Chapter Text
5:00 pm -- Petty Cash, Los Angeles – August 10
“Frickin’ Bali Ha’i?” Dannie shrieked when she mentioned Richard’s invitation to accompany him to Kaua'i for his tech company’s retreat.
“Bally what?” Therese laughed, biting into her charcoal grilled octopus taco at Petty Cash, one of their favorite summer happy hour hangs.
“Come on, Belivet, you’re joking, right?” he scolded playfully, pausing to quaff his pint of Negra Modelo. “I took you to that special pool-side screening of South Pacific on the roof of the Roosevelt Hotel, remember? Sponsored by Turner Classic Movies? They had Polynesian dancers who swallowed fire and Mitzi Gaynor cussed like a sailor.”
“Vaguely,” she admitted, as the foggy memory of a spring evening two years ago came back to her. Dannie rolled his eyes.
“My apologies Mr. UCLA Film Archivist if I don’t have your encyclopedic gay recall of classic cin-e-ma,” she laughed, throwing a tortilla chip at him.
“Hey!” he yelped as it miraculously landed inside his shirt, which led to a fierce chip-throwing skirmish that quickly fizzled out when they ran out of ammunition.
“Don’t get mad but what’s that got to do with me going or not going to Kaua'i with Richard?” Therese asked, sipping her margarita.
“The film was shot on Kaua'i, silly girl,” he replied, diving into the roasted cauliflower nachos. “Lumahai Beach is where Mitzi’s character Nellie Forbush tells her nurse squad that she’s ‘gonna wash that man right outa my hair.’ Then Rossano Brazzi rides up on his butch white steed to basically call her on it. I only wish some hot Italian stud would sext me.”
“Like he could find an open spot on your dance card, mister!” she swatted his arm with the tequila menu. “Didn’t they film Jurassic Park there, too?”
“Sure, but Jeff Goldblum does nothing for me. Too brainy. I like ‘em dumb and hunky.” He winked. “Speaking of, what will you tell Richard? I thought you were planning to dump his arrogant ass.”
“You’re incorrigible,” Therese said, smiling at her closest friend. “He basically begged me to come. Said he really needs my support at the social events to present a ‘good image’ to his boss. He promised to be on his best behavior and asked me to give us another chance.”
“Didn’t he say that the last time?” Dannie asked sarcastically. “When he paraded you around as his fiancée in front of his parents and their snobby friends at the Brentwood Country Club? Then his hedge fund dad said he couldn’t believe a girl so pretty came from such a broken background? That your artwork would make ‘nice adornments’ to your future home with Richard? Like it was a goddam hobby?” Dannie was practically shouting and despite the taqueria’s high decibel level, several patrons turned around to stare.
“Dannie, please,” Therese pleaded while smiling sweetly at the others. “I hear you. It was a horrible evening. But Richard apologized profusely. He has a hard time standing up to his father. He wanted him to join the firm but Richard chose gaming instead. And his mother basically drinks just to cope with it all.”
Dannie calmed himself down and leaned forward. “What do you see in this guy, Therese?” he asked in a quieter voice. “Enlighten me. Please. I’ll support you no matter what but I don’t get it. Do you love him?”
“I honestly don’t know,” she replied, looking into his eyes. “I’m not entirely sure what that word even means. I do care about him though.”
“You care about him?” he retorted. “I have a cat. I care about her, too. But I don’t expect Sam to give me a blowjob! By the way, since we’re on the subject, I’ve never once heard you mention any mind-blowing sex with Richard. Wait. Don’t tell me. He’s strictly a missionary position guy who makes feeble attempts at muff diving before ramming his Johnson up your veejay. When exactly was the last time you had the big O?”
“Dannie!” Therese blushed from her face down to her neck.
“Last week, last month…” coaxed Dannie, trying to get an answer out of her.
“I…he…we’re working on it,” she said, lowering her eyes.
