Last Night at Chateau Marmont
Page 37
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Her mom held up a pair of classic boot-cut jeans in a vintage wash. Not too dark, not too light, perfectly faded, and without any annoying patches, zippers, holes, rips, or weird pockets. Brooke felt the fabric. It was surprisingly lightweight and soft, possibly even softer than Julian’s beloved Levi’s.
“Wow,” Brooke said, taking them from her mother. “I think he’d actually love these. How did you do that?”
Her mother smiled. “I dressed you kids pretty well when you were younger. I guess I’ve still got it.”
It was only then Brooke noticed the price tag. “Two hundred fifty dollars? Julian’s Levi’s are forty bucks. I can’t get him these.”
Her mother snatched them out of her hand. “Oh yes you can. And you will. You’re going to get him these and a couple other pairs. Then we’re going to march right over to the clothing section and get him the softest, best-fitting white T-shirts we can find, and they’re probably going to cost seventy dollars each, and that’s okay. I’ll help you cover the cost.”
Brooke stared at her mother, dumbfounded, but Mrs. Greene only nodded. “This is important. For all sorts of reasons, but especially because I think it’s crucial right now that you’re there to help and support him.”
The bored salesman finally sauntered over. Brooke’s mother waved him away.
“Are you suggesting I’m not supportive of him? That I don’t help him? Why have I been working two jobs for four years now if I’m not completely and totally behind him? What do a few pairs of jeans have to do with it?” Brooke could hear her voice growing almost hysterical, but she couldn’t help it.
“Come here,” her mother said, holding open her arms. “Come here and let me hug you.”
Whether it was her sympathetic look or just the unfamiliar feeling of being embraced, the moment she felt her mother’s arms close around her, Brooke started to sob. She wasn’t sure why she was crying. Aside from Julian announcing he wasn’t coming home for another week, nothing was really that tragic—everything was actually really great—but once she began, she couldn’t stop. Her mother hugged her tighter and smoothed her hair, murmuring comforting nothings the way she had when Brooke was little.
“There’s a lot of change happening right now,” she said.
“But all of it’s good.”
“That doesn’t mean it’s not scary. Brooke, sweetheart, I know you don’t need me to point this out, but Julian is on the cusp of becoming a nationally known musician. When that album comes out, your entire lives are going to be turned upside down. Everything up until now is just the warm-up.”
“But it’s what we’ve worked toward for so many years.”
“Of course it is.” Mrs. Greene first patted Brooke’s arm and then cupped her face with one hand. “But that doesn’t mean it isn’t really overwhelming. He’s already away from home a lot, your schedules have been thrown into chaos, and there are all sorts of new people on the scene, weighing in, giving opinions, intervening in your business. It’s probably only going to intensify, both the good stuff and the bad stuff, so I want you to be prepared.”
Brooke smiled and held up the jeans. “And I’m preparing by buying him more expensive jeans than I wear? Really?” Her mother had always been more into clothes than her, but even she didn’t spend recklessly or to excess.
“That’s exactly right. There’s a lot you’re not going to be a part of in the next couple months, due only to the fact that he’s going to be traveling and you’ll be working here. He’s probably not going to have a tremendous amount of control over his own life, and you aren’t either. It’s going to be tough. But I know you, Rook, and I know Julian too. You guys are going to get through this, and once everything settles into more of a groove, you’re going to be great. And please forgive me for meddling in your marriage—I am hardly an expert here, as we all know—but until this crazy time has passed, you can make it easier by getting involved in any way you possibly can. Help him brainstorm marketing ideas. Wake up in the middle of the night when he calls, regardless of how tired you are—he’ll call more if he knows you want to hear from him. Buy him fancy new clothes when he’s told he needs them but doesn’t know where to start. Screw the cost! If this album sells half as well as everyone’s predicting, this little shopping spree won’t even be a blip on the radar screen.”
