“Why aren’t we parking in the carriage house and going through the kitchen?” I asked. We always went through the back. Never through the main house entrance. Ever.
“Mad Dog’s coming down. He wants me to drive him into town.”
“Now?” I complained. “The backseat is filled with luggage and ice.”
“Hustle, cub. Get Frida inside with Velvet and see if she needs your help. I’ll dump everything here. Get Kamal and Norma to help move it after we’re gone. Just don’t forget to tell them that there’s forty pounds of melting ice out here, okay?”
Welp. Thirty seconds at the lodge, and we’re already back to work. Hooking the dog leash, I gathered my purse and cross-body bag. Then Frida tugged me across the driveway toward the people arguing in the main house’s open doorway, which sat between two giant California condor sculptures, perched on pillars.
“I may not have my first kitchen delivery,” an unhappy voice was saying. When I crossed the threshold, I spied a familiar figure wearing a cross-back linen apron and a yellow scarf tied around her head. “How can you expect me to throw together a party?”
“Not aparty-party,” someone a couple of years older than me answered. “Just cocktails and a low-key dinner. Small plates. It’s just four extra people. And Daddy. And Rosa. And me. And I guess Starla and Leo because I should include the assistants. And—look, my very own assistant is here! Whoa. You cut your hair for graduation? I likey.”
She did? If Velvet Larsen liked it, that made me feel better about cutting it.
“Jane will be attending—casual summer dress. Something sleeveless with sandals will look good with your new hair. I may have a tiny thing you can borrow,” Velvet told me, smiling. She stood in bare bronze feet on the tile of the entrance hall, wearing a billowing maxi dress. When she reached toward Frida, dozens of gold bangles tinkled on her wrist. “Come,mija!”
Frida pranced her way to Velvet and stood up on her hind legs to greet her. “Oh, doggie kisses, muah, muah, muah!” Both parties quickly lost interest. For Frida, there were too many other smells to sniff, like the elaborate floral arrangement that was taller than me. Frida gave it a bark, just to be sure it wasn’t an enemy in disguise.
I stood under a massive mission-style chandelier that hung between two joining staircases. A window overlooked the pool out back. “What’s this about a cocktail party?”
“It’s not happening,” Exie said. “That’swhat it is.”
“Too bad. I already invited them,” Velvet said, undeterred. “No shrimp, by the way.”
“Who?” I asked.
“Just a little romantic icebreaker.” She winked at meconfusingly. I never knew what her winks meant. They were confusing. Especially because I didn’t know she was seeing anyone. Were others up from L.A. already? Condor Lake was all locals during the off-season. That didn’t mean there weren’t plenty of interesting singles that might be in Velvet Larsen’s orbit, but she dated a lot of UCLA art school dropouts, sons of Hollywood actors, the young nephew of a wealthy Latin Americannarcotraficante—you know, everyday people.
“So now it’s ten people?” Exie said, annoyed. “Tomorrow night? Does Mad Dog know?”
“He knows… that there will be some people here.” That sounded vague. She elaborated. “When I asked, he said, ‘Make it so, number one,’?” Velvet said in a comic voice that was somewhere between her father’s deep Danish accent and Patrick Stewart.
Exie swore filthily under her breath. Mad Dog was a big, tattooed metal Viking, but he had a soft spot for old-school Star Trek and sci-fi shows. That definitely sounded like him.
“Look, this is a nice thing I’m doing,” Velvet argued, gesturing broadly. “You’ll see. It’s a surprise that everyone will like.”
Velvet was the youngest of Mad Dog’s brood, his only daughter with his current wife, Rosa Garcia, a former poet laureate, and Velvet was the only Larsen kid at the lodge this summer. She was high energy and generally fun, but she was a princess; her mother’s family in Mexico City was rich too. She sometimes had unrealistic expectations, which caused headaches for the domestics.
Like now. Parties were easy to plan but hard to execute at the drop of a gold bangle.
But we did it. The main party-executer here was Exie. She was a thirty-eight-year-old Black chef from Baldwin Hills who joined Mad Dog’s crew a couple years before Dad and I did. I wouldn’t say she was a motherly figure because she would hate to be called that, but when I hit puberty, she did more birds-and-bees duty than Dad. She was unofficially second-in-charge on the domestic staff—officially third, after head of security.
I didn’t like when there was tension between them. Definitely didn’t need it today.
“What can… I do?” I asked Exie, fumbling words while trying to control Frida. “Help? Ugh.” I raised my hand and signaled to let her know I was struggling.
The thing about having a brain injury is that everyone treats you differently. Dad was overprotective. Eddie got impatient—I could tell. Exie just kept on treating me exactly the same. She didn’t help me when I was lost for words. She ignored it and kept going.
Her laugh was dry. “Don’t know how you can help, baby. You’re not mine to command anymore. Norma’s neither. Ask your new boss here. You’re attending the party too, remember.”
Velvet smiled. “Exactly! But first, I think I forgot my special shampoo, so you might have to make a trip somewhere to find me a bottle before Thursday night, Jane. I doubt they’d have it here. Maybe Fresno. Or somewhere in the Bay Area?”
“Velvet Larsen,” Exie complained loudly in a voice that echoed through the hall. “No one is driving hours for a bottle of shampoo. Your split ends will survive if they don’t get the exactshit they sell in Bel Air. Jane is your PA, not your baby sister to boss around. Hear me?”
Velvet made a pouty duck face. “Fine. But those small plates better be good Thursday night. I want sunshine on a plate, or I’m walking.”
“Oh. You’re walking, all right.” Exie swatted the air with a kitchen towel as Velvet laughed, racing up the stairs away from her. Just like that, the two of them were on good terms again. My shoulders relaxed, and I felt lighter. Crisis averted.
