Brynn
Of course not. I wouldn’t be surprised if this was all part of a targeted prosecution that has more to do with the Madoff 2.0 scandal than It’s Ok!
Faith
Yeah, there’s no way El’s family are corporate scumbags.
Corporate scumbags?I didn’t get a chance to read all the headlines, but it sounds worse than I thought. I’m not used to reading anything about me in the media that isn’t affirming in some way, shape, or form.
Mr.Ahn didn’t say we shouldn’t tell people where we’re going, but if I’m going to somehow recover from this major setback, I can’t lose the respect of my friends, which means I definitely can’t tell them we’ve been banished to a place with a population of one hundred and fifty—a town where no one wants to live.
Instead I decide to tell them that I’m going on a silent retreat for the next two weeks while the news of the investigation dies down.Faith suggested going to one before as a joke. At least that’s how the rest of us took it. We laughed about how absurd it seemed to spend a week or two in intentional silence, away from people, technology, and civilization in general. Except that’s exactly what it sounds like it’ll be like in Blaire.
Faith is overexcited for me, asking me to report back all the “deets of your journey.” Brynn is skeptical, as per usual, telling me to take a tracking device with me for my safety. Melody must be confusing a silent retreat for a resort, because she keeps asking me if they have goat yoga and infrared saunas. As the discussion continues, Willow becomes notably quiet in the group chat.
Guess I can’t say I’m surprised. With Willow’s own future in jeopardy, she’ll want to distance herself from any whiff of a scandal, even one with no merit. I’ve watched her work and hustle for every role as a side character, every job as an extra, to now starring in her own sitcom. She won’t want to lose that by being associated with me, and I wouldn’t want that for her, either, even though I was the one who got her the big break in the first place.
While I think of something to respond with, I overhear Gavin on his phone, probably talking to Sonya.Barf.Not that I have anything against her; she’s been nothing but nice to me. But Gavin’s relationship with Sonya is just so…fake. As in, not real. Knowing Dad, he’s probably socially engineered their relationship, since that’s what he tried to do with me.
After theVoguearticle, Dad’s idea of recovering my reputation was to negotiate a relationship between me and someone from a family of similar status. At first I was touched by his efforts to protect me from the harmful side of the media. He said that with the right partner, we could be a powerhouse couple, which would give us an added layer of protection. But then he went on to explainthat because we’d be two people from major industry families, the press would be less inclined to make fun of me—get this—the next time I said something dumb. Can you believe that? After I learned the truth, I realized that his concern, like the proposed relationship, was a lie. Dad wasn’t trying to protect me from the press; he was trying to protect the press from me. Because he believed, like the article implied, that I was too dim-witted to know anything about anything. I felt like saying yes to his negotiated relationship was as good as admitting that I believed it, too, which I didn’t. I know I’m smart. So, out of principle, I rejected Dad’s idea. That was the last time he considered me for any part in the family business.
“What’s the situation like at the condo? Is the press still there? Are you okay?” Gavin pauses while he listens to Sonya’s response. Even the way he asks is so formulaic. In fact, I wouldn’t be surprised if he were reading off a script Dad wrote for him, which is reassuring to me in a way. If being in the family business means being a cog in Dad’s machine, then I have no regrets.
“I’m so sorry about leaving you like that,” Gavin says after Sonya finishes telling him everything. “I should be the one dealing with that mess, not you. If there was any other way—”
Presumably Sonya cuts him off. I think about what she’s saying to him. How she’s mad at him for running away and not manning up. How ironic it is that he’s lost everything when he was the one lecturing others for not being responsible. How a person with his body type, long torso/short legs, shouldn’t wear slim-fit joggers (as long as she’s at it, she might as well say what we’re all thinking).
“Wow, that’s…incredibly understanding of you. You’re seriously the best, Sonya.” He pauses. “Yeah, I miss you too.”
Apparently Sonya is more forgiving than most, which makes me dry heave a little. Even more surprising is finding out that theirrelationship, socially engineered or not, must have developed into something real. I’ve never envied Gavin. I mean, he runs at a stress level you know is going to lead to an early grave. And relationships never felt like a sacrifice at the time, but now seeing the way Gavin is with Sonya makes me think that maybe I have been missing out.
After Gavin gets off the phone, Dad calls him over to join him and Mom. They huddle together in a serious discussion, no doubt talking about the appeal, while I’m standing by myself in the middle of the empty warehouse. Even though I don’t think I need a relationship to protect me from the media, I’ll admit, at times like this, I wonder if it was worth turning down Dad’s idea. Because sometimes not being part of the family business makes me feel like I’m not part of the family.
My phone pings incessantly in my hand. My friends have segued into chittering on about our graduation trip and if we should consider doing a silent retreat or something more typical, like the Maldives or the Amalfi Coast. When they can’t come to a unanimous decision, they ask me which one I prefer. A reminder that despite my nonexistent status in my family, everyone else is curious to know my opinion on any given matter. Because I’m the one leading the life people want. My fingers hover over the keyboard as I think of how to respond. After a few attempts I delete the message and click off my phone. I can’t come up with anything. Not now, when there’s nothing about my life that’s aspirational. We haven’t even left LA yet, and I can already feel my social relevance fading. I sigh. This is what it must be like to be aregularperson.
A car arrives, interrupting my thoughts. At first glance I dismiss it, seeing as it’s a pickup truck. Can’t be paparazzi, either, as the car is ancient and sputters as it makes its way through the empty warehouse. But then the car parks and a guy gets out, introducing himselfas Rick, our driver. He says he’s been hired to take us to Blaire (not to be confused with Bel Air). Once we reluctantly confirm our sad destination, Rick loads our bags into the back and opens the door for us to get in. But no one moves.
“Is there another car coming?” Gavin asks.
Rick scratches his head. “Not that I know of.”
I know what Gavin’s thinking. The truth is, we’ve never ridden together in a car of this size. Which is humbling, to say the least. But I’m not about to give Gavin the satisfaction of admitting it. Especially not in front of Rick, the first driver we’ve had who isn’t wearing a suit.
“I’ve been told to be discreet and that this type of car would throw off anyone following you,” Rick adds when he senses our hesitation.
Well, that’s something we can all agree on. The Oks would definitely not be seen in a car like this. My, how the mighty have fallen.
“What’s that smell?” I cover my nose and breathe through my mouth.
“It’s a diesel fuel engine. You get used to it.” Rick shrugs like it’s no big deal we’re breathing in a dense fume of carcinogens.
“Let’s just get in,” Dad says in a defeated tone. He opens the passenger door to the car and slides in.
Mom opens the back seat door behind the driver’s side and climbs in. I wait for Gavin to get in first, but he just stands there, staring at me.
“After you,” he has the audacity to say.
“I don’t do middle seats.” I purse my lips.