“You should’ve heard him talk about how much he’s going to rake in on this tour. I’m not great at math, but I think he’s talking high six figures.”
Her mother smiled. “You two deserve it, you know that? You’ve both worked so hard for so long now. You’ll go on some totally ridiculous spending binge, buying all sorts of luxuries you never even knew existed, and you’re going to love every minute of it. I, for one, am hereby officially volunteering to accompany you on all cash-blowing expeditions as the official credit card and shopping bag holder. There’s a lot of crap to put up with between now and then, no doubt. But you’re up for it, sweetheart. I know you are.”
When they finally left the store an hour and a half later, it took both of them to lug home all the new clothes. Together they’d selected four pairs of blue jeans and one pair of faded black ones, plus a pair of tight, denim-like corduroys that Mrs. Greene convinced Brooke were close enough to jeans to pass muster with Julian. They ran their fingers through heaping piles of white designer T-shirts, comparing the softness of jersey to Egyptian cotton, debating whether one might be too see-through or another too boxy, before selecting a dozen of them in various styles and fabrics. They’d split up when they hit the main floor and her mother went off to buy Julian some Kiehl’s men’s products, swearing that she’d never met a man who didn’t worship their shaving cream and aftershave. Brooke had her doubts that he would use anything besides the old-school Gillette foam in an aerosol can they sold for two bucks at Duane Reade, but she appreciated her mother’s enthusiasm. She made her way to the accessories department, where she carefully chose five knit caps, all in muted colors—one in a subtle black-on-black stripe—rubbing each one against her face to ensure it wasn’t hot or itchy.
The grand total of their shopping expedition came to a staggering $2,260, the largest single sum she had ever charged—furniture purchases included—in her entire life. It took her breath away to think about writing the check for that credit card bill, but she forced herself to stay focused on what was important: he was on the verge of a major career breakthrough, and she owed it to both of them to be behind him one hundred percent. Plus she was also pleased that she’d stayed true to his personal look, had respected his timeless jeans, white tee, and knit cap aesthetic and hadn’t tried to push some new image on him. It was one of the headiest afternoons she’d had in a long, long time. Even if the clothes weren’t for her, it didn’t make choosing and buying them any less fun.
“Wow,” Brooke said, taking them from her mother. “I think he’d actually love these. How did you do that?”
Her mother smiled. “I dressed you kids pretty well when you were younger. I guess I’ve still got it.”
It was only then Brooke noticed the price tag. “Two hundred fifty dollars? Julian’s Levi’s are forty bucks. I can’t get him these.”
Her mother snatched them out of her hand. “Oh yes you can. And you will. You’re going to get him these and a couple other pairs. Then we’re going to march right over to the clothing section and get him the softest, best-fitting white T-shirts we can find, and they’re probably going to cost seventy dollars each, and that’s okay. I’ll help you cover the cost.”
Brooke stared at her mother, dumbfounded, but Mrs. Greene only nodded. “This is important. For all sorts of reasons, but especially because I think it’s crucial right now that you’re there to help and support him.”
The bored salesman finally sauntered over. Brooke’s mother waved him away.
“Are you suggesting I’m not supportive of him? That I don’t help him? Why have I been working two jobs for four years now if I’m not completely and totally behind him? What do a few pairs of jeans have to do with it?” Brooke could hear her voice growing almost hysterical, but she couldn’t help it.
“Come here,” her mother said, holding open her arms. “Come here and let me hug you.”
Whether it was her sympathetic look or just the unfamiliar feeling of being embraced, the moment she felt her mother’s arms close around her, Brooke started to sob. She wasn’t sure why she was crying. Aside from Julian announcing he wasn’t coming home for another week, nothing was really that tragic—everything was actually really great—but once she began, she couldn’t stop. Her mother hugged her tighter and smoothed her hair, murmuring comforting nothings the way she had when Brooke was little.
“There’s a lot of change happening right now,” she said.
“But all of it’s good.”
