The Yes Factor Read online

  “I’m still mad at you, by the way.” Bex begrudgingly clinks my champagne glass with hers. “I would rather join a convent than deal with guys like that.”

  “Bex, you basically already live like you’re in a convent. When was the last time you even had a guy over? It took me flying out here to get you to even go out on dates.”

  “Excuse me?” Bex takes a big swallow of the champagne. “What do you mean It took you flying out here? I didn’t ask you to come out here. I’m doing just fine. I’m not your little project. Maybe you’re the one who needs to look in the mirror!”

  “Look, I’m sorry. I may not have gone about it the right way. I don’t know how to date these days either. But I do know that Patrick was a long time ago. Your marriage didn’t work out, and that’s okay. You’ve got to let go and move on.” Doesn’t she know what a catch she is?

  Bex slams down her champagne flute on the glass coffee table, making me jump in my seat. “Do not go there, Liv. Do. Not. I have let go! I have moved on! Just not in the way you want me to. And do not even talk to me about marriage, or dating, or relationships like you are some kind of expert!” She makes an immediate move for the exit.

  Shit, is she really leaving? I rush out to follow her.

  “Bex, wait!”

  She turns around and spits out, “Don’t follow me. I’m leaving. There is nothing wrong with my life. I don’t need fixing. You do!” Then, as she whips back around to make her way through the lobby, she bumps right in to Jason and Toby who seem to be on their way out, too.

  “Oh, hey. I, uh, I thought you left. Have you been in the bathroom this whole time?” Jason says, sounding confused.

  Are Jason and Toby ditching us? Shit, it’s supposed to be the other way around.

  “Yeah, I got a call from home.” I step in to respond because Bex is standing there, too angry to say anything. And I know it’s not anger at Jason and Toby, she’s angry at me, which is even worse. These guys, they don’t mean anything to us, so I don’t even know why I’m making excuses to them.

  Bex starts digging around in her purse looking for her phone. Then, from seemingly out of nowhere, a trio of young women bounce up and one of them excitedly puts her hand on Toby’s shoulder. “You’re going to totally love it. It’s like the new Glamour before Glamour got overrun with wannabes.” She flicks her freshly blown out mane and looks up and down at Bex and me. Did Jason and Toby pick up these girls while we were in the bathroom?

  Another girl, spray tanned to an orange sheen of nearly burnt toast, pipes up. “Who’s Jason talking to? Jason, ohmygod, is this your mom? That is so sweet, Jason, taking your mom to a pre-party. Hi, I’m Sarah,” Sarah preens, extending her hand to Bex.

  This isn’t happening. This cannot be happening.

  Bex looks up from her phone and locks eyes with me. It’s as if all of Glamour & State is suspended in freeze frame. Sarah keeps her hand out, a dare, a staking of her claim to Jason. I can tell by the smug look on her face that she knows exactly what she’s doing. We look eight years older than these girls, tops! And after the torture of wrinkle reducing infrared hot yoga, maybe only five years older.

  Sarah’s not budging, Bex is dead still, frozen like a cheetah stalking prey. I’m not sure what will happen next. I envision a telenovela style slap, or maybe a thrown drink. But Bex, trooper that she is, sucks it up and casually extends her arm to shake Sarah’s hand. Phew, so everything will be fine. We’re grown-ups, after all.

  “So nice to meet you too, Sarah.” Bex smiles, killing her with kindness and a saccharine Southern tinge to her voice that I haven’t heard since she sweet-talked a Georgia state trooper out of a speeding ticket. I’m now back to seriously worried about what Bex has up her sleeve. Finally, letting go of Sarah’s hand, Bex turns to Jason.

  “Now, Jason honey, you be good tonight. Mommy doesn’t want you out too late.” Bex leans in slowly and plants a long wet kiss on Jason’s lips. “Bye boys, y’all have fun tonight.”

  Sarah and her two friends look completely freaked out. Jason is simply dumbstruck while Toby is laughing and rubbing his hands together in bro’d out glee. I’m just as stunned as Jason.

  I think I might have pushed Bex completely over the edge. Oh. Shit.

  I follow her as she struts out of the restaurant. “Bex, what the hell? That was crazy, but also kind of amazing,” I say in disbelief at what I just witnessed.

