Chasing Chaos: A Novel (15 page)

“Great,”
Daphne said. “I really like Carrie.”

“I’m
still not convinced you meeting up with Carrie was coincidence,” he said. “I
think it was all part of your grand plan to land me.”

“Have
I landed you then?”

Marlon
set his phone on the table. “Yes.”

“Aren’t
we jumping to conclusions?”

“Nope.”

“Are
you afraid of scaring me off with your straightforward confessions?”

“Absolutely.”

“I’m
starting to feel like you aren’t afraid of anything.”

Marlon
flew from the bed, stopping in front of her. “I’m afraid of everything, Daphne.
Everything.” He wrapped his arms around her, pressing their bare bodies
together while the night air whispered over them.

They
climbed back into bed. Daphne picked up her phone and dialed Miranda.

“Hey,
Daphne. What’s going on?” Miranda said.

“I
got hung up at Sandy’s house with wedding plans,” she said. “I won’t be making
it home tonight. Are you going to be OK without me?”

“Oh
sure. I don’t cook, so a kitchen fire’s unlikely. You have forty-five
deadbolts, so a burglary is unlikely too. That just leaves vandalism by me, but
I’m way cleaner than you are, so mostly you have to worry about me hiding your
stuff in places where they belong like drawers and closets.”

“Good
night,” Daphne said, suddenly happy that Miranda was visiting.

“Yeah,
you too.”

Daphne
set her phone down and turned to Marlon. “That phone call just raised an
important issue.”

“What
do we tell people.”

“Can
we wait till after the wedding?”

“Of
course.”

Then
she curled into his arms and fell asleep.

Just
before eight o’clock on the morning of her wedding, Greta pulled her green
pickup truck into the circular drive by Sandy’s front door. The truck was an
antique at this point. But for some reason she couldn’t fathom, in Los Angeles,
its age, combined with its excellent upkeep at her hands, made it cool. She saw
Sandy’s perfect car nosing out of the garage at the bottom of the driveway.
Sandy’s car was cool. Her car was only kept from jalopy status because of her
willpower and automotive knowledge. Once again she wondered if all the
residents of this overly large city were deranged.

Then
she noticed another car parked farther down the driveway, a blue Audi S4 sedan
with nineteen inch wheels and Pirelli tires. It was a car she would recognize
anywhere. Daphne was here already, but she wasn’t parked at Sandy’s house. She
was parked at Marlon’s.

Greta
climbed the steps to Sandy’s front porch, then let herself inside. Five years
ago he’d given her a key, and he’d never asked for it back.

Earlier
that morning, she’d received a text message from Daphne with a request. Daphne
needed her to stop by Daphne’s home to pick up her clothes and makeup for the
wedding. Daphne’s condo was essentially on Greta’s way, so it wasn’t a big
deal. Greta had hoped to say hello to Miranda as well, but Miranda had still
been sleeping when Greta had arrived.

Greta
entered Sandy’s kitchen and made her way to his espresso machine, a
professional model similar in size and function to the one they had at Rivet.
She deftly ground the beans and compressed them into the portafilter, then
locked it into place. She set a cup under the spout and pressed the brew
button. While the machine churned, she heard the front door open and a voice
call hello. Daphne.

“In
here!” Greta called out over the noise of the machine. “I’m making us fancy
coffee.”

Daphne
came in, setting her bag on the counter. She plopped on a bar stool.

Greta
didn’t pay much attention to clothes. But she knew without a doubt that Daphne
was wearing the same shirt she’d worn yesterday at the Beverly Center.

“Where’s
Sandy?” Daphne asked.

“Getting
breakfast take-out from down the street. We’re supposed to wait for him here.”

Greta
added cream to the Americanos she’d brewed, then handed one to Daphne. Both
took a moment to sip their coffees. Greta waited for Daphne to offer up
information about Marlon, but she wasn’t forthcoming.

“So
you broke up with Dan,” Greta said, sitting on the stool next to Daphne.

Daphne
looked up at her over the top of her mug, then nodded.

“Did
it go OK?”

“It
was fine.” Daphne sighed. “He was annoyed more than anything.”

“Annoyed
about being dumped? That’s a predictable reaction, I suppose.”

“I
think he was more annoyed that I cheated on him.”

Greta
raised her eyebrows in surprise. “How did he infer that?”

“I
told him.”

