Because Fat Girl

Chapter Twenty-Five

The doorbell rang, and Chris yelled that he’d get it.

“He acts like answering his own door is doing us all a huge favor.” I rolled my eyes.

“It’s a miracle you’ve lasted this long without punching him,” Shamaya said.

Over the last six weeks, Chris’s house had become headquarters for Home Bound , and we’d become something closer than colleagues, maybe even on our way to friends. I was beginning to realize that underneath all of the masculine playboy bravado was a tender, feminine energy I felt lucky to get to see. Just the same, he still infuriated me most days.

“Did you know his face is insured?” I told her.

“Really?” she replied.

“I know, it’s totally ridiculous, I mean, really, who—” I stopped mid-sentence, catching sight of a tall, broad figure standing in the doorway. I knew Drew was on his way, understood that he would be here at any moment, but still, seeing him there took my breath away. We’d texted and emailed a bit, mostly about the production, but not a night had gone by when I hadn’t thought about him, wondering what he and Elena were up to on set together and hating myself for caring.

“Hi,” he said.

“Hi.” I tried to smile but ended up in some kind of lopsided smirk.

Drew looked good. Real good. His hair was a little overgrown, slightly floppy, but I liked it that way. He was wearing a simple T-shirt-and-jeans combo with slip-on shoes and a hesitant grin.

“You look tan.” I blurted out the first thing I could think of to fill the awkward silence.

“Sixteen-hour days on set in Hawaii will do that to you,” he said as he walked toward me.

“Let me officially introduce you to Shamaya.” I pointed to my friend, trying to distract myself from staring at Drew.

“It’s an honor to meet you in person.” He shook Shamaya’s hand. “I admire your father’s work, and I’m excited to see your own style of producing emerge. I’m looking forward to getting to know you better.”

“And I, you.” Shamaya shook his hand. “Diana has told me so much about you already.”

“She has?” Drew looked over at me inquisitively.

“Shamaya has heard all about how we met and the production plight so far,” I answered, hoping he would understand that was code for Shamaya knows nothing about what happened between us, and I’d like to keep it that way .

“Time for a little celebration.” Chris emerged back into the room and handed us each a champagne flute. “Before we get shoved into our fashionable but horribly uncomfortable clothes, I wanted a little time alone together for a toast.”

Chris popped a bottle of champagne and poured us each a glass. He lifted his, and we all followed, standing there waiting with our arms in the air.

“Are you going to give a speech?” I asked. “Or are we just going to hold these up like idiots all night?”

“I’m thinking,” Chris stalled.

“Don’t hurt yourself,” I joked.

Chris rolled his eyes, took a deep breath, and began, “Shamaya, I don’t know you well, but I know this film means as much to you as it does to the rest of us. Tonight, we are announcing to the world the partnership between Jackie Boy Productions, Because Fat Girl Media, and Kapoorico Entertainment. It’s a coming-out of sorts, and we’re all the debutantes.”

“I knew I should have chosen the white dress,” Drew quipped.

“Tonight, this house will be full of some of the most famous and powerful people in Hollywood,” Chris continued, ignoring Drew. “But no one matters as much as us four right here.”

“I can’t tell if that’s the most egotistical thing you’ve ever said or the sweetest,” I said.

“I’m trying to have a special moment here.” Chris flopped his hand down to his side in defeat, spilling champagne.

“I’m sorry.” I put on the most serious face I could muster.

“What I’m trying to say is that tonight is our night,” Chris tried again, lifting his glass back up for a toast. “So who cares what those bastards out there say? This movie is going to be a success, and together we are going to change Hollywood for the better.”

“I’ll drink to that.” I clinked my glass against Chris’s.

“Screw everyone else,” Shamaya added, our glasses toasting each other. “Tonight is about showing Hollywood how fancy and fashionable we are.”

“And here I thought it was about the movie.” I laughed.

“Fine, that, too.” Shamaya smirked.

“To us and this script!” I said as we all clinked our glasses once more and drank our champagne.

