the lines of concern between his eyebrows and soothe his tense jaw muscles.
“He told me to stay away from you.” I return his jacket instead. “And he told me to give that to you myself.”
Talent takes the blazer and tosses it to the stool beside him. “I can put your worries to rest right now, you know. I can take you in my arms. I can kiss you. I can throw you over my fucking shoulder and carry you out of this hellhole.”
“You wouldn’t dare.”
He grins. “I won’t if you come home with me tonight.”
“I can’t.”
“You can’t or you won’t because you’re afraid to be judged by these motherfuckers? I already told you, none of them mean a thing to me.” He moves a few feet forward, pointing his thumb toward the party. “I’ll put your mind to rest right now and tell everyone in this room you’re mine.”
I snort, like anyone besides Talent scares me.
A perk of the emotionally mute: I don’t fear judgment.
My worry is for Talent’s status only. He can’t throw away his good name for me.
“No,” I correct him, waving him back. “Don’t be ridiculous. I can’t because I need to make sure Camilla gets home. I’m not here because I enjoy the crowd. It’s business.”
“Tomorrow night?”
“Talent, it’s impossible.” He moves closer to me and I lick my lips, hoping but not hoping that he’ll make good on his promise.
“Promise to call me tomorrow or you’re leaving kicking and screaming over my shoulder. I know you act like a badass, but I’m stronger. Imagine what the headlines will look like.” He sweeps my hair off my shoulder, sparking a wave of goose bumps down my arms. “I’ll make sure Camilla gets home safely.”
“If I agree to call you, do you promise to leave me alone afterward?” I ask with a shaky voice.
“No,” he says. “But I’ll let you walk out of here on your own two legs.”
As the clock tolls midnight, Camilla excuses herself from our assigned table to meet me at the exit like we agreed upon before we arrived. It’s interesting to watch her play the role of a giddy blonde so well, only to turn it off like a light switch the moment she leaves the warehouse. Aside from the occasional lingering paparazzi hoping to capture late night mischief, we’re alone now.
The glow dwindles from Camilla’s eyes. She rubs her jaw, sore from over smiling, and stops beside me to hold my shoulder and remove her heels. She stretches and bends her toes before placing her feet on the concrete and hitching the dress to her knees to walk without tripping.
I’m relieved to see she wasn’t dazzled by the show of wealth or undivided attention the patrons at the gala were eager to share. She seems to be as exhausted by it as I am, and we head to the limo, accompanied by the sound of my dress brushing along the concrete sidewalk under my feet and nothing more.
The drive back to the apartment is quiet. I’m at peace with Camilla’s somber reaction to the gala—had she left excited, I would have called Inez first thing in the morning and warned her that we had another Naomi on our hands.
Camilla is appropriately disturbed.
And I’m not mad I promised Talent I’d call him tomorrow. I’m just not convinced I will.
“Among riotous eaters of flesh: For the drunkard and the glutton shall come to poverty: and drowsiness shall clothe a man with rags,” Camilla whispers to herself. Her warm breath clouds the car window.
“What was that?” I ask, unsure if I heard her correctly.
She shines one last fake smile and says, “Oh, nothing.”
I lost my mom when I was fourteen years old.
Her heart didn’t stop beating until after my sixteenth birthday, but on the night when all I wanted was money for a ticket to the dollar movie theater and instead saw the horror show that was Cricket Montgomery’s life, was when she stopped being my mother.
I’d triggered the beginning of the end of Cricket’s life and the start of mine alone.
Pretenses were up.
She was no idol. Cricket was an addict and a prostitute.
The truth is my mother got pregnant with me when she was a baby herself. My dad didn’t want to be a dad, so he wasn’t. Cricket’s parents didn’t want to be grandparents, so they weren’t.
They’d said, “If you’re grown enough to spread your legs and have a kid, you’re grown enough to move out.”
She couldn’t afford an abortion and didn’t know