The Vibrant Years(55)

“We can’t mess up the Meryl interview,” Joyce said as Aly followed her to her office after they’d watched some footage in the war room. “Our ratings have been dismal this past month.”

The Chihuly piece had garnered almost no views. Which was surprising because Slimy Bob’s niece was even more adorable on camera than they’d expected. That was the audience today. A snoring dog got millions of views, and news channels struggled. No one knew how to crack that code. Aly had worked on a piece last week on fifteen-year-old twins who had become Instagram influencers with two million followers by tasting tacos around the Miami area.

Jess had done the interview. The teenagers had been impressive, giving tips on how to become “voices that people connected to” with heart-tugging earnestness. But really, the only wisdom about something going viral that you could confidently dispense as a tip was that it was entirely random.

“A Meryl Streep interview should fix that,” Aly said with a goodly amount of smugness. Even as blasts of quick and fickle obsession rolled through the mass consciousness in endless waves, real art still held. A parallel stream of the world’s consciousness still worshipped talent.

“Good job on that too,” Joyce said. “That should sustain us for a few months. But we still need programming that keeps bringing viewers in.” Then she brightened. “The initial reaction to the ads we’ve run about a new entertainment segment has been encouraging. We have a new ad hinting at the Meryl interview. I want you to see it.”

Aly’s heart felt like it was going to explode in her chest. She looked over Joyce’s shoulder at her computer, trying to contain the urge to bounce on her heels.

The first thing that flashed on the screen was a close-up shot of Richard Langley, staring at the camera with soulful sadness for the injustices in the world.

Mysterious Death of Florida’s Favorite Literary Star Tainted by Scandal about Estate

It had been almost three weeks since Richard’s death, and the media had done some nice obituaries and not covered it more than that. But this headline meant Richard’s family was still hoping to make trouble about the will.

Joyce made a frustrated sound. “Don’t you just want to kick all men in the balls sometimes?” The bitterness in her voice was deeper than usual. “Did you know I was married to this asshole?”

What? No, Aly most definitely did not know that.

“My first husband. I met him in grad school, when he taught a class at Columbia as an adjunct. He’s John’s father. As narcissistic as they come. He left all his wealth to his last hussy.”

Shit! Shit! Shit!

Joyce’s older son was named John Langley. Somewhere in the far reaches of Aly’s mind, she’d known this. She made a strangled sound.

“Aly, you okay? Do you need to sit down?”

Aly shook her head.

“I wish I could get my hands on that woman. How can someone have such little self-respect?” Joyce said, filled with indignation. Before she’d married her current husband, they’d had an affair for two years while he was still married to someone else. “Seriously, Aly, are you okay? I’m sorry. Did Ashish cheat? Is this triggering you?” She looked around as though the lawsuit Aly might bring for being triggered in the workplace was hiding in a corner.

“Ashish never cheated,” Aly said. There were a million ways to betray someone. Cheating was only one of them. All the same, Ashish had been unflinchingly faithful.

Joyce made a scoffing sound. “Well, fidelity is such an archaic construct. I don’t care that Richard was a serial cheater. But you don’t do that to your children. You don’t steal their legacy from them. It’s a good thing this woman is hiding. Because when this story comes out, she’s going to regret stealing from a man Florida worships.”

With a fierce click she closed out of the news piece and opened the promotional video.

Vignettes of Meryl Streep in her most iconic roles flashed across the screen. A voice-over Aly had recorded boasted about having their town graced by Meryl’s glorious presence. Then Aly flashed on the screen—Aly Menezes Desai, anchor of the new segment Weekend Plans with Aly Menezes Desai.

“It’s just a concept,” Joyce said.

But Aly didn’t care. It was everything.



For the rest of the day, Aly had to work hard not to think about Richard and Bindu. At least Leslie was protecting Bindu and keeping her anonymous.

The last thing Aly was in the mood for was a date. But she’d set it up, and she wasn’t about to let Cullie down. At exactly six o’clock Cullie pulled up in front of the SFLN building to give Aly a ride. She’d been using Aly’s car and working on her app at a coffee shop near Aly’s office. There was something strange yet cute about having her daughter drive Aly to her date. A throwback to when she’d driven Cullie around.

One part of Aly wished Cullie had picked something else to use her coding skills for. The other part wanted to believe that finding someone to be with was as simple as finding your relationship personality on a sliding scale and then matching it with someone.

Of course Bindu’s theory had merit. Who we fell in love with . . . that magic thing that tomes were written in praise of . . . it was basically about what we sought in the world, what we wanted out of life.

What was it about Ashish that had called to Aly? Why had meeting him felt like coming home? Was it because he had an ease with life she didn’t have? What did that say about her? The thing that she did know with clarity was what had pulled their marriage apart at its seams, slowly, steadily, until it had torn. He’d been unable to support her work. But why? That was the piece she wished she could understand.