“You’re working on it?” he replied, incredulously. “Do you mean to tell me that he’s never…”
“I just need to relax more,” she interrupted, fidgeting with her hands and still avoiding his eyes. “Richard thinks I’m too uptight because of my family history. Maybe. I don’t know. Mostly I make sure he gets off so I don’t have to hear about it.”
“That’s complete and utter bullshit, Therese,” Dannie said, reaching for her hands. “Look at me.” She raised her eyes and saw tenderness radiating from his.
“You’re one of the most passionate people I know. Anyone who views your work can see that. You deserve to be adored by someone who gets you. Who sees you. Who melts your butter as my grandmother used to say. Love is supposed to lift you up, not tear you down, Therese. That’s the kind of relationship I want for you.”
“When did you become a street poet,” she said softly, touched by his words and noticing a small tear forming in the corner of his eye. “You’re thinking about Philip, aren’t you?”
“I still miss him,” he sighed, nodding. “I joke around about these Grindr guys but the truth is I’d give anything for just one more night in his beefy arms.”
They sat for a moment remembering Dannie’s late beloved partner until he slowly released Therese’s hands and suddenly burst out laughing. “And to scream his name to the heavens one more time! Lord the boy was gifted in that department! The neighbors called the cops once thinking he was hurting me. Truth be told, he was. It physically hurt sometimes to love him as much as I did. But I wouldn’t change any of it. I know how it feels to love and be loved, body and soul.”
He pointed a fried tacquito at her. “So don’t you settle for anything or anyone less, Missy.”
“Okay, okay,” she laughed. “Message received, Sir Galahad. But seriously, what do you think I should do? About the trip, I mean?”
“Hell, go for it,” Dannie replied, with a hand flip. “You can handle Richard. The trip’s paid for and besides, who knows what new inspiration you might find for your painting or photography.” He winked.
“Right,” she said, reaching for the check but losing to faster hands. “I think the odds of me finding a muse in the middle of the Pacific Ocean are about the same as me winning an Olympic gold medal in archery.”
“Careful, honey,” he cautioned, handing over his card to the server. “You never know where Cupid will shoot his arrow.”
As they stood up to leave, Dannie wrapped an arm around her waist and started singing in a mock baritone, “Some enchanted evening, you may see a stranger, you may see a stranger across a crowded room…”
They both laughed and headed out into the warm August night.
____________________________
7:30 pm -- Baltaire, Brentwood –- August 10
“So sorry to be late, girls,” apologized Carol as she slid into a green leather club chair, placing her coral Armani handbag on the table’s remaining seat. “Can I just say how much I hate the fucking 405?”
“After you texted, we knew you’d be a freakin' mess so we ordered a Baltaire Julip made with bourbon,” laughed Abby as she pushed the tall Southern drink towards her best friend.
“Is there some other way to serve it?” asked Carol quizzically, reaching for the glass.
“Apparently you can have it made here with gin, rum, rye, tequila or vodka,” said Genevieve. “I don’t mind a Finnish mixologist shaking things up a bit, but if you ask me, some classics need to be left the hell alone.”
“Just like your beautiful Rita Hayworth hair, my sweet,” said Abby, reaching over to run her fingers through the vibrant redhead’s shoulder length locks.
“Or your ruby red lips,” she replied, leaning in to give the curly-haired brunette a quick kiss.
“Will you two just get a room?” snorted Carol, shaking her head.
“Will you get some booze into your system for crying out loud!” Abby retorted, raising her martini glass while turning to Genevieve. “I forgot. Carol likes to toast. It’s her charm school training. Ouch!” She flinched as Carol kicked her under the table.
“You two,” sighed Genevieve, picking up her Manhattan. “Like fourth graders at recess fighting over hopscotch. What shall we toast to?
“To Carol getting laid soon,” suggested Abby. “Ouch! Stop kicking me!”
“Then stop acting like a child,” scolded Carol.
