“What is it, darling?” Margo asks. “Do you smell something bad?” Bean is frozen, head cocked, ready for anything. Suddenly, she explodes, races to the stairs and bounds out of sight, wildly barking.
“What’s gotten into her?” I ask. No one answers. You don’t mess with Bean. Her bark gets more and more distant as she descends.
I take the chair Margo has set for me on the other side of the table. It’s a dining table I haven’t seen before—arctic white with a real silver inlay—and will probably never see again.
Margo ashes her cigarette. One of her staff appears behind her. “Gin martini. And what do you drink, Lyla?”
“Red wine with dinner.”
“Oh, yes, she likes that Spanish crap.” She smiles like a kid who’s made a dirty joke.
“Mom,” Graham cautions with a disarming smile. If I can give Graham credit for one thing, it’s admitting his mother hates me. It’s the one thing he doesn’t make me feel is all in my head.
“How’s my baby?” She brushes his jawline. “Do you want a cigarette?” Graham smokes only with his mother. In a few days, he will complain about his throat and say, Why did you let me do that? But now she slips one in his mouth, then lights it for him. “So handsome.” She tweaks his chin.
Margo worships Graham like something she created by will alone. She never talks about his father; you would think Graham were the virgin birth. I once asked Graham about him and he explained that his father ran off with the maid. “Do you ever see him?” I asked. He seemed confused: “Of course not. He’s dead.” I didn’t ask if Margo killed him. I just assumed she had.
They talk about his birthday for a while. Margo is determined to find something he wants. She does a big present every year. One year it was a biplane. The next, a yacht. Graham used each once or twice, mostly to please Margo, but they bored him. Everything bores him. He’s too good for this world. Or too bad.
When I told Margo about my plan for the party, she was furious. She said it was a great idea. She said she couldn’t believe I thought of it. “Maybe you’re not as stupid as you look,” she added, so I knew she really liked it. She insisted I hold it at her house: “That will be my gift.”
“But it’s going to be very messy,” I explained. At the time I was planning to rent out an army base or something. It might have been expensive to bribe the US government, but I had a feeling it would cost less than I expected.
“Not a problem! I was planning to redecorate anyway.” This is not a surprise. Every rich person I know is like Sarah Winchester: The ghosts can’t haunt them if they keep on building. “Blow the place apart! It’ll be a blast! It will be much more fun for Graham if the damage is real.” She knows him well.
I had to accept her offer. She was right. Graham would have been disappointed with a piddling old army base. Margo’s house is beautiful, stately, a castle in the clouds. And I’m not too proud to admit, the idea of destroying it thrilled me, too.
“So”—Margo turns to me now, inviting the full force of her regal costume—“you had a little breakdown?”
Black fairy lights flicker over our heads with maddening speed. “I was arrested.”
“And you didn’t think to call?” She rubs Graham’s knee. “Don’t you get one phone call?” She tosses off a laugh. “Isn’t that the thing?”
The waiter arrives with the drinks, thank God. I take a gulp of wine. “I asked for one. Correction officers are not as accommodating as one might think.”
Graham chuckles but Margo frowns. “Why is it always you who has the problems? Everyone else seems to get along just fine.” She spreads her fingers across her chest. “I’ve never been arrested. And Lord knows, I’ve broken the law!”
“You must be so proud,” I say, which she doesn’t like.
“Where are my grandkids?” Margo asks, like they were here earlier. Her eyes bore into me and I want to tell her, You don’t have grandkids and you never will because your son doesn’t like fucking me. Not in a box, not with a fox, thank you very much.
I can’t imagine having kids. I have my hands full with her son.
Graham rustles in his seat, drawing our attention. “You had better tell Margo everything. Every dirty detail.”
I take a fortifying gulp of wine. Bean has stopped barking like even she wants to hear. “I had this idea to set Demi up. . . .”