Last Night at Chateau Marmont
Page 64
“Victory by surrender! I’ll take it,” Julian shouted with a fist pump. He then proceeded to high-five his lobster’s rubber-banded claw. Walter woofed.
“Winner gets to put them in the water,” she said, motioning to the lobster pot they’d unearthed in the Alters’ pantry. “I don’t think I can handle it.”
Julian stood up and extended a hand to help Brooke. “Go check the fire, and I’ll deal with these guys.”
She took him up on his offer and headed toward the living room, where a couple hours earlier Julian had taught her how to build a fire. It was something her father or Randy had always handled, and she was delighted to discover how satisfying it was to stack the logs strategically and use the poker to shuffle them around just so. She grabbed a medium-sized log from the hearthside basket and gently placed it diagonally across the top; she sat back on the couch, watching the flames, transfixed. She could hear Julian’s cell phone ring from the other room.
He came in from the kitchen with two glasses of red wine and joined her on the couch. “They should be done in fifteen minutes. They didn’t feel a thing, I promise.”
“Uh-huh. I’m sure they loved it. Who was that calling?” she asked.
“Calling? Oh, I don’t know, doesn’t matter.”
“Cheers,” Brooke said, and clinked his glass.
Julian sighed, a deep, satisfied sigh that seemed to say everything was right with the world. “How nice is this?” he asked. It was the right sigh, the right sentiment, but something about it struck Brooke as strange. He was almost being too sweet.
Things between them had been noticeably strained in the weeks leading up to the Sony party; Julian kept expecting Brooke to bail on her responsibilities at Huntley, and when she didn’t—when he actually did fly to the Hamptons dateless—he had seemed downright shocked by it. In the ten days since the party, they’d discussed it as best they could, but Brooke couldn’t get rid of the feeling that Julian still didn’t understand her perspective, and despite a heroic effort on both their parts to move past it and act like everything was normal, things still didn’t feel right.
She took a sip of the wine and felt that familiar warming sensation as it first hit her stomach. “Nice is an understatement. This is lovely,” she said with an almost awkward formality.
“I can’t understand why my parents never come out here in the winter. It’s gorgeous when it’s snowing, they have this awesome fireplace, and there’s no one else around.”
Brooke smiled. “There’s no one else around—that’s what they can’t stand. What’s the point of going to eat at Nick & Toni’s if there’s no one to witness you get the best table?”
“Yeah, well, Anguilla should be perfect for that. I’m sure they’re very happy fighting the holiday crowds. Plus everything will cost two to three times as much now, which they adore. Makes them feel special. I bet they’re happy as can be.”
Although neither of them liked to admit it, they were both so grateful that the Alters owned the East Hampton house. Not that they ever spent a weekend out there with Julian’s parents or dared visit during the summer—even their wedding had been in early March, when there was still snow on the ground—but it gave them a free, luxurious escape from the city a full six months a year. They’d taken advantage of it often for the first couple years, going out to see the first spring bloom or visit a local vineyard or walk the beach in October when the weather was starting to turn, but with the craziness of both their schedules, they hadn’t been there in over a year. It had been Julian’s idea to spend New Year’s out there, just the two of them, and while she suspected it was a peace offering more than a genuine desire to hole up together, Brooke had readily accepted.
“I’m going to make the salad,” she said, standing up. “Do you want anything?”
“I’ll help.”
“What’d you do with my husband?”
His phone rang again. He glanced at it and shoved it back in his pocket.
“Who was it?”
“I don’t know. Private number. I don’t know who would be calling now,” he said, following her into the kitchen, and, without being asked, he drained the boiled potatoes and began mashing them.
Their conversation over dinner was easier and more relaxed, probably thanks to the wine. There seemed to be some sort of tacit understanding that they wouldn’t talk about work at all, not hers or his; instead, they chatted about Nola and the promotion she’d just received, how happy Randy was around baby Ella, and whether or not they might be able to sneak in a weekend trip together somewhere warm before Julian’s tour schedule really heated up in the new year.
The brownies Brooke had made for dessert were gooier than she would’ve liked, and topped with whipped cream, vanilla ice cream, and chocolate chips, they looked more like a hot brownie stew, but they were delicious. Julian suited up in full snow gear to take Walter out for his final walk while Brooke cleaned up and made coffee. They met back in front of the fire. His cell phone rang, but he silenced it once again without glancing at the screen.
“How are you feeling about not playing tonight? It must have been pretty strange to turn it down,” Brooke asked, resting her head in his lap.
Julian had been invited to perform on MTV’s New Year’s Eve countdown show in Times Square and then host a celeb-heavy party at the Hotel on Rivington from midnight on. He’d been thrilled when Leo told him about it in the early fall, but as the night got closer, Julian grew less and less enthused. When he finally instructed Leo to cancel the whole thing last week, no one was more shocked—or delighted—than Brooke. Especially when he’d turned to Brooke and asked if she’d join him in the Hamptons for a stay-at-home date night.
“We don’t have to talk about all that stuff tonight,” Julian said. She could tell he was trying to be sensitive to her, but it was clear something was bugging him.
“I know,” Brooke said. “I just want to make sure you’re not regretting it.”
Julian stroked her hair. “Are you crazy, woman? Between that whole Today show drama and all the travel, and looking ahead at how much crazier it’s going to get next year, I just needed a break. We needed a break.”
