Beneath the Glitter: A Novel (Sophia and Ava London) (21 page)

She shook her head. “Ava was born the next month and then there was her to think about. I didn’t want my parents to have to worry about both of us. Plus I wanted to be a good role model for her. As older sister, I had a responsibility to protect her. I couldn’t run around putting myself in danger, I had to keep her safe.”

“Her or yourself?”

Sophia was starting to feel a bit more sober. “What do you mean?”

Giovanni laughed it away. “Nothing. I never mean anything.”

A tiny frown creased her forehead. “Would you mind not telling anyone what I told you tonight? About my scar?”

“I would never mention this.”

She added, “Especially not Hunter?”

“Why especially not him?”

“He’s so perfect,” Sophia said. “I wouldn’t want him to know.”

“I am not sure I understand this word ‘perfect’ with the Hunter.”

“Why do you call him that? The Hunter?”

“Is his name, no? And it pants—no, you say—it
suits
him.”

Sophia gave an uncomfortable laugh. “I hadn’t thought of that.”

Giovanni pulled the car to the curb with one smooth motion and came around to open the door for her. He insisted on carrying Lily up the stairs and waited politely outside until Sophia had tucked her in. As Sophia closed her door they could hear the faint strains of “Champagne gives me wiiiiiings.”

Then he and Sophia walked to her door. She fished the keys out of her evening bag and like a gentleman in an old movie, Giovanni took them from her and used them to open her door.

“Thank you,” she said, standing in the open door. “For being our knight in shining armor.”

Giovanni gave a small, formal bow.

Sophia suddenly realized she didn’t want him to leave. “Hunter brought me some copies of my photos,” she said. “The ones that are going to be in the show. I’d love your opinion of them if you want to come in.”

He said, “If you are sure?”

She nodded and he followed her into the apartment. Ava’s door was ajar but she could sleep through nearly anything. She had only glanced at the photos herself so she was excited to look at them.

She pulled a mock-up of the poster and her pictures out of the white envelope and fanned them over the table. Giovanni picked up one, then another. She tried to focus on the pictures rather than on his face but it was hard. Finally he turned to her and smiled.

“They are very pretty,” he said. “You should be proud.”

For some reason the word “pretty” stung. “What’s wrong with them?” she demanded.

“But there is nothing wrong with them,” he said, looking confused. “They are very easy to look at.”

“You mean they’re dull.”

“Absolutely I do not. They are not dull. There is motion, a story. I mean that you took them with your head. Another time you should think less, just do.”

“Why? So I can end up as a waiter?” Even as the words were out of her mouth she regretted them, but she was too upset to apologize.

What made it even worse was how unruffled Giovanni was. He simply said in a mild voice, “But are you not already waiting always? To make sure it is safe? Always peeping before you are leaping?”

Before she could object he put her keys in her hand, his fingertips barely brushing her palm.

“Good night,
stella,
” he said, and showed himself out.

He hadn’t even tried to kiss her.

Which was right, of course. She wasn’t disappointed at all. She didn’t even like him. Besides, she couldn’t wait to tell Ava about her photos being in the show. She knocked on Ava’s door—but the room was empty. Ava wasn’t home.

Though given the number of outfits strewn over the bed, she had been dressing with a purpose and in a hurry.

LonDOs

Glasses 1 to 3 of champagne

Being part of the photocracy

Getting your first gallery show

Gallant Italian waiters

Fiat Spiders

Dior Crème de Rose lip balm

LonDON’Ts

Glasses 4 to 6 of champagne

Juice fasts

Anything “pretty”

Sisters who don’t text their boyfriends

Sisters who don’t bother to come to pizza night

Sisters who don’t bother to come home

18

lofty glambitions

“You might strain something if you keep that up,” Dalton said, watching Ava’s neck swivel from one side to another as they drove through downtown Los Angeles.

“I’ve never been here before,” she said. “I thought it was just office buildings and that opera house.” She gazed wide-eyed through the window. “Look at all these cute restaurants. And there is totally a line to get into that club.”

