Page 44 of XX Love Affair
It had been one thing to live the life of luxury with Irene and Josh, always jetting off here and there, having her own room in a SoCal mansion, not that she used it much. They were rarely home together, so I slept with whoever. That was supposed to be the gap year life that changed her entire future. Yet one thing Helena appreciated about her current situation was independence. She was on her own. She had her own money. She may be rooming with a neat freak who had more house rules than a college dorm, but Helena didn’t care.
Since winning the ten grand from the New York club, she didn’t have to get a part-time job. Helena paid for her room upfront and dedicated her time to either getting a lay of the land, resting up in her room, or spending time with Delia, who was not opposed to taking her out or having her over for half of the week.
Helena could not complain. For as much as she enjoyed a good hookup with a total stranger, she also appreciated the “known quantity,” especially if it was a woman who liked to dote on co-eds like her. So what if she didn’t know Helena was nineteen and carrying a fake ID? So what if most of their dates revolved around dinner and having sex back at Delia’s place, with the occasional Friday or Saturday night at The Dark Hour thrown in? They were making slow but progressive claim on Helena’s bucket list, and that amused her greatly.
It wasn’t only the sexual stuff. It was little things, like seeing an original Rembrandt in a museum and eating at a five-star Thai restaurant, her favorite cuisine. She didn’t let Delia see her cry when she bit into the most delectable yellow curry to ever sport fresh mussels and mangos, but Helena would never forget. If she were ever on death row, that would be her final meal.
But she liked the sexual stuff, too. Sometimes, it was all she could think about getting to whenever she ate dinner across from Delia or they went to the movies to watch Barbie on its second run. Helena had seen it four times before already, mostly in private home theaters. It had been Irene’s favorite in ten years. Most of the messaging was ironically lost on her, but that hadn’t stopped her from making her friends watch it in their basements, on their private planes, and twenty-inch screens in the bowels of a yacht.
Helena didn’t mean to think about her ex so much. Hell, she barely considered Irene her ex, regardless of how long they had been together.
But Irene was everywhere. Even when Helena was home, listening to her roommate take online classes in her room on the other side of the wall, she was constantly reminded of the crazy woman who had gone nuclear on what they had. It didn’t help that Helena’s bags were Louis Vuitton, Irene’s preferred bag designer. And Helena had to admit, she loved the canary yellow suitcase paired with the classic LV print that felt luxurious to the touch and rolled like a dream. Helena had been worried about them being scuffed or stolen while flying commercial, but it wasn’t an issue. If anything, she enjoyed the jealous looks of other travelers at baggage claim.
Every time she got them out from underneath her bed, though, she was reminded of Irene. And that wasn’t always a pleasant experience.
Most of the nice clothes hanging in the closet were bought by Irene or Josh, when he bothered to take Helena out shopping instead of dragging her from restaurant to bar to lounge before heading back to their hotel room. Irene was the experience master. She knew how to craft an exciting date, filled with interesting strangers, excellent dishes, and the kind of thrills that would stay with Helena for the rest of her life. She made me feel… owned. Even if Helena didn’t give two shits about Irene in the end, it was less about the reality of the situation and more about meeting someone who took her breath away. From the moment they met in a Los Angeles nightclub, it had been…
No, not love. Lust. Insanity. Withdrawal.
Helena was addicted to this lifestyle. Irene merely provided the free drug. So does Delia. Except Delia was a lot more lowkey than Irene, and Helena recognized she needed that too.
Delia was fun but safe. Wealthy, but still working for someone else. Popular, but not always surrounded by strangers. She knew people wherever she and Helena went. Gradually, over the days and weeks, they started recognizing Helena by Delia’s side. They said hello to her in coffee shops and at the opera, where Delia took her more than once.
A part of Helena wanted to believe that this was semi-permanent. That she could stay here for as long as Delia was willing to date and look after her. There were no responsibilities beyond minding her business and going to the doctor regularly. Helena paid for that out of pocket as well. She was still on her parents’ insurance, but she didn’t want them to know exactly where she was or what tests she might be getting.
Her mother called once a week. The conversations were short. “Yes, I’m fine. I don’t need anything. I’ll let you know if that changes.” Helena didn’t talk about her new girlfriend or what New England city had caught her for a few months. She hadn’t even talked about Irene, let alone their falling out that had made Helena run across the country. Her parents didn’t need to worry. What they needed to do was stay out of her business. They had mucked up her personal life enough for Helena to know they could not be entirely trusted.