“We really did,” she murmured, feeling more contented than she had in months. “I’m guessing Leo isn’t thrilled, but I sure am.”
“Winner gets to put them in the water,” she said, motioning to the lobster pot they’d unearthed in the Alters’ pantry. “I don’t think I can handle it.”
Julian stood up and extended a hand to help Brooke. “Go check the fire, and I’ll deal with these guys.”
She took him up on his offer and headed toward the living room, where a couple hours earlier Julian had taught her how to build a fire. It was something her father or Randy had always handled, and she was delighted to discover how satisfying it was to stack the logs strategically and use the poker to shuffle them around just so. She grabbed a medium-sized log from the hearthside basket and gently placed it diagonally across the top; she sat back on the couch, watching the flames, transfixed. She could hear Julian’s cell phone ring from the other room.
He came in from the kitchen with two glasses of red wine and joined her on the couch. “They should be done in fifteen minutes. They didn’t feel a thing, I promise.”
“Uh-huh. I’m sure they loved it. Who was that calling?” she asked.
“Calling? Oh, I don’t know, doesn’t matter.”
“Cheers,” Brooke said, and clinked his glass.
Julian sighed, a deep, satisfied sigh that seemed to say everything was right with the world. “How nice is this?” he asked. It was the right sigh, the right sentiment, but something about it struck Brooke as strange. He was almost being too sweet.
Things between them had been noticeably strained in the weeks leading up to the Sony party; Julian kept expecting Brooke to bail on her responsibilities at Huntley, and when she didn’t—when he actually did fly to the Hamptons dateless—he had seemed downright shocked by it. In the ten days since the party, they’d discussed it as best they could, but Brooke couldn’t get rid of the feeling that Julian still didn’t understand her perspective, and despite a heroic effort on both their parts to move past it and act like everything was normal, things still didn’t feel right.
She took a sip of the wine and felt that familiar warming sensation as it first hit her stomach. “Nice is an understatement. This is lovely,” she said with an almost awkward formality.
“I can’t understand why my parents never come out here in the winter. It’s gorgeous when it’s snowing, they have this awesome fireplace, and there’s no one else around.”
Brooke smiled. “There’s no one else around—that’s what they can’t stand. What’s the point of going to eat at Nick & Toni’s if there’s no one to witness you get the best table?”
“Yeah, well, Anguilla should be perfect for that. I’m sure they’re very happy fighting the holiday crowds. Plus everything will cost two to three times as much now, which they adore. Makes them feel special. I bet they’re happy as can be.”
Although neither of them liked to admit it, they were both so grateful that the Alters owned the East Hampton house. Not that they ever spent a weekend out there with Julian’s parents or dared visit during the summer—even their wedding had been in early March, when there was still snow on the ground—but it gave them a free, luxurious escape from the city a full six months a year. They’d taken advantage of it often for the first couple years, going out to see the first spring bloom or visit a local vineyard or walk the beach in October when the weather was starting to turn, but with the craziness of both their schedules, they hadn’t been there in over a year. It had been Julian’s idea to spend New Year’s out there, just the two of them, and while she suspected it was a peace offering more than a genuine desire to hole up together, Brooke had readily accepted.
“I’m going to make the salad,” she said, standing up. “Do you want anything?”
“I’ll help.”
“What’d you do with my husband?”
His phone rang again. He glanced at it and shoved it back in his pocket.
“Who was it?”
“I don’t know. Private number. I don’t know who would be calling now,” he said, following her into the kitchen, and, without being asked, he drained the boiled potatoes and began mashing them.
Their conversation over dinner was easier and more relaxed, probably thanks to the wine. There seemed to be some sort of tacit understanding that they wouldn’t talk about work at all, not hers or his; instead, they chatted about Nola and the promotion she’d just received, how happy Randy was around baby Ella, and whether or not they might be able to sneak in a weekend trip together somewhere warm before Julian’s tour schedule really heated up in the new year.
The brownies Brooke had made for dessert were gooier than she would’ve liked, and topped with whipped cream, vanilla ice cream, and chocolate chips, they looked more like a hot brownie stew, but they were delicious. Julian suited up in full snow gear to take Walter out for his final walk while Brooke cleaned up and made coffee. They met back in front of the fire. His cell phone rang, but he silenced it once again without glancing at the screen.
“How are you feeling about not playing tonight? It must have been pretty strange to turn it down,” Brooke asked, resting her head in his lap.
Julian had been invited to perform on MTV’s New Year’s Eve countdown show in Times Square and then host a celeb-heavy party at the Hotel on Rivington from midnight on. He’d been thrilled when Leo told him about it in the early fall, but as the night got closer, Julian grew less and less enthused. When he finally instructed Leo to cancel the whole thing last week, no one was more shocked—or delighted—than Brooke. Especially when he’d turned to Brooke and asked if she’d join him in the Hamptons for a stay-at-home date night.
“We don’t have to talk about all that stuff tonight,” Julian said. She could tell he was trying to be sensitive to her, but it was clear something was bugging him.
“I know,” Brooke said. “I just want to make sure you’re not regretting it.”
Julian stroked her hair. “Are you crazy, woman? Between that whole Today show drama and all the travel, and looking ahead at how much crazier it’s going to get next year, I just needed a break. We needed a break.”
“We really did,” she murmured, feeling more contented than she had in months. “I’m guessing Leo isn’t thrilled, but I sure am.”