“Edison,” Dalton said. “It’s popular with bankers who want to act like hipsters.”

“Which is not a compliment in your world,” Ava said, correctly translating his tone.

Dalton pulled into a parking lot that was filled with parked food trucks doing a brisk business.

“You hungry?” he asked. “I know it’s probably not the fancy feasts you’re familiar with.”

“I had a Slurpee for dinner last night.”

“Well, it’s nice to know that’s the score to beat.” He looked around, and then pointed at a pink truck. “I think we’ll start with that one.”

“C
ANDY’S
C
ANDIES.
” Ava read the awning that hung from the rainbow-colored truck. Then her eyes moved to the sides of the truck and she gaped. Instead of metal with a window you could order through, Candy’s Candies was made up of a hundred square plastic containers, each filled with a different candy.

“Yeah, I don’t know why after that story this just came to mind.”

“I haven’t seen this one in years,” Ava said, pointing at a yellow-and-blue package in the second row. “Or this one,” she said, pointing to something in a red wrapper. “Oh and these are Sophia’s favorites.”

“Nerds Rope?” Dalton was skeptical.

“You’d be surprised. It’s that sweet and salty mix she so adores.”

“And you?”

Ava didn’t have to think hard. “I’d say that my favorite candy is One of Everything Please. But I guess we can just start with this part of the truck,” she said, putting her arms around a three-by-three-foot square of boxes.

“You heard the lady,” Dalton told Candy. “And add a Nerds Rope.”

They strolled around the parking lot, weaving between knots of people standing up and trading bites of food with serious or blissed out or seriously blissed out expressions on their faces. Ava spilled some Pop Rocks onto her tongue, then held Dalton’s nose until he opened his mouth and let her put some on his too.

He tried to close his mouth but she said, “No, ew haf to do it like dhiss,” demonstrating by talking with her tongue out.

“Whai?”

“Is moah fuhn.” She pointed at him with his blue popping tongue sticking out. “Ha ha ew luk fuhnee.”

“Tahks wohn tah no wohn.”

Ava swallowed. “Sophia’s at some fancy forty-five-course dinner with Hunter Ralston but this is definitely way better.”

“Hunter Ralston?” Dalton said, and Ava noticed he suddenly seemed a little tense.

“Yeah, they’re at a party tonight. Why? Is something wrong with that?”

“Apart from my tongue cramp? Nothing.” But given the tense set of his jaw, Ava didn’t believe him. “Let’s go inside.”

Ava started to notice that some of them would nod or wave at Dalton and he’d do the same back, but it was all really low key, without interrupting one conversation for another, or stopping to introduce one person to someone else they just had to meet. Now they sort of worked their way to the front of a crowd until they got to a garage door that had been rolled up. There was no rope and no guest list that Ava could see, just a really, really big bouncer who could have eaten even Sven’s muscle-bound self for an after-dinner snack.

The bouncer was repeating, “Be cool, no pictures okay,” and stamping the wrists of everyone who went by but he interrupted himself when he saw Dalton to shake his hand.

From there they went up a set of metal and concrete stairs past a roll-down door with a jellyfish spray painted on it and another tagged with
OCCUPY EVERYTHING
. Each floor they climbed brought them closer to the music they could hear until they reached the top-floor loft which was where the party was.

“This is insane,” Ava said, drinking it in with her eyes. If it was possible to make a contrast with the dark wood paneling and old-timey-mansion feel of the party the night before, this would have been it. The space was decorated with flowers, giant fake butterflies, and swings everywhere. Ava saw someone riding around on a tricycle and looking closer she realized it was the lead singer of one of her favorite bands. “Isn’t that—” Ava said, pointing to a guy standing by himself by the wall. He’d made a splash the previous year when his biceps almost got an Oscar nom. “And over there—”

“No pointing,” Dalton told her, gently nudging her finger down. “And no staring. That’s the difference between a party like this and parties where the celebrities are paid to appear,” he explained. “People come here because they want to.”

Ava thought of what Liam had said about having a “command performance” that night. Suddenly she realized there were no photographers here.