“I’ve known you since you were one,” countered Abby, who continued her inquiry unperturbed. “When was the last time you had the big O? Seriously. And I don’t mean flying solo. Harge has dragged this divorce out for how long now? Two years? All because of that bloody IPO? You’re way overdue for a world class fuck.”
“I need a goddamn drink more than I need a fucking orgasm so how about we toast the Olympics?” Carol shot back. “Frankly, it’s the only big O I can get excited about right now.”
“To the Olympics,” Genevieve quickly interjected, glaring at Abby, as the three women clinked their glasses.
Carol ditched her straw in favor of quickly downing half of the strong cocktail, grateful for the rapid infusion of alcohol, simple syrup and mint hitting her bloodstream. It helped to momentarily erase the day’s seemingly endless battles with Harge. She closed her eyes and felt herself relax for the first time since waking up. When she opened them several seconds later, she saw Abby smiling at her with loving eyes and a sheepish grin.
“Sorry, honey,” she said, reaching for her hand. “I can be a pushy bitch sometimes. You know I love you and only want to see you happy.”
“I know,” Carol replied, squeezing her hand and returning the smile. “I want that, too. I just need to survive this trip and then hopefully it will all be over.”
“What trip?” asked Genevieve.
“Didn’t I tell you?” said Abby. “Carol’s getting her aloha on.”
“Is someone going to Hawaii?” a male voice inquired as their silver-haired server Tom approached the table carrying a tray of appetizers. “Which island?”
“Kaua'i,” answered Carol. “But only for business, I’m afraid. My husband’s company is holding a sales retreat there.”
“Absolute paradise,” Tom replied. “I performed with the Gay Men’s Chorus of Los Angeles on Crystal Cruises last year and we spent a whole day sightseeing. Stunning. Of course, we musical theater queens made a beeline for Lumahai Beach.”
“Why?” Carol asked. “Is it there something special about it?
“It’s one of the locations where the movie of South Pacific was shot,” he answered. “The scene where Nellie Forbush tells the nurses she’s going to ‘wash that man right outta my hair?’ Mary Martin almost ruined hers washing it on stage eight times a week during the original Broadway run. You can only imagine ten gay men belting out that number on the sand while re-creating the choreography. We even brought travel-sized shampoo!”
“Sounds like something a certain someone needs to do while she’s there,” said Abby looking directly at Carol, who gave her a frowning look in return.
“Oh, you must!” Tom exclaimed, “In fact, you look a little like Mitzi Gaynor. The blonde hair and those beautiful blue eyes.” He smiled as Genevieve rolled hers. “I met her once. A friend of mine was one of her dancers back in the day. She’s in her 80’s now and still such a flirt. Swears like a sailor.”
“Another thing you two have in common,” Abby added, looking at Carol. “Okay, Tom. This gal is in need of her octopus and oysters.”
“You didn’t,” laughed Carol.
“I did,” said Abby, as Tom placed the charred Spanish octopus plate and oyster platter on the table.
“Bon appétit, ladies!” Tom exclaimed. “I’ll circle back in awhile to take your dinner order. FYI, the A5 Wagyu Strip Loin is particularly good this evening.”
“That sounds yummy,” said Genevieve, picking up an oyster half shell as he exited.
“I thought you were solely a New York Strip kinda gal,” said Abby, already slurping down a slippery bivalve.
“New York, Kansas City, Wagyu, as long a it’s a strip, I’m in,” laughed Genevieve as she slathered on fresh horseradish before following suit.
“I read that about you on a bathroom stall once, “ winked Carol as she forked a charred octopus fingerling.
“So, Carol, I’m curious about this Hawaii trip,” croaked Genevieve, through watery eyes as her condiment addiction wrecked havoc on her sinuses. “Why exactly are you going?”
“Harge basically begged me to come,” she answered, changing expression and dropping her alto voice ever lower. “In light of our upcoming IPO, stable leadership at the top reassures our institutional investors to buy shares at the offering price we need and hopefully leads to an even stronger opening price.”
“Ugh” said Abby. “Even hearing your imitation of him makes me gag.”
