GLASS_ A Standalone Novel - Arianne Richmonde Page 0,25
through my body. I am not imagining this! Daniel Glass is flirting with me! He was dreaming he had sex with me! Fu . . . following me!
He smirked ever so slightly. “No, not on a beach.”
“Where?” I asked, way too eagerly.
He dropped my hand and took a step back as if to distance himself. “I can’t remember.”
Liar! “Because I dreamt about you last night,” I confessed in a quiet voice, “what do you think that means, that we’re dreaming about each other simultaneously?”
He shrugged. “Absolutely nothing. We saw each other yesterday, hadn’t for over a year, and . . . well, it’s normal, isn’t it, that we should slip into the other’s subconscious now and again? Come outside—we should take advantage of this sunshine while we can. Come. You want a drink? A Coke or something?”
“Sure,” I said, feeling a little hurt at what he’d said. ‘Slip into the other’s subconscious now and again.’ If only he knew the extent of thought-time he inhabited in my brain. In fact, he had a whole mansion in my brain, exquisitely furnished, endless grand rooms, even ballrooms, wandering corridors, leading to more rooms, with French doors leading onto sprawling gardens—the view endless.
We passed by the kitchen and Daniel got some Cokes out of the fridge. Classic Coke. I knew better than to get him on the subject of Pepsi, or even Diet Coke. Daniel was a purist.
He clinked in some ice and slices of lemon and set the drinks on a tray. Even the simplest thing like preparing a couple of sodas was done with precision. The Daniel Glass way.
“Here, Janie.” He handed me my drink, looking me in the eye again, and I saw a flash of sadness. There was something different about him. He seemed vulnerable somehow. Worse than vulnerable, broken. Then again, his wife had died. Normal. Although Daniel Glass and vulnerable didn’t seem to go hand in hand.
We walked out to the pool, a kidney-shaped, shimmering expanse of water with an island in the middle.
“Who is this friend of yours who owns this crazy place?” I sat on a sun lounger.
“A guy in fashion, you wouldn’t have heard of him. But he’s rich as Croesus. He comes here, literally, a few weeks a year. He lives in Tuscany, London, Rome, New York. He’s Italian and has always been extremely generous to me. He’s one of our angels.”
“Angels?”
“He’s backed me several times with my productions.”
I’d forgotten that term “angels” to denote a person who gave money to the theater simply for the love of it, asking nothing in return except a philanthropic love for the arts.
I took a sip of my Coke. “Not a bad friend to have then.”
“So you’re hanging out with that movie star, Star Davis?”
“Yes, I’m staying with her and her family,” I said, twisting my hair up into a makeshift bun to get it off my neck.
“If you’re hot, take your jeans off, don’t mind me. I’m going to have a quick swim. Maybe I can find a spare swimsuit for you in the changing room.”
“I’m fine, really.” The truth was I didn’t want Daniel to see my pale legs. I suddenly felt self-conscious about what I’d done in that meeting yesterday. “Daniel, I apologize if I embarrassed you in front of Pearl Chevalier and Samuel Myers.”
“Actually, it was quite amusing.” His lips tilted into an ironic smile.
“Really? You don’t hate me?”
“I could never hate you, Janie Juilliard.”
“I don’t know what got over me, it wasn’t planned—”
“When that fat fuck insulted you, I nearly got up and punched him. But what you did was better. Far better. The only problem is that now he’s obsessed with taking you away from me.”
Is Daniel Glass possessive of me? My stomach flipped. “Taking me away from you?”
“He’ll make you a big star. And you’ll be famous. And the rest of Hollywood will come crashing at your door. You won’t be bothered with doing theater anymore.”
“That’s not true!”
“Your tits will be up there, larger than life, your ass, your mouth. This movie’s going to make you a sex symbol—are you ready for that?”
Are you ready for it? I wanted to say, judging by his mini outburst. Was he jealous? “Daniel, the whole thing might be a huge flop. I know you think I’m selling my soul, but I won’t be. It might lead to other roles.”
“Of course it’ll lead to other roles. More of the same. It pains me to see such talent thrown out the window.”