  “Screw ’em,” Bex says, in a detached voice. And I know she’s not just talking about Jason and Toby, but about Mr. Felon-aire Millionaire, the Weeper, and even Ethan and Patrick. “And Liv,” she turns to me dead serious, “you’ve gone too far.”

  Phone still in her hand, I can see that Bex is deleting all of her dating apps.

  “Come on, Bex, what are you doing? Don’t overreact. I’m worried about you,” I plead. “Let’s go back in and have a drink, just you and me. Or let’s go someplace else.”

  “No. I told you I’m done. I’m going off the grid. The only app I’m going to be using is Lyft. Ravi will be here in two minutes. Why don’t you go get a drink by yourself and see what it’s like to be single?”

  “Bex, stop. Please.” I’m practically begging.

  We stare at each other in silence. Bex won’t say a word.

  A Corolla pulls up and honks.

  “That’s me. Bye. You can find your own way home, can’t you? Unless, of course, you meet someone. Don’t worry, I won’t tell Ethan, or Francois.” Bex slams the door, the pain of her words hurts so much it’s like she slammed the door on my fingers.

  I watch the car pull away and stop myself from calling her. I should give her some space. I sure as hell don’t want to have a drink at the bar here though. I can tell the night is heating up and the place is probably teeming with millions of Tobys and Jasons.

  I make my way back to the bathroom where at least nobody will bother me. I can take a break from this craziness then order a car back home. Hopefully, Bex will have cooled off.

  I sit on the same pink sofa where Bex and I were just sitting. The bathroom champagne girl is gone and I’m feeling especially alone and angry with myself. I lean back with a sigh and thank God I’m no longer twenty-one as I watch a gaggle of young Hollywood wannabes flounce in and out of the bathroom. They stop and take a group selfie with pursed duck-face lips. Does anybody smile in pictures anymore? Everyone seems to be doing everything but being present in the moment. Nobody is even making eye contact with their friends, they’re all too absorbed in their phones.

  I watch a girl in over-the-knee boots, a miniskirt, and bolero hat loudly exclaim as she’s staring at her phone screen, “Your eyes are closed again! We don’t have time to keep retaking this. Just stay out of this one for now.” Bolero hat girl laughs as she turns her back on her friend to rejoin the rest of her group who are already posing, lips in the ready position.

  The girl who’d committed the apparently mortal sin of closing her eyes in a photo crashes down next to me on the sofa. She’s obviously a little tipsy and her handbag topples off her lap, landing with a dull thud on the floor as the contents scatter everywhere.

  “Oh my God, I’m so sorry, ohmygod,” the girl slurs an apology.

  “It’s okay.” I lean over to help the girl with her stuff, spying a driver’s license that I pick up. Looking at the driver’s license photo of “Nia Griffiths” and then at the girl’s face, it’s obvious they aren’t one and the same. Then it hits me, this girl isn’t Nia Griffiths, whoever that is, it’s Chloe from the estate sale!

  “Chloe?” I look into her overly mascaraed eyes, hardly believing what’s happening. The universe has given me a get out of jail free card.

  “My name’s Nia,” Chloe stumbles over the words.

  “It’s okay. I’m not going to say anything. I met you on Sunday at the Pasadena Estate Sale. I was with my friend Bex.”

  Chloe nods in slow recognition then looks back at her friend, the mean Bolero girl, who’s calling out to her.

  “C
ome on, let’s go, the car is here,” the girl orders, doing her best model stomp out of the bathroom. Chloe turns to me with a look both vulnerable and defiant. “I have to go.”

  “Is she really your friend?” I say and lightly touch her arm. “You know you’re worth way more than those girls.” I look at Chloe and see how young she is underneath the makeup she’s put on for this night out with her fake ID and fake friends. “Will you just give me two minutes? I know it sounds crazy, but I really need to talk to you.” I do my best to not sound like some kind of creepy middle-aged woman sitting in a bathroom pleading for a teenager with a fake ID to talk to her.

  “What do you want talk about? I know she’s not my real friend. I can handle it. Didn’t you do stupid stuff when you were a teenager?” Chloe says to me in a voice edged with defiance.

