The Comeback(14)

When I get to the restaurant, Laurel is exactly as she always is, short black Afro, her obnoxiously skinny frame draped in layers of organic cotton. Only the crease between her eyebrows has changed. I resist the urge to reach out and touch the smooth, waxy skin.

“You need a project,” she says almost as soon as we’ve sat down. A wave of mild resentment washes over me, and I wonder if I liked having her around before because she reminds me of my mother.

The server comes over to take our order.

“Can I have the flatbread with goat cheese and caramelized onion?”

Laurel looks horrified. “What the fuck?”

It turns out it’s totally okay to drink so much that you have to be carried out the back door of a strip club, but the moment you order carbs for lunch, you’re certifiably insane.

“You know they call it a flatbread but it’s really a pizza. A pizza. Do you want me to take you to an Overeaters Anonymous meeting? I’ve heard that everyone goes to the one in Silver Lake.”

“Jesus, Laurel.”

“Okay. But let me know.”

I pour some sugar into my black coffee, but I don’t mix it because I like the warm sugary paste that collects at the bottom. Laurel is watching me closely. I forgot that this is how everyone looks at me here, as if they’re waiting for me to break.

“So should I start telling people that you’re back?”

People. She only knows people because of me.

“No.”

“Okay, no problem. You need to settle in. Do you want me to speak to Maya about starting up barre and Pilates again?”

“I don’t want to do barre or Pilates.”

“Okay, sweetie.” Laurel raises an eyebrow and looks somewhere over my shoulder like we’re on a reality TV show and I’m being unreasonable. Then she starts to flick her hand at me, pinching the air around me.

“Stop adjusting my energy,” I say irritably.

“I’m cleansing your aura. Why did you come back, Grace?”

The waitress brings my pizza over, and I inhale the scent of melted cheese. Why did I come back? I think of everything I’ve ever left behind, of the memories that come back for me just when I think I could be safe, and I feel a kick of shame somewhere deep in the pit of my stomach. I came back because I was drowning there, too, Laurel. I came back because I have nowhere else to go. I came back because I wanted to start over, but now that I’m here, it’s like I’ve forgotten how I ever pretended to be normal.

“Because my mom made me,” I say, but Laurel doesn’t smile.

“How was it with you guys?” she asks seamlessly, as if she remembered all along that my mom and I don’t get on.

“Okay, I guess.” I shrug. She reaches over and covers my hand with hers. She’s wearing large crystal bracelets, and they rest uncomfortably on my wrist. I resist the urge to move my hand.

“Are you on something?”

“Why is everyone asking me that?”

Laurel frowns at me. “Do you think you should go to a wellness retreat or something for a while? Or you could join that church everyone goes to? With the tattooed pastor? He wears cowboy boots.”

“What?” I say, squinting at her. “What about cowboy boots?”

“Trust me, it’s a real thing.”

“I am not joining a church,” I say slowly, “because it’s a thing. Anyway, my mom’s half-Jewish.”

“What’s that got to do with anything?” Laurel says. “Look, I’m just worried you’re not ready to be back in LA. People are going to want answers.”

“I don’t have any answers,” I say, and then I shrug again. “Being back here, I don’t know. I feel numb. It’s not the worst.”

“Numb isn’t good for people like me or you,” Laurel says, but she can’t quite frown in the right way because of the Botox. “Where did you go, Grace?”





CHAPTER ELEVEN





A good memory, this time. One of the few that I cling to as if it could slip away at any moment, as good things have the tendency to do.

Six months after I landed the role in the assassin trilogy, the studio held fan events in three key cities—New York, Beijing and London. The movie was a remake of a comic book, so there was already a network of die-hard fans that came with the territory. They seemed desperate to stake their claim on this new incarnation from the start, devouring and sharing every piece of information from the moment the franchise was announced, so the studio took advantage of it.

The London event would be my first-ever public appearance. We were warned in advance that it would be broadcast live online, and potentially picked up by TMZ and E!, as well as other media outlets. This didn’t mean a huge amount to me at the time, other than it being the driving force behind Able’s decision to put together an impromptu hair and makeup team, saving me from making any major mistakes so early on in my career.

We were given a hotel room close to the venue, and I sat in front of a large mirror as my new “glam squad” set to work. A Black Eyed Peas song played from the hotel radio, competing with the sound of the football coming from the TV my dad was watching, and I tried not to sneeze every time the woman doing my makeup dusted something over the bridge of my nose. My mom proudly stood watch next to us, instructing the makeup artist on my best features, while Esme curled up on the sofa next to my dad, watching us all over her copy of Anne of Green Gables.