Page 71 of The Luminaries
“Soon,” he murmurs, shifting the amp from his left arm to his right—which in turn pulls it free from Fatima’s grasp. Not that she seems to notice; they’re at the stage now, and in a rapid-fire eruption of words and gestures, she indicates where to plug things in, where to put the cables “so you don’t trip on them,” and where to stand—although that part seems pretty obvious.
“There aren’t any of the heaters over here”—Fatima points to one of the many outdoor heaters spaced across the patio—“but I figured you guys would be moving, so you wouldn’t need one. Although… Are you wearing his coat, Winnie?”
“Oh.” Winnie blinks. Then blushes and hastily shrugs out of the aforementioned coat. She pushes it toward Jay. “Thanks.”
He offers her a nod and a crooked smile that doesn’t reach his eyes. It’s only after he has slipped on the jacket again and Winnie has twisted away that she remembers the twins’ gift is still in his pocket. “Oh wait.” She scoots back to him and slides her hand inside the jacket. “I forgot something…” She trails off, realizing too late that this is an extremely intimate position to have put herself in.
“Sorry,” she hears herself saying, a distant sound as she stares at his silvery eyes.
“It’s fine,” he replies, though he makes no move to help her find the present, nor any move to jerk away as her fingers move across the planes of his chest. His eyes simply stay fused to hers, unreadable. She can feel his heartbeat.
When at last Winnie finds the gift beneath her fingertips, she eases it out—very slowly, because her muscles have become detached from her mind.
She wonders if Jay’s eyes have always been this dark or if it’s just that his pupils have swallowed up everything. She thinks they might be trembling. Or maybe that’s his chest, still pressed against her fingers.
Then her hand and the gift are free. “Sorry,” she repeats, voice strangely weak.
“It’s fine.” His voice is not weak. His eyes are still on hers.
Until Fatima pokes her head between them. “Ohmy,” she says with the satisfied gaze of a harpy who has just eaten delicious feet. “That was interesting to watch.” She loops her arm in Winnie’s and hauls Winnie away.
Thank god,Winnie thinks even as her body is weirdly shouting,Go back! Stop moving!She’s pretty sure Jay is watching her leave. She can feel his pulsing pupils bore two holes into her back.
She and Fatima reach the glass doors into the dining room. Once inside, Fatima gives a delighted squeal. “Oh my gosh, are you twodating?”
“No!” Winnie blurts. Two caterers on their way outside the house glance her way.
“The twins are going to be so jealous!” Fatima grins wickedly. “But alsosoexcited because they can live vicariously through you.”
“We’renotdating,” Winnie says as forcefully as she can. “We’re just, um… We’re just…”
“Friends?” Fatima provides.
“Um,” Winnie offers again. She and Jay aren’t friends, but they also aren’t enemies. And they’re more than just acquaintances. Truth is, she’s not even sure a word exists for their relationship. So instead, she pointedly changes subjects. “Where are we going?”
“To my room.” Fatima nudges Winnie with a shoulder. “So we can get dressed for the party. The twins are already up there… Wait, where’s your dress?”
“Oh.” Heat gutters onto Winnie’s face. “I don’t have one. This is all I’ve got.” She waves awkwardly at her sweater and leggings.
But Fatima isn’t fazed. “No problem.” She offers another conspiratorial grin. “I have tons of stuff you can choose from.”
Winnie isn’t sure what to say to that. She suspects that even if she argues against borrowing something, Fatima—and the twins—will just forcibly stuff her into a gown anyway, like a droll stuffs treasure into its hoard. Besides, she’s not exactly opposed to the idea. Her black sweater is really depressing.
So she lets Fatima lead her through the now-emptied dining room, past the fire burned to smoldering remnants, past the tables now clean and bare and ready for next week’s dinner, and finally into the hall. Each of Winnie’s footsteps on the red rug is buttery soft. When she’d come here on Sunday with Aunt Rachel, she’d been wearing sneakers. Now, with only a thin strip of leather between her and the rug, there is no missing how it soaks up each of her steps. And somehow, on the staircase up… and then up again, to the living quarters on the third floor, it’s even softer. Like ascending a ramp of sea foam.
Red, bloodied sea foam.
The apartment on the top floor is huge—that’s the first thing Winnie thinks when she follows Fatima inside. Before her is a wide living area with high ceilings and windows to overlook the front of the estate. The modern decor is almost at odds with the classical style of the home, except it’s so elegant, so sleek, that it ends up blending beautifully. Sharp-lined furniture, modern art on the walls, sculptures that look vaguely nightmarish, and beautiful bookcases laden with a rainbow of tomes—literally, the book spines are all organized by color to make a rainbow across the walls.
Fatima skips right, aiming toward a hall that leads to the bedrooms, and at the first door, giggles sprinkle through. Fatima skips in dramatically. “We’re here!”
Emma squeals and bounds off a sleigh bed with lavender-colored sheets, and Bretta scrabbles off just behind. A chandelier glitters lightacross the girls. Both wear neon-yellow lipstick; Emma holds a bottle of champagne.
“Winnie! Have some!” She shoves it at Winnie, but Winnie just shoves it onto Fatima… who in turn shoves it onto Bretta, who swigs gleefully.
“They took it from the dining room,” Fatima explains, beckoning for Winnie to follow. “It is, fortunately, half empty.”
“Half full!” Bretta and Emma exclaim in unison before dissolving into giggles. Winnie feels like she should be annoyed after dealing with two bubbled-up family members, but it’s impossible to be annoyed with the twins. Unlike Darian and Mom, they’re actually fun.
