Flirting with fate, p.21
Flirting with Fate, page 21
“And I know we can find something sensational for you.” Blanca beamed so hard, there was no way Ava could tell her no.
The Granados sisters followed Blanca through a side door into a maze of pale, cold hallways until they reached a large stockroom filled with row upon row of shelved boxes pushed up against the walls. At the center of the room were a blue mid-century sofa and wide velvet chairs. Near the sitting area were a three-way mirror, several racks of clothing, and a curtained area that Ava guessed was a makeshift dressing room.
“I have already picked a few pieces for you, Ava,” Blanca said, waving her arms animatedly. “Very throwback. Very you. I’m thinking no color—maybe gray? White?”
Ava felt herself sinking into a puddle of nerves. Why did I have to open my big mouth and invite Rion? Because I’m building a bridge, she reminded herself.
“Something super simple,” Ava said, grazing her fingers over the racks of feathers, metallics, furs, and leathers. Everything except simple.
“Oh my God!” Carmen squealed. “Look at that ostrich ballet skirt. It’s amazing!”
“For an ostrich,” Ava groaned. That’s when she saw Viv set down her phone on a small table, so she could use both hands to rifle through the clothes.
Slowly, carefully, like a well-trained spy, Ava inched toward the phone, taking full advantage of her sister’s obsession with fashion. She would have five, six seconds tops to punch in her code and glance at her text list.
I’m a terrible sister.
I can’t.
Ava glanced over her shoulder to make sure Viv was fully occupied, and then she made her move. Grabbing the phone and punching in the code with trembling fingers, she searched the text history. Her eyes landed on a number she didn’t recognize with only the letter H as a descriptor.
H: Oh yeah the bash is tonight.
V: wish you could come. I hate secrets.
H: Soon
And that’s as far as Ava got, because Blanca called her name from across the room, forcing Ava to abandon Mission Viv.
I was right. Viv’s seeing someone. And she’s lying about it. But why? Is he married? Forty? Too awful to claim?
But Ava’s thoughts were quickly cast to the side when Carm dragged her to the dressing room with an armful of outfits, practically shoving Ava into each one. Python jumpsuit. “Snakes hibernate in the winter,” Ava said, tossing it back to her sister. Next came a silver miniskirt with a feather top that made Ava sneeze. “I look like an alien bird.” Every outfit made her look ridiculous and feel even more ridiculous. Finally, she drew the line at the eggplant-colored fur dress.
While Viv, Carmen, and Blanca fell into an easy flow of conversation and chisme, Ava slipped out the back curtain and wandered between the racks, trying to find something suitable and not entirely humiliating. Her spirits sank lower as she eyed the garments. Yes, perfect for the runway, but for real life? Not even close. There was a fantasy element to fashion that Ava loathed, a make-believe world where princesses were saved from high towers and knights in shining armors existed. A place of monsters and curses and shadowed forests.
Ava’s eyes fell on an iridescent white gown that shimmered in the light. Fit for a snow queen, she thought.
“Gree?” Ava hadn’t even seen Viv turn down the narrow space between racks.
“Hey,” Ava said as nonchalantly as she could, trying to ignore the firestorm burning in her gut.
“You okay?”
“Yeah, why?” Ava diverted her attention away from her sister’s peering eyes to the dresses in front of her.
“I know that look.”
There was no hiding anything from Viv, especially a firestorm. But you’re hiding something from me, aren’t you? Ava thought bitterly. She was about to call her sister out when she saw it. The simple, white cashmere one-shouldered dress that screamed simplicity. Viv followed her gaze, and before Ava could tug the dress free, her sister whispered, “It’s perfect.”
* * *
Ava had just stepped out of the shower when her phone rang. She threw on a robe and grabbed her cell. The number on the screen looked familiar, but Ava had made it a rule to never answer anyone who wasn’t in her contacts. And then it dawned on her who was on the other end.
With a racing heart, she answered quickly. “Hello?”
“Hello, I’m calling for Ava from the Times?”
