“Okay, so apparently, I ghosted this guy at a restaurant—and I probably did. I ghost a lot of people, or I’d never get through a meal. Broke his heart, so he decided we’d be together in the next world. Hence, pipe bomb. Fortunately, I’d stepped out to the bathroom when he tossed it into the living room. Some regular fans were down on the beach, and they tackled him before he could throw the next one. Saved my life.”
“So you moved home?”
“Yeah. I grew up here, it’s not so bad. Neighbors all try to set me up with their granddaughters. And everyone’s into everyone else’s business, so it’s a pretty good neighborhood watch—from a security point of view. And like I say, I work insane hours, so I’m rarely here.”
“So you’re a commune kid too! Though yours is a touch more upmarket.”
At the end of the street, he pulled up to an arched metal gate along a stone wall. He glanced at her, and she got the hint to look away as he punched in a code. The gate slid open. At first it seemed like another classic single-level mid-century home—pale stone, floor-to-ceiling glass, tropical planting—but on one side the driveway dipped, and Griffin glided the car into a subterranean garage, which he accessed with a fingerprint lock.
Low lights eased on as they drove in, and Lana realized calling it a “garage” was like calling the Statue of Liberty agarden gnome. It was more a luxury car court, with half a dozen gleaming vehicles parked in precise angles, the soft lighting designed more for display than visibility. “Is that a turntable? For cars?”
“If Dad had his way, this entire floor would be a garage,” Griffin said, parking beside a classic Porsche. “But then there’d be no room for the his-and-hers home cinemas.”
“I’m sorry, what?”
“My folks like to have the option of watching separate films. I’m aware this is not how most people live—though this house is modest compared with some of the giga-mansions around here.”
“Is anyone home?” Lana suddenly felt nervous at the prospect of meeting Griffin’s parents.
“My folks are away. Their housekeeper and groundskeeper might be around.”
They took an eerily quiet elevator up one level. It opened into a foyer dominated by a curving, glossy bronze wall. It took her a second to realize that the gloss was a sheen of water that flowed into a pond. She followed Griffin through a curved living room, all shiny black and white, accented by strategically placed mirrored surfaces. The longest wall was made entirely of glass, and beyond it lay a rectangular pool and a hazy view that stretched across the L.A. Basin to the ocean. A white terrazzo floor flowed through the interior and the terrace. Lana didn’t know what to say— “Nice place you have here?”—so she stayed silent. She remembered she was well overdue for a shower.
He opened a door to one side and let them out onto a covered path. They took a few broad steps down to pool level, and came to a wooden door. The pool house. He took off his sunglasses and looked into what she guessed was a retinal scan. The door clicked and he held it open.
She walked in, her shoes squeaking on the floor—more white terrazzo. It was a single rectangular room with a kitchen islandin the middle. At the far end, a cozy cream L-shaped sofa and an armchair were arranged around a glass coffee table. Next to Lana was a large futon bed. The longest wall was lined with thin horizontal slats, possibly teak, while the walls facing the pool and the view were floor-to-ceiling glass.
“It’s a little stuffy, sorry,” Griffin said. “It’s been shut up all week.”
It did have the lived-in smell of a home that hadn’t been aired recently. Not an unpleasant smell—it was somehow a Griffin scent, not that she could yet identify what that was.
Griffin touched a tablet inset into a wall beside the door, and the glass walls slid back, so noiselessly that it was a little creepy. A welcome breeze coasted in. With just a few steps, you could dive into the pool, though it’d be a shame to burst its glossy blue skin. Going the other way, you could step down to a smaller terrace and sit on a white outdoor sofa.
“This is it? It’s only about twice the size ofmyapartment!”
“Your apartment is half the size of this?” Griffin scooted past her, touching her upper arms on the way. She flinched. He picked up a hoodie from the hastily made bed and shoved it into a roll-out drawer underneath, then grabbed a pair of sneakers from the middle of the floor, tossing them beside the door.
“I could feasibly cook dinner while sitting in bed. You’d have to take a few steps.”
Stylistically, though, Griffin’s pool house belonged in an interiors magazine. White linen curtains pooled on the floor. Round blown-glass lights were suspended from the ceiling, not quite in sync with the furniture placement, as if designed for a different configuration. Alcoves in the slat wall held sculptural ceramics, their smooth, matte whiteness contrasting with the glossy warmth of the wood. A large-screen TV was recessed into the timber—the sofa was arranged so one half of the L-shape faced the view and the other the TV. From nowhere, shegot a mind picture of curling up there with Griffin, watching something, and suddenly she understood the appeal of films.
The thought of cozying up with Griffin drew her gaze to the bed. Beside it, a stack of books doubled as a nightstand—A Gentleman in Moscowby Amor Towles,What I Talk About When I Talk About Runningby Haruki Murakami, Homer’sIliadandOdyssey… At the top, a pair of reading glasses with thin black frames rested on a small green hardcover. Griffin wearing glasses was a thing she had to see. Griffin lying in bed, reading, was a thing she had to see. What did it say about her that her immediate fantasy, upon sighting his bed, was of himreadingin it?
“Do you approve?”
She spun around. “What?”
“The books,” he said with a slightly puzzled grin.
“Oh.” She collected herself. “You don’t need to seek approval from anyone for your book choices.”
“Spoken like a true badass librarian.”
“But yes, great books.” She lifted the reading glasses and read the embossed gold print on the green hardcover. “Leaves of Grass. Walt Whitman. Holy shit, is this a first edition?”
“Christmas present from my mom, a few years back. I have no idea how she found it.”
“When you said you lived in a pool house, I pictured a changing shed, perhaps with a bar.”