  “I’m still doing stupid stuff. But I’m really hoping I can make up for it. Can I have your dad’s phone number?”

  “What? You said you weren’t going to say anything about the ID!”

  “No, no, it’s not that. It’s for my friend Bex. Remember her?”

  Chloe softens with understanding. “Yeah, I do. And my dad remembers her, too. Here, give me your phone.”

  I unlock my phone and hand it over to Chloe who adds her dad’s number to my contacts. “There you go.” She hands me back the phone. Yes! Now I better not screw this up.

  “Thank you, Chloe. This means a lot, more than you know. Oh, and do me a favor. I won’t say anything about the ID if you don’t tell your dad about running in to me. Deal?”

  “Deal. Look, I gotta go. Jasmine’s probably already left for the club.”

  “Jasmine. Well, she doesn’t live up to her name. Not sure there’s anything sweet about her. Be careful with that pack of she-wolves. Watch out for yourself.”

  Chloe surprises me with a quick hug. “I’m my own pack. I’ll be okay.”

  She slips out of the bathroom like a ghost into the night. I feel a pang deep inside and wish that she were my daughter. That I could prevent life’s ugliness from hurting her. But, if I’ve learned anything these last few days, it’s that my meddling only makes things more of a mess. Chloe’s already out in the ugly world, and I trust that she’ll be fine.

  Chapter Fourteen

  Detox/Retox

  BEX

  As we back out of the driveway, a wave of relief washes over me. This cloudless, picture perfect, seventy and sunny day is not about dates or men, it’s about Liv and me. I said I was going off the grid, and I meant it in more ways than one. I wanna get out of the city for a day and get into what’s going on with Liv.

  The tension from last night is still buzzing between us but at a lower frequency, and I can’t think of a better way to dissipate it than a day at Sunny Dale Hot Springs. It may not be the most glamorous spa in the world but they do serve alcohol. Need I say more?

  Sitting in somewhat un-companionable silence, listening to the radio with the windows cracked in the sweltering heat, we’re ten minutes into an hour-and-a-half drive when my phone rings. Liv reaches to grab it since I’m driving, but I quickly spit, “Don’t touch that,” and she snaps her hand back into her lap. I deflate with remorse, I know she was just trying to help. I relent. “Fine. Just look and see who it is. No app surfing!”

  Liv jumps at the chance to make amends. “The number doesn’t have a name attached. But it’s a three one zero area code. Should I answer it?”

  I’m puzzled because I don’t get many random calls. However, I do have a kid and when you have a kid, you pick up the phone.

  “Yeah, answer it. But put it on speaker,” I tell her after the fourth ring. “Hello?” I say, concern edging my voice. Liv hears my tone and stares at me intently while chewing on her bottom lip.

  “Hey! Is this Bex? How are you?” says a male voice which sounds familiar, although I can’t quite place it. I look over at Liv and give her a questioning shrug. She shrugs back.

  I proceed with caution. “Yes, this is Bex. I’m sorry, I don’t have your number saved in my phone. Who is this?”

  “You don’t remember me? This is Brandon from The Vacancy!” I look at Liv, my eyes not blinking, my heart racing in a fight-or-flight reflex. He charges on, “So, hey, I’ve been thinking of you nonstop since the other night and was wondering if you want to go up to Big Bear next weekend with me. I rented a cabin. It’ll be fun!”

  My mouth is frozen as I try to gather my thoughts, which are spinning like a Tilt-A-Whirl. Should I play nice and kick the can down the road? Or just tell him the truth, however harsh it is? I’m so over all of this. I take a deep breath and decide on honesty. Let’s just rip off the Band-Aid, which is what I should have done at the end of our so-called date.

  “Brandon, thank you so much for inviting me, but I just don’t think that you and I are the right fit.” I sound like a Hollywood agent. Out of the corner of my eye, I see that Liv is nodding vigorously for me to continue on this course. “I wish you all the best. You’re a really nice guy.”

  As Brandon drones on and on about his disappointment and how he thought what we had was real, I tune him out as his tone becomes more desperate. Is he going to start weeping again? I can’t help myself and rudely cut him off, losing patience as the words rush out. “Okay, Brandon, thanks for calling. Bye!”