“All of which plays a major role on my part of the settlement,” added Carol.
“Wait, so no one at his company knows that you’re getting divorced?” asked Genevieve incredulously.
“No,” said Carol. “Wait, I take that back. The top two guys know, but that’s all. And they’re holding his feet to the fire that this doesn’t leak out.”
“At least that’s what he told her,” Abby smirked. “Frankly, I think it’s a stalling tactic. Who cares if their CFO is getting a divorce? It’s not like he’s the creative genius behind their new games. Pokémon Go is kicking their ass.”
“True, but they have a new deal with Marvel,” said Carol quietly. “They’re working on the new Thor:Ragnarok game to be released with the movie next year.”
“The one where Cate Blanchett is playing Hela, Asgardian goddess of death?” whispered Genevieve.
“Yes.”
“Did you just give us insider information?” whispered Abby.
“I’m sorry but you have reached a number that has been disconnected or is no longer in service,” replied Carol, blithely forking more charred octopus.
“You two aren't sharing a room, are you?” said Genevieve, sipping her Manhattan in an attempt to soothe her scorched taste buds.
“No, he promised I’d have my own and he'd be on his best behavior,” Carol replied. “This time he has real incentive to do so.”
“I don’t know, hon,” said Abby. “This whole thing still smells fishy to me.” She proceeded to slurp down another oyster with dramatic flourish making the other two women laugh.
“Thanks again for offering to take Rindy,” said Carol, sincerely. “I owe you. It’s her last true vacation week before she starts back to school.”
“What’s hard about having my 15-year-old goddaughter stay with me?” said Abby. “Hi, bye, I’m out with my friends, I’m home, I sleep until noon. It’s a breeze. Besides, she knows if she screws up her curfew, I’ll make her work in the showroom -- talking to bored Beverly Hills trophy wives.”
“Well, at least she talks to you,” replied Carol. “I’m getting the silent treatment lately.”
“You’re her mother,” said Abby. “It goes with the territory. And the divorce is hard on her. Not that she’s a daddy’s girl or doesn’t have other friends with divorced parents. But every kid secretly wishes their family could stay together under one roof.”
“She doesn’t know about…” Genevieve started.
“No!” said Abby and Carol in unison.
“She’s not…I’m not…ready for that, yet,” added Carol quietly.
“Got it,” nodded Genevieve, looking at them both. “Soooo, Carol. Where is the dreaded retreat? Poipu or Princeville?”
“Sorry?” said Carol.
“One’s on the southern sunny side of the island and the other’s on the northern rainy side,” she explained.
“I don’t know,” Carol shrugged. “Harge’s office sent over a package of information but I haven’t really had time to read it. All I know is the name -- Grand Hyatt Resort.”
“Ooh, that’s quite a property,” said Genevieve. “Pure 5-star luxury. Their lobby is stunning. Plus if you get tired of the beach, there are freshwater pools, salt water lagoons, a waterslide, spa…”
“I take it you’ve been?” laughed Carol at Genevieve’s increasing enthusiasm.
“Yes!” she replied. “My friend Jeanette owns a lovely home in Hāʻena and we drove down one afternoon. Had Mai tais and fabulous fish. In fact, that’s what I wanted to mention to you. If something blows up with Harge at the retreat, I’m sure I can ask Jeanette to let you stay at her place.”
“That’s very sweet of you, Genevieve, but I don’t think I’ll need to do that,” Carol said.
“She’s rarely there,” pressed Genevieve. “Honestly. She meant for it to be her retreat space but never seems to have time to enjoy it herself. Too busy traveling the world and collecting things for her erotic art collection.”
“Her what?” said Abby and Carol in unison again.
“She’s a sensualist,” Genevieve clarified, amused by the hyper-interested look on their faces. “The pursuit of beauty and pleasure is her life’s calling. So the house and grounds are designed to indulge all five senses plus open the seven chakras. It’s breathtaking. A Zen hedonist heaven. I didn’t want to leave.”
