Page 119 of Out of Tune
Avoiding the question, I grabbed a stack of glossy photos off the coffee table. Each featured a model wearing an ethereal gossamer gown. “What are these?”
“Nothing.” She plucked them from my hands and tapped them into a stack. Talking to me over her shoulder, she walked to a drawer and shoved them inside. “Just some designs Lydia sent over. The label wants to soften my look. Apparently, I’m ‘bitter and hard to swallow.’”
“Are you considering it at all?” She was always so sure of herself never getting lost in the demands of an industry that was filled with people who tried to change you to serve their purposes. It was reassuring that no matter what happened she’d stay the same.
“As if I’m going to take advice from people who describe me like a one-star restaurant review.” She scoffed, heading to thedoor and pulling on thick soled combat boots. “Did you want to go decor shopping or what?”
We spent the afternoon in Montmartre, traipsing across the cobbled streets below the endless tourist-packed steps of the Basilique du Sacré-Coeur.
Avery found plenty of treasures in the consignment shops. Simple shirts with impeccably constructed seams. Dresses with unconventional, dramatic silhouettes.
In one such shop, a slice of sunshine breaking through the cloud cover drew my attention to a jewelry case. I didn’t realize I was staring until the middle aged owner unlocked it and placed a ring in front of me. A ruby set in a cluster of diamonds with an engraved gold band.
“A gift for the striking girl with frown lines?” he asked in his flowing accented voice. His eyes went to where Avery was flipping through a rack of trench coats.
“It would be perfect for her,” I said. I’d thought about buying a ring for her before but talked myself out of it. There was a one in a million chance she’d accept it.
But I loved her, and for me, that was always reason enough to do anything. I bought the ring, taking it from the box and sliding it onto the silver chain around my neck, the cool metal quickly warming against my skin.
When Avery was finished, we found a café with tables tilted at angles dictated by the whims of the uneven paving stones. Avery made a show of holding up clothes she’d found so I could send pictures to Mom.
“You know, the last time I was here was with my dad. Not just Paris, but here in front of Sacré-Coeur,” she said. Her expressionglazed with emotion as she pinched the minuscule handle of her espresso cup, and she raised it to her lips. “He didn’t let me get any coffee because I was ten, but I tried sneaking it and gagged at the taste, so he caught me.”
“What was he writing then?” I asked. It was rare for her to talk about her dad. Mom sometimes spoke about him as if he was just down the street. But Avery never gave herself time to remember, working herself to the bone.
“A southern gothic thriller inspired byThe Hunchback of Notre Dame.He met with some scholars for research.” Her voice was airy and wistful with memories. “It’s nice, though, how it hasn’t changed.”
“It’s the same with Caper. You could come back and see for yourself,” I hedged. “Mom is hoping you’ll come home for the holidays soon.”
“That’s sweet of her, but I’m booked through January for parades and TV specials. I’ll call, though.” She shook her head, eyes clearing as she gave the same response she has for years.
A squeal of delight erupted from behind us, and I swiveled to find two girls around our age shushing each other as they slowly stepped closer. I pressed a finger to my lips and winked at them, knowing they recognized us. They took it as permission to close the gap.
“Shit,” Avery muttered. Her bodyguard bristled but she mouthed something to him and he stayed put.
I smiled at the girls, knowing it would be over soon enough. “Hey, ladies. Was there something you wanted to ask me?”
Avery whispered, “Don’t encourage them.”
“Which rumor is true? Or were you with all those girls?” one asked.
They both eyed me with hope. They wanted me to say yes, so I might say yes to them too. Their gazes spoke of words muttered behind my back, exchanged between curious friends.They wanted to know my body the same way others did, not wanting to be left out. To be elevated because of it, not even knowing what they took from me.
Avery snorted as she took another sip.
With shaky hands, I took my cup as it clattered against the saucer. It was a sloppy feeling, keeping my composure because it was easier than breaking. “Sorry, ladies, but I don’t kiss and tell. I leave that for the tabloids.”
“We can keep a secret,” the second girl said, taking another step closer.
“It’s none of your business,” Avery snapped. “We’re obviously in the middle of something.”
“We weren’t talking to you,” the first girl said.
Avery leveled a glare at them. “And we didn’t invite you over.”
“Connasse,” one of them huffed under her breath as they hurried away.
“It’s fine. I don’t mind,” I told Avery, finishing off my latte as foam clung to the bottom of the cup.