“That doesn’t mean it’s not scary. Brooke, sweetheart, I know you don’t need me to point this out, but Julian is on the cusp of becoming a nationally known musician. When that album comes out, your entire lives are going to be turned upside down. Everything up until now is just the warm-up.”
“But it’s what we’ve worked toward for so many years.”
“Of course it is.” Mrs. Greene first patted Brooke’s arm and then cupped her face with one hand. “But that doesn’t mean it isn’t really overwhelming. He’s already away from home a lot, your schedules have been thrown into chaos, and there are all sorts of new people on the scene, weighing in, giving opinions, intervening in your business. It’s probably only going to intensify, both the good stuff and the bad stuff, so I want you to be prepared.”
Brooke smiled and held up the jeans. “And I’m preparing by buying him more expensive jeans than I wear? Really?” Her mother had always been more into clothes than her, but even she didn’t spend recklessly or to excess.
“That’s exactly right. There’s a lot you’re not going to be a part of in the next couple months, due only to the fact that he’s going to be traveling and you’ll be working here. He’s probably not going to have a tremendous amount of control over his own life, and you aren’t either. It’s going to be tough. But I know you, Rook, and I know Julian too. You guys are going to get through this, and once everything settles into more of a groove, you’re going to be great. And please forgive me for meddling in your marriage—I am hardly an expert here, as we all know—but until this crazy time has passed, you can make it easier by getting involved in any way you possibly can. Help him brainstorm marketing ideas. Wake up in the middle of the night when he calls, regardless of how tired you are—he’ll call more if he knows you want to hear from him. Buy him fancy new clothes when he’s told he needs them but doesn’t know where to start. Screw the cost! If this album sells half as well as everyone’s predicting, this little shopping spree won’t even be a blip on the radar screen.”
“You should’ve heard him talk about how much he’s going to rake in on this tour. I’m not great at math, but I think he’s talking high six figures.”
Her mother smiled. “You two deserve it, you know that? You’ve both worked so hard for so long now. You’ll go on some totally ridiculous spending binge, buying all sorts of luxuries you never even knew existed, and you’re going to love every minute of it. I, for one, am hereby officially volunteering to accompany you on all cash-blowing expeditions as the official credit card and shopping bag holder. There’s a lot of crap to put up with between now and then, no doubt. But you’re up for it, sweetheart. I know you are.”
When they finally left the store an hour and a half later, it took both of them to lug home all the new clothes. Together they’d selected four pairs of blue jeans and one pair of faded black ones, plus a pair of tight, denim-like corduroys that Mrs. Greene convinced Brooke were close enough to jeans to pass muster with Julian. They ran their fingers through heaping piles of white designer T-shirts, comparing the softness of jersey to Egyptian cotton, debating whether one might be too see-through or another too boxy, before selecting a dozen of them in various styles and fabrics. They’d split up when they hit the main floor and her mother went off to buy Julian some Kiehl’s men’s products, swearing that she’d never met a man who didn’t worship their shaving cream and aftershave. Brooke had her doubts that he would use anything besides the old-school Gillette foam in an aerosol can they sold for two bucks at Duane Reade, but she appreciated her mother’s enthusiasm. She made her way to the accessories department, where she carefully chose five knit caps, all in muted colors—one in a subtle black-on-black stripe—rubbing each one against her face to ensure it wasn’t hot or itchy.
The grand total of their shopping expedition came to a staggering $2,260, the largest single sum she had ever charged—furniture purchases included—in her entire life. It took her breath away to think about writing the check for that credit card bill, but she forced herself to stay focused on what was important: he was on the verge of a major career breakthrough, and she owed it to both of them to be behind him one hundred percent. Plus she was also pleased that she’d stayed true to his personal look, had respected his timeless jeans, white tee, and knit cap aesthetic and hadn’t tried to push some new image on him. It was one of the headiest afternoons she’d had in a long, long time. Even if the clothes weren’t for her, it didn’t make choosing and buying them any less fun.
