“Stop complaining that you have boobs.” I gesture to my almost B cups. “Check out this view,” I marvel. “The city looks so beautiful from up here, I know it’s cliché, but it is just like the movies. Those twinkling lights of lives and dreams. It almost makes me miss living in this crazy town.”
“Yeah, it’s really nice even though we did almost die getting here. This better be a fun party.”
The twisty curves along Mulholland had been almost too much to bear, especially in the back seat of an Uber with a faulty suspension. I should have sprung for the executive car. The two double gin and tonics we’d enjoyed in Bex’s backyard after mimosas at brunch were sloshing around in our stomachs as the car swerved and swayed. A near miss with an oncoming Range Rover almost made us both throw up. The driver was thoughtful though and clearly protective of his 4.87 rating—there were handy wipes and a roll of paper towels tucked into the middle seat console. This driver was ready for anything. I’d told him to drop us off a couple of blocks away from the address so we could get some fresh air and walk off the nausea.
“I think this is going to be a big party. Look at all the cars. And nice ones too,” I say.
“Come on, Liv.” Bex rolls her eyes. “I don’t care if a guy drives a pickup truck or a Porsche. You know, I’d actually prefer the pickup truck. You can’t haul anything around in a sports car.”
“Maybe there’s an app for that. Pickup Truck Bucks,” I say, racking my brain at all the dating sites I’d discovered while researching Bex’s profiles. “You know there’s even one for ‘Uniform Dating.’ How ’bout a fireman?”
Finally, after a pretty steep walk past a growing line of parked cars, our stilettos click-clacking up to the address, we arrive.
“Is this it?” Bex says.
“Yeah.” I look at my phone to confirm that we’re at the right number. “Yup, this is it. Shall we?” I raise my hand about to ring the doorbell.
“This is a house,” Bex states. “I mean it’s a nice house, but it’s a house. I thought this was some kind of event, like at a warehouse or a gallery. How do you know these people?”
“Yes, it’s a house. An amazing house,” I say. “You just don’t get this kind of place in London. This is so LA. Is that an infinity pool behind the gate?” I try my best to sound encouraging, sensing that Bex is about to turn tail and make a run for it.
“Are these friends of friends, or someone from Ethan’s firm?” Bex says, switching into LAPD detective mode.
I can tell she’s starting to get nervous. She’s been hibernating for longer than I thought.
“Beeexxxxxx,” I say, whining and stretching her name out beyond the one syllable to get my way. “Come on, you can’t bail now. It was Saturday night, I guess that makes it all right,” I sing out of key, knowing that the right lyrics will lure her into action.
“Oh, all right, fine, let’s do it.” When she sings back What have I got to lose I know I’ve got her hooked. “Hopefully, there won’t be anyone crying,” Bex says dramatically as she rings the doorbell.
We hear a high-pitched laugh from inside. “I’m coming!” a voice calls out with a slightly sarcastic edge as the door opens with a flourish.
“Hi, ladies, come in. Oh, I like the dress,” a giggly woman in one of those Hervé Leger bandage dresses says to Bex. “Very Dynasty.” We squeeze past her and walk inside.
“Dynasty? Why did she say that? Is it too fancy? Too Joan Collins? I mean, I got it from Anthropologie!” Bex whispers to me.
“Stop with the insecurity, you look amazing. You know you do. Okay, so let’s get a drink then assess viable suitors to approach.” I try to sound like I’ve got a plan when this party doesn’t appear to have as many single guys as I’d hoped it would.
“Assess viable suitors to approach? Could you make that sound any less cool?” Bex says to me. She’s right, but I’m not going to admit it.
We take a good look around. It’s not exactly how I thought the event would be, but I’m going to make the most of it for Bex’s sake. Two huge leather modular sofas form a semi-rectangular shape in the high-ceilinged living room. There’s a beautiful fireplace, but nothing on the mantel. In fact, there are hardly any decorative touches, or much furniture, anywhere.
“Hmm, strange that it’s so minimalist inside yet so Hollywood Hills rococo outside. I mean, did you see that water feature by the front door? It looked like something from Versailles,” I say.
“Okay, just because you follow Architectural Digest on Instagram doesn’t make you an interior design guru. Hey, there’s the bar.” Bex grabs me and we head for what appears to be a makeshift bar in the large, open-plan kitchen.
“Hi, could we have two G and Ts, please?” Bex says to the young bartender who isn’t wearing a shirt.
“I do love California.” I sigh, staring at his tan muscular arms. “He’s cute,” I whisper.
“Do not even go there. Do not try to set me up with another bartender,” Bex says.
“Oh all right fine, but look at those biceps. So, we’re sticking with the G and Ts then?”
“Yeah, I’m trying not to mix alcohol. Not that I always follow my own rules, of course.” We both laugh, acknowledging without having to say it, the many times we used to see each other bowing to the porcelain god.
Hot Biceps serves us the drinks. “Have fun tonight,” he says with a wink. “And I made them doubles so you won’t have to come back here too soon.”
“Well, I wouldn’t mind coming back soon for a refill,” I say quietly to Bex. “Those arms.”
“Stop it. This is already hard enough for me. So can you take it seriously, please?”
“Okay, you’re right. I’m sorry. Let’s see, who do you think is cute?” I scan the room. “What about that—” I’m about to point out a guy across the room as I’m interrupted mid-sentence.
“Hi! I’m Candace and this is Chad. People call us Chandace.” Candace, a bleach blond twenty-something sidles up close to Bex. “I lovvvve that dress!”
“Um, thanks,” Bex says. “I wasn’t sure about it. The woman at the door said it was Dynasty.”
“Dynasty?” Candace says. “Oh, is that that new place on Sunset everyone’s talking about? Isn’t it owned by a Kardashian?”
Bex and I make eye contact, trying not to laugh.
“Hey, where’s your man?” Candace says to Bex, lowering her voice conspiratorially.
“My man? Oh God, um, where do I even start,” Bex drawls theatrically. The double G and T is already hitting her hard. “We met, like, ages ago, a few years after college. He was so gorgeous, I mean, I was really swept off my feet. A fairy tale. But, I’m here to tell you that not all fairy tales have a happy ending.”
Candace seems slightly confused. Meanwhile, Chad, a Ken to Candace’s Barbie, leans in to me. “I get it, it’s cool. She doesn’t have a man, does she?”
“What? Well, I mean,” I say, thinking to myself that this Chad guy is overstepping boundaries. But maybe he has a nice, successful friend here. “Dating in this day and age—especially at our age—has its challenges,” I say. Chad is so close I know that he had something with garlic for dinner. I take a small step back. “Besides, some men are uneasy with a woman who won’t settle and knows what she wants.”