“I’m so happy you’re going to be there for longer than a few days this time,” I say.
“Beach days!”
“Not quite,” I say. “But you remember, just shooting there is pretty awesome.”
I’m not going to be there this time as long as I’d like to be. Only for a month, then Jordan and I fly to Seattle to shoot the rest of the second film. Rainer and Alexis will be in and out.
“Let’s pay,” Georgina says. “I have to pack.”
“Me too,” I say. I’m trying to remember where my shoes and bridesmaid dress are.
“I already took care of it,” Tailor says. She waves at the waiter, who gives her a little nod.
We make our way down the steps and wait for the valet to bring Tailor’s car around.
I tuck my chin to my chest and cross my arms. The paparazzi are yelling at all of us, but I see them angle toward me. That’s a strange thing. That in this group, I’m the most famous. The photo of me will go for more than the one of Tailor or Georgina or Alexis.
Some of it is the scandal, but most of it isLocked. It’s bigger than anything else. I don’t know whether I feel pride or shame at that. Both, probably.
Tailor’s car comes around, and Georgina gets in front, Alexis and me in the back.
“That was intense,” Tailor says as she makes a left onto Melrose.
“You think?” I say. “That’s nothing compared to what it was a few weeks ago.”
Alexis squeezes my shoulder. “They’ve been cruel,” she says.
Tailor flashes me a sympathetic smile in the rearview.
“What time is your flight?” Georgina asks me.
“Nine,” I say. “I have to help my mom with the rehearsal dinner tomorrow. We’re hosting.”
“Isn’t that traditionally the groom’s responsibility?” Tailor asks.
“I guess. But the groom’s family hasn’t really spoken to either of them since my sister got pregnant.”
“Families are so fucked up,” Georgina offers.
I think about the legal battle Rainer is currently in the middle of with his father, the details of which I’m not even sure of anymore. Lately, I’ve been feeling pretty lucky to have the family that I do. Sure, my sister and I are different, and my brothers still treat me like a football, but at least we’re not actively trying to mess up each other’s lives.
“Do you mind dropping me off in Beverly Hills?” I ask.
Tailor nods. “No problem. Do you have a ride to the airport?”
I hadn’t even thought about it. “I’ll call a cab.”
“I’ll send over a driver,” Alexis says, nodding at me. “Nicer and more discreet.”
When they stop in front of the house, Alexis gets out and pulls me into a hug. “Have fun,” she says.
“I will.” And I think it might be true. I’m excited to be back in Portland, and even to see my sister. For the first time in a long time, I’m ready to go home.
Whether home is ready for me, or even aware of me, is another story entirely. No one in my house would notice me if an anvil fell on my head. I swear. It’s like I’m invisible. Which, given the overexposure of the last few months, is totally fine by me. My sister and mom buzz around like they’re on every ounce of speed on the planet.
Saturday morning there are two caterers, three servers, two handymen, six bridesmaids, my mother, and two of her friends all stuffed into our house. And everyone is in motion.
The wedding is going to be in the backyard, and people are setting up chairs and erecting an arch where our swing set used to be—it’s made entirely of daisies, my sister’s favorite.
