Jennie

We ate. We drank. We danced to club music and traded stories of broken hearts.

And no one said a word when four bags of ice, a crate with all the ingredients for Bloody Marys, and a Louis Vuitton weekender bag with four fast food burgers stuffed in the pocket appeared at the front door.

I couldn't sleep. Chaeyoung's guest room was beautifully appointed in a Zen-yoga studio style complete with white noise machine, aromatherapy diffuser, and a lavender eye pillow. The bedding was soft and plush. The art was soothing, and there was a stack of poetry volumes on the chrome nightstand.

And I couldn't stop thinking.

After overthinking it for an embarrassing amount of time, I opened the bag Lisa had packed for me. My favorite pajama set, organic cotton shorts and a long-sleeve tee, were neatly folded on top. She'd included gym clothes and sneakers, a dress and wrap-around strappy sandals, three packets of Imodium, and a bag of my usual makeup and hair products.

The woman had packed better for me than I had.

There was a notecard tucked in between the layers of clothing.

Jennie.

My name was scrawled across the envelope. Going forward, did I want my name passing Lisa Manoban's lips?

I leaned back against the great wall of organic silk-cased pillows and closed my eyes.

What do you want?

Lisa's favorite question echoed in my head as I fingered the envelope.

What did I want? Now that my box had exploded open. That there were no walls, no structure. What did I want?

My iPad, another thoughtful addition to the overnight bag, vibrated.

Messages. I assumed there were many.

I debated another long moment because what else did I have to do? Besides write my resignation letter, of course. I pulled it free of the pocket.

I wondered if Lisa had done anything all day long besides call and text me. There were dozens of messages from her. I skipped over them. There wasn't a single part of me that was prepared to have any direct contact with the person yet. Not when I was so… damaged. My defenses were down, and I couldn't engage with her until my head was clear.

Ugh. There were more voicemails from my mother. Steeling myself, I clicked on the latest one from an hour ago. It looked as though I wasn't the only one having trouble sleeping tonight.

"Jennie. It's your mother. I don't know why you're not returning my calls, but we have a family emergency. Bobby needs to leave the country. There's some nonsense about a warrant, and frankly we just need to buy some time until your legal team can get involved. I need you to have the plane ready for him tonight. He says Vietnam doesn't have extradition and has nice beaches. And I'm sure he can get by on a few hundred thousand."

No "Your father told me what happened and I'm so sorry/angry/hurt on your behalf." No "Are you all right? This has to be devastating."

She was incapable of loving me in the way that I needed to be loved. The realization was both painful and a relief.

I used the phone on the nightstand and dialed my mother.

She answered immediately.

"Hi, Mom."

"Jennie, oh thank God! Where have you been? I need your help."

"Did you talk to Dad?" I asked, interrupting her.

"He is insistent that Bobby handles this on his own," she scoffed as if it were the most ridiculous notion she'd ever heard.

"I mean about me. About Flawless, Mom."

"What? Oh, he mentioned something about you resigning. You keep the money and don't have to do any of the work," she said airily. I could picture her waving it away like a tiny gnat not worthy of her attention. "Jennie, this is an emergency. I need you to get your plane ready. Have you talked to your attorneys? I can't get ours to return my calls. I think your father forbade them from getting involved."

I was losing family members left and right. Their titles and blood suddenly no longer good enough to earn them a place in my life.

My mom continued her tirade over the injustice of Bobby being held accountable. "I wouldn't be able to show my face in public ever again. Bethenny would positively salivate over a morsel like this."

"No, she wouldn't, Mom. Because Bethenny doesn't give two shits about you and your image. She's too busy living her life and being happy. You should try it sometime."

"Jennie," my mother gasped.

But I steamrolled on, fueled by already having lost everything. There was no point to pretending to be the good, dutiful daughter. Not anymore. "I'm not helping Bobby. If he defrauded people, then he deserves whatever punishment is coming his way."

"How can you say that? He's your brother! He needs you!"

"This is what happens when you build your life dependent on someone else's net worth. In the end, you're powerless. Something I will never be."

"It's not that easy for everyone else, Jennie," my mother said icily.

"Easy?" I laughed without a hint of humor. "You think what I've done is easy? Do you have any idea the sacrifices I made to build this life? The things I've given up to be the good daughter, the strong leader, the unimpeachable Kim?"

"Don't be so sensitive," Venice crooned. "Not everyone wants to build a business. Your brother just isn't entrepreneurial. It's hard for him to be happy for you or proud of you because he doesn't understand you. And quite frankly, darling, I don't blame him. You've made no effort lately to be likable."

I took that as a compliment. There was no power in being likable.

"What about you, Mom? Are you happy for me? Are you proud of me? Do you even care that my life is falling apart because people who haven't earned it think they're entitled to what's mine?"

"Not everything is about you, Jennie! This is a family crisis, and I need you to do what's necessary to keep your brother out of trouble and the family name out of the mud."

"I'm losing everything because of something I didn't do. Bobby is going to be punished for something he did do, and you're more concerned about that."

And while Bobby was her favorite, my mother still couldn't see him as anything more than a charming pawn.

"Don't be so dramatic. You're keeping your shares. Bobby is your brother!"

"He's barely more than a disrespectful stranger to me," I shot back.

"I do not have time to deal with your issues right now."

"You never did. So I'm going to make it easy for you. From here on out, you and Bobby and I are acquaintances. Nothing more. I'm no longer available for your social climbing or your family manipulations. I'm done."