“Reed?”
“That’s me,” the woman said. “You called about a photo I took?”
“Yeah, I’m so glad you called. Thanks . . .” Ava was fumbling over her words when she needed to get to the point. Turning on her inner journalist, she matter-of-factly explained the details of the picture, hoping it would ignite a memory.
“Sounds awfully familiar,” Reed said, followed by what sounded like the tapping of a pen against metal. Tap. Tap. Tap.
“Might be one of the photos I took as part of a project I was working on,” Reed continued. “I did all sorts of things back then related to arts and culture. I was obsessed with the camera and capturing emotion, which is why so often I snapped strangers’ photos.” She released a nostalgic-sounding sigh. “Sometimes I forgot to get their permission, though, so the picture couldn’t run in the paper.”
Ava could see why Marry Me guy had piqued Reed’s interest. Anyone with a pulse would want to know the answer to his question.
Reed said, “Can you text me the photo? Maybe if I see it, it’ll jog my memory.”
Ava was glad she’d had the forethought to take a picture of the image. A second later, Reed had the photo.
Tap. Tap. Tap.
Ava waited. Water trickled down her neck, chilling her skin. Please remember. Please remember.
“Of course,” Reed exclaimed gleefully. “I was in Mexico City and saw this young man get out of a taxi. With this sign. I couldn’t help myself. I had to ask him about it. But he was in a hurry, said he couldn’t stop, had to get to the train station before the woman he was going to propose to arrived. So, I snapped this photo as he walked away.”
“Do you know what happened to him?” Ava had no idea why it even mattered. She didn’t know this guy, had never laid eyes on him. And yet she felt her heart stirring inexplicably, as if something about him did matter.
“No. I didn’t follow him,” Reed said. “I was late to an appointment, or I would have. Imagine that photo. A woman descending the train, seeing this sign. Running into her lover’s arms.” There was a pause, like Reed was leaning into the past. “But I’ll never forget his last words to me as he hustled down the street.”
Ava wrapped her robe tighter, hugging her waist. “What?”
“She’s my destiny.”
* * *
“When the gardener’s son kissed the princess, she woke up, but he collapsed, dead,” Caroline said as she cut out a wad of gum Ava had gotten stuck in her hair. “It was very sad, but I told you that love is very dangerous.”
But you said so is hope and trust and destiny, Ava thought.
“The princess was so confused,” Caroline went on, “because the prophecy had been clear. Only a prince would die from her kiss.
“But when the bruja appeared, she told the princess that her mistake was in believing the gardener’s son’s stories, for thinking he couldn’t die because he wasn’t a prince.
“The princess clutched her heart, terrified that her own heart was no longer beating.”
“How was she awake with no heart?” Ava asked, knowing the answer but hoping for a different ending.
“She had a heart, but it was made of fire. And all it knew how to do was burn, burn so brightly that it consumed anyone she cared about,” Caroline said. “So, the princess spent each night hidden in the poison woods, trying to understand why her heart wasn’t like anyone else’s.”
“And then what happened?”
“That’s when she met the wolf.”
Twenty-Four
Something cold washed over Ava’s skin.
She had been hoping for something else, an ending to a story worthy of more than destiny.
The word sent a flicker of annoyance and anger through her like a hot rod of lightning. “What if she said no?” Ava muttered after ending the call with Reed. Wouldn’t that mean she wasn’t his destiny? she thought miserably. Ava may not have believed in destiny, but she believed in her instincts, and something was nagging at her, an unfinished answer. She replayed Reed’s words, checking for any stone unturned.
I was obsessed with the camera and capturing emotion, which is why so often I snapped strangers’ photos. Ava wanted that kind of obsession, and more and more it didn’t feel like journalism would ever give her that kind of experience.
Thinking about Reed’s photos reminded Ava of the pic she had taken of Rion at the beach. There he was—slanted because of her phone’s odd angle, but to anyone else it might look like he was balancing on the edge of the world. His jaw was a solid piece of granite. His not-so-mediocre lips parted ever so slightly. And his gaze was locked on the horizon. Searching. Seeing.
