Bliss (36 page)

“This is the door,” said Sophia. “Good food, good friends, music, a beautiful day.”

“You can't be serious.”

Sophia looked at her like she felt sorry for her. “Are you okay?”

“I'm
fantastic
,” said Leandra, better than Sophia was, apparently, trading in her dreams for a skinny writer boy and a pitcher of margaritas. “I just wanted to say good-bye. I'm flying to Paris in a few days. I don't think we'll see each other again before I go.”

“Paris?”

“I'm meeting my English friends at the Plaza Athénée. I'm sure the food won't be as good as this,” she said, nodding at the tacos on the picnic table, “but we'll manage.”

“I've never been.”

“Me, either. But Cosimo and Jacques know the city inside and out. All I have to do is show up.”

“I'm so jealous!” said Sophia, sounding like she meant it.

Telling a grand lie didn't give Leandra the rush it used to, though. “I'll miss you,” said Leandra. “But we'll talk.”

“Of course we will. You won't stay for one more drink?”

“I can't, really. Packing and shopping! Too much to do.”

*   *   *

Over the next few days, Leandra researched Los Angeles's high-end consignment stores, and sold everything she owned, save a few of her favorite outfits and pieces of jewelry, one large suitcase worth. With $30,000 to her name, she booked a first-class Air France ticket from LAX to Charles de Gaulle. She couldn't help remembering how she felt all those months ago when she flew from Toronto to Phuket with one suitcase and $3,000. As cramped as it was in coach, she felt light and free, with her whole life ahead of her. Just like now.

Sophia called her earlier today, asking her to stay in town tonight. “My show is airing, and we're having a viewing party at the apartment. I'd really like you to come. You know you're welcome to stay over for as long as you want.”

Leandra was tempted by Sophia's offer, but she had her plane ticket and was itching to fly. It wasn't in her nature to settle for ukuleles and bare feet like Sophia, or with a fat, married boss/boyfriend like Demi. Frankly, she expected more for her friends than they seemed to want for themselves.
What was wrong with them?

“You've got your bliss,” she told Sophia. “I'm searching for mine.”

In the first-class lounge, Leandra ordered a dry martini. As she sipped her drink, she glanced up at the TV screen behind the bar—and saw Sophia's face on it! She looked gorgeous. The volume was down so she couldn't hear the dialogue, but Sophia sold it without words. “I miss you,” she said to the TV screen, which might be the only way Leandra would see Sophia again.

No, they were old friends, and they would find a way to circle back to each other. Sophia and Demi would always be in her life. She was glad things were working out for them in LA. But she couldn't stay in one place or one relationship. Sophia and Demi were like sisters; they had each other. As close as she'd been with Demi and Sophia, she never felt as close to them as she had been with Stacy. She wished she could, but that kind of trust and love weren't available to her. After you'd been cut in half, you were never whole again. She could fool herself into believing a friend, or a man, or a place, could give her what she'd lost. But then she'd only feel more lonely and disappointed when she failed to find the unfindable. And yet, the powerful urge to search for it remained.

Leandra must have transmitted a beguiling
tristesse
because it caught the attention of the handsome man seated to her right.

“You look so sad,” he said with a thick French accent. No wedding ring. Did they wear them in France? “Would you like to talk about it?”

She smiled with just her lips, a small sad smile, and arched her brows to accentuate the romantic misery in her face that he was attracted to, and said, “I'm sure you don't want to hear about my problems.”

He said, “But I do!”

“Are you on the flight to Paris?”

“I am. Seat one-A.”

“I'm one-B,” she said. “I guess we have all night to talk about our problems.”

“And perhaps solve some of them.”

What was that? The sound of a door opening? Leandra turned away from the TV, and marched right through it.

 

epilogue

“I'll drive,” said Demi. Aiden had given her a Fiat, and she was getting behind the wheel at every opportunity, even to drive Sophia to a meeting for
The Den
.

“Do you know the streets yet?” asked Sophia.

“I like to get lost,” said Demi, making them both think of that night, almost five years ago, driving around Vancouver with Leandra. Seemed like a million years ago.

Sophia finished her makeup. “I'm nervous.”

“Why? The show's a hit, after only two episodes! You're getting amazing ratings. And now we can upgrade and get a real house. It's all good!”

Sophia had learned to be cautiously optimistic about success, even while keeping a positive attitude. “You're right,” she said, smiling. “Ready.”

They headed east, toward the meeting in Hollywood. She'd been called to meet with the new publicity team. Now that the show was picked up and media calls were flooding in for the three stars of the show, the producers hired half a dozen publicists. Her image, her career, would be in their hands.

“Listen, Demi, what will happen if the show turns out to be huge, and I become really successful?”

“I don't understand the question.”

“Meanwhile, the restaurant flops.”

“Okay, I get it,” said Demi. “You could ask the same thing in reverse. I'm a hit, and you're a flop. It doesn't matter which way it plays out. The issue is, what happens if we wind up moving in different directions?”

“Ideally, we'll both move up,” said Sophia.

They stared at each other, imagining how big the friendship disparity would have to be to pull them apart. Ocean-size? Puddle-size?

