The new house is much better. It’s in Malibu, so I get the beach. And the place is gated, so I get my privacy.
But most importantly, this place isn’t haunted with memories of Sebastian. Sometimes I think of him—my head is slow to update my marital and relationship status. But every time something triggers me to remember him, I meditate or do yoga. Or just wrap a blanket around myself and go to sleep.
I can’t remember how to undo the Google Alert, so I’ve turned off my phone. It was weird to be unplugged at first, but now that it’s been a few weeks, I enjoy the peace. Besides, who’s going to text me? I have no friends or family. I don’t even have a job. And Jeremiah has Matthias’s number. She can get in touch with him if she wants to talk to me.
I lie on the yoga mat and stare at the ceiling. When was the last time I had absolutely nothing to do? I worked through all my vacations for years, always checking emails and texts.
Somewhere in the back of my mind is the thought that this kind of lazy, purposeless lifestyle isn’t like me, but I push it aside. People are entitled to relax after life deals them a horrible defeat. When it lands three powerful punches back to back, it’s a sign you should stay down until you figure out what you want to do.
Somebody pounds at the door. I can hear Matthias going to the foyer. Loud voices, both of them familiar. I tense and sit up.
Bianca pushes past Matthias and rushes in. She looks nothing like the confident best friend I used to have—or the arrogantly defiant traitor who slung insults at me. Her hair is frizzy and wild—when was the last time it saw a brush?—and her eyes are wide. Her lipstick is smeared, and her silver dress is wrinkled. Her yellow sandals clash with the dress.
“You have to stop him!” she shouts.
Matthias tries to catch her arm and drag her out. But she eludes him.
“It’s okay, Matthias,” I say, not wanting him to get injured trying to remove her. She won’t care who she hurts as long as she gets what she wants.
“He’s gonna sue!” she shrieks.
I stare blankly. “Who?”
“Sebastian! He’s suing me!”
“Oh.” Still seated on the mat, I rest an elbow on my knee and prop my chin in my hand.
“Oh? Oh?” Her breathing roughens. “Is that all you’re going to say?”
“What do you want me to say?” I ask in genuine confusion.
“You’re supposed to be my friend!”
“You threw our friendship away, Bianca.” It’s so strange I’m not experiencing any strong feelings that would bring tears to my eyes at the sight of her. It’s like I’m looking at a lump of cancerous cells that were excised.
“Fine. Then make him stop. Do it as your final act as my friend.”
I just look at her. Does she honestly expect me to lift a finger for her after she backstabbed me?
She must be reading my thoughts. After all, we were together for a long time. “You have everything! This is the least you can do!
“I owe you nothing, Bianca. Leave before I join Sebastian in the suit.”
“I can’t! Nobody will hire me after this.”
“Call Roderick.” He’s been looking for a new young assistant since he broke up with Gwen. Bianca meets his requirements.
“He’s getting prosecuted! He’ll be in jail by the time this is over!”
Prosecuted? “For what?”
“What the fuck?” She’s so loud, it’s making my ears hurt. “Check your fucking phone once in a while!”
“Mathias?” I say. “Could you please call 911?”
“Certainly.” The answer comes with cheerful alacrity.
Tears spring to her red-rimmed eyes. “This just hurts,” she chokes out. “Bitch! I was right to be wary! You’re miserable—like always—and you want everyone else to be miserable, too! You suck!” She spins around and stalks out, her heels pounding into the marble. Not sure why she’s doing that, because she’s only going to hurt her feet and ruin her shoes. Those sandals weren’t designed to cushion her feet.
After the door’s closed behind her, I slowly get up and stretch my arms over my head. I guess I should see what’s going on if Bianca’s freaking out like this. I still can’t believe Sebastian is suing her. For what? For being a shitty friend to his soon-to-be-ex-wife? That’s not a crime.
I pad to the table where I left my phone. The second I turn it on, a bazillion messages pop up. Almost all of them are from Bianca and Roderick, with several from Darren.
I skim them to get the gist of the information. Sebastian is suing Bianca for negligence, malice, malfeasance, embezzlement and unjust enrichment, among other things. He says she’s hurt the Sebastian Peery collaboration, which cost Sebastian Jewelry incalculable damages, submitted false expense reports regarding the project and so on. I almost laugh at the overdramatic language his lawyer used. Karen and I already priced it out. It isn’t incalculable. And if such a miserly sum could put Sebastian Jewelry under, I wouldn’t have wanted to partner with them.
Roderick is in a more serious situation, though. The audit team I had Julio hire finally completed its work. They found over seven hundred irregularities. When they couldn’t reach me, they reached out to Sebastian, who obviously took matters into his own hands. He’s having the federal prosecutor go after Roderick. Sebastian wants Roderick in jail.
Darren… He’s been fired and arrested for embezzlement. Also getting prosecuted. He sent me over one hundred texts. The latest one reads: Please! You have to save me from your crazy husband! For the sake of our old memories!
He shouldn’t have added that last part. The only old memory I can really recall is him pounding into Frankie.
I let out a long sigh. What’s Sebastian trying to accomplish? Does he think punishing people who screwed me over is what I want?
How does he plan to punish himself on my behalf? Is he going to sue himself? Lock himself in a jail cell?
There are a few texts from Roman Wellendorff, the deputy minister of finance from Nesovia.
–Roman Wellendorff: I don’t understand why the hasty corporate move was necessary.
–Roman Wellendorff: I thought we had an understanding.
In whose mind? The condescending and sexist “For your own good. Women are to be protected and taken care of” voicemail he sent me wasn’t an understanding.
I block him. He’s in the past. I don’t want to deal with him or anybody like him anymore.
Then I finally notice a few texts from Sebastian. My heart skips a few beats.
–Sebastian: I hope you’re doing better. I’d like to talk whenever you’re ready.
–Sebastian: I want to make things right for you.
Chest tight with something between pain and disillusionment, I tap the edge of the phone. I don’t see the purpose of another talk. On the other hand, he apparently won’t stop siccing prosecutors on people until I do. I don’t know what else he could mean by “make things right” for me.
Maybe he just needs better closure. His talking while I was in a total state of shock probably wasn’t sufficient, even if I said everything that needed to be said. I don’t want anyone else disrupting my peace because he won’t quit going after people in my past.
–Me: Meet me at Z tonight at 11.
His response is immediate.
–Sebastian: See you tonight. VIP lounge.