Ava enlarged the photo, wishing she had a front angle of his eyes.
She quickly texted Anmol and Corbin to tell them Reed had called, giving them the shorthand version.
Anmol: Now I have to KNOW. Right, Corbin?
Corbin: No idea what we’re talking about.
Ava glanced at the clock on her nightstand. Crap! She was way behind schedule, and if she didn’t pull herself together for Winter of Spies, her sisters were going to kill her.
After blow-drying her hair in braids, Ava removed them and let her locks falls down her back in messy beach waves. She tugged on the dress in front of the full-length mirror in her closet and took a step back. Viv was right. It was perfect. The comfy cashmere was soft and warm against her skin. Like a blanket of protection.
“Oh my God, you look gorgeous!” Carmen bounced into the walk-in closet unannounced. “I officially hate you.” She wore a silvery sage blouse, sheer enough to give Raul a heart attack, even though she had a nude bodysuit underneath. But it was the illusion of what was beneath that Carm always said made the biggest statement. Her matching fitted skirt and silk sash embroidered with diamond-like beading was the perfect Carmen Granados touch.
“You too,” Ava said, and she meant it. Carmen could pull off a trash bag with a silk tie and make it look like high fashion.
Viv popped her head in next. She wore a long black tulle skirt, wide equestrian belt, and a fitted white turtleneck. She had straightened her dark hair, which fell behind her shoulders in perfect sheets of shine. “Ándele,” she said, “It’s already eight o’clock.”
“What shoes are you wearing, Ava?” Carm said, eyeing the rows of sneakers and sandals. “God, this is dreadful.”
“I like to be comfortable.”
Viv smiled and held out a pair of nude Stuart Weitzman over-the-knee suede boots she’d had hidden behind her back. “These will go perfectly. Not too high, but not”—she wrinkled her nose—“running shoes either.”
Ava shoved her feet into them, grateful her sensible sister hadn’t tossed her five-inch heels.
Viv had already called Emmanuel to put their guests on the list. He’d asked why the sudden change, and Viv had to admit she lost a football game. Then he teased her mercilessly.
A minute later the sisters were in Carmen’s BMW headed north up the 101.
Malibu was a world of its own. Ava always loved the easygoing, casual vibe, but she knew that was only its exterior. Underneath that skin was a whole system of wealth, affluence, and social capital that always felt like it was an untouchable inch away from make-believe.
As Carm pulled up to the imposing gated entry, Ava was stricken with a heavy dose of anxiety. She hadn’t stopped long enough to consider what Rion would think of this world. He drove a truck, lived on a farm. Had a dog named Tres that chased racoons. How in the hell was she going to build a bridge between that and this?
Jorge, the longtime gate guard, waved the sisters through with a smile. But Viv, being Viv, leaned over from the passenger seat and asked him to confirm that their guests’ names were on the list. Satisfied, she said thanks, and Carm made the ascent up the long, wooded drive that would lead them to the floor-to-ceiling glass house dubbed the Sea of Love.
Once they arrived at the motor court (which was more like a parking lot filled with exotic cars), a valet took the keys.
“So, where’s the Winter of Spies vibe?” Carm mused with an air of irritation.
It wasn’t until the trio stepped through the massive carved wooden gates that the world was transformed. They were met with dramatic crystal chandeliers that hung from the sweeping trees, illuminating a snowy landscape.
“Holy shit,” Carmen breathed.
“He brought in fake snow?” Ava rubbed the evening’s chill off her arms. Or maybe he rented some arctic winds too, she thought.
“So Emmanuel,” Viv purred, her voice dripping with appreciation.
Ava fidgeted with her dress as they followed the snowy path toward the sound of music. Okay, more than music. It sounded like a one-hundred-piece symphony playing a score from a blockbuster action flick. As they turned the corner, Ava sucked in a sharp breath. At least a hundred people milled about, dressed in furs, feathers, and wings. Men and women wore suits, tuxedos, and gowns. Some wore long silk gloves; others wore shimmering scarves. And the most avant-garde wore lion, bird, or other animal masks.