“We won't let that happen,” said Sophia. “Leandra was right about one thing.”

“That Jenna Jameson isn't really a skank?”

“That whatever life throws at us, we'll catch it together.”

Demi laughed. “Or get hit in the face with it!”

They drove along, and then Demi jammed on the brakes and pointed at a huge billboard over the highway. “Holy mother of fuck,” she said. “Did you know about this?”

Sophia had not been told that her face and cleavage, along with those of Cassie and Paula, were going to be put on a billboard on Hollywood Boulevard to promote the show. She'd never seen her face with such objectivity. “I look good,” she said.

Demi was flipping shit. “You look sensational!! Are you fucking kidding me? Look at you!”

A car horn blasted behind them, and they drove on. Demi went on about the billboard, and she dearly appreciated that, but it was such a strange feeling to see your image but not feel connected to it.

They pulled up at the studio in Hollywood, and Sophia got out. Demi would check in at the restaurant and pick her up later. A couple of girls on the street recognized Sophia, and took out their phones to snap a photo. Sophia felt a thrill, almost taking out her own phone to snap a photo of them taking her picture.

On that high, she sailed into the Silver Associates office and was immediately shown into a glass-paneled room to meet three elegantly dressed women and one nattily suited man. Sophia took a seat at the glass conference room table.

Introductions were made, but Sophia quickly realized she'd be talking to only one person, the man (which annoyed her; out of four people, why was the one man in charge?).

His name was Eric Silver, the firm's founder, and he reminded her so much of Ari Gold from
Entourage
, she wondered if he fashioned himself after the character. “We have been looking forward to meeting you, Sophia,” he said. “We have huge plans for your career. It's our job to make you look good.”

“Great,” she said, not sure what else to say.

“Great,” he repeated. “So. You really are gorgeous.”

“Thank you.”

He smiled. “We're going to make you famous. Not just here in America. You're going to be famous around the globe.”

“Gulp,” she said. They laughed. They were publicists, and would probably laugh at anything.

“So,” said Eric. “Before we talk about what we have planned for you, we need to do some troubleshooting.”

“Okay.”

“Is there anything in your past, anything at all, that could become a problem for us down the road?”

Immediately, she thought about the photos that might have been on Jared's phone or, possibly, the cloud (whatever that was).

“What do you mean?”

“Any relationships that ended badly and could come to light? Any arrests, or questionable past careers? It wouldn't be so good for the show or the network if you were, just as a wild example, an escort or a porn star, in a previous life.”

“No!” she said.

“Have you ever Snapchatted body parts to a boyfriend? I don't care if you have. Snapchat has its value. But we need to know now so we can head it off in the future.”

Sophia just shook her head.

He said, “It's essential that you tell us everything, Sophia. We need to know about every skeleton in your closet. Every bad boyfriend who might want his fifteen minutes by making up a story about you. Every time you used your charms to get a job. Any friend you treated badly who might leak pictures and stories to Perez Hilton. So is there anything you need to tell us? Anything at all?”

“I understand,” she said. “I can't think of anything.”

“I'm going to ask you point-blank, Sophia. Are there nude photos of you floating around the Internet?”

“No,” she said.

“You're sure.”

“Yes.”

“Then what are these?”

One of the women pushed a folder across the table toward Sophia. Her fingers trembling, she pulled it toward her. Terrified of what she'd find, she cringed when she opened it and found three prints, black and white.

“Oh, my god.” She looked at the pictures, and then up at the four faces across the table from her. “I can explain,” she said.

“Go right ahead,” he said.

Sophia studied the photos again, and tried to calm her racing heart. How did they find them? “These were shots I did with a photographer in Canada when I was in high school,” she said of the topless pics. Not completely topless. Her arms and hands covered most of the important bits. “They were for a local clothing store. After we did the bathing suits, he convinced me to do a few art shots. You can barely see anything.”

Eric nodded. “But we were able to find them in one day, without looking too hard. So I'm going to ask you one more time. Is there anything in your past we need to know about?”

In her head, she weighed the pros and cons of telling them about Jared. She and Demi destroyed his phone. Jared didn't seem too tech savvy about storing any pictures he might've taken. It was just too awful to sit here and tell four strangers about that night. So she said, “Nothing at all.”

“Okay, then,” he said. “Let's talk about your upcoming cover shoot for
Elle
Canada.”

“Really?” She used to read that mag in high school, and had put images from it on her vision board. And now she was going to be on the cover? Manifesting worked! All thoughts of Jared flew out of her head. Despite what Eric said, the past was the past. She only wanted to focus on the future, her bliss.

“
Elle
Canada, a Q and A in
Esquire
, a story in
Entertainment Weekly
—and so much more to come. This is just the beginning for you, Sophia.”

Just the beginning. “I love the sound of that,” she said.

 

about the authors

SHAY MITCHELL
is a Canadian actress and star of the ABC family drama
Pretty Little Liars.
In addition to acting and running her lifestyle blog,
amoreandvita.com
, Shay works with the Free the Children Foundation, an organization that fights exploitation of children around the world; The Trevor Project, a suicide prevention organization; and the NOH8 Campaign for marriage and gender equality. You can sign up for email updates
here
.