by Nora Flite
On the catwalk, Marcus Sable appeared, Vanessa beside him, the pair glowing under the false stars. “Hello hello!” He called, giant smirk flaring. “Welcome, yes! We at Pale Blue are very proud to be able to have you here for our show tonight, we'd love to thank the Vino Center for hosting us again! The collection you are about to witness was created by none other than the lovely, extremely talented and creative Vanessa Dole, who I have beside me today!”
The round of whistles, thumping hands, it hit like a wave, Leah slumping beside me even with me holding her tight. Grimacing, I wrapped an arm around her, pulling her against me, watching her expression shift from sorrow to awe. I'll take that, I'll take anything over those sad eyes. Easily, I held her in front of me, her back pressed against my chest, my forearms winding across her shoulders from behind. All I desired, right then, was to keep her safe. It was all that mattered, doing anything to achieve that was better than standing by, wondering what was causing her to suffer.
The silence finally came, cut by the occasional whisper, when Vanessa took the microphone. Clearing her throat, she blessed the crowd with a jubilant smile. “Thank you, everyone, for coming. I worked very hard to create this collection, and I hope you all appreciate the work I put in. I... I promise you won't be disappointed.”
Against me, I felt Leah stiffen like a stone, her fingers lifting to grip my wrists. Her nails dug in, a sharp pain, yet I ignored it. I'd endure it easily, if it helped her at all. Even so, my mind was buzzing, trying to make sense of this puzzle. I understood, even without knowing the reasons, that Leah wasn't disturbed by Marcus, but by Vanessa.
What could have happened between those two?
I'd thought they had mended their issues after the karaoke night, at least, Leah had made me believe as much. I'd seen them at my party just a few nights ago, they'd come together and left together, I hadn't sensed any drama. Had I just missed it, was that possible?
Vanessa bowed to the chorus of clapping, then handed the microphone to Marcus before vanishing behind the large stage curtains. The sharp man, eyes like glass, spoke once more as he gestured wide. “Then, with that, let us begin!” Everything dimmed around the walkway, leaving the long strip the models would move down intensely lit.
A long pause set the mood, the music soft, thumping to a beat that was subconscious. Then, like a variety of expensive trees, the girls appeared. One by one, they strut their path down the stage, heels that threatened to crack an ankle clomping with perfect crispness. Watching them all, I was reminded of a marching band, their steps, their poses, so in sync with each other.
Vanessa's garments were stunning, brightly colored, unlike what she herself was wearing. Reds, aqua, foamy purples and deep orange. While I enjoyed being well-dressed, I knew little about high fashion. However, the crowd seemed amazed, cameras flashing as much as strobe lights.
Against me, I felt the warm, quick thrum of Leah's breathing, a hummingbird in my arms. I knew she was upset, yet now, I was sure the look on her face was admiration. To be confronted with someone's talent like that, it was always humbling.
At the end of the walkway, each model would strike a strong pose, stomping away afterward with her shoulders straight, chin held high. It was over faster than I expected, the girls completing their circle, coming out once more as a group to stand together. I caught Leah looking up at me, but when I shifted to meet her glance, she darted those eyes back to the stage.
Moving my arms, emulating the crescendo of applause, I heard Leah joining in with just as much enthusiasm as my own. It brought a ray of joy to me, seeing her able to acknowledge her appreciation of the event even through her own personal issues, whatever they might have been.
People quickly began dispersing, talking amongst themselves about the models, the clothing, and generally sounding impressed. Lifting my chin high, I scanned the room, the sea of faces, hoping to find Vanessa or Tim in the mix.
“Hey,” Leah said suddenly, detaching from me, turning to stare plaintively upwards. “Is it alright if we just... go?”
“What? You don't want to say hello to Vanessa, or congratulate her?”
“It's not that,” she sighed, tucking her hands into her sleeves. “I just sort of want to leave. I understand if you don't, I could probably go wait outside if--”
“No.” Frowning, I slid my arm around hers, eyeing the mess of attendees for an exit path. “If you want to leave, it's alright, we can get out of here.” And when we do, I'm going to pray you'll tell me what happened.
Both of us pushed our way carefully through the groups, a slow process made slower by people wrapped in conversation. The exit was in sight, though, promising us freedom from the warm bodies. Someone reached out, grabbing my elbow, halting me. “Hey, wait! Deacon!”
Turning, I saw the rather delighted face of Greg, and the obviously stoic one belonging to Vanessa. Leah's grip intensified on my arm, but she didn't run. Together, we faced the pair, our expressions warring. I was bright, cheerful, while Leah was embracing the opposite spectrum. “Hey guys!” I said, “Vanessa, that was amazing! Your work came out wonderful, I'm so happy for you!”
I watched her cheeks glow, her gaze distrustful on me, hinting at wanting to accept my compliment as real. Seeing her struggle over such a thing bothered me, my smile working to stay alive. Come on, Vanessa, since when are you this weird with me?
“Thanks,” she said through her teeth, sapphire eyes shooting down at Leah every few seconds.
Alright, this is getting ridiculous.
“So, Greg,” I started casually, “how did you like it?”
“Oh, it was great!” He said enthusiastically. “Vanessa is just wonderful at all of this.”
“She is, isn't she?” That smooth voice announced Marcus seconds before he strolled up to us. His charcoal suit and slicked back hair made him look angular, a shark. Tim was following beside him, his smile muted by the presence of his father. “I'm hoping to book another one next month.”
Vanessa flushed, but couldn't hide how pleased she was.
“That's great, Vanessa.” Leah chirped from my elbow, vibrating with nervousness, making me think she'd been working up to that one sentence for some time.