Based on the number of high-fives and greetings he got, everyone knew Dalton and was happy to see him. “How cheery for you to have so many friends,” Ava said.

“It’s a wonder, such a Judgey McJudgeypants like me,” he answered.

“You’re never going to let that die, are you?”

“Die? I’m having it embroidered on my hand towels.”

There was a band playing, and as Ava watched, members of the crowd got up and joined them. Some of the people who climbed up onstage were people she recognized as famous musicians and she also recognized some of the songs. She and Dalton talked and danced and laughed and after some coaxing she even agreed to share her cotton candy puffs with Dalton. She felt invisible but in a good way, like she was part of something, something …
happening
.

Ava noticed a guy with a long beard and a set of headphones dangling from his neck signaling to Dalton. He looked slightly familiar but she was sure she’d remember if she’d met anyone with a beard like that. She pointed him out to Dalton who nodded back to him. He put his hand on Ava’s shoulder and bent down to say in her ear, “Sorry, I have to leave you alone for a little while,” and disappeared.

Only to reappear a few minutes later onstage with the guy with the beard. Who she now recognized as a famous singer. They each had a megaphone in their hands and began doing a back and forth duet of “L.A. Sky,” the song Dalton had asked her about earlier.

The song she now realized was his song. His band.

The crowd went wild and Ava joined them. She felt a little guilty because she knew Liam would disapprove but Liam wasn’t there. Liam was command performing. She wondered if Liam ever went to parties like this. Probably they were the kind of thing he needed to be protected from.

Or, she amended, watching the A-listers scattered through the crowd dancing to the next four songs, that he
thought
he needed to be protected from.

Dalton’s band played four songs, then one encore. The crowd loved them and they seemed to love the crowd. Dalton left the stage by diving headfirst into the crowd, who carried him hand over hand right to where Ava was standing.

A spotlight caught them together and for a second she thought he was going to put his arm around her. But he was just lifting it to wave to everyone. Then he ducked down and grabbing Ava by the elbow, led her out of the crowd.

They kept going to a spiral metal staircase that occupied an empty corner of the loft. She had no idea how long they had been there so she was astonished when they came out onto the roof and she saw the first signs of dawn breaking over the city.

The roof had been marked with labyrinthine paths lined with snow globes, all leading toward what looked like a little house someone had just planted there. On one side of the house there was something that appeared to be a shooting range with a line of garden gnomes as the target.

She stared at him. “I thought you said you live in a trailer.”

“I do.” He pointed to the little house. “That’s a trailer.”

“On top of a building. Surrounded by—” Ava didn’t quite have words to describe the pathways. In the early morning twilight the globes showed a faint pink glow.

“I’m not in charge of the landscaping.”

“Who is?”

“Here’s one half of the team,” Dalton said as a huge slobbery mutt came bounding toward them. He brushed by Dalton but then headed for Ava, rubbing his head insistently against her hand.

“Nice, Slipper,” Dalton said. “That’s what I get for years of care and feeding? The literal brush-off?”

Slipper ignored Dalton and instead started herding Ava toward the house. As they walked, she looked out at the unbroken panorama of the city. The view was amazing. She’d never seen Los Angeles from that angle or, since it was nearly dawn, at that hour.

There was an old-fashioned
WELCOME
mat in front of the door, which Dalton pushed open without a key.

“Wow,” Ava said, her hand going to her heart without her even realizing it. “That reminds me of home. Not home here,” she rushed to add, “
home
home where my parents are. The cozy little house in Georgia with the pretty flower garden and the porch swing. No one locks their doors there.” She grew quiet for a moment before asking, “Is it really safe in Los Angeles?”

“Well, we are on top of a roof,” Dalton pointed out. Then he said, “You’re homesick, aren’t you?”

The question took her by surprise but not as much as the realization that he was right. She was homesick. She missed, maybe not home, but that feeling of
being at
home.

Feeling her chest tighten she realized: she missed Sophia. “A little,” she said, turning her face into the sun in case her eyes might be a tiny bit wet. “How can you tell?”