Not that they could do a damn thing about Delia. She was eleven years older than Helena, but someone wasn’t exactly a minor anymore. She could sleep with whomever she pleased. Hell, if Delia was dumb enough to ask, they could get married without anyone’s permission. Because Helena thought about it. Irene had already been married, but Delia? She was a free agent. Maybe she was falling in love with Helena and allowing their whirlwind romance to convince her to get married without a prenup. That might be worth it. Would I lose my scholarship? Would Helena give a shit if she was hitched to a wealthy heiress who also worked for her paycheck?
Delia’s job was deplorably boring. Every time she attempted to explain it, Helena fought back the fog from her eyes and attempted to ask interesting questions, but it was impossible. Real estate. Insurance. Legal shit. Rich, international clients buying up speculative real estate. Those who didn’t trust the market enough still had other properties, so they hired one of The Boyle Group’s commercial management companies to take care of things. All Helena had to know was that Delia had clients, and that meant entertaining them, keeping them happy, and kissing their asses, sometimes to the detriment of her personal life. More than once she canceled or postponed a date with Helena because she had to attend a dinner or take a client’s spoiled kid to a K-pop concert in Newark or Boston. It’s always K-pop. Helena had managed to avoid that bug, although her high school had been full of girls giggling about boy band members and blasting female solo artists in the hallways.
Sometimes, she asked Helena about her academic and career ambitions. The answer was always the same. “I haven’t really thought about it. Guess I’ll major in business since I’m not great at STEM.” That was true enough. Helena didn’t give a shit about academic rigor or networking her way into a cozy post-graduation job. All she knew was that she would not follow in her parents’ military footsteps, nor would she take classes in things she had no interest in. That was the point of a full-ride scholarship. With no debt, she was free to do whatever she wanted…
Yet she was still practical. Business. Marketing. Maybe sociology, if it called to her. Those would get her less flack than English, History, or Gender Studies.
I’m going to be a dancing soccer monkey, anyway.
Whenever she and Delia passed by a poster of Megan Rapinoe advertising Subway or happened to flip past a game on the TV, it was like Helena’s girlfriend suddenly remembered someone knew how to play. Thank God she didn’t suggest they go kick a ball around at the local park. Josh had joked about that once, and Helena almost showed him how a state championship captain kicked more than one ball.
She wanted to leave that behind, even if she was still beholden to the universe.
“I’m going to be late tonight,” Delia texted Helena as she walked into a coffee shop downtown. “So, no dinner. You can put something on my tab at Jolie’s if you still want to go out. They should know you by now. Otherwise, I’ll make it up to you tomorrow. After work. Stop by my place. I’ll be dying to nibble every inch of your body by then.”
Helena didn’t reply before placing her phone in her orange Louis Vuitton Dauphine. Another gift from Irene… Helena couldn’t part with it yet. It was too practical, holding most of her day-to-day items while also advertising to all of the women and discerning men around her that she was somebody. They might not know her – yet – but they should. One thing Helena had learned about the wealthy and also appreciated was that they liked understated displays of good fashion sense. She would not fall into the new money trap of decking herself out in outrageous designer looks to make a point. Instead, she’d go for a stroll in a flowy maxi dress and matching sweater, her accessories doing most of the talking. Like the Dauphine handbag… and the Prada satin mules, which she had bagged on sale for herself. Helena was becoming savvier about buying designer things she liked second-hand and still relatively in season. She had a feeling that would serve her well as she ventured into her twenties.
“Oh!” A head of gray caught Helena’s attention while she perused the drink menu hanging above the baristas taking orders. “Fancy seeing you here. Helena, right?”
The sound of her name made her double-take. Until then, she hadn’t recognized Tara Staudenmaier, a girl she had only met a couple of times since coming to New England. But seeing the outgoing and uniquely styled Tara made it easier to recognize Blair sitting with her at a table. Well, they look different outside of the club. Tara wore shredded denim shorts and a baggy band T-shirt. Blair, who was usually half-naked or in her lingerie around Helena, was positively normal in her floral skirt and long-sleeved blouse. Nice shoes, though. They were also Prada. Heels. Very fashionable. Very feminine. The kind Helena could never be.
“Want to sit with us?”
The only thing that blew Helena away was how gregarious Tara was even in public. Did that mean her persona in the sex clubs wasn’t… a persona? Did she go around saying hello to people and engaging in earnest conversation because she liked them? Helena could not relate.
But she knew the right thing to say.
“Sure. Let me order my drink first.”
Once she had her iced chai, she joined Tara and Blair where they had already finished their drinks and overpriced sandwiches. Tara immediately asked a hundred questions while Blair kept a silent point of view behind her sandwich plate. An uneaten jalapeno rolled across it when Tara picked it up to make room for Helena’s plastic to-go cup.