“So why haven’t we gone there?” asked Abby looking at her with narrowing eyes. “ Unless there’s something you haven’t told me about you and Jeanette.”
Genevieve laughed. “Babe, Jeanette is 75! Though she has way more energy than all of us combined. I met her in San Francisco years ago. She’s my Auntie Mame and like a second mom to me.”
“What’s with all the musical theater references today,” laughed Abby, relieved. “But seriously, why haven’t you suggested it?”
“Uh, hello?” Genevieve replied, giving her a look. “We’ve been working our asses off since I met you. You renovating the store and me launching the new gallery. Besides, I thought you hated humidity.”
“I do, but I’d get over it for some Hawaiian hedonism!” laughed Abby, giving her new partner a bedroom eye stare.
“Well, Jeanette does have an Anaïs Nin quote etched above the entrance to her guest villa,” she replied, returning the look but also including Carol.
Tropical nights are hammocks for lovers
“To tropical nights!” Abby declared, raising her martini and encouraging Carol to do the same. The three clinked glasses again and drank heartily.
May I survive mine, thought Carol gloomily as she smiled to her friends.
______________________________
9:00 pm – Los Feliz neighborhood – August 10
“Hey Richard, it’s me,” said Therese into her cellphone as she sat on the porch of her small guesthouse petting a neighborhood cat.
“Sorry to leave a message, but I’ve thought about it and I will join you in Kauai. I want to be there for you and I can get some work done, too. It’ll be fun. OK, that’s all for now. Talk later.”
As soon as she hung up, she got a text.
Anything wrong?
No. Good news, actually.
You’re coming?
Listen to my message, silly.
Will do when I can. Love u - R
<3 – T
It surprised her that he responded so quickly. His parents had declared the dining room a cellphone-free zone so he must be taking one of his strategic “bathroom” breaks. The only reason she escaped from going was because of her previous commitment to Dannie. Richard had not been happy about it. But her message will smooth things over.
“Why are men’s egos so fragile, Miss Cleo?” she asked the orange tabby, who quickly rolled on her back to allow Therese access to her belly. She ran her nails up and down the soft fur as the feline purred in contentment. “You’re such a little tramp. Wish someone would do this to me.”
“Then switch teams, Belivet,” joked Dannie as they walked to the car after dinner, once again discussing Richard. “Find someone who eats, drinks and speaks pussy. A true native who knows the terrain. A gorgeous goddess who will gladly worship at the altar of your beautiful bod.”
Therese smiled and looked up at the starry night still petting her furry new best friend. Truth be told, several women had approached her in the past particularly when she was at art school. She’d experimented a little but always pulled away when they wanted more. Pleasuring herself brought release without emotional complications. She thought Richard would offer some safe harbor from her storms, but instead she felt just as lost and adrift if not more so. She longed for a seemingly impossible communion of mind, body and spirit; to have her soul align so completely with another that neither knew where one began and the other ended; to have her body burn in ecstatic flames at her lover’s touch; to…
“Ouch!” shrieked Therese, as she felt a claw suddenly scratch the back of her hand, looking down just in time to see the cat scamper off to a safer distance ten feet away. “What the fuck? Was I too rough? Why didn’t you just say something? Ow.”
Therese saw red dot marks forming on her hand and stood up. But before she headed inside to find some hydrogen peroxide and Neosporin, she gave the unapologetic feline a scolding glare. “Clear communication is the key to a successful relationship, Miss Cleo!”
Once Therese had cleaned and bandaged the minor wound, she headed to her desk. She woke-up her iMac and googled Bali Ha’i. Up popped a YouTube clip from South Pacific. She clicked on it and suddenly Bloody Mary’s voice filled the summer night air:
Most people live on a lonely island,
Lost in the middle of a foggy sea.
Most people long for another island,
One where they know they will like to be.
Bali Ha'i may call you,
Any night, any day,
In your heart, you'll hear it call you:
"Come away...Come away."