Normally, a new collaboration like ours would simply have an intimate dinner with stakeholders to mark the start of our project together, but Shamaya had insisted on an extravagant affair, offering to pay for the whole thing as long as Chris hosted.

“My house is fabulous, but this view screams success,” she’d said during our first meeting together on Chris’s back porch. “I want everyone in this town to know I’ve arrived, and I plan on staying at the top.”

At first I had tried to reel her in, but once Chris got on board, I had no choice but to sit back and watch the extravaganza unfold. Shamaya’s budget was bigger than my annual salary, and she brought a team of people in to make sure everything looked perfect, including us. She wanted the whole thing to be a blend of her three homes—Jodhpur, Los Angeles, and Guanajuato—and she’d enlisted Emmy to create our looks for the event. The men sported Jodhpuri-style suits, Shamaya wore a modern silk sari, and I had a gown that played on the motif of a huipil, all of our outfits dark navy with Mexican Otomi-style embroidery accents hand-stitched into them. The effect was stunning, and together, we presented a unified front, a cohesive team.

I looked around as the four of us got ready together. In a few short minutes, I would be walking down Chris Stanson’s stairs into a crowd of the who’s who of Hollywood players, Mexican powerhouses, and Indian film stars, some of them flown in just for this event by Shamaya’s father. It was the kind of party I’d dreamed about as a teen, a room full of the rich and famous all there to hear about my film. My adult brain could not fathom it all. “Is this really happening?”

“It better be happening,” Shamaya said as she adjusted her undergarments. “I didn’t yank myself into this Yitty shapewear for nothing.”

“Ready?” Chris asked, coming up to us.

“I believe we have a few more touches to add.” Emmy looked over at Shamaya.

“Oh yes!” Shamaya exclaimed, opening her bag and pulling out four dark green velvet pouches, handing one to each of us. “A little something special to commemorate tonight.”

I opened my drawstring and peeked inside, gasping as I pulled out a stunning pair of sapphire-and-diamond studs with a navy-and-white floral-patterned enamel teardrop falling from them. “Shamaya, you shouldn’t have!”

“I absolutely should have,” she dismissed, pulling her own massive sapphire-and-gold earrings out of her bag. “Can’t think of a better way to spend my father’s money than on this movie and this night.”

“Cheers to that,” Chris said as Emmy helped him with his new cufflinks.

“Thank you, Shamaya.” Drew adjusted his own set. “These are perfect.”

“Of course they are.” Shamaya smiled. “I picked them out.”

“With a little help,” Emmy nudged.

“With a lot of help,” Shamaya corrected, smiling at Emmy. Now that I was retired as a personal shopper, the two of them had been spending a lot of time together at Roussard’s. “You’ve got my vote for costume designer.”

“Hey, we don’t play favorites around here”—Drew tucked his shirt in, then winked at Emmy—“but yes, mine, too.”

“You have all of our votes,” I said, and Chris nodded in agreement.

“Thank you. I look forward to showing you my character sketches.” Emmy’s face was as stoic as always, but her voice showed a hint of excitement and pride.

“Can we go now?” Chris implored. “We have a house full of people waiting for us.”

“One more thing!” Shamaya insisted, and Chris groaned. She took out her phone, pulled us all in together—Emmy included—and snapped a candid shot, posting it immediately to social media.

“That’s it,” Shamaya declared. “Now we can go.”

As soon as we took our first step out of the hallway, people cheered and photos started popping off. I belong here , I reminded myself with each step down the stairs, thankfully reaching the bottom without tripping.

Chris and Drew immediately set off to mingle, leaving me standing there with Shamaya, unsure where to go. In an hour or so, we’d be back on the stairs for our formal announcement, but until then I was expected to go out into this crowd of famous people and network, something I had no idea how to do.

“Just go up to people and start talking,” Chris had advised me, like it was as easy for the rest of us to talk to the rich and famous as it was for him.

“I don’t think I can do this.” I turned to Shamaya, nerves making me want to run back upstairs and hide in the closet.

“The hard part’s already done,” she encouraged, looping her arm in mine. “Now, let’s go enjoy being famous.”

