Page 6 of We Were Something
This is her event, the big performance to prove to her family that they made the right decision in hiring her for the director position at the Roth Foundation over promoting some others who have been working there for years.
And while I might be a little intoxy-pants, I know without a doubt that she blew it out of the park.
Or…hit it out of the water? Something like that.
“Just trying not to ‘make a spectacle of myself,’” I say, using air quotes then baring my slightly too-large teeth in a cheesy grin.
“Mommie Dearest?” she asks, and I nod with a giggle, followed closely by a sigh.
Lennon has been calling my mom ‘Mommie Dearest’ since we were kids. Never to her face, of course, because she was raised with all the expectations of East Coast families, and it would be absolutelyunconscionable—Lennon’s mother’s words—to tease a friend’s parents.
But if anyone knows the overwhelming feelings that come along with strict, intense, overbearing mothers, it’s Lennon. She has one of her own, which is why it’s easy for us to tease each other about the burden that accompanies the paradigm that ‘mother knows best.’
I’m actually a bit surprised our moms didn’t become closer friends after meeting a decade and a half ago, back when Lennon and Lenora first moved to Hermosa Beach. But as horrible as it sounds, Lenora is old money, and old-money ways look down on the nouveau riche, though it’s often hidden behind pleasantries.
Much to my mother’s dismay, no amount of new money can buy a place in the world of an old-money family like Lenora Roth’s.
“She’s been on your case a lot lately,” Lennon says, eyeing me with concern that can only come from a best friend.
One who knows the depth of your darkest secrets.
I shrug a shoulder and try to paste on the smile I’m so used to wearing.
“It’ll be fine, I’m sure,” I tell her, twisting my phone between my fingers and bumping Lennon on the shoulder, hoping to change the subject. “Great job, tonight. Really.”
She blushes.
“I know you were nervous about the speech, but it turned out so good.”
“Thanks,” she says, nibbling on her lip. “I messed up on the last line and totally forgot Mayor Cabot’s last name.” She grips the bridge of her nose in irritation. “But other than that, things have been going pretty smooth.”
“Where’s Lucas?” I ask, my eyes darting around in search of my other best friend. “I would have bet money he’d stick around to the end.”
She smiles, and I catch that bit of enamored adoration she has for her boyfriend—a role she’s been wanting him to fill for alongtime.
“He’s talking with Lou. You know how he loves those cooking shows.”
I giggle.
Lennon hired a celebrity chef for tonight’s festivities, and Lou Bowery is one of Lucas’ favorites. I’m not surprised to hear he’s talking the man’s ear off.
“Tonight really is something special,” I tell her. “I might be swimming in gin right now, but I know you did a spectacular job.”
“We’ll have a directors meeting on Monday afternoon. That’s when all the feedback and critiques will come through,” she says, nibbling on her lip again.
“It’ll be all tens, I’m sure.”
She laughs, then lets out a long sigh. “Alright, I’ve been sitting around long enough. Time to hand out a few donation plaques and thank yous to the board of trustees.” She leans over and plants a kiss on my cheek. “Love you, girlie.”
“You, too.”
As Lennon heads off in the direction of the small stage set up along the opposite wall, I take a moment to look around at everything my friend put together tonight.
When I told her she did a great job and everything looks spectacular, I really meant it. From the decorations to the food to the lighting, it’s all thoughtful and intentional.
I’m not surprised, though. That’s just Lennon.
I would love to have her kind of interest in something. Pursue it with the same kind of passion. I guess I’ll just have to wait and see whether that can ever be a reality for me.
