grade school whose adult teeth grew in before her baby teeth fell out. Shameless, she’d open her mouth and grin widely for anyone who asked, looking like Jaws with double sets of teeth.
Nana Kay cooked traditional Korean food and they’d drink her homemade wine until deep into the night, playing old records and dancing. She still applied whore-red lipstick every morning, and at eighty-two, she was Alexis’s hero. Well, second hero. The other was MeMe Roth, of course.
“Right. Other than Nana Kay. And don’t you forget it. Now make me proud and go enjoy your man meat.”
Billy pretended to pant like a dog, which made them both laugh. She tried to stop laughing when she got to the elevator. Once, when she was five, her mother said it caused wrinkles, and she’d never forgotten the tip. Alexis thought about her parents and sighed. She’d never felt particularly close to either of them, and the last three years that had gone by with no communication hadn’t helped. Mark’s death had caused a rip in their family that could never be repaired. Bunny, who’d had a small drinking problem when he was alive, was now a certified drunk. Dad dealt with his grief by burying himself in work at his bustling, successful Greenwich law firm where he was a partner.
Dad had met Billy only once while briefly in New York for work. Alexis had called him, initiating the get-together. “The only time I have is if you come with me to a Giants game with clients,” he’d said. So she did, dragging Billy along for support. She sat there, while her father made cracks about her blog and asked when she was going to “get some damn sense and go back to the law.”
Billy, sensing her unease, had pointed to the field in front of them. Halftime was ending, and the team was trotting back onto the field in a blur of blue and white. “All those tight pants! It’s like we’re at the ballet,” he’d whispered, making her giggle.
Now, standing in her hallway, Alexis pressed the elevator button with one perfectly manicured finger and listened to the sounds of its cables rising up to meet her, like the building’s innards slowly waking the same time as the city. At the end of the hallway a large window showed the sun peeking over a few jagged buildings, which caused her to squint, so she dug in her purse and put on her Chanel sunglasses Billy had stolen from the time he’d dressed all the actresses on As the World Turns . They were white and very wide and slimmed her face, which was a perfect circle, and therefore always gave her grief. She’d inherited her father’s looks along with his stubbornness; Mark took after their mother, with their heart-shaped faces and easy dispositions. Having a circle for a face is cute when you’re a baby. But when the rest of you is slim and streamlined, it adds five pounds in photographs. At least it did in Alexis’s mind.
“I have a Christina Ricci face,” she would complain to Billy.
“I know, darling,” he’d say. “But your ass is so skinny, I don’t think you can lose another pound. I’d have to put you on ano watch.”
Her phone beeped again. She stepped onto the elevator and pressed a button to silence it. It was 5:10 in the morning. “I know, I know,” she muttered out loud in the silence of the hall. “I’m late. I should be at the gym by now.” She worked out at the very elite Soho Gym, which was co-owned by several celebrities. It cost $500 a month and she barely was able to pay her rent because of it, but her membership was absolutely essential. Her weight hardly ever altered more than a pound or two other than that scary week last year when she’d found herself weighing 110 and had to go on a quick liquid diet that had left her with terrible diarrhea (Billy joked they’d need to air out the apartment with large fans), but lately her personal trainer Sarah was helping sculpt her arms and give her already-flat stomach definition.
Walking along Sixth Avenue, Alexis kept up a
Nana Kay cooked traditional Korean food and they’d drink her homemade wine until deep into the night, playing old records and dancing. She still applied whore-red lipstick every morning, and at eighty-two, she was Alexis’s hero. Well, second hero. The other was MeMe Roth, of course.
“Right. Other than Nana Kay. And don’t you forget it. Now make me proud and go enjoy your man meat.”
Billy pretended to pant like a dog, which made them both laugh. She tried to stop laughing when she got to the elevator. Once, when she was five, her mother said it caused wrinkles, and she’d never forgotten the tip. Alexis thought about her parents and sighed. She’d never felt particularly close to either of them, and the last three years that had gone by with no communication hadn’t helped. Mark’s death had caused a rip in their family that could never be repaired. Bunny, who’d had a small drinking problem when he was alive, was now a certified drunk. Dad dealt with his grief by burying himself in work at his bustling, successful Greenwich law firm where he was a partner.
Dad had met Billy only once while briefly in New York for work. Alexis had called him, initiating the get-together. “The only time I have is if you come with me to a Giants game with clients,” he’d said. So she did, dragging Billy along for support. She sat there, while her father made cracks about her blog and asked when she was going to “get some damn sense and go back to the law.”
Billy, sensing her unease, had pointed to the field in front of them. Halftime was ending, and the team was trotting back onto the field in a blur of blue and white. “All those tight pants! It’s like we’re at the ballet,” he’d whispered, making her giggle.
Now, standing in her hallway, Alexis pressed the elevator button with one perfectly manicured finger and listened to the sounds of its cables rising up to meet her, like the building’s innards slowly waking the same time as the city. At the end of the hallway a large window showed the sun peeking over a few jagged buildings, which caused her to squint, so she dug in her purse and put on her Chanel sunglasses Billy had stolen from the time he’d dressed all the actresses on As the World Turns . They were white and very wide and slimmed her face, which was a perfect circle, and therefore always gave her grief. She’d inherited her father’s looks along with his stubbornness; Mark took after their mother, with their heart-shaped faces and easy dispositions. Having a circle for a face is cute when you’re a baby. But when the rest of you is slim and streamlined, it adds five pounds in photographs. At least it did in Alexis’s mind.
“I have a Christina Ricci face,” she would complain to Billy.
“I know, darling,” he’d say. “But your ass is so skinny, I don’t think you can lose another pound. I’d have to put you on ano watch.”
Her phone beeped again. She stepped onto the elevator and pressed a button to silence it. It was 5:10 in the morning. “I know, I know,” she muttered out loud in the silence of the hall. “I’m late. I should be at the gym by now.” She worked out at the very elite Soho Gym, which was co-owned by several celebrities. It cost $500 a month and she barely was able to pay her rent because of it, but her membership was absolutely essential. Her weight hardly ever altered more than a pound or two other than that scary week last year when she’d found herself weighing 110 and had to go on a quick liquid diet that had left her with terrible diarrhea (Billy joked they’d need to air out the apartment with large fans), but lately her personal trainer Sarah was helping sculpt her arms and give her already-flat stomach definition.
Walking along Sixth Avenue, Alexis kept up a
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