It was incredible, and the beauty and charm of it stole Ava’s breath. She had spent plenty of time here over the years, but tonight Emmanuel’s home felt like a page out of a fairy tale.
The massive yard had been transformed into a movie set to look like a scene from Emmanuel’s latest spy-slash-fantasy film he had just wrapped in Finland. Every deck, patio, and walkway looked like a winter version of itself, covered in snow, illuminated by pale green, pink, and gold lights that sparkled across the life-sized ice sculptures of the movie’s main characters. The servers milled about, expressionless in their throwback 1950s slim black suits, carrying silver trays with delectable finger foods no one could name.
“He’s outdone himself this time,” Viv muttered just as Emmanuel spotted them and headed over. He wore a fitted white sport coat with a black shirt and no tie, a sharp contrast to so many of the guests.
“Mis princesas!” He smiled wide, passing out his usual abrazos. “Now tell me”—he leaned into their circle like he had a secret to share—“is it the surprise I promised?”
After a round of sufficient, deserved praise and oohs and ahhs, Viv said, “Is this a promo party for your movie?”
“An early screening for my closest friends.” He beamed.
You have a ton of close friends, then, Ava thought, stepping closer to the outdoor heater.
“This film feels closest to my corazón,” Emmanuel said, “more than any of the other stories I’ve told.” He arched a thick brow and raised his hands animatedly like he was painting images in the air. “Spies. Intrigue. Monsters. Magic. And, of course, amor! A blend of genres that will either win me another Oscar or kick me into the depths of hell. And I trust your opinions so much. I wanted you to be here. To tell me if I hit the mark.”
“I’m just here for the monsters,” Carm chimed.
“There are plenty,” Emmanuel said in an ominous tone. “And you must see the ice-skating rink. It’s on the north side of the tennis courts.”
“You put in an ice rink?” Ava said, totally unable to contain her astonishment.
Emmanuel matched her excitement. “Claro! There is a key scene in the movie that takes place on ice, perhaps my favorite,” he boasted with boyish charm. “I’ve even provided skates in every size if you want to try it.”
“I am not ice-skating in this outfit,” Carm announced.
Emmanuel smiled and dropped his exuberant voice to a near-whisper. “Pay close attention to your surroundings, chicas. You never know who’s watching.”
“What does that mean?” Viv asked.
“Es una sorpresa.” He turned to leave before spinning back and snapping his fingers. “And por favor make sure you are here for the screening.” And then he was gone to hobnob with a woman who was dressed like a swan.
Viv frowned. “I totally should have made him tell me.”
“Except that you love Emmanuel,” Ava said, thinking how convenient everything would be for Viv if love weren’t a thing.
“Coming from Emmanuel,” Carmen added, “it makes me super nervous.”
“It’s probably just some metaphor,” Ava guessed, “or something to do with the whole Winter of Spies theme.”
“Dude, this better not be one of those awful role-playing parties,” Carm groaned.
Ava suddenly felt itchy. “Why does everything have to be a surprise?”
“Lighten up.” Viv chuckled.
A few minutes later the sisters were helping themselves to sparkling waters while keeping an eye out for their football crew.
Viv said, “Do you think everyone got in okay?”
Carm stood on her tiptoes, as if that were necessary in her five-inch heels. “Oh, there’s Taryn and Donovan,” she said, heading over to collect them while Viv got looped into an adult conversation about the family firm and next season’s designs.
Ava slipped free, trying to ignore Viv’s angry how could you abandon me? scowl. She found a somewhat isolated spot under a sprawling tree not too far from the entrance and far enough away from the crowd to hopefully enjoy some nonhuman interaction. She imagined a circle of invisibility all around her, something she had learned in first grade after some kids at school had called her a beaner because she accidentally answered her teacher in Spanish. It was also Ava’s first introduction to cruelty.
