Daisy Haites: Chapter 20

You back Magnolia Parks into a corner and all that upper-crust Kensington shit falls away and she’ll come out swinging the best way she knows how to. And if it’s BJ who’s backing her up — I just should have seen it coming, that’s all.

We’re at brunch Christmas Eve, a Full Box Set tradition, though some of the founding members are noticeably absent, but for obvious and understandable reasons. Topic of fascination for all of us these last few days has been the revelation that Magnolia was in New York shacking up with Jack-Jack Cavan.

Pretty sure you already know who that is but if you don’t, let me try to frame it for you in a way you’ll get. What Kelly Slater was to surfing in the early 2000’s, Jack-Jack is to skating now. Bit like Dylan Rieder too, crossing over into modelling and shit.

BJ loves him. Or did, anyway.

We’ve all been pounding Henry with questions but he’s been pretty mum about it all — can’t believe he knew and he didn’t say. A week ago we watched something on VICE about him, Beej was completely frothing. Henry was on his phone most of the time, pretty disinterested.

I can tell Beej is pissed about it, and I guess rightfully so.

Me and Hen visited her in New York in March. I was on a pretty shit path after Daisy and I wrapped up… I went “Full Beej” as Henry called it. Just something about knowing I loved her and she loved me and our lives were too fucked up to be able to figure it out anyway, that messed me up in the head a bit, tried to drown it out however I could — every party and club London could give me, and then when that failed, Amsterdam, Mykonos, Santorini, Phucket — why not New York?

I didn’t go to New York thinking anything would happen with me and her, never even crossed my mind. I thought I’d hook up with Parks’ hot, weird neighbour, but Henry locked it in first. He and Lucía hit it off in that annoying way that Henry manages to hit it off with every girl — they were over in the corner of this little booth, and not even drunk, like two wines in, they’re hooking up.

Parks looked over at me equal parts irked and annoyed, and it wasn’t the plan to go out on the lash but it suddenly felt too bleak for us to just sit there, mostly-sober, watching Henry get to third so I put my hand in the air and ordered a bottle of tequila.

“Oh, God—” She laughed as I poured us each a shot.

“So what happened with you and Tom?” I asked her, sliding it over.

She stared over at me, brows went low, blinked a few times — looked a bit like I smacked her across the face — then she tossed back her shot and snatched mine out of my hand.

“Oh—” I nodded, wide-eyed. “Okay.”

“Pour me another.” She pointed at the bottle and I obeyed.

You don’t not obey her, even if you know better. And probably I did, but I swear to God, I didn’t think what happened was where it was going.

I was over her — fully out of love with her — I loved her, she is one of my oldest, dumbest friends — but I was not in love with her.

“Tell me—” I pressed, mostly just because I was more interested now that she was reacting like that.

“Okay,” she said, throwing back another shot. “I will once you tell me what happened with you and Daisy?”

I gave her a tight smile. Took a shot.

“You were in love, I know you were — both of you, I saw it on your faces—” she told me, like I didn’t already know.

I took another shot.

She does a thing, it’s like her drunk tell — where when she gets really bladdered and she drums her fingers on one of her cheeks under her eyes, to see how numb her face is getting. She does it before she realises she does it and it’s usually a sign for one of us to wrap shit up — Henry was preoccupied and I was as legless as she was but I knew the wheels would start to fall off soon, so I decided to take her home, tuck her into bed, call it a night.

Told Henry we’d meet him back at the apartment and off we went.

Not a far walk from the bar on Lexington back to her place, and everything was fine — we were fine — completely normal, just friends, I swear to God-

She was walking backwards, showing me how good she could do it in her shoes — absolute monsters, heels like pins — and to her credit, she was doing a solid job. I really mean it, like, she got like twenty yards down the block skipping backwards before she tripped in a grate, twisted her ankle and bloodied her knee.

Now, I’ve got to say it in case you didn’t know — but I guess who didn’t see this coming — Magnolia Parks is a fucking toddler when it comes to injuring herself. When she was twelve she got stung by a bee and insisted to her house mistress she had to take the day off to recover because ‘it felt personal’. When she got her wisdom teeth taken out she practically wrote herself a fucking obituary and organised herself a Get Well present for all of us to contribute to.