With Shamaya leading the way, I wove through the elaborate decorations and packed crowd, congratulations following us as we went. We found a glowing Janelle talking with Yalitza Aparicio and Lupita Nyong’o, and Shamaya introduced us both to Deepika Padukone and Ranveer Singh. We eventually stopped at an older man in a shining metallic gold-and-black tuxedo who greeted Shamaya with a bear hug.

“Papa, I’d like you to meet Diana.” Shamaya beamed at both of us. “Diana, meet my father, Sanjay Kapoor.”

“It’s an honor,” I said truthfully. The man was a legend, an activist in his time, helping to change Indian cinema like I was hoping to change Hollywood. He was handsome, too, charisma and charm oozing off him like it did his daughter. “I see where Shamaya gets her looks.”

“It’s all her mum, may she rest in peace,” Mr. Kapoor replied, looking at his daughter fondly. “Mama would be so proud of you tonight.”

“Papa, stop.” Shamaya placed a finger gently under her eye where tears were starting to form. “You’re going to ruin my makeup.”

“Then I will pay someone to fix it.” He pulled Shamaya toward him and kissed her on the forehead.

I thought of my own father, mostly absent, always drunk, and a pang of jealousy rose in me. I shook it away, focusing instead on looking for the one supportive family member that was still around in my life.

I left Shamaya with her dad and found Cecily near the door, just having made it inside the house. “I’m sorry I missed your big entrance,” she said, giving me a congratulatory hug. “I tried to cut the line, but no one believed me when I said I was your sister.”

“I told them not to let you in,” I joked as we wove our way through the crowd. “Guess we need new bouncers.”

“Then I better make the most of my time here before I get kicked out.” Cecily rubbed her hands together. “Now, which famous person should I try to make out with first?”

Cecily had been out of her mind excited when I told her about the party, running around the house screaming and asking me incessantly to repeat the guests’ names to her. I’d finally just given her the list we made for security, and she’d put O s next to the celebrities she wanted to sleep with and X s next to the ones she wanted to marry. Chris and Drew both had multiple X s and O s. Her enthusiasm had gone from cute to annoying to worrisome very quickly, made worse by the fact that she still didn’t know Andy was Drew. I’d meant to tell her, but it never seemed to be the right time, and now here we were with no time left to hesitate.

“Cecily, I need to tell you something,” I began, but before I could get anything else out, Janelle came running up to us.

“Oh my god, Lizzo is here!” she screeched, pulling my attention away from the matter at hand.

“Holy shit!” My mouth dropped. “I knew we’d invited her, but damn, I didn’t think she’d show.”

“Lizzo is at your party!” Janelle beamed.

“Lizzo is at my party!” I repeated in way too high of a pitch for someone who had just been judging her sister for her celebrity crushes.

“Go talk to her,” Cecily insisted, pushing me forward.

“I can’t!” I turned back around. “What would I say to Lizzo?”

“How about, ‘Hi, I’m Diana, welcome to my party’?” Janelle offered.

“I can’t just walk up to Lizzo and start a conversation,” I insisted. “Plus, this isn’t my party.”

“It absolutely is your party,” Drew said, coming up behind us.

“Do you always creep up on people at parties?” Janelle asked.

“Only ones at Chris’s house.” Drew laughed.

“At least this time he has food,” Janelle teased, grabbing a taco off a server walking by.

“Ohmagawd, you’re Drew Williams!” Cecily squealed, mouth agape.

“And you must be Cecily.” Drew reached his hand out to my sister.

“Drew Williams knows my name.” Cecily comically pumped his hand up and down. “How does Drew Williams know my name?”

“She talks about you all the time.” Drew smiled at her as he nodded toward me.

“How do you know Drew Williams?” Cecily asked, finally letting go of Drew’s hand and turning to me.

“Cecily, meet Andy ,” I said. “Also known as Drew Williams, producer of my movie and co-owner of Jackie Boy Productions.”

Realization dawned on Cecily’s face. “You’re Andy.”

“I am.” Drew glanced at both of us in confusion, but before I could come up with an explanation, Chris was by Drew’s side.