  Liv instantly blurts out, “Oh my God, what a weirdo! I’m blocking him from your phone.” On instinct she reaches for my phone in the cupholder but I beat her to it. She looks at me. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry about everything. I over-stepped and I know I’ve made mistakes in trying to help.”

  Feeling somber, I keep my eyes on the road. “See what I’m dealing with? This is the landscape of dating. It’s crazy apps and crazy guys. I know you were just trying to help, but you pushed too hard. You flew out here with these grand plans, that The Yes Factor was the key to it all, but this is the reality of the situation.” My voice drops to nearly a whisper and I feel tears spring in my eyes. “But it’s not all on you. I’m such a mess that I couldn’t even ask that Devon guy for his number. That was organic. That was exactly the way I want to meet someone and…I messed it up and ran off like an idiot.

  “I didn’t tell you this, but I actually saw him on Tinder, the night you called me about Francois. I saw him and I thought, that guy looks like a perfect match for me, and then I swiped the wrong way, and lost my chance. Seeing him again felt like kismet, but I botched that too. I just can’t seem to…”

  “Bex, it’s gonna be—”

  “No!” I interrupt her brusquely, blinking the tears back and focusing on the road. “You know what? I don’t want to talk about me or any of this bullshit.” My tone softens. “I forgive you. But, can we please change the subject and talk about you? I feel like you’ve only revealed the tip of the iceberg yesterday when you told me about Ethan.” I take a quick glance at her and she’s practically turned her back to me looking at the roadside mini-malls like they’re the most interesting thing she’s ever seen. I give her a gentle nudge. “Liv, hello? I know you don’t have Ross Dress For Less in London but I promise you, it’s not worth a pit stop.”

  She swivels around to face front once more. “I think I need a big glass of wine and a spa soak before I can talk about the Titanic that is my marriage.” I nod, understanding her completely.

  “That’s fine. Put on some tunes then, will ya? This is a road trip after all.” I try to sound cheery.

  When Liv puts on Bonnie Raitt, “I Can’t Make You Love Me,” I know we’re in for a real doozy of a conversation. I wonder if we can order wine by the bottle and Uber back?

  “This place is absolute Heaven. How have I not been here before?”

  Liv and I are sprawled out on plastic recliners, covered in mud from head to toe. She takes a sip of her Sauvignon Blanc, which she’s loaded with ice, and closes her eyes.

  Sunny Dale Hot Springs isn’t too crowded since it’s a Thursday. The deck area is dotted with clusters of mostly older women in bathrobes, enjoyi
ng the California sunshine and more importantly the California wine. Fortunately, there are very few men in sight. After the surprise call from The Weeper and the chaos of the last few days, I’m perfectly content spending a day without men. The mineral baths, sulfur springs, and special mud are the body and soul cleansing that I need.

  “Guru Stan, would be proud of how Zen we are right now!” I laugh.

  Liv smirks and the mud cracks along her laugh lines. “Yeah, although I’m not sure he’d approve of the wine. As over the top as that place was, I wish I could find something similar in London. I was thinking maybe Ethan and I could start doing yoga together on Sunday mornings. He doesn’t want to go to counseling anymore, but maybe yoga would help us. If he were ever around.” She mutters that last part under her breath.

  And there’s my cue. I dive right in.

  “Speaking of.” I pause to see if she’ll open up without any further prodding. She doesn’t. “Ethan,” I say definitively. “Spill. Troof.”

  Ever since our obsession with Da Ali G Show in the early 2000s, we picked up his exaggerated way of saying truth and ran with it.

  Liv rolls on her side to face me, her eyes open, looking like two oyster pearls nestled in Dauphin Island, Alabama clay. “Troof? I don’t know.”

  Slightly frustrated, the need to call her out gets the better of me. “You know. Talk it out.” I wave my hand to encourage her to continue.

  Taking another sip of icy liquid courage, she says, “I know from the outside it seems like I have this great life and everything. Living in London, a successful husband, my so-called ‘glamorous job,’ but, I’m miserable. I don’t think I can move past his cheating. I feel like I just don’t have the energy to keep up with the charade any longer.”

  I reach down to adjust my forest green bikini bottoms and inadvertently reveal a bit of skin that’s so white I immediately smear it with mud so I don’t blind myself, or anyone else.