“That’s a horrible idea, Zoe,” is all I say, because it is. “I’ll talk to Meyer about hiring you and let you know what he says.”
* * *
After gettingoff the phone with Zoey and completely crippled with hopelessness, I opted for a round of what I like to call Nap Roulette. This means you take a nap without setting an alarm. Will it be a thirty-minute nap? Four hours? Will I wake up tomorrow? Maybe two days from now? Nobody knows! And right now, there’s honestly no reason to care.
Today, Nap Roulette lasted about two hours, mostly because my growling stomach woke me. It’s now about six in the evening, and I’m so hungry that I haveto go eat something, even though it means I’m more than likely going to bump into the other people in this house.
The kitchen is down on the first floor, and as I’m leaving my room, there’s a flurry of activity down the hall. The dancers and musicians are rushing in and out of the big room, all dressed up in their flapper dresses and tuxedos. I wonder if they’re working on the music video Lucky mentioned when he lied about why he wanted me to enter the contest. However, I couldn’t care less what they’re up to, because I have no interest in participating in any more of the hollow nonsense going on at this house. I only care that I manage to get down the hall and the stairs without seeing Lucky, Meyer, or even Patrick.
Stepping into the kitchen, my bare feet shuffle to a halt.
Pearl and Piper are in there next to a massive spread of hors d'oeuvres, and they look like they’ve gottenreallyclose over the past week. Piper, standing about a half a foot taller than Pearl, has her arms wrapped around Pearl’s waist, and Pearl is peppering little, soft kisses against Piper’s neck. They’re murmuring quiet words to each other, giggling lightly, before meeting each other’s lips for even more intimate kissing.
This is notsomething I should be interrupting, no matter how hungry I am. I awkwardly back out of the room, bumping into the doorframe in the process, which throws me off balance, and I yelp as I nearly fall to the ground.
The two smooching women snap their heads around toward me, but they appear more concerned for me tripping than the fact that I just walked in on them making out.
“Ava!” Pearl chirps, breaking the embrace and crossing the room toward me. “Are you okay?”
“Yeah, of course,” I hastily reply, righting myself and attempting to continue leaving, but Pearl snags my wrist. “I didn’t mean to interrupt anything.”
“You’re fine!” She’s wearing a royal blue beaded dress and a long strand of pearls, which is tied in a knot at her middle. She picks it up and gives it a coy swing. “It’s not like we’re hiding anything from anyone.”
“Oh.” I fight to maintain a neutral expression because I don’t want them to think I’m judging them for whatever’s going on between them. I just didn’t expect it. “I…well, I…you know…I think it’s great.”
Piper snickers as she crosses the kitchen to press a long kiss to the rouged, paper-thin skin of Pearl’s cheek. “It really isgreat.”
Pearl chortles jovially just like she did all day the first day and picks up Piper’s hand to smooch the back of it. “It is. I have never felt more alive and more liberatedthan I have during this lockdown.” She releases Piper’s hand and flits her wrists. “Isn’t that the irony of ironies?” She sighs contentedly. “This is exactly what I needed during this terrible time. I can’t imagine being trapped at home alone during all this. Instead…” She crosses the room again, widely and grandly gesturing at the spread of food. “I get to indulge in beautiful music every night and explore love in the most unexpected of places.”
“Yeah.” I nod in agreement, and at least she considers it unexpected, too. I already have to deal with Lucky treating me like a street whore, and I’d hate for people as sweet at Pearl and Piper thinking I’m some kind of closed-minded bigot.
Pearl snatches a mini bruschetta and pops it into her mouth. Piper eases up behind her, wrapping her arms around her waist and resting her cheek against Pearl’s thin, silver curls. “You comin’ to the show tonight, Ava?” Piper queries.
“The show?” I guess she means whatever they’re preparing for upstairs. “Uhm…I don’t think that’s such a good idea.”
“And that’s where you’re wrong, Ava darling!” Pearl dusts the crumbs off her hands and then wags her finger at me. “Everyone is aware that you’ve been isolating yourself, and that’s the worst thing you can do right now. That will sap your mental and emotional health and drive you crazy. People need people, now more than ever, and we’re fortunate to be stuck with alotof people during this craziness.”
“I don’t disagree,” I say as diplomatically as possible. “I just have a feeling that Lucky wouldn’t exactly be happy if I crashed whatever show he’s trying to put on.”
“Oh come now, Ava, don’t be ridiculous.” Pearl chortles again, and Piper crinkles her nose as she wraps her arms tighter around Pearl’s waist. “He’s mentioned several times how concerned he is that you won’t leave your room.”
He may have said that,but he’s full of shit.
No, Lucky De Luca is disappointed that I haven’t given him an opportunity to berate me again.
“Well, he shouldn’t be concerned,” I say, unable to fully conceal my bristling. “I have a lot of things I’m dealing with right now with work, so my focus is on that.”
“I really am concerned, Ava doll.”
That voicestill has an effect on me, and I want nothing more than to disappear into thin air right now. Lucky has the unmitigated gall to corner me in the kitchen with two people who don’t seem to have any clue what a monster he is. I’m torn between storming out and turning to slap his smug face for daring to even speak to me after the way helastspoke to me.
But I’m too much of a chicken to do anything that dramatic and confrontational, so I don’t do anything.
Lucky steps into my line of sight, looking as polished and sexy as always. He’s wearing a pinstripe, three-piece suit that matches the deep cobalt blue of his eyes, a steel-gray tie, white shirt, and his hair is combed back and perfectly styled. If him being a total asshole isn’t enough, his sleek, 1920s-inspired ensemble just makes me feel frumpy and disheveled. I’m wearing the black leggings and camisole that I slept in with a red cardigan over it, just to hide the fact that I’m not wearing a bra. I haven’t even brushed my hair today.
Lucky’s got a fake-as-fuck caring expression on his face, but his eyes are practically boring holes into me. Despite all my frumpy layers, it feels like he has X-ray vision, and I wrap the cardigan tightly around me.
“You’re not feelin’ sick or anything are you, sweetie?” he goes on, knitting his onyx brows. “I hope you didn’t catch anything after you darted outside the other day.”
