Beautiful People | wlw

Thirty-two: Patterns

"Look." Ivy grabbed a huge paper cup out of the center console and offered it like it was an Academy Award statuette. "I brought you a coffee. Size giant. Still hot."

Vera couldn't say no to that.

"I'm imposing a non-negotiable no-lecture rule." She slid into the passenger seat, lifting Toffee onto her lap. "Are you shopping for anything in particular?"

"I could use a new handbag, but I'm open to serendipitous finds. You're the expert." Ivy put on some music. "I can't believe you think I lecture you."

"I can't believe you think you don't."

The engine roared as they took off down the road, wind ruffling their hair. The sky swam hazy overhead in the lingering summer heat.

Vera gulped half her coffee and finally began to feel awake. "I assume you want to see Rodeo Drive?"

Ivy pursed her lips into a little pink bow. "Yes. And you probably think that's super basic don't you?"

"You're a gynecologist on vacation. What else would you be except basic?"

"It's true that you've always been the cool one." She made a face. "You really think I lecture you?"

"You do, Ivy."

"Tell me one time I've lectured you."

"Do you not remember yelling at me for quitting the bridal salon?"

"Well, I did bribe Mona to get you that job."

"Which I never asked you to do. I thought you were all about admitting when you were wrong, now."

Reaching over to turn up the music, Ivy frowned thoughtfully. "I don't think I was wrong for that one. You blamed a bride because a dress tore by accident. You ruined her day and then you quit instead of taking accountability. What's a big sister for, if not to call you out when you've fucked up?"

Vera winced, remembering that moment with brutal clarity: that gorgeous dress ripping, hand-sewn seed pearls popping off to bounce all over the floor; the bridesmaids all gasping in horror when she said fat. She'd been having a bad day, and she'd taken it out on the innocent bride. Not her finest moment.

Venice had been a bad day for her, too, but it had been worse for Carmen and Marina, and especially for Sharise, who deserved only good things and should never have anything bad happen to her, ever. Yet she had walked out on all of them.

Ivy had accused her once of running away from anything that got too hard. Vera hadn't wanted to listen, then. But she couldn't deny anymore that it was true.

Scratching Toffee under her tiny chin, she squinted at the buildings zipping by. Jay didn't sugarcoat, but he didn't know her like her sister did. Maybe a dose of Ivy's sometimes ruthless honesty was exactly what she needed. But that didn't mean she had to like it.

She drained the last of her coffee and wished she had more.

In Beverly Hills, flashy cars cruised past flashier people. Ivy circled until she found a parking spot in the fitful shade of pendulous palm trees. Then she slipped Toffee into her brown leather purse. The dog poked her head out from under the handles, tongue lolling happily, as Ivy swayed the bag onto her shoulder.

They started up Rodeo Drive under the gauzy sun, admiring the breezy architecture, white stone and glass meeting in designs that felt modern and classic at the same time. People wandered the streets, window shopping, licking ice cream in the shade, and gawking from the open tops of tourist buses that would next wind up into the Hills, letting the tourists get a taste of being paparazzi as they stalked celebrities right to the doors of their homes.