The Fate of the Muse - By Derrolyn Anderson Page 0,53

shoulders, suddenly serious, “They shoot on Thursday, and they wanted me to do it so bad they’re chartering a jet that leaves tomorrow morning. Just for me! Jacques made sure that they’d have me back for the weekend, so we can be back by Saturday… Please, please, please come with me!”

“Hawaii? I didn’t even pack a swimsuit…”

Shayla rolled her eyes at me dramatically, “Marina, we’re going to a swimsuit shoot!”

“I don’t know,” I said, but all I could think of was the blue wave from my dream beckoning. I thought about Kimo’s descriptions about surfing in Hawaii and my mouth went dry. I would give anything to be going surfing, instead of heading out to face the inquisition. The sound of the water came rushing back to my mind and I felt the urge to surf so badly I started to tremble.

“We can surf all day…” she said enticingly, “And after the shoot too!”

There was no way I could resist that. I bit my lip and started to plan out loud, “I suppose I could fly back to San Francisco from Hawaii and pick up my car…”

“Yes! Yes! YES!” she screamed, jumping up and down. “This is gonna be so sick!”

I looked up to see Evie coming towards us and thought fast, “Don’t say anything to Evie. Let me break it to her.”

“No prob,” said Shayla with a wink, stepping forward to greet Evie.

I can’t explain exactly what made me keep it from her, but I decided to wait until after the meeting to tell Evie about the strange conversation I’d just had with Marissa. Funny, I thought, the universe was giving me exactly what she’d recommended– an immediate way out of Paris that didn’t involve Evie. The synergy of two muses standing side by side must amplify our strange power.

Evie congratulated Shayla, proclaiming her an unqualified success. She gushed about the swimsuit shoot in Hawaii, having just heard the news from Jacques. If two muses were better than one, Shayla was guaranteed success. Evie embraced her goodbye, wishing her the best of luck.

I hugged her too, whispering in her ear instructions to pick me up at the hotel in the morning. Shayla squeezed me hard, winked, and drifted off with a little band of models that trailed after her worshipfully. Cruz would have loved it.

“Shayla!” I called out after her, longing to be going anywhere but where I was headed.

“What?”

“See you soon.”

The council meeting took place at yet another grand hotel in Paris. This time, Boris escorted us in, and stood stoically by Evie’s side as we took the elevator up to a suite of rooms on the top floor. I thought about what Marissa had told me and steeled myself. I closed my eyes and imagined I was already in Hawaii, surfing inside the turquoise blue wave of my dream. At least I knew relief was on the way, and I latched on to the thought, rolling it around and around in the back of my mind like a soothing strand of prayer beads.

The door opened and we passed down a long hallway to find a woman standing in the threshold, waiting for our arrival. “Your man will have to wait outside,” she told Evie, who nodded to Boris.

He took a position opposite the door, his arms crossed, “Da.”

My mouth was dry with dread as we stepped into the room and looked around. There were about twenty women seated at a conference table, leaning forward with an air of excited anticipation. The power in the room was palpable, electric, and my hair stood on end as I scanned their upturned faces. I felt like a lamb being led to the slaughter.

A stunning red haired woman in a python print dress stood, and approached us with a friendly smile.

“Darling Evie!” she said, her arms open wide. Our eyes locked over Evie’s shoulder as they embraced, and something inside me recoiled.

“Olivia!” Evie drew back and returned her smile. It was clear that they liked each other.

“This is Marina,” said Evie, gesturing proudly in my direction.

Olivia took both my hands and beamed at me warmly, the very picture of sincerity, “It’s so good to finally meet you.”

My eyes darted across the room to the seated women. All beautiful, there were women of every different age and nationality represented. Besides their unparralled good looks, there was nothing obvious– nothing on the surface that would tie them all together. However, the more I looked at them, the more I could see that each