So she was crying, bit of a wanker about blood too, (honestly, in the end it turned out she actually tore a tendon, but anyway) insisted she couldn’t walk — so I scooped her up and carried her home.

That was where the trouble began.

We were both too drunk and our faces were too close together, and her eyes went round and her face went serious, and by the time I carried her through the lobby of her building and into the elevator — I kind of knew by then. Knew and I didn’t care. Happy for the distraction.

“I can stand—” she told me, even though she couldn’t really. I put her down and she balanced on one foot, holding herself steady with my arm.

Like, just inches between us, honestly — and she looked up at me with those eyes I used to love, and bit down on that bottom lip I used to bite on, and I put my hand on her waist and then she pulled the emergency stop in the elevator and then I just pinned her to the wall. She was up on my waist, my hands in her hair, and she took my shirt off without a second thought — it’s funny how when you’ve done this before, sexual muscle memory, how you move around each other’s bodies, what each of us do, how to get there faster. I’d already undone the buttons of her cardigan, was kissing down her neck — she undid the top button of my jeans and reached for me and then Daisy flashed through my mind and I froze — thought about how I wouldn’t know how to explain this to her if I had to one day. That day felt pretty abstract and mythical back then — still does now — but I thought about her face, how she’d look if I had to tell her Parks and I had sex and suddenly I was off it.

I pulled back, stopped kissing her. Her eyes opened all nervous and sad.

I shook my head. “I can’t, Parks — I—” I gave her this stupid shrug. “I’m in love with her. If she knew, it’d kill her.”

She nodded, eyes fallen. “I’d quite like this to kill him.”

I sniffed a laugh as I leant my head on my old friend’s head, kissed her cheek.

“You here kills him every day.” I poked her in the side. “You don’t need to try.”

And then she started crying and then I started crying, and it was weird and fucked up but kind of nice, and it probably pocketed our relationship into a new space — almost and then stopping. She fell asleep on my shoulder on the couch and I didn’t move the whole night, not because I’m in love with her but because I love her and she was as fucked up as I was.

“Alright, out with it, Parks.” My brother nudges her. “Are you fucking Jack-Jack Cavan, or what?”

“Well.” She clears her throat, living for the attention. “Not right now.”

“But you are?” my brother clarifies with a smirk.

She leaves it hanging for a few seconds, Beej about ready to neck himself.

“I was. I — we dated.” She glances at Henry who nods along like he knew. “Back in New York.”

“Bullshit.” I frown, staring between the two of them. “And you said nothing?”

Henry just shrugs. It’s gotta shit Beej, how they are. It has to. It still shits me and I don’t even have a buy-in anymore.

“Jack-Jack Cavan?” I stare over at her, shocked honestly.

My brother shakes his head.

“He’s the fucking shit right now!” Jonah says too enthusiastically and it cuts Beej.

Jo scrambles to make it better but can’t really.

“So you dated in New York?” Henry says loudly, moving it along.

She nods.

I squint over at her. “How long for?”

“Oh, you know—” She smiles pleasantly, like she’s not a Venus flytrap for men. “My usual max— four months? Thereabouts?”

And Beej, he’s as bad as her. They’re too good at hurting each other. It’s the bad part of loving each other as much as they do. They know how to rip each other to pieces without even trying.

BJ stares over at her, glaring. “So why’d you break up?”

She gives him an icy look, not taking the bait. “He was too much for me in the sack.”

BJ sniffs, over it.

“Alright—” Jo shakes his head. “So give us a breakdown of your time in New York then—”

“Okay—” She nods. “Well I arrived last December. My family flew over just before Christmas and we went to Whistler with Tom. Then he and I spent New Years in Hawaii with the Foster sisters, and then in January I—”

“—I meant sexually,” Jonah interrupts.

Henry tosses him a look as Taura glances at him. BJ goes still.

“Oh.” She pulls a face. “A bit pervy from you, but I’ll oblige.”

He shakes his head. “No, it’s just — you and casual sex? It’s like watching a dog walk on its hind legs… like, I cannot fathom it. Like, when did you first sleep with Rush?”

“How did you know I slept with Rush?” She asks, eyebrows up.

