“Well, it’s not easy! I only need two people. Myself and my husband. But I have no plans to release this film commercially, or to ever have anyone see the finished product. It’s my magnum opus, not for public consumption. Forme.So any actor or actress worth their salt won’t want to take months out of their lives to live in my guesthouse just for my personal project. They won’t get residuals or have anything recognizable for their résumé, and I want them immersed in life with their co-star, a good forced-proximity bonding experience, you know.” She sighs.
“Only you would produce a full-scale production for your eyes only,” I say, and she smiles.
“Well, I am one of a kind, darling. And it is a full-scale production, but also intimate and avant-garde, just like everything I do, of course.” She sighs. “I just have to find my Blanche and Henry. If you run across any performers atRendezvous with exceptional acting skills, please send them my way!”
She sees my dad trying to get one of Margot’s babies back into the wrap and struggling, and heads over to help. She only takes a few steps before she turns her head over her shoulder and calls back to me.
“You’d be perfect, actually. You remind me of my Henry!”
I’ve seen pictures of her husband, and I look nothing like him.
“I don’t look like your husband, Blanche.”
She cackles before continuing on to help Dad. “No, you don’t, dear. But you favor him in the onebig way thatcounts!”
Jesus Christ.
“I’m scared to ask what you and Blanche were talking about.”
Turning to see my sister, I smile. She’s radiant in her simple wedding gown, and I can’t help but pick her up and twirl her around.
“You really don’t want to know. Congratulations, KitKat. The ceremony was beautiful. Was it everything you wanted?”
She leans into my side as I kiss her forehead.
“It was perfect. Way better than the first time around.”
I wince, remembering the cupcake monstrosity of a gown that she was forced into for her initial wedding to Henry, when they were strangers and not yet in love. It’s wild to think that it’s been six months. Our lives have changed drastically since then.
“I’m glad,” I say, unhanding her as Henry arrives to take her from me. “I’m planning to stick around, I think. Ivan’s fine with me staying away from home for a bit longer.”
That earns me a blinding smile that she returns.
“Yay! I know we’ll be traveling soon for our honeymoon, but I hope that means I’ll get to see you more. I’ve missed you.”
“She will be very busy performing herwifelyduties in various countries in the near future,” Henry interjects as Kat rolls hereyes. “But once we’re back, we’d love to have you over. Maybe you could come stay with her during any busy weeks I have?”
“I’d love that,” I say. And I would. Kat and I may have spent less time together in the years since she turned sixteen, but we still saw each other most days. And before that, we were raised practically as twins. I miss my sister.
After exchanging our goodbyes, with the party winding down, I find my opportunity to make my exit. Not that I don’t enjoy the Sinclairs, but all of them together, with all the babies, is a lot of stimulation. I take the long way back to my apartment in the city, texting Brad to let him know I won’t be at the club tonight. He’s gotten way too dependent on me to solve the little issues that have been popping up since he’s taken over, and he needs to fully step into Blanche’s shoes if he’s going to make it in this line of work.
I’m still shaking my head, thinking about Blanche’s production plans when I arrive at my apartment to see a notice on the door. Reading it compounds the annoyance I felt building while thinking about Brad’s management of the club. Apparently, this building has been purchased by a billionaire corporation based overseas. They want to make it a home base for their workers when they’re in the city and need to start renovationsnext week.
“You are required to vacate the premises by no later than ten o’clock on the morning of…”
Fuck me.Two days from now? There’s no way that’s legal. Sighing, I throw my keys down on the table in my entryway and look around at my home. It’s not much. Beautiful views and high-end appliances in a kitchen I don’t use. Luxury mattress set on the floor because I never bothered to have a bed frame delivered. Everything about this place screams bachelor pad.Because that’s what it is, Sasha. You’re a bachelor, and this is your pad.
Maybe this is a sign it’s time to head home. Dad said Icouldtravel or stay close to Kat, not that I have to. I could go back home, get back into the swing of things with the business, and consider settling down.
The nausea in my gut at that sequence of events doesn’t surprise me. I don’t know when my home and birthright started giving me anxiety. At least a few years ago, at this point. Raking my hand through my hair, I go to shower the day away, but see a text pop up on my phone.
Blanche:
Any good prospects at the club tonight?
I start typing to tell her that I’m not there, but I stop.Living in her guesthouse, she said.And I remind her of her husband, even if it’s a salacious resemblance. It’s easier than trying to find another suitable apartment on short notice, and maybe trying to be an actor for a bit would be exactly the reset I need. Another option that keeps me closer to Kat and away from home, but not the monotony of the club.
Before I can second-guess myself, I text Blanche back.
