The Good Twin(26)

He didn’t think less of himself for wanting to be rid of his wife. Of course, divorce was one way to do it. But Charly had trapped him into this decision. She had pushed him to give up law school; she had insisted on a prenuptial agreement; she had forced him to accept her father’s job offer; she had showered upon him the spoils of wealth. Anyone in his position would know he couldn’t just walk away from that.

After he finished serving the homeless men and women who came to Holy Apostles for a meal, he sometimes sat down and talked to a few of them. Some were war veterans, too overcome with PTSD to hold down a job; some he could tell right away had a screw loose in their heads. Some were addicts, living from day to day. But some had lived normal lives, holding down a job, supporting a family, and then poof—it all had disappeared. Maybe because they lost their job and couldn’t find another. Maybe because a serious illness had wiped away all their savings, and when they’d recovered, they had nothing left. Each man and woman had a different story, a different reason for being there. At first, he commiserated with them, feeling genuine anguish listening to their tales. Now, all he could think about was how quickly he could leave.

Whatever brought these men and women to Holy Apostles, the one thing Ben knew was that nobody who had extraordinary wealth—no matter what obstacles landed in his path—ever ended up on a soup-kitchen line.





CHAPTER 19

November 29, 2016

From: bswann129

To: malloryart24

Re: LA

Another business trip to LA. YEAH!!! This time you have to be there. I just miss you to pieces. Arriving 12/5. Leaving on 12/8, staying at Four Seasons. I insist you meet us for dinner on 12/6 or 12/7. You choose.

I couldn’t keep putting Brian off. Stan traveled throughout the world meeting clients, and it stood to reason that Los Angeles would be one of his regular stops. Eventually, I’d either have to cut off all contact with Brian, a possibility I loathed, or meet him in LA. This was one of those times that having a credit card with no limit would come in handy. I called Ben to let him know—after all, he was getting the bills, and I didn’t want him to think I was skipping out on our agreement—and then reserved a flight and a hotel room for December 6 through the 9. I had to make sure I left LA after Brian and Stan. I couldn’t risk running into them at the airport.



I stepped out of the terminal in Los Angeles and was greeted by balmy weather. I didn’t need the down jacket on my arm; my light sweater was enough. I grabbed a taxi and gave the driver the name of the Omni hotel on South Olive Street. I could have stayed at the Ritz-Carlton. Ben wouldn’t have cared, but I still wasn’t comfortable with the notion that I didn’t have to watch my spending. Maybe, when it wasn’t Ben’s credit card I was using, when the money was my own, in my bank account . . . maybe then I could start to ignore price tags. But I wasn’t there yet.

I chose my hotel because of its location. I didn’t want to be near the Four Seasons, where Brian and Stan were staying. I didn’t want to take the risk of running into them and having to explain why I wasn’t at work.

With just a taxi-ride view of Los Angeles, I could see how different it was from Manhattan, and, of course, worlds apart from Scranton. It was so much more spread out. Manhattan was compact, humanity squeezed together on a small island. Los Angeles seemed to have no edges.

I settled into the hotel, then went outside to take a walk. The streets had a different feel from Manhattan, too—less crowded, less frenzied. I walked for almost two hours, stopping in little boutiques along the way, trying on expensive clothes, looking at pricey jewelry. I could have bought anything I wanted, but I knew I would only be able to wear something at dinner tomorrow night that had been part of my original wardrobe. Otherwise, Brian or Stan might start asking me questions I didn’t want to answer.

I got back to my hotel and ordered room service. I felt beat from the flight, the long walk, and the fact that my body was responding to the three-hour time difference. I struggled to stay awake until 10:00 p.m., then fell into a deep sleep. When I awoke the next morning, the sun was just beginning to rise. I dressed in running gear, then headed to the hotel’s gym for an hour run. When I finished, I showered and dressed, then did the most touristy thing I could think of—I went to Universal Studios. I’m not big on amusement park rides, especially the scary ones, but I splurged on the VIP Experience to get an insider peek at the workings of a movie studio.

I arrived shortly after 10:00 a.m. and was assigned to a guide. For the rest of the day, I felt pampered as we toured the back lot of the studio, marched to the front of the lines for rides, and had the best seats for the shows. By the time I returned to the hotel, I was exhausted, but I had less than an hour before I had to meet Brian and Stan for dinner. I lay down for fifteen minutes, then took a quick shower and got dressed.

I was meeting them at Culina, an Italian restaurant in the Four Seasons hotel. When I got there, they were already seated, and both jumped up as soon as they saw me. Brian was the first to grab me in a bear hug. When he pulled away, Stan did the same.

“Sweetie, aren’t they feeding you here? You’ve lost weight,” Stan said when we were finally seated.

“It’s LA. Everybody here is on a diet. I’m just trying to fit in.”

“Well, you look fabulous,” Brian said.

I had to admit, it was great seeing them both again. I knew I was supposed to cut all my ties once I’d moved into Ben’s parents’ house, but Brian had been in my first art class when I’d moved to New York, and every one after that. I just couldn’t turn my back on him.