The Disappearing Act(31)

Souki hauls me from my reverie, demanding photos with the sign, and after a whirlwind of Instagram content creation we lounge spent on the sunbaked rocks and post. Finally she leans back, tilting her face fully into the sun.

“You’re okay, though, right?” she asks, out of nowhere, and I know she means George.

But it’s not George that’s my problem. My thoughts have circled back around and snagged once more on Emily. Emily and the strange things that have happened since I met her. I think of the woman who came to my apartment last night. And make a decision.

“Something weird happened the other day,” I say, meeting Souki’s gaze.

I tell about the parking meter, about Emily disappearing, about the woman, and after I fall silent Souki inhales deeply before speaking.

“That is weird,” she says with finality. I can’t see her eyes past her sunglasses. She looks away for a moment, out toward the hills, before continuing. “Please don’t be offended by this, Mi.” She looks back at me. “But it kind of sounds like you’re lonely—which is totally understandable—what happened the other week was beyond awful. George is such a shit. He’s a terrible, terrible person. No wonder you’re feeling like this. And he still hasn’t even called you, has he? Or explained himself!”

This is exactly where I did not want this conversation to go. What I just told her has nothing to do with George but I realize anything I say to the contrary will make me sound overly defensive and somehow prove the point. I take a calming breath before speaking. “Agreed. But George didn’t make the girl I met at the audition disappear and he definitely didn’t send a complete stranger to my apartment last night, Souk. So I’m not sure how he’s relevant.”

She removes her sunglasses and wipes them with her top. “I’m not saying he’s relevant to that situation. I mean you used to spend all your free time with George. I’m just saying maybe you’re focusing too much on stuff that you normally wouldn’t? You’re a very driven person, Mi, and when you decide to do something you tend to get—not obsessed exactly, but preoccupied, and now you suddenly have all this time on your hands.”

“So you’re saying none of what I’ve told you would have bothered you?” I ask her carefully.

“Honestly?” she asks. I nod her on. “I wouldn’t have helped her in the first place. It kind of sounds like a weird situation.”

“I just didn’t want to go in next!” I protest. “I wasn’t ready and if I’d gone in then I would have been flustered and not gotten it.”

“And did you get it?” she parries.

The question pulls me up short.

“No,” I confess. “No, I didn’t get it.”

“Yeah, look, I love you, Mi, but do you think maybe you’ve just let yourself get distracted by this random person? Is there a chance that this actress was a just a bit of a flake and that she sent a friend to pick up her stuff last night because her life is messy?”

I consider Souki’s question before responding. “But the woman last night was actually pretending to be her! She told me this whole involved story about a boyfriend in the hospital—”

“Yeah, people are fucking weird out here, Mi,” she interrupts. “Don’t get involved. Please, tell me you’ll drop this. Please.” She looks at me plaintively and suddenly I know she’s right. I’m obsessing over the elusiveness of a complete stranger rather than the elusiveness of the man who was supposed to love me more than anyone else. And she’s right about another thing. If George and I were still together I wouldn’t have even noticed Emily at that audition the other day. I would have been focused; I wouldn’t have been so desperate to find some kind of distraction.

“Okay,” I decide. “You’re right. I will drop it.” I exhale noisily and smile as Souki leans in to give me a warm, sun-cream-scented hug.

As we wind our way back down into the city, I mention Nick, careful not to go back over how we met two days ago.

“Is he American?” she asks.

I purse my lips to keep from grinning like an idiot and nod.

Souki raises her sunglasses theatrically, eyes aflame with interest. “Do I know him? Is he an actor?”

I know he hasn’t really expressed any interest, he’s just been friendly, but I let myself run with the idea of getting slightly more friendly if the possibility’s there. A little holiday romance might keep me out of trouble.

“No. He’s definitely not an actor.” I laugh. “I don’t know what he does but he’s got an office in North Hollywood,” I say lightly. “So, normal job, I guess.”

Souki fully removes her sunglasses now and high-fives me. “Yes babes! Yes! Is he ridiculously hot?”

I nod, somewhat pained. “Uh-huh,” I confirm. “Which is not ideal.”

“Why is that not ideal?” Her forehead creases in disbelief.

“Because—oh God, this is embarrassing—because I promised myself I wouldn’t go for another guy hotter than me.” I know what’s coming before the words are out of my mouth.

“Not true. And babes, that’s the dream anyway! The absolute dream. But listen, and trust me on this, George was nice-looking, sure, but you can do so much better, Mi. And I don’t mean, like, a ‘nicer’ guy; I mean a ‘hotter’ guy. Like, okay, do you remember Jamie Vintner when we were on The First Crusade?”