Backstage Girl

06 | bach that up

This was the brunch from hell.

Ella pushed around her pancakes, drowning the coconut flapjacks in a pool of honey. Beside her, Louise was on her third Bloody Mary of the morning. Not because Louise was hungover — Margaux stuck to her guns and wouldn't let any of them go out after the concert — but because she had to listen to Lexi speak.

Ella eyed the girl in question.

There was nothing wrong with Lexi, per se; in fact, if she wasn't feeding Max strawberries, Ella grudgingly admitted that she would probably like her.

But there was something about her voice.

It was so high-pitched. And grating. She felt like her ears were being slowly sandpapered off every time that Lexi spoke.

Okay, so that was mean.

But Ella was allowed to be a little petty this morning. Especially because this brunch was not her idea, and given the opportunity, she might strangle herself to death with one of the monogrammed napkins soon.

Next to her, Oliver shifted.

"Whose idea was this brunch?" he whispered, as if he had read her mind.

Surreptitiously, Ella tipped her head toward Margaux.

"Oh, god," Oliver groaned. "Why would she do this to us?"

"Team bonding, apparently."

"But Vienna's not here," he pointed out.

"I know." Ella continued to mutilate her pancakes. "Lucky girl."

Oliver arched an eyebrow. "Can't we just do a human knot?"

"Don't worry," Ella muttered. "I think Lexi already has that covered."

The girl in question sat on Max's lap, her arms wrapped around his neck in a way that Ella secretly (okay, not so secretly) found inappropriate for an 11 a.m. brunch. She watched, horrified, as Lexi kissed Max's neck. Louise took one look at her brother and immediately signaled a waiter.

"Another drink, please," Louise said, looking green. "Actually, make it a double."

Lexi twisted around in a pretzel formation so that her body was facing them, but her head was fully facing Max. Ella would have been impressed by her flexibility if she didn't feel so ill.

"What did you say she does, again?" Ella asked tightly.

"Back-up dancer," Louise explained, taking a large swig of her next drink.

Of course.

Right. That was it. She couldn't do this.

Before Ella was fully aware of what she was doing, she scraped her chair back, rising to her feet. Seven pairs of eyes snapped to look at her. She was aware that with her jean overalls and frizzy blonde hair, she probably bore a shocking resemblance to Meryl Streep in Mamma Mia, but not in a good way. Meryl looked great in overalls. Ella looked like Corduroy bear.

"I need to go back to the hotel," Ella said, and then desperately attempted to back up her statement. "To lie down. I have jet lag."

Immediately, Max was all concern.

"I can walk you back to the hotel." He shifted Lexi, as if he was preparing to move her. "Let me grab my things—"

"No!" Ella half-squealed. Oh, god, that was the very last thing she wanted: an extended conversation with Max about his new girlfriend. "No, that's okay. It's only five minutes."

"Oh, good," Rory said. "Can you stop by my tailor on the way? I have a jacket that I need to pick up."

"Sure," Ella said.