Lies and Weddings(102)
Thomas said nothing, but secretly, he was already dreading what was about to come.
Skip Notes
* Diego’s referring to Rene Tan’s residences in ultra-exclusive neighborhoods of Los Angeles, Manila, Palawan, London, Manhattan, Dubai, Sydney, the French Riviera, and St. Barths.
X
US Route 90
JEFF DAVIS COUNTY, TEXAS ? TWO DAYS LATER
They had been driving all morning, not stopping since they’d grabbed breakfast tacos from a diner on the outskirts of El Paso. For long stretches they would listen to music or chat every now and then. It had been like this for two days now, Rufus telling her about his time in Morocco, Eden filling in the blanks on Los Angeles. Mostly they just stared at the endless highway, enjoying the comfortable silence of each other’s company.
Shortly after they were reunited at Freddy’s house in Beverly Hills and cleared up all the absurd rumors, Rufus turned to Eden and suggested, half-jokingly, “Since you’re not pregnant with Freddy’s baby, and since Interpol isn’t after you for scalding my mum’s face with a flat white from Caffè Nero, shall we rent a convertible and drive to New York?”
“Aren’t you marrying Martha Dung at Westminster Abbey?”
“Uh, that’s not till next Tuesday. We have time.”
“Let’s do it.”
“Really?” Rufus looked at her in amazement, not having expected her to say yes.
“Why not? I’ve always wanted to drive across America.”
“Guys! You know what you should do?” Freddy said excitedly. “Take one of the ’Raris. Seriously, just pick your favorite color, drive to Vegas, and check in to a suite at the Wynn. I’ll book you a table at Nobu Vegas!”
“No, no, you should have dinner at é by José Andrés, that’s the best restaurant in Vegas, and I can call José for you,” Daniela chimed in. “And then from there you should drive to the Amangiri resort in Utah, it’s heaven on earth, just don’t look at the bill when you check out.”
Eden and Rufus nodded politely at all their suggestions.
Two days later, after renting a Jeep Wrangler convertible and assiduously avoiding Las Vegas but making stops at Joshua Tree National Park, Cathedral Rock in Sedona, and Through the Flower art space in Belen, New Mexico, they found themselves speeding down a lonely highway in West Texas. Rufus had taken this long detour in search of something he said was going to be a special surprise.
“What is it?” Eden asked curiously.
“It wouldn’t be a surprise if I told you, would it? Just keep a lookout.”
“What am I supposed to be looking out for?”
“Oh, you’ll know it when you see it,” Rufus said mysteriously.
It was the wildest, most desolate road either of them had ever been on, just black tar and flat gray scrub on both sides of the highway as far as the eye could see. Far off on the horizon, a tiny speck morphed slowly into something bigger and bigger, and as they drew nearer Eden suddenly caught sight of it:
A Prada boutique in the middle of nowhere.
“What the—?” Eden blurted out as Rufus hit the brakes and rolled up beside the small white stucco building along the side of the empty highway.
“I’ve always wanted to see this,” Rufus said gleefully as they got out of the car.
“God in heaven!” Eden exclaimed. Here on US Route 90, 1.4 miles northwest of Valentine, Texas (population 109), was an actual replica of a Prada boutique that looked like it had been teleported directly from Madison Avenue. The black and white sign along the front of the small, sleek white stucco building read Prada Marfa, and beyond the plate-glass windows the space was painted in the brand’s signature pistachio green, with three sleek shelves displaying rows of shoes and two platforms arrayed with handbags. Eden tried to open the door but found it disappointingly locked.
“It’s not a real shop. It’s a site-specific land art installation by Elmgreen and Dragset. To me, it’s a statement about urbanization and materialism. You know, how everything’s become a luxury brand these days. Brilliant, isn’t it?” Rufus ruminated.
Eden walked a few steps backward to study the shop from the edge of the highway. “Wicked! It perfectly sums up my entire experience in LA.”
“That city really did a number on you,” Rufus remarked.
“More than I realized.”
They walked around the back of the Prada Marfa store and stared out onto the vast expanse of desert as a dry breeze caught their faces.
“Look at all this empty space out here. Miles and miles of it,” Rufus said.
In the distance, a big white blimp suddenly floated into view. “Is that another art project?” Eden wondered.
“No. I read about this—it’s a US border patrol surveillance blimp,” Rufus answered. “We’re only a few miles from the Mexican border.”
Eden gazed up at the blimp now pivoting ominously toward them. “So…how are these blimps going to stop people from crossing the border?”
“They’re basically giant drones with cameras. They’re just watching us, recording everything. I reckon if they see something they don’t like they send the border patrol agents out.”