Skyler:Ishould’veknown.I’ve known guys like Terri, what they’re capable of.I was there to help you, and I couldn’t even do that—
Titch:Youdidhelp!You did exactly what I wanted you to, which was to make sure Terri didn’t see you and to film everything to show the police.You came through!The plan worked!
Skyler:Theplanwas to record the awful things Terri was doing to Joseph,notget him to start doing awful things to you again.
Titch:I really didn’t think he’d punch me.And I’m sorry, but I’m glad he did.Now it’s over, and we never need to think about him again.
Skyler:...You’re a really good friend.
Titch:Thanks.Um.It’s a work in progress.Oh shit, I’m still recording—
[OUTGOING CALL]
RECEIVED: October 9
Titch:My black eye looksama-zing so fuck you and Lucas and Skyler and everybody.Ha ha.Um.It was really nice to talk to you guys the other day.Guess all I have to do to get you to call me is get the shit beat out of me.Good to know.
RECEIVED: October 13
Titch:Skyler’s brother and his girlfriend are coming to visit over Thanksgiving break.Which is.Socool.I’msoexcited to spend more time with his brother who absolutely hates me and the girl he used to be in love with.Skyler, not his brother.Well.Also his brother.They were both in love with her at one point but Skyler says he’s over it, never mind, this isn’t important.[huff]Um.My eye’s doing a lot better.Tell Lucas I really hope he gets the photography exhibition thing.I’m super happy for him.And for you, since the anniversary went so well.And I’m happy for Skyler ’cause he’s excited to see his brother and old crush.[siiiggghhh]Fuck me.
Titch:So, I know I sound like an asshole.Honestly, I think it’s Professor Lazlo’s miserableness getting to me.Ken isnotdoing well.He fully didn’t even show up to class last week, so we sat around talking about our writing projects and things are actually going really well for me, I don’t know what my problem is.Guess I miss you.
Armand:[thumbs-up]
Titch:You are so ridiculous.
Lucas Receives an Extremely Decent Proposal
October 20
Jean-Michel and I had met up for a business lunch at Harrods—butternut squash salad with Moroccan mint tea for me, and salmon fillet with white wine for him—before he whisked me away in a breathtaking black Porsche to The Gallery Obscura.I was going to meet Ichika, the owner, who allegedly was interested in showcasing my work.The same woman who launched my favorite photographer’s career.What thehell.
“All right.”Jean-Michel casually draped a large cream-colored coat over his shoulders, and the effect was so distinctly Parisian, I could practically smell the baguettes.“I mustn’t forget Ichika’s gift.”He patted himself down before reaching into his coat pocket and pulling out a tiny glass jar with a silk bow tied around it.
My jaw dropped.“Is that—”
Jean-Michel smiled.“Ah, you know it?I picked it up in Milan last week.”
“Oh my god, yes!My mom used to bring it back whenever she was there for fashion week.”My mouth watered at the memory of the mosttranscendentapricot jam on earth.“Sogno di Albicocca.They only make a few hundred jars a year, right?”
Jean-Michel nodded and slipped it back into his pocket.“There is nothing I love more than providing my friends with little treats.”He led me toward the elevator.
The gallery space was minimalistic and surreal.The current exhibition was a series of black-and-white photographs of the same dilapidated one-eyed baby doll.Which was surely “art” to someone; who was I to judge?But I was pleased to see that Jean-Michel was as unimpressed as I was.He leaned toward me as we walked through the gallery, whispering, “Trèsgauche,” and I fought the urge to giggle.
“Jean, mon ami!Ça fait trop longtemps!”A beautiful petite woman appeared holding a tablet and kissed the air near Jean-Michel’s cheeks.She was dressed head to toe in Yves Saint Laurent, and glanced at me over a pair of bedazzled, horn-rimmed glasses.“Et qui est ce beau jeune homme?”
“This is Lucas Barclay,” Jean-Michel said in English, placing a hand lightly on my shoulder, “from California.”
“Oh yes,Barclay.”Ichika’s very red lips stretched in a smile.“I know your mother, of course.We met at the Suchards’ Benefit last year.Marvelous woman.”
I shook her hand and tried not to feel like a precocious kid among adults.Ichika, like Jean-Michel, was definitely closer to my mother’s age than mine.“It’s an honor to meet you.”
Ichika tapped perfectly manicured nails against her tablet and gestured to a viewing bench.“Shall we discuss?”
Over lunch, Jean-Michel had informed me that he’d thoroughly prepped Ichika, sending her links to my work on Armand’s social media, as well as The End is Neigh website.Which was barely a portfolio—there was no way this woman would give me the time of day, much less an entire exhibition.
No sooner had we assembled on the bench—with Jean-Michel and Ichika on either side of me—when she jumped straight in.“I’ve gone over your work,” she said, showing me my own photos on her tablet screen.“You have an excellent eye and a strong command over light and framing.Your portfolio displays potential.”
