following words from my trembling lips:

“Why are you doing this to me?”

“Um. Are you kidding? Look around,” she slurred, motioning with her Solo cup filled almost to the brim with vodka cranberry. “This is way more fabulous than your party plan.”

“What?! No, it’s not!”

“And this vibe is so much more you.”

“So much more me???” I yelled at her.

“You love when I invite the Lakers! Oh, and the bird guy had to take the birds home. I tried to get him to stay so you could at least see them, but you were so late and he said rap music was too scary for them. So, he left.” All of this was said so flippantly, as if she had no idea that I was hysterically crying on the inside.

It was at this exact moment that I realized being away for four months had had a real effect on me. Before rehab, I would’ve loved a party like this. But I wasn’t going to tell Gen that. “You obviously don’t know me anymore. Excuse me, I have a party to hate.” I looked at the girl standing next to Gen. “I don’t really know who you are, but I’d appreciate it if I never found out.”

With that, I attempted to walk past her and into my party, but she tried to hug me.

“You don’t know me, Babe, but I hope that you find the strength to—”

“Excuse me?” I lashed out at her.

“You’re in a dark place. I’ve been there.”

“You don’t know me, weirdo. Don’t pretend that our mutual appreciation for Pucci gives you the right to tell me where I am.”

I stormed off, allowing the crowd to swallow me before she had a chance to respond.

The saddest part was that no one there knew who I was. I was standing in a house full of people boozing, coke-ing, smiling, and avoiding Charlie Sheen, yet no one was rushing toward me to tell me that I looked really happy, or that LA blows without me. What was the point of this party, anyway? I didn’t want to drink, and I couldn’t shop, and I couldn’t slap anyone, and there were no hot guys there. The longer I stood watching everyone, the tighter I balled my fists, and the more I wanted to scream.

Float in the light, I am the light, light is light, we are light, ham sa, ham sa shanti
—fuck this.

“Do you even know who I am?” I scrasked (scream-asked) a girl in an Alexander Wang dress from the bad season, grabbing her arm.

“Um?”

“Exactly. You should go. It’s not safe here.” I ushered her away from the crowd.

“But my bag. Wait, what? I just came with some friends . . .”

“You’ll be fine.”

And like that she was out the door.

I continued this evacuation procedure and was actually
making good progress with one of the Jenner girls when someone grabbed my arm and pulled me backward.

“BABE, STOP.” It was the strange girl who was with Gen earlier and she looked mad but also scared. Was I being scary? I was totally being scary.

“Who the FUCK are you?!” I shouted at her. I noted that, in extreme close-up, her skin was in really good shape, surprisingly enough.

Roman was standing behind her. “This is ridiculous. Babe, you need to stop, everything is fine,” he commanded.

“Roman, you have to understand. I’m fragile and Genevieve is just doing this to annoy me.” As if on cue, Genevieve then approached the three of us. “Right, Gen? You’ve been waiting months to fuck with me again. I get it.”

“NO! I thought you would be happy that so many people showed up. But I guess you’re right, I DON’T know you. Or at least I forgot what a cunt you can be.”

“Wow.” I was basically speechless. “And who is she?” I said, motioning to the random girl. “My replacement? Clearly you guys don’t give a shit about me anymore.”

“Babe,” Roman said, trying to grab my hand, but I was already making my way toward the door. I stopped and looked at them with cold, dead eyes.

“The next time one of you gets home from rehab, I’ll remember this.”

On my way out I grabbed the first tall guy I saw by the hand and dragged him with me. He was oddly not bothered by my psycho behavior.

“Can you take me home? Please? This was supposed to be
my party, but the whole thing got totally out of hand. I hate all of these people. Except you. You’re fine. But everyone else. I just . . . I was . . . I’m really fragile tonight. I just . . . I can’t.”

And then I totally lost consciousness, but I kept repeating those words: “I can’t.” Over and over and over. It was like a seizure fucked a blackout and gave birth to a litter of tourettes.

“I’ll get you home. Just stop talking,” I heard him say through the fog.

“Thank you. Um . . .”

“Jonathan.”

“Jonathan. Thank you, Jonathan. I’m just really confused right now.”

This catastrophic evening took a momentary turn for the better when I stepped into Jonathan’s black Land Rover. Once we were in the car, I realized that he smelled amazing, his tan was amazing, he had huge amazing hands, and the top of his head was blessed with amazing surfer hair. Totally not my type, but also totally my type.

“So, did you have fun?” I said, looking out onto the empty highway.

“You mean before you dragged me out?”

“Sorry about that.”

“It’s okay. And yeah. I guess I was having fun. I’d never seen a Playboy Bunny naked, so that was cool.”

“THERE WAS A FUCKING PLAYBOY BUN—” I stopped myself before my scream became crying. I managed to cool down quickly and squeeze out a whimpered: “Oh. Cool. Awesome.”

Silence.

“So, who are you?”

“I’m Jon, remember?” he said, smiling.

“I remember your name. I mean, who are you? Besides a potential kidnapper-murderer.”

“I surf, I work at a surf shop here in Malibu. I’m in a band, but we don’t really play shows. I actually went to high school with you. I was a few years older than you guys.”