“Why
did you do that?” Greta asked, incredulous. “What outcome could you have
possibly hoped for?”

“He
was very resistant to me breaking up with him. It was like he couldn’t hear the
words.”

“Dan
isn’t unintelligent. What happened?”

“I
told him, Dan we’re breaking up. And he said, I don’t understand your words.
And I said, Dan we’re breaking up. And he said, Your words make no sense to me
because I’m an early hominid.”

“He
wouldn’t listen, so you raised the stakes.”

“Correct.”

“You
tried to force him out by admitting your infidelity.”

“Yes.”

“Did
it work?”

“Sort
of. At first he offered to ‘forgive’ me!” Daphne shook her head. “And now, he
still seems to want to work together. And that’s what I want too, in my fantasy
version of these events. But his wanting the same thing seems too good to be
true.”

“Because
he’s an early hominid.”

“He
was tetchy at first, but then things seemed like they were before, back when we
were friends.” Daphne set down her mug. “And I don’t have many friends. I’d
prefer to keep him as one.”

“I
understand,” said Greta. And Greta did understand. She didn’t have many friends
either.

“I
invited him to the wedding. I hope you don’t mind.”

“I
don’t mind.”

“How
did you know I broke up with him?”

“Because
Marlon would never spend time with a girl who had a boyfriend. That’s not his
way.”

Daphne
shrieked and smacked Greta on the arm that wasn’t holding a coffee mug. “You
knew about Marlon and didn’t say anything!”

“Daph,
it didn’t take deductive genius. Between your car and your shirt, even someone
who wasn’t your best friend could have figured it out.”

“I’d
hoped to be in here before you arrived and to have come up with some nonsense
for why I was parked all the way down there by Marlon’s apartment.”

“And
the shirt?”

“Yeah,
that I’d just hoped you wouldn’t notice.”

Greta
rested her hand on Daphne’s forearm, letting the warmth of her hand seep into
Daphne’s body. Daphne had taught her that words weren’t the only way people
spoke to one another. “Is Marlon why you were crying yesterday?”

Daphne
paused to consider the question. “Yes and no.”

“You
still want to wait to talk about it until after the wedding? We have some time
now.”

“I
want to wait.”

Greta
knew Daphne had some silly notion about not wanting to spoil Greta’s special
day. And Greta didn’t want to make things worse by insisting the day wasn’t
that special and pressing Daphne to talk.