My brother gives her a shit-eating grin. “I didn’t till now—”

“March.” She stares at her nails.

“And you slept with Stavros when?” Jo squints.

She shrugs demurely. “Just for a minute.”

Beej looks like he’s going to be sick, and I should have seen it coming — She loves a kill-shot — but I’m too busy trying to the math in my head from when we hooked up to spot it.

“So Rush, then Stavros, then—

“No—” she shakes her head. “Rush, then Christian, then St—”

BJ’s cutlery falls and he stares over at her like she just cut his fucking heart right out of its chest.

“Parks!” I yell, sinking back into my seat. “What the f—?” I shake my head, furious. “Why the fuck would you—”

Jonah presses his hands into his eyes; Henry looks from me to her, frustrated.

“Thought we decided to keep that one under our hats—”

And Beej? He’s just frozen over there—

“Listen, drama queens—” Parks holds up a little hand to silence us both. “Baxter James Ballentine had P in V sex in a bathtub at the height of our relationship with the girl who used to be my best friend.”

“Did he really?” Taura asks sarcastically.

“Yeah — but—” I’ve got my hands on my head, stressing heavy. “He’s gonna fucking fr—”

“It’s fine—” BJ tells me but I can tell on the spot, it’s not.

“Thank you, BJ.” Magnolia gestures towards him knowing full well it’s not. “I really do feel like Beej fucking Paili and then lying about it for three years gives Christian and I a little bit of wriggle room to have nearly had sex one night in a lift in New York.” She flashes BJ a smile that I think is supposed to be the nail in the coffin for him, but somehow it just throws him a bone.

“So why’d you only almost fuck, then?” he asks her, eyebrows up. “What stopped you two from finally going all the way?”

I blow air out of my mouth, tired and over their shit and I can already feel the direction the night is going. They’ll fire shots til one of them finally keels over. Knowing him these days, it’ll probably be her. I clock Henry, ask without asking who’s going to clean up the mess his brother’s about to make of her. Could be either of us, but it’ll go down better with the group if it’s him tonight.

Parks’ eyes catch on BJ’s and we all know he knows why she stopped, like there was ever a question — like there ever is with them— and it hangs there, how fucked up it all is, how much she loves him, how much we know he loves her back, and that despite that, despite their history, in love all their lives and a baby between them, how indescribably frustrating it is that they cannot, for the love of God, pull it the fuck together.

She leaves. He stays.

Henry and I catch eyes and I tune out the rest of the conversation before I get up and walk outside, waiting really. I know what’s coming. Kind of deserve it, but I sort of think it’s pretty fucking rich either way, if I’m completely honest—

BJ follows me out a few minutes after.

“Are you taking the piss?” Got his fight-face on. “Her I get, but you? How could you do that to me?”

I blow air out of my mouth, shaking my head.

”Beej, for fuck’s sake—” I shove my hands through my hair. “I don’t know how to get this through your fucking head, but you need to understand that not everything is about you.” I give him a curt smile and point back to New York. “That wasn’t about you.”

He lets out this growl. “She—” He shoves me. “—is always about me.”

And I just stare over at him for a few seconds — I’m bored, if I’m honest, but I shove his hands off me for good measure, because he’s always too big for his boots, not really worth the drama of the fight though.

“Beej—“ I shrug. “You’re hers, she’s yours, I get it— but I wasn’t thinking of you—” I poke him in the chest. “You didn’t cross my mind once. I was in New York with one of my best friends, and my heart was fucked — I was in love a girl who I couldn’t be with because she wanted something that I couldn’t give her. I was fucked up and so was Parks, and we got drunk and she fell and I had to carry her home. We kissed and I felt her up and this is the important part, man— I didn’t think of you.” Lift up my eyebrows, wait for that one to sink in a little for her. ““Believe it or not— it wasn’t about you. For me anyway,” I add as an afterthought, give him a small shrug. “Everything for her is always about you.”

He breathes out loudly then leans back against the wall with me. “You could have told me—”

“Yeah—” I give him a look like he’s an idiot. “Because historically you’ve taken shit about me and Parks so well.”

He rolls his eyes as Henry walks out, nodding his chin at us.

“You two sort your shit out?”

“Yep.” I pull out my phone, keen to ditch them.