BooksBarbecue
Back Aesthetica
Chapters (30)
  1. Title
  2. Part One
  3. 1.
  4. 2.
  5. 3.
  6. 4.
  7. 5.
  8. 6.
  9. Part Two
  10. 7.
  11. 8.
  12. 9.
  13. 10.
  14. 11.
  15. 12.
  16. 13.
  17. Part Three
  18. 14.
  19. 15.
  20. 16.
  21. 17.
  22. 18.
  23. 19.
  24. 20.
  25. 21.
  26. 22.
  27. 23.
  28. 24.
  29. 25.
  30. ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

I said okay.

“A few things about the party,” Ella said. “As you know, all guests sign NDAs upon arrival. Basically, NDAs and the no phone policy ensure that what happens at the ranch stays at the ranch. I sent a copy to your email.”

I did and did not understand this as a threat. “Nobody told me what I was signing,” I said.

“You should always read what you sign, babe,” she said and then, “My head is literally about to explode.” She reached into the back, pulled forward her bag. “Find my Imitrex, will you?” I rifled around in her purse, found the bottle, uncapped it, fed her a pill. She chewed. “Thanks,” she said. “I’m sorry you aren’t feeling well, either.” There was a long silence. “I’m sorry,” she repeated. “I’m just fucking tired.”

The plane was the same as the day before, the pilot too. I was the only traveler. In the air, Jake called, his voice skipping over words. Baby, he said. Passed out, VIP room, put to bed. “Can’t hear you,” I yelled. I threw my phone across the aisle. Then, I unbuckled my seatbelt, got up, retrieved it. I opened my inbox to see the form, scribbled with my eager name, signed the same way I’d walked into Jake’s condo, the sex party and surgery suite, the same way I walked through any door: without thought, and with the privilege of thoughtlessness. I scrolled the form’s thoughtful language, long, dense paragraphs that meant silence. They meant that if I spoke of the party, the people in it, Blaze could sue me for “injunctive relief,” which I understood to mean everything I had. Fractured as his voice had been, I understood Jake was saying that I’d passed out in the VIP, and that the party had ended for me when Blaze found my unconscious, untouched body and sent me to bed.

I didn’t believe it. But thought I could choose to.

21.

I wake to cold, conditioned air, the smell of mildew. My mouth tastes the same, smutted. I look around to know where I am. Princess furniture, a neat suitcase full of dark, folded clothes, splayed open on a stand. This is not my room. I almost say it out loud, almost begin to panic, but I glance at the bedspread gathered around my neck, see short bristles of dog hair. And I remember.