Page 12 of Good at Being Alive
“Please.I could probably meet your needs right now by reciting ‘Ode on a Grecian Urn.’ ”
“I assure you that—”
“ ‘Thou still unravish’d bride of quietness, / Thou foster-child of silence and slow time’…I bet that already made you hard.”
“It definitely didnot.” Though the repeated references to herneedsand masturbation have produced a regrettablepingof interest in that vicinity, as has that mental image of her with her legs spread wide, a picture I can’t seem to banish from my mind.
Which confirms my original theory about Rebecca: she’s quicksand. Lovely and funny and interesting and unexpected—the precise combination that will have you moving across theworld and hiring a skywriter to propose and jumping off a balcony when you discover she never felt the same.
No matter how lovely the quicksand is, no matter how many times the quicksand mentions its vibrator…
It’s still fucking quicksand.
Bex
He’s already waiting in theconference room when I arrive. He’s in another expensive suit, today paired with a pale blue oxford that brings out his eyes. We look more mismatched than ever: now that I no longer need to impress anyone with my professionalism, I’ve reverted to everyday Bex—fewer blazers and silk blouses (none actually) and more leggings, sneakers, and sweatshirts, which are basically my entire wardrobe aside from my going-out clothes, which woulddefinitelynot be appropriate for this setting.
Emil is not around, but Lars and his team already have their laptops open. Caden, the little prick, is barking, “Just fucking make it happen,” into his phone. His father is a big-name director, which explains the overconfidence, as well as how he acquired this internship.
“Who’s ready to talk wedding details?” asks Lars cheerfully.
Suddenly the room is too warm. Theo pulls off his jacket and I lose the sweatshirt, under which I’m wearing a cut-off sorority T-shirt.
“ ‘Let’s Get Wrecked,’ ” Theo reads with a wildly unnecessaryroll of the eyes. “Even more business appropriate than I thought. Let’s not wear that on television, shall we?”
I give him a saccharine smile. “Babe, you’ll need to keep up with my laundry a little better if you’re going to be so picky.”
“Excellent,” he replies. “We’ve already reached the point in our marriage where we make jabs about the other’s failings in public.”
Paula huffs a weary laugh. “If the two of you have gotten all this out of your system, perhaps we can begin?”
She slides us both the schedule for Iceland, the first country we’ll visit, as we won’t be able to catch the northern lights in the summer and the ice caves will be too dangerous.
“Theo is familiar with this already, since he put most of it together,” she says.
“Yeah, I can tell Theo put it together.” It’s the least fun, most grueling schedule I’ve ever seen in my life. He has us taking the red-eye to Iceland, arriving at sunrise, jumping into the Blue Lagoon and then immediately drivingfive hoursto Iceland’s southeast coast for a full day of filming that won’t end until midnight…only to wake at the crack of dawn and do more shit on the way to the airport. “Whovacations like this?”
He rubs his temples. “Rebecca,” he says, as if he’s talking to a toddler, “we arenotgoingon vacation. This is known as work, and our work is topretendwe are on vacation as efficiently as possible.”
It annoys the living shit out of me that he’s still calling me Rebecca when he knows I go by Bex. The only thing more annoying is that he’s turned what could have been an enjoyable experience into the trip from hell.
I shove the paper away. “This looks miserable, and it’s going to show in the end product.”
“Bloody hell,” Theo mutters. “Nowis when you decide to take something seriously?”
Lars holds up a hand. “I agree and we’ll keep it in mind going forward. We need you guys to look like glowing newlyweds, not jet-lagged travelers, because people aren’t just watching this for the scenery—they’re watching it to see how you both endured incredible tragedy and found a way to make it beautiful.”
Something sinks inside me. There isn’t anything beautiful here at all. My story will go back to being a sad one, and I guess Theo’s will too, at least as far as the public is concerned. I’m sure Theo himself won’t be too broken up about returning to hiscomplicationor no-strings sex with models, or—if his reputation serves—both those things.
“Now,” says Paula, “the wedding.”
“Is it actually necessary?” Theo asks. “If we just post a picture or two andsaywe did it, is anyone ever going to check?”
Lars cocks a brow and pulls something up on his phone. “Apparently you haven’t seen the latest from Baby Makes Three.” He comes around the table and leans down between us before hitting play.
Kylie’s eyes are swollen. Jasper is wearing his serious face, one of two expressions he appears capable of (the other is more of a juvenile, Yosemite Sam–style glee, like he’s saying, “Yeehaw, we’re a-fixin’ to get this party started,” while firing pistols in the air).
“Bad news today,” she says to the camera. Jasper gives a solemn nod and rubs her shoulders. “We just heard from the production company, and they’ve decided the show is too similar to another one coming out, which would be really disappointing in and of itself but—” She looks back to Jasper and he nods. “We just found out what the other show is, and we’re pissed.”