Greta
had known Daphne long enough to know when to wait.

~~~~

As
Greta made a second round of coffee, Daphne played with Jodie and Foster, who
were in the kitchen hoping for treats. When the front door to Sandy’s house
opened, the dogs trotted out to the foyer. A few minutes later, they followed
Sandy back into the kitchen.

Sandy
was holding a large brown shopping bag stamped with the insignia of the market
down the hill. He must have walked there, Daphne figured. His car had been in
the garage when she’d come up to the house.

She
thought of the many times Marlon must have walked to the market as well.
Indeed, the market and the restaurants around it seemed like the heart of this
small nook of a larger neighborhood. The thought of Marlon walking down the
hill to buy tomatoes made her smile.

“I
see trouble has already arrived at my kitchen table,” Sandy said, setting down
the bag. He reached in and fished out three to-go boxes. “I just got three of
the same thing.”

Inside
each box were croissants, eggs and even some sort of sausage.

“I
know you two eat actual food,” Sandy said. “So I went big.”

The
girls sat side-by-side and dug in.

“There’s
no way this is pork sausage,” Daphne said eventually. Not because of the
flavor—it tasted really good. But because of the principle.

“Agreed,”
Greta said.

“Chicken,
I think,” said Sandy.

“That’s
a gastronomical fallacy,” said Greta.

She
and Greta ate until all their food was gone, and then they ate the food Sandy
had left in his box too.

“I
always underestimate how much you two can eat,” he said with a chuckle. “I
should have doubled the order. Come on. Let’s go outside.”

Daphne
and Greta grabbed their coffee mugs and followed him.

He
led them out onto his deck overlooking the valley. Daphne glanced to her right,
to a smaller version of this deck that jutted from the garage apartment.

“So,
my girls, it’s down to us,” Sandy said. “We’re getting invaded in a few
minutes, but right now, having just the three of us here feels nice.”

“What
do you mean by ‘invaded’?” Greta asked.

Daphne
smiled. Greta still didn’t understand the scope of the party they’d planned for
her and Timmy.

“Greta,”
Sandy said. “You’re finally doing this thing?”

“Yeah.”
Greta leaned back against the deck rail.

“Why
now?” he asked.

“I’m
at a sensible age to get married. I’m twenty-six. I’ll be twenty-seven in
June.”

“So
you made him wait five years until your age was sensible?” Sandy asked.

“Getting
married at twenty-one would have shown demonstrably poor judgment,” Greta said.

“But
you loved him then,” Daphne said. “You love him now. What’s changed?”

“Nothing’s
changed.” Greta sounded impatient. “That’s why we’re getting married.”

Sandy
laughed. “That’s my girl.”

Something
settled inside of Daphne. She realized Greta had become a solid thing, more so
than she’d ever been, and that was saying something. Greta had always been dependable.
Now, Greta was like one of the cosmic bodies Greta had studied in college, of
immense, nearly immeasurable gravity. Daphne felt herself leaning toward
Greta’s shoulder, finding comfort in her solid presence. She rested her cheek
there, her body relaxing.

“OK
then,” Sandy said. “I approve.”

Greta
snorted. “Thanks, superior-version-of-dad.”

Daphne
laughed too, imagining Greta’s horrible father back home in North Carolina.
When Greta had moved in with Daphne just before their third year of college,
Greta’s dad had thrown Greta out of his home—and moved his mistress in. Greta’s
mom, dying of cancer, had still been living upstairs.

Yet,
despite his many bad actions, Jim Donovan was Greta’s only living family.
Daphne wondered whether she should have invited him to Greta’s wedding after
all. It would have been appropriate. Of course, giving him three days’ notice
would have been too risky—he might actually have come out from North Carolina
just to be an asshole. But calling him today—the day of—there was no way he’d
be able to get here in time. After all, even though it was eight o’clock in LA,
it would be eleven on the East Coast.

“Greta,”
Daphne said. “Do you want me to call your dad? Give him a wedding
announcement?”

“Ugh.
How about an email instead?”

“If we
send an email, then you’ll spend all your time worrying that he might call when
he receives it.”

“That’s
true,” Greta said.

“If
we go ahead and call, then you won’t have to worry.”

“Fine,”
Greta said. “Let’s call him.”

“Right
now?”

Greta
nodded, sitting on one of Sandy’s lounge chairs, identical to the ones on
Marlon’s deck. “Right now.”

“I’ll
go back in and start handling wedding invaders,” Sandy said. “Holler if things
get out of hand. Fake dad will take care of real dad.” He headed back into the
kitchen, sliding the door shut behind him.

“Should
I make the call?” Daphne asked, sitting next to Greta and pulling out her
phone. “I could pretend you aren’t sitting right next to me. Then, if he seems
reasonable, I could pretend to go and find you.”

“Sure,”
Greta said. “Fine.” Now that the prospect of talking to her father had become
closer to reality, Daphne could see Greta’s shoulders growing stiff, her eyes
blinking a little too fast. She looked like a hunted animal.

Daphne
dialed the number she still had saved in her phone. After a few rings, a
familiar male voice answered. Daphne would never forget what Jim Donovan
sounded like. She made a point to remember details about her enemies.

“Hello?”

“Mr.
Donovan? This is Daphne Saito. I’m not sure if you remember me.”

“I
remember you.” He cut her off. “Did something happen to Greta?”

“Um,
no.” Daphne was startled by the concern in his voice. “Greta’s fine.”

Jim
Donovan’s voice turned cold then. “What is the purpose of this call?”

“Greta’s
getting married.”

Silence
met her words.

Greta
was watching her carefully for any sign of Jim’s reaction. So Daphne held out
her hand, palm up, shaking her head. She mouthed, “Nothing.”

“I
see,” Jim Donovan said, finally. “When?”

“At
four o’clock,” Daphne said. “Today.”

“Where?”

“At
a friend’s house.”

“She’s
getting married in a house?” He sounded like he was sneering.

“It’s
a big house,” Daphne snapped. And then, against her better judgment, she told
him to whom the house belonged.

Greta’s
eyebrows shot up, nearly meeting her hairline. “What are you doing?” she
whispered.

Daphne
mouthed, “I’m sorry.”

“I
see,” he said again. “Thank you for informing me.”