by Tara Lain
Red took a breath to reply—then sank hard on his bed. “But what if I don’t want to get over it?”
Elbey’s eyes widened. They sat on their bed, oblivious to the near nudity. “Tell me.”
Red threw his arms out and then fell back on the mattress. “This wasn’t really my idea.”
“Who’s was it? The Wolfe?”
Red turned on his side, facing Elbey. “No. Not originally. It was my grandmother’s.”
“That’s different.” They pulled back the covers and crawled under them, then faced Red.
“She’s like my mom. She raised me. And she’s always insisted I was destined for great things.” He smiled softly. “Man, she was so excited when she heard Brock was interested in me.”
Elbey snorted.
“As a model, I mean.” He’d really like to ask Elbey if Brock kissed all his models, but he didn’t know how to bring it up. “Actually, Brock’s interested in her too. My gran’s a blogger and was just interviewed by Christasy Anselmo, who I guess is a client of Brock’s.”
“Your grandmother must be amazing, but why are you living her life?”
Red sucked air. “Uh, well we, I mean I decided if I didn’t give this whole modeling thing a chance, I’d always regret it.”
Elbey flipped onto their stomach under the covers and rested their chin on the backs of their hands. “The thing is, darling, this business is a raging bi-otch. If you’re not willing to do anything, be anything, and give up anything to have it, you should forget it.” They waggled a graceful, slender hand. “No blame. God, save yourself.”
“Oh shit. I don’t know.” Red sat up, pulled off the trousers, and walked in his boxer briefs to the closet. After hanging the pants, he went to the bathroom, peed, washed, and brushed his teeth.
Back in the bedroom, Elbey lay under their covers, arm over their head and eyes closed. Red turned off the lights and slipped into the single bed. Kind of weird. He’d really only spent a few nights of his life anywhere but his and Gran’s house. Even the very few times he’d had a sleepover with a friend, he’d hurried home afterward. Now, here he lay, miles from home, a stranger in a strange land as the saying went. He let out a long breath and closed his eyes.
Elbey’s soft voice whispered, “Don’t worry. You’ll be great.”
“Thanks.”
“But don’t let anyone railroad you.”
“Oh right, thanks a lot!” He huffed. “How do I know if I want it or not? I mean, I owe my gran everything. I could sure use extra money to help her so she doesn’t have to pay for so much. She’s not getting any younger. I mean, I have a job, but it’s not that lucrative.”
“If you’re not powerfully motivated by money, honey, it may not be a good enough reason.”
He moaned softly. “Oh, Elbey, she wants me to be special so much.”
Elbey’s voice was as “real” as Red had heard it. “You can’t do this for someone else. It’s simply too hard. It’ll suck out your guts and ask for seconds.”
The sigh escaped on its own. “I don’t know what I want.”
Elbey said, “Sleep now and worry about it later. You don’t have to make a decision this minute.”
That was kind of true, but what about the next day? Early. Red watched the breath entering his nose—a trick Gran had taught him for going to sleep. Before he knew what was happening, the words slipped out of his mouth. “Elbey?”
“Hmm?”
“Has Brock ever tried to kiss you?”
The room got very, very still. Then Elbey whispered, “Oh baby. You’ve got some tough choices.”
Red stared at the ceiling until he heard Elbey’s breathing get slow and even. After that, he still didn’t sleep.
* * *
Here I am again. Fuck!
Mark drove slowly down Arden Street, peering toward Mrs. Ridley’s house. A light shone through the sheer curtains in the living room and flickered on the wall, suggesting she was watching TV. No light in Red’s room. He hadn’t been at Mom and Pop’s either.
Mark braked to an almost standstill and kept peering, hoping for some sign of life upstairs. Yes, he’d sworn to give it up. Yes, he was acting like an A-number one stalker, but why should he stop now? He’d been “watching out for Red” for over a year, ever since that night in Mom and Pop’s when he’d looked up and realized that the skinny auburn-haired kid with the strange face had turned into the most beautiful creature he’d ever seen. But it wasn’t just the looks. Something about Red Ridley compelled Mark, pulled him like his own polestar. He might never have him, but he couldn’t stop wanting to protect him from all the pain Mark knew was in the world.
