21
JULIA
Barry Levine’s house was f*****g disgusting.
This was what happened, Julia thought as she passed a glass case containing a dinosaur skull – next to the bones was a placard clarifying it was real, a real dinosaur, a baby T. rex – this was the end result, when you were late fifty-something and your d**k had a high priority line to your brain: saddling your wife – sorry, let’s be clear, your first wife – with the five children you’d so enthusiastically bred, all while dumping your slimy Caltech PhD seed all over the Valley. And then settling with your current USC or SCU or whoever it was, a submillennial who wore glasses because you thought it was hot, whose idiotic colloquialisms on female ambition Julia then had to endure at parties. Julia had known Barry a long time, had even g
