by Chloe Hawk
So instead I just said, “Is there a bathroom around here?”
Kalia pointed wordlessly to a door in the corner, and I walked over and slipped inside. The bathroom had three stalls, but the doors went all the way from the floor to the ceiling, making it impossible to see if anyone was inside.
Instead, there were tiny little lights near the handle of each stall.
One of them was blinking red with the words “occupied” flashing next to it.
I didn’t even have to go to the bathroom, so instead I turned on the sink and ran my hands under the water. The faucet was brushed chrome, the sink a rusty marble adorned with tiny turquoise stones arranged in a wavy pattern at the bottom.
I grabbed a paper towel from the neat stack that was sitting in a metal basket. I wet it and then dabbed it against my skin. My hair was frizzy, my skin blotchy and slightly greasy. I did my best to try and clean myself up, but soon I realized I was just making it worse.
“Damn,” I said as I studied myself in the mirror. The water I’d used to wash my face had made my mascara run.
I dabbed the towel under my eyes, but it didn’t help much. And it wasn’t like I had a bag full of makeup I could use to try and fix it.
The sound of the toilet flushing came from the occupied stall, and the brown-haired girl who’d been standing by the rack of clothes earlier came walking out.
She gave me a smile as she turned on the faucet next to mine. I smiled back and then averted my eyes, remembering what Kalia had said about not talking to anyone. After the morning I’d had, the last thing I wanted to do was bring attention to myself.
But the girl said, “Rough morning?”
“What?”
“I said, are you having a rough morning?” She was rummaging through her bag, a Hermes oversized tote. Her fingers were perfectly manicured, her nails painted fire engine red.
“Umm… I don’t… “ I wasn’t sure how to answer her. I didn’t want to tell her any of my personal business, but on the other hand, I couldn’t just ignore her, either.
“You don’t have to tell me, hon,” she said, pulling out a red lipstick and lining her lips. She shook her head and stared at her reflection in the mirror. “The makeup people at these things never know what they’re doing. I hate all that natural crap, you know? I say go for dramatic.”
She pursed her lips in the mirror, admiring their new dark color.
I couldn’t stop staring at her. She was so beautiful, it almost didn’t seem real. It was like she’d been airbrushed to life. Her hair hung in soft curls around her shoulders, and her skin was flawless, with no blemishes or lines or visible pores. Her eyes were done in a smoky shadow, her lashes long and lush. Everything about her was dramatic, but not in an over-the-top, trashy way. It was more that she was just a presence. Her tight black minidress and high black boots made her taller than she already was, and her cheekbones were high and prominent. Her voice was soft, with just a hint of an accent that I couldn’t place, like maybe she’d lived several different places and this was the result.
She reached into her bag and handed me a tube of mascara without even asking if I needed it. I hesitated, and she looked over at me, her big blue eyes blinking with innocence and surprise, like she couldn’t believe someone was hesitating before taking something from her.
I thought about what Kalia had said about not bothering the model, but then I figured it would be rude not to.
“Thanks,” I said, breaking it open and fixing my eyes.
When I was done, I handed it back to her.
“What’s your name?” she asked.
“Avery Buchanan,” I said.
She turned and raised her perfectly shaped eyebrows at my last name. “Are you related to Cole?”
“I’m his stepsister.”
“Oh, my God! Of course. You’re Avery!” She shook her head. “I always wanted to meet you, but Cole…” she trailed off, like she was trying to tread lightly. “Well, he said things with his family were complicated.”
“You know Cole?” I asked.
She nodded and rearranged the makeup in her bag before zipping it back up. “Yes,” she said. She paused and looked at herself in the mirror. “I’m Lucy by the way,” she said. “Lucy Caro.”
Lucy Caro. The name reverberated through the room, almost as if it were echoing. Lucy Caro, Lucy Caro, Lucy Caro. It was the name Jeffrey had mentioned to me back at the restaurant, the girl he’d asked me if Cole ever talked about.
“Nice to meet you,” I managed.
“Nice to meet you, too.” She rearranged her hair around her shoulders, then turned away from the mirror to look at me. “Did Cole…has he ever mentioned me?”
“No.” I shook my head. “Why? How do you know him?”
I held my breath, hoping she was going to tell me something useful, something that might give me some idea of what Cole was hiding.
But she didn’t.
In fact, she said the last thing I would have ever expected.
“He was my fiancé,” she said, her voice soft and wistful. “But we broke up.”
The floor shifted under my feet, and my legs felt wobbly. I grabbed the edge of the counter for balance. “You were engaged?” I managed.
“Yes.” She took a deep breath and raised her chin in the air, her eyes hardening into steely determination. “But I’m going to get him back. No matter what it takes.”
And then she walked out of the bathroom, the door swinging shut behind her.
End of Book Four
Click here for Book Five, Stepbrother Takes, available now!