A shadow passed in front of the light in the living room, but he could make out Mrs. Ridley walking in the direction of the kitchen. He wanted to leap out of the truck, run into the house, and beg to know what was going on. Was Red coming back? Maybe most important, was he in New York with that guy? Wolfe?
Crap, just the name made Mark want to puke. Wolfe was handsome, charming, rich, and could give Red an amazing future. Mark totally believed that even a man as powerful as Wolfe would want Red. Red was unique and rare.
Mark braked to a full stop and dropped his head on the steering wheel. If assuring Red a glorious future was all there was, maybe Mark could swallow it and accept Wolfe for the good he could give Red. But no matter how hard he tried, Mark couldn’t find the good in the heart of Brock Wolfe. Something deep in Mark’s gut screamed, “Watch out. Be afraid!”
And now, after all this time of protecting his star, Mark sat there on the street alone and Red was far away. Red and his grandmother obviously didn’t want his help, but he wasn’t sure he could stop giving it.
Lifting his head, he pressed the accelerator and drifted down the street. Thank God there was no traffic because his eyesight wasn’t the best at that moment.
When he got to the stop sign, he managed to brake and vaguely remembered to look in both directions.
“Mark.” The voice sounded like a whisper from the back seat of his truck. He actually turned around to look.
“Mark. Why don’t you come see me?”
Mark ducked his head and squinted out the open passenger window. Flickering candlelight glinted on the porch of the corner house on Arden Street. No one in Ever After had to ask who lived there. “Uh, Mrs. Delphi?”
“Yes.” The S stretched out in a whispering sigh.
Practically on its own, his truck backed to the curb and stopped. Okay then.
Uncertainly, he opened his truck door and stepped out. Had she really called him? He didn’t want Ever After’s most mysterious resident to phone the cops on him. Still, shivers ran up his spine. He’d never met the woman rumored to be a witch, and the possibility half-scared him and half-thrilled him.
He walked part of the way up her walk and stopped. “Hello? Mrs. Delphi?”
“Hello, Mark.”
The idea that she knew his name perplexed him, but it was another thrill. “Did you call me, ma’am?”
“Yes, dear. Come and sit, why don’t you?”
Trying not to miss a detail, he walked tentatively up the porch stairs. Two rocking chairs sat by a table that held a teapot and cups. Two cups. Candles burned on small side tables, and if talking rabbits and fairies suddenly slid out of the trees and bushes, he’d barely be surprised.
Chapter Seventeen
“Come have your tea, Mark.” Mrs. Delphi waved a beringed hand at the other rocking chair.
“Uh, my tea?”
She held out the cup. He accepted it and sat. The chair rocked under him as if it were pulling him in. Glancing at the steaming liquid, he took a tentative sip. Oh wow. He loved lime more than any flavor and this tea sizzled with lime flavor and just a hint of sweetness to prevent puckering. “Oh, thank you, ma’am. This is amazing.”
“I’m so glad you like it.” She rocked and sipped, and everything got quiet.
A hundred questions crowded his mouth. How did she know his name? Ho
w could she have known he was driving on the street? Was she really a witch? He took another drink of tea, and it seemed to wash all the questions away. With a deep breath, he rocked.
Squeak. Squeak. Squeak. Squeak. Two rockers in counterpoint.
She poured a bit more tea in their cups. “So how is our Red?”
He inhaled but didn’t even stop to ask why she would bring up Red to him. Somehow she knew. Maybe magic and maybe she saw Red in his truck. Who cared? It was odd. Just a few minutes before, he’d been full of dread. Now, some tiny thread of hope seemed to slither through his veins along with the warm tea that filled his stomach. “I don’t know and that’s what worries me?”
“He’s still in New York?”
