Lies and Weddings(80)
“Why leave them empty? Why not at least let them out?”
“You don’t want renters messing things up. Plus, you get the tax deduction from not renting it. I mean, a house on this street could easily rent for $40,000 a month, so that’s a $480,000 loss on each house you can write off every year.”
Eden tried to absorb Freddy’s words, quietly horrified. “So these massive houses are sitting empty when there are homeless people living on the street?”
“Yeah, but homeless people won’t want to live here anyway.”
“Why not? Look at that house over there. I bet two dozen people could easily live there.”
“Yeah, but they probably wouldn’t feel comfortable in there.”
“Oh really? Tell me what homeless person wouldn’t feel comfortable in that mansion, swimming in the pool during the day and sleeping on Drake’s mattress at night?”
Freddy laughed uncomfortably. “No, you’re absolutely right. I just don’t have a clue how to solve this problem myself.”
“I’m not asking you to. I’m just astonished by LA, that’s all, and how worlds apart everything is.”
“You sound like my mom. She was always embarrassed by our house and said it wasn’t right to live in such a huge estate when there were poor people everywhere. If it were up to her, our family would have stayed in Encino.”
“So your mum didn’t choose the house and design it herself?” Eden asked in surprise.
“Hell no, my dad insisted on buying it and hired decorators from France to do everything. My mom couldn’t have cared less. She wasn’t interested in all that stuff, she just wanted to be a mother.”
“Your mum sounds like a lovely woman.”
“She was,” Freddy said before he turned to Eden with a funny look. “Do you ever dream about your mother?”
“All the time. Don’t you?”
“Yeah. I have this reoccurring dream that we’re having tea together at the Peninsula Beverly Hills. She loved taking me there for tea and telling me stories of her youth in Tehran.”
“My mother keeps appearing in the strangest places in my dreams, but I can never understand a thing she’s saying. I wish we could have a normal conversation as two adults. I’d love to hear her voice again. Sometimes I think I’ve forgotten what she sounds like. It’d be nice just to be able to call her up and hear a good yarn.”
“My buddy Banks gets mad whenever his mom calls him. He has no idea what it’s like…I would give every cent I have to get the chance to talk to my mom again just once.” Freddy took a quick gulp, as if he were swallowing his emotions.
They drove in silence for a few more minutes before the car pulled up outside a distinctively striped marquee tent that extended nearly to the edge of the sidewalk. This was the discreet entrance of La Cienega Villas, which allowed arriving guests maximum protection from being photographed at an unflattering angle by the press.
A valet opened the car door on Eden’s side, and she was quickly escorted into the safe confines of the tent. Freddy said to her solemnly, “You’re about to enter the most exclusive private club in the country, probably the whole planet. Money alone won’t get you in here.”
Standing behind the glossy reception counter were three strapping hosts with matching jawlines dressed like Edwardian cricket umpires. “Mr. Farman-Farmihian, we have your table ready,” the host sporting cool ponytail dreads said before thrusting a clipboard with a sheet attached in front of Eden. “I need you to sign this.”
“What am I signing?”
“Your life away. Just kidding. This is our standard NDA for guests. Nondisclosure agreement,” he added unnecessarily as he handed her a pen.
“What am I agreeing not to disclose?” Eden asked in amusement.
“Everything. You saw nothing, heard nothing, spoke nothing, you weren’t actually even here.”
Eden chuckled as she signed away, murmuring under her breath, “Do I even exist?”
The host stared at her earnestly. “Now, I just need to see your phone.”
“My phone?” Eden looked at the host in confusion.
“Yeah, hand him your phone,” Freddy confirmed.
Eden took out her cell phone, and the host carefully placed stickers emblazoned with the insignia of the club over the camera lenses on both sides of the device.
“It’s to make sure you don’t sneak any photos,” Freddy said with a wink. “This place is paparazzi-proof. The highest of high-profile people and the A-est of A-list celebrities hang out here, and we all want to feel safe and comfortable.”
A model-pretty hostess led them through the door, and suddenly they found themselves in a lush tropical garden with tables placed around frothy fountained pools. The atmosphere felt like a pool party, with Portishead pumped through the speakers and everyone in a celebratory mood. Every head swiveled to check them out as they entered the garden, quickly swiveling away when they saw that they were nobodies. As Eden settled into her wicker chair feeling rather self-conscious, she glanced at the neighboring table and saw a cute West Highland white terrier staring at her intently. It then turned, as if bored, back to the chic blond lady swathed in cashmere huddled in conversation with an Asian guy in a striped sailor tee.
Achilles, Freddy’s favorite waiter, sauntered up to the table like he was about to launch his best pickup line. “Mr. Farman-Farmihian, what fabulous sneakers you have on today! Pray tell, are those original Air Jordans?”