“You guys?”

“You and Genevieve.”

Then I put it together. This was Jonathan Larson. Gen’s older cousin through marriage whom she has always wanted to fuck and probably will always want to marry. We used to send him anonymous boob-texts when we were sophomores.

“Oh yeah! You’re that guy. I remember you now. You used to date that heavy girl from Spain.”

“Flora. Yeah, she was actually at that party. She’s engaged now.”

“Wow. Good for her.”

Silence.

Luckily we were pulling onto Sunset, so I was only a few minutes away from home and the end of this awkward taxi ride.

“So, is it weird to have the same name as the guy who wrote the Broadway musical
Rent
?” I asked.

“Sorry, not a big theater guy. What is that?”

“Oh. Hmmm, I don’t know that I’ve ever met someone who didn’t know what
Rent
was. This is my house, you can just let me out here.” I grabbed my bag and exited the car. “Thanks for the ride.”

“No prob. Uh . . . ?”

“Babe. Babe Walker.”

“Right. How could I forget a weird name like that? Later, bro.”

After that last sentence, all I could do was look in his general direction and wait for him to reach over and close my door from the inside. I made my way to the guest house, and tried to reconcile my anger with Gen and Roman by doing a yoga/meditation session in the steam room. I couldn’t believe they’d thought that was an appropriate event to throw for someone who’d just gotten out of rehab. But considering how fucked up my life was going to get over the next few months, that shitty party would be the least of my worries.

two

TRYING TO DO MORE REGULAR-PEOPLE STUFF.

Genevieve 7:16AM
What is your problem?

This was the text from Gen that I awoke to in the morning. I knew I’d have to deal with her being mad at me after I stormed out of the party, but I didn’t like the idea of her being mad at me while I was supposed to be mad at her.

Babe 9:10AM
What is your problem?

Genevieve 9:10AM
What do you mean?

Genevieve 9:11AM
I asked you.

Genevieve 9:15AM
What is your fucking problem?

Babe 9:16AM
Before answering that, I’d really like to know what your fucking problem is.

Genevieve 9:18AM
My problem is that I’m not clear on what your huge problem is right now.

Babe 9:19AM
I’m busy. brb

Under the impression that Gen and I could now move on from her mistake, I tried to go back to sleep. Then my phone buzzed in my hand.

Genevieve 9:25AM
I fucked your dad.

Babe 9:26AM
Not funny. It’s too early to be that not funny. Call me later.

Genevieve 9:28AM
I’m not trying to be funny.

Babe 9:28AM
Genevieve

Genevieve 9:29AM
Babe

Babe 9:30AM
Genevieve

Genevieve 9:31AM
Babe

Babe 9:32AM
Gen

Genevieve 9:33AM
Babs

Babe 9:35AM
Don’t call me that.

Babe 9:37AM
Why are you doing this?

Babe 9:37AM
It’s fine. I’m not mad anymore kind of.

Genevieve 9:45AM
Ok

Babe 9:46AM
Ok what?

Genevieve 9:50AM
Ok I slept with your dad while you were at rehab.

Babe 9:51AM
You’re fucking insane. Being this annoyed right now is giving me wrinkles, I can feel them sprouting.

Babe 9:54AM
And besides, I fucked your cousin Jon last night after he drove me home. He’s really nice.

Genevieve 9:54AM
What?

Babe 9:55AM
Kind of weird that he’s your cousin, though.

Babe 9:56AM
He had a huge dick. It was like losing my virginity all over again.

Genevieve 9:57AM
Literally Babe, the DAY after you went to rehab, your dad emailed me and was like you should come over for tea darling and all this shit.

Babe 10:02AM
My dad hasn’t written one email in his life. Cheryl does them for him.

Babe 10:03AM
Did you know Jon plays the bass?

Genevieve 10:04AM
Your dad took me to Nobu.

Babe 10:05AM
Jon asked me to come on tour with his band.

Genevieve 10:06AM
The Nobu in Tribeca. In New York. New York City.

Babe 10:07AM
I came six times, it was actually excessive.

Genevieve 10:08AM
He fingered me in the restaurant.

Babe 10:08AM
He wants to teach me how to surf.

Genevieve 10:08AM
Out of all the old guys I’ve fucked, your dad is definitely the most limber.

Babe 10:08AM
Between your younger brother and Jon, I preferred your younger brother.

Genevieve 10:08AM
We TRAVELED together.

Babe 10:08AM
I’m PREGNANT.

Genevieve 10:10AM
You’re insane.

Babe 10:11AM
We’re family now.

Genevieve 10:12AM
So are we.

Babe 10:12AM
You’re my cousin.

Genevieve 10:13AM
I’m your mom.

BOOK: Psychos: A White Girl Problems Book
2.22Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
ads

Other books

Boyfriend for Hire by Gail Chianese
Feynard by Marc Secchia
Nowhere Child by Rachel Abbott
100 Most Infamous Criminals by Jo Durden Smith
Life Support by Robert Whitlow
Magician by Raymond Feist
The Cadaver of Gideon Wyck by Alexander Laing