Mark nodded and sipped more lime goodness.
“All alone without Mark to care for him.”
Mark paused in his rocking. How did she know? He resumed. “Red can take care of himself—I guess.”
“Sometimes, taking care of oneself means asking another for help.”
He looked at her. “Do you think he needs my help?”
“Do you?” Faintly in the dim light, he saw her smile, the creases around her eyes deepening.
“He hasn’t asked for it.”
“Ah, yes.”
Mark felt the crease pop between his brows. Even the lime tea wasn’t working. “But he went off to see that guy, Wolfe. I think he thinks he can trust the dude, but I’m not so sure.”
“Yes, I understand. Lupines can be quite noble, but sometimes there are bad ones.”
“What?” He cocked his head at her.
She smiled brightly. “Wolves. Weren’t we talking about wolves?”
“Uh, kind of.” Maybe she was as batty as some people said.
She sipped tea as if she hadn’t just rocked his world. “You and Red are great heroes and must undertake the hero’s journey to become who you are.”
What the hell? “Journey? Where? Like to New York?”
“That might be involved, but mostly the hero’s journey is an interior adventure.”
He sighed softly. What the hell was he doing on this porch? He’d been flattered by the fact that she was interested in him, but now he just felt stupid. The one person in Ever After to be taken in by the crazy lady. His dad would laugh his ass off.
She nodded. “Remember, the hero’s journey is fraught with danger, but if not undertaken, one remains unrealized.”
He glanced up. “What do you mean danger?”
“Enemies and foes at every turn.” She leaned in. “And they’re often hard to tell from the good guys. Heroes must exercise discernment and caution.”
He grasped her wrist. “Do you mean that Wolfe is a danger? Is that what you want me to know?”
She glanced dreamily at her wrist and he dropped it like he’d been burned. She said, “Did you want to discuss wolves again? You should be more interested in realization, don’t you think?”
Fuck. He should just leave. Mark set down the cup on the table and let his voice drip with sarcasm. “What if the danger’s too great for the hero to be realized?”
She looked up and in the light of the guttering candles, her eyes glittered like jewels. “Ah, then he dies.”
Mark jumped up, half wanting to call her a crazy lady, and the other half wanting to run off that porch, leap in his truck, and rush back to his garage where life was normal. He went with plan B.
* * *
Red stared in the mirror. They sure as hell weren’t going to want him in any ad campaign with this face. He’d barely slept, and when he finally did, his alarm went off forty-five minutes later. Man, he always slept well at home, except for a few nights thinking about Mark, but that was kind of a nice way to stay awake. Tossing and turning trying to figure out what was going to happen when he had to “walk” and, way worse, what the fuck he’d do if Brock Wolfe came on to him, had added up to one seriously crappy night.
After checking to be sure he’d shaved thoroughly—he had so little facial hair he usually didn’t pay much attention—and brushing his teeth, he flopped on the toilet lid and ran a hand through his mane. It was really embarrassing to be an eighteen-year-old guy and miss your grandmother. And Mark. He missed Mark, even though Mark hadn’t tried to stop him from coming to New York.
Did I want him to?
Yes!
And I would’ve gotten pissed if he’d tried to interfere.
He sighed and stood. Perversity, thy name is Redmond Ridley.
Back in the bedroom, now empty of Elbey, he put the beautiful suit back on since it was obviously the nicest thing he had. Hell, it was probably the nicest article of clothing he’d ever wear. After brushing his hair and tying it back with a band, he walked into the living room.
At the table near the windows, Elbey glanced up from munching what appeared to be two pieces of dry toast. Beside him sat one of the most fascinating looking people Red had ever seen. With a shaved head, a face that was all planes and angles except for magnificent lips painted crimson, and what appeared to be a stick-thin body, this person—She? Her?—redefined exotic.
The person stood to probably six feet or more of height and extended a hand. “Hi. I’m Jacond. And you’re even more beautiful than Elbey said.”