"What does that even mean, Jennie?" she asked caustically. "You are being beyond selfish. I honestly can't believe that you're my daughter."

"I can't believe it either. Best of luck, Venice."

I hung up the phone and pulled the plug from the wall. No need to wake the house with my mother's incessant middle of the night demands.

Feeling stronger, I returned to the iPad and scrolled through more messages.

There was a text message from Bethenny.

Bethenny: This is complete bullshit. Whatever you need from me and Ed, say the word. I will raise an army of attorneys or hire Ed's third cousin Louie who may or may not have questionable New Jersey ties. I'm here for you. Whatever you need. P.S. I spoke to your father who didn't seem concerned enough about the situation for my liking. He's in the fetal position sobbing on a golf course somewhere now.

I wanted to cry.

My circle was small. So very small. But it was mighty.

Me: That means everything to me. Thank you. Lunch soon.

I put the tablet down, picked up the still unopened note, and crossed to the terrace doors. They were romantic, arched French doors covered in delicate water-colored sheers. I opened both sets and stood in the doorway, absorbing the humidity that lingered in the dark hours of the night, the steady thrum of the waves on the beach.

I wasn't powerless. And I wasn't stupid.

The picture from my twenty-first birthday was one that Irene had taken of me. "Lady Kim at her finest," she'd teased while I vomited the poison out of my system. She promised it would never see the light of day. Friends didn't do that to friends.

She'd been the one to insist we go out. Insisted on shots. Insisted on getting guys to buy us drinks. "You know who she is, don't you?" she'd whispered conspiratorially in the ear of every bartender.

"You're wasting this great privileged life," she complained. "You should be vacationing on the Mediterranean for spring break. Or renting a compound in Cabo for Christmas. Not studying and hanging out in labs. You're missing out."

I'd believed her and acquiesced to spending my birthday in a more traditional fashion.

I'd nearly gone home with someone. A stranger. I was drunk and flirty. And the guy, a friend of a friend of Irene's, had been… insistent. At the last second, I'd bailed. And he'd died.

Irene had done this. All of it. I'd known it the second I saw the photo.

Lisa's pointed questions about trust. Alison's snide comments about Irene. Was I the only one who was surprised by the betrayal?

But what was Lisa's role in it all?

I couldn't picture her with her. Couldn't see her falling for her wiles. She had her own, and she'd wielded them on me. Somehow, in a way that made no logical sense, I still didn't doubt her feelings for me.

But she'd gone behind my back. She'd put herself in a situation that forced the doubt. And again had told me nothing.

I'd surrounded myself with too many people who didn't love me, didn't have my best interests at heart. And that was the price I was paying.

But I was finished with that mistake. And now that the purge had begun, I was ready for more. Rock bottom was nothing but a foundation. And I would rebuild. But this time, it would be the life that I wanted.

I tapped the notecard against my palm, debating.

"Screw it," I sighed to the dark. I slipped my thumb under the fold and ripped it open.

Jennie,

We still have business. Tell me what you want.

Love,

Lisa

Of course, it wasn't an apology or even a plea to explain. That wasn't Lisa Manoban's style. This was a reminder that we weren't done yet.

"Boof." A dark shape lumbered toward me.

"Jesus, Brutus! Don't you ever sleep in your own house?" I asked as the St. Bernard wandered into the room and climbed up on the bed.

I had work to do. I flopped down on the mattress next to the zip-code-sized dog and reached for the phone. It was time to wake some people up.

"Joy?" I said when my attorney picked up on the second ring.

"Tell me what I can do," she announced briskly.

"How are you even awake right now? It's two in the morning."

"I'm on my seventh cappuccino. I've got nine cease and desists with threatening legalese drafted and ready for business tomorrow. Then I started the defamation filings just for something to do. I also spent twenty minutes scaring the shit out of that Nina Nowak into spilling everything after Alison and Lisa tracked her down. You?" Her words were flying out in an over-caffeinated explosion.

"Yeah. About that. Are you up for a few more legal maneuvers tonight?"

"Fuck yes. I'm ready to legally rearrange some people's faces. Unleash me!"

"This could be seen as conflict of interest seeing as how I'm being ousted," I reminded her.

"I've been warming up my middle fingers for my departure tomorrow."

"You don't have to leave the company just because I do."

"Jennie, I believe in you. Not some name on a letterhead. And certainly not some snively, money-grubbing board of weasels. Where you go, I go."

"In that case, I'm going to have an in-house counsel position opening up in a new venture if you're interested—"

"Dibs! Mine! Gimmie!"

"Joy, maybe you should drink some water or something?"

Two hours later, I tiptoed out of the guest wing into the main living space. Chaeyoung's living room was a shrine to all things shiny, Eastern, and yoga. Architectural Digest had been begging for a photo shoot for years. But Chaeyoung stood firm in her belief that a home should only be shared with love.

Nayeon was snoring on the couch. Her life vest slung over a rattan chair. An empty bottle of cheap pink champagne rested on its side on a cloud-like vegan wool rug.

Love.

Nayeon and the rest of the girls had dropped everything. For me. There was no inconvenience. Nothing required in return. Because we loved each other.

Small, strong circles.

I drew an alpaca blanket over her and hastily scrawled a note on Chaeyoung's recycled house stationery, leaving it on the coffee maker where someone would be sure to find it.