“Kali’s here,” he said as an introduction.

“And?” Drew sounded annoyed.

“And…” Chris continued, “you said you would talk to her about the movie.”

“Tonight is definitely not the night,” Drew objected.

“What better night than tonight?” Chris replied.

“You’re Chris Stanson,” Cecily interrupted their debate.

“I am,” Chris affirmed, turning away from Drew and plastering that famous smile on with seasoned practice. “And who may I have the pleasure of meeting?”

“Chris, meet Cecily,” I said.

“Oh, yes, the sister.” Chris pulled her into a hug. “I hope you and your kids enjoyed my home the other weekend. I was sad to not get to meet you before you left, but Diana said you had to get back home.”

“Diana told me that you didn’t want guests here,” Cecily said, shaking his hand but looking at me.

“Oh.” Chris also turned his gaze to meet mine. “Perhaps I did. You never know with me. Mercurial, I’ve been called.”

“Oh no, I’m sure it was Diana’s mistake.” Cecily’s voice was dripping with anger.

“Come on, guys,” Janelle chimed in, grabbing Drew and Chris by the arm, “let’s let them talk.”

Janelle gave me an apologetic look, and Drew squeezed my shoulder as they walked away, leaving Cecily and me alone.

“Why did you lie to me?” Cecily demanded, her voice ringing out.

“Keep it down,” I said, leading her away from the party and down a hallway. “And stop glaring at me.”

“Stop lying to me, then.” She wrenched her arm from my hand. “I figured you were sleeping with this Andy person and didn’t want me to know, but I never in a million years would have figured that you would keep something as huge as you sleeping with Drew Williams from me!”

“We’re not sleeping together. We’re just friends.”

Cecily rolled her eyes at this, like she didn’t believe me.

“I was going to tell you, but I never found the right moment.”

“And you thought that tonight was the right moment? Did you want me to look like an idiot when he introduced himself to me?”

“I didn’t expect him to come over and say hi to you.”

“Of course not. Why would he? I’m just your boring old sister.”

“That’s not what I meant,” I said.

“And you told me that Chris Stanson didn’t want us around, but he just said he wanted to meet me,” she continued loudly. “Am I some big embarrassment to you?”

“Right now you’re just embarrassing yourself,” I said, looking around to see if anyone heard her. “This is why I didn’t tell you. I knew you’d lose your shit like this. You can’t handle celebrities.”

“Maybe I can’t,” Cecily responded. “But you didn’t even give me a chance.”

“I gave you a chance tonight,” I rebutted, “and you freaked out, just like I thought you would.”

“You’re right,” Cecily said, her voice cracking, “I did. But not because Drew Williams and Chris Stanson are fucking famous. I freaked out because my sister, my sister , my best friend, my life partner, my roommate has been lying to me for months. Hiding me. Ashamed of me. How am I supposed to act, knowing that I don’t matter in your life anymore?”

“Of course you still matter to me!” I protested.

“I don’t, though.” Cecily wiped tears from her eyes. “If I mattered to you, if I really mattered to you—not because of blood but because you actually care—you wouldn’t have hidden me, lied to me, and put me in this embarrassing position tonight.”

“I didn’t know how to tell you without you freaking out.”

“I get it.” Cecily sniffled. “You don’t want your uncool suburban sister around your new fancy friends.”

“Cecily, that’s not what I’m trying to say,” I said, reaching for her.

“It’s fine.” She ignored my outreached hand. “I’ll leave. Have fun at your party. I’m sure it will be great.”

I watched as Cecily pushed her way through the crowd, part of me longing to run after her and the other part glad to see her go. I leaned against the wall, taking long, deep, stabilizing breaths. This was why I hadn’t told my sister who Andy really was. This was why I wasn’t even sure I should invite her tonight. I didn’t know how to let her into this part of my life.

You wouldn’t even be here tonight if not for your sister , a voice in my head reminded me. It was right. Cecily had saved me more times than I could count. She was my person. She belonged by my side. I started to run after my sister to apologize, but someone grabbed my shoulder, and I turned, shock stopping me in my tracks.