“Uh, not in this company.” Red shook Jacond’s hand, then glanced at Elbey who mouthed the word “she.”
Jacond sat back at the table and picked up a blueberry. One. Leaning on her palm, she inserted the blueberry into her mouth and sucked like it was the most delicious dish of ice cream. “I hear you’re walking for Giuliana.”
“I guess so.”
Elbey waved a hand. “Have some food. There’s toast, cereal, and I’ve got hard-boiled eggs in the fridge. Eat them, because no one else ever does.”
Red pulled two eggs from a bowl and cracked them, saw the bread sitting on the counter, and stuck two pieces in the toaster. “Can I have some of that coffee?”
“Help yourself.”
While he waited for the toast to pop up, he peeled the eggs and ladled two teaspoons of sugar into his cup. “Cream?”
Elbey raised both carefully plugged brows and said, “The skim milk is in the fridge.”
Red followed directions and barely made a dent in the dark brownness of the liquid with the weak-ass milk. “You do know that fat doesn’t make you fat, right? It’s good for your brain?” Jeez, he sounded like Gran. Grabbing his coffee and eggs, he turned to the table, and both people stared at him liked he’d grown additional appendages.
Jacond said, “Red, it’s a simple matter of calories in and calories out. If you want to be thin, you eat less. Simple as that.”
“But you’re so, uh, slender.”
Her smile was a hundred watt. “Why, thank you. But the camera puts on ten unflattering pounds.”
Red nodded and went back for his toast. He didn’t say that Jacond barely weighed more than a ten-year-old and it was scary. Still, he forced himself not to look for peanut butter or jam, because he was pretty sure he’d never find it.
After he’d covered his suit with a clean dish towel and shoved two eggs into his mouth, Elbey said, “Jacond has a great walk. She’ll give you a couple pointers before you go.”
Red glanced at his watch. He still had twenty minutes before the car was supposed to get him. “That’d be great.”
Elbey nodded. “Remember we talked about developing a gender-neutral walk? Jacond’s a stomper, but on her it looks good. Show, darling.”
Jacond rose to her towering, skinny height, walked to the end of the room and stopped. Though she had a naturally animated face, her eyes widening and lips pursing as she talked, she suddenly became cool as a stone, her face blank. Then she began to walk, her right foot crossing over the left in front with a hard stomp on her heel that twisted her hips in an exaggerated wiggle. Red wanted to chuckle, but Jacond was deadly serious.
When she got to the end of the room, she stopped. “They want you to be distinctive, but not steal any attent
ion from the clothes. You’re a walking rack.”
Elbey said, “Which appears at odds with your goal, which is to be remembered so that all the designers and editors ask for you by name.” Elbey and Jacond nodded at each other.
“Pretty confusing, you guys.” Red chewed the rest of his piece of dry toast. Man, that was a first. He loved peanut butter.
Elbey waved their graceful hands. “No worries. You’ll do great. You’re already unforgettable.”
“If I don’t puke in the middle of the floor.”
Jacond laughed. “That would be way too memorable.”
Ten minutes later, Red took a deep breath in the back seat of the town car driven by Mr. Merlinson. Interesting how being near him was relaxing. Kind of like Mrs. Delphi. “Good to see you again.”
“Likewise. How have you been for the last twenty-four hours?”
Red didn’t even think of lying. “Mostly scared and out of my depth.”
“I doubt the latter part.” Like before, he maneuvered through the snarl of city traffic like someone had set up a special lane marked Merlinson.
“It’s as if the models I’ve met have been dreaming about modeling and learning how to pose and walk since they were little. I haven’t. It never crossed my mind.”
“What did you grow up learning and yearning to do, Red?” He made a fast left turn onto a one-way street.
Red shrugged, then realized Mr. Merlinson couldn’t see him. “I’ve always liked numbers and making things add up.” He gazed out the window and admired the line of shops that crowded every street. “And I love small businesses. Starting something and making it thrive, filling a need in the community. That’s cool.”
“What sort of small business do you want to start?”