Amazingly, the tall girl with her slick onyx dress didn't even respond, her attention shifting pointedly to Tim. “What about you, what did you think?”
“Me?” He chuckled, scratching at his arm. “You know I loved it, I've always loved your work.”
She flourished under the adoration, also making it clear that she was, in fact, ignoring Leah. This is too much, I can feel the anxiety growing in her as we stand here. I wanted to take her out of there, yet I also felt a strong desire to be polite, not making a scene. “Oh, Tim, thanks for getting me in again, that line outside was huge, I think we would have missed part of the show if we waited,” I said.
He shrugged, hands folding behind his head comfortably. “Not a problem, it's the least I can do for an old friend.”
The pressure on my arm increased, the subtle hint Leah was uneasy. Without breaking my relaxed stance, I turned enough to notice Marcus, his piercing stare fixed on the girl beside me. I'd met Marcus Sable only a few times, I hadn't even made the connection he was who Leah had been talking about when we went on our date.
Tim had gone to college with myself and Vanessa as well, though he had ended up in an entirely different field than either of us. I knew his father, unlike my own, hadn't pressured him to follow in his footsteps. As such, he'd ended up in the slick world of graphic design, ultimately still helped out by his successful father through networking with fashion companies that always had new gigs.
Once, when Tim had come to a gallery showing of mine, his father had shown up in what was, perhaps, the third time I had ever seen his face. My memory of how he had browsed my work, saying nothing at all, left me with a bad taste. I wanted to think he simply was considering it all, but in my heart, I knew a judgmental gaze too well, too personally, to be so idealistic.
&n
bsp; Seeing him now, watching Leah with those narrowed icy orbs, his tight smirk, it took everything not to step in and just block his view of her with my body. “Well anyway,” I spoke up, breaking the silence, “I still appreciate it. You should come by sometime, see my new gallery, always an open door for you, too.”
“Thanks,” Tim nodded. I watched him flick his attention down to Leah, a brief moment, before meeting my eyes again. “We should get lunch, catch up sometime. I feel like we haven't hung out in forever.”
“I'd like that.”
Marcus turned away, staring at us both with his pompous grin. “It's wonderful to catch up with old friends. Tim, you should stay, but for myself, I have to rub elbows with some important people who may just murder me if I leave them waiting any longer.” Snorting, he flicked two fingers at us in a sort of salute, then slid away as quickly as he had appeared.
I could feel Leah relaxing beside me, her grip easing. It let me breathe out, I hadn't noticed how physically knotted up I had become. It was hard to remember the last time I had ever felt such distrust for someone. I can't believe he offered her that interview, then didn't hire her. Marcus cares about what is good for him, and that's all—No, that's not entirely fair. Looking at Tim, following his attention to where it met with Vanessa, I frowned. He also seems to care about what he thinks is best for his son. But I'm not sure that's always so different, really.
“Sorry about my dad,” Tim laughed, stepping closer to us all with a meek twist to his lips. “He can be all business.”
“Speaking of which,” Greg gasped, staring at the watch on his wrist. “I should get going, I cut out some appointments today for this, but I need to get back there to finish the rest.”
“But you said you'd get dinner with me!” Vanessa scowled, the fury she'd been letting build taking aim on her boyfriend.
He blinked, grimacing at the sight of her anger. “I know, hon, I know. But I just really can't, I'm so sorry. Tomorrow, okay?” He leaned in to kiss her, finding her cheek instead as she twisted away with a huff. His forehead was crinkled tight when he looked at all of us. “See you guys soon, have a good night!” On lanky limbs, he scurried away, all of us watching Vanessa as she stared deliberately at nothing.
A pang of empathy hit me, I didn't like seeing Vanessa so obviously downtrodden. My intent was to suggest she come get something to eat with Leah and me, but it was Tim who spoke first.
“If you want, we can get some food.”
“Really?” She asked, lighting up with wary joy.
“Sure,” he said, sliding his hands deep into his pockets calmly. “What Deacon said got me thinking, we haven't hung out since, what, the firepit? Let's get some dinner and catch up.”
Her features smoothed, glossy lips a helpless smile. “Yeah, alright. That sounds good.” Shifting, she looked from me, to Leah, then back again. “Thanks for coming, Deacon. It was good to see you.”
“Wait,” I blurted, unable to take the thick air of deliberate rudeness any longer. “It was good to see me, but not Leah?” I heard the aforementioned girl inhale.
Tim was surprised, yet Vanessa didn't seem phased at all. She let her eyes roll over me, unblinking, still as water. “I think you heard me, Deacon. I'm sure I was clear. Goodnight, now.” Reaching out, she grabbed Tim by the hand, tugging him forcefully away from us. He turned enough to stare at me as they went, mouthing an apology at the awkwardly heated situation.
The back of my neck was scorching, the disbelief flooding down until my hands became fists. Distantly, I felt Leah release me, it was all I needed to pull me back from glaring at the fleeing pair. How could Vanessa do that? Baffled, I looked down at the woman who was staring at me plaintively. Her eyes were wet, like she was battling tears. “Hey,” I said softly, frustration vanishing in the wake of her open emotions. “Hey, Leah, it's okay, everything is fine.”
“No, it's not,” she managed to sob, before closing her eyes tightly to fight back the salty flow. Scooping her into my arms, I crushed her against my chest, listened to her rapid, choked breathing. I only wanted to keep Leah safe, to hold her close and let her break down in the nearness of my body, the only protection I could offer.
Around us, people stared, but I didn't care in the least.
Chapter 20.
My spoon clinked on the rim of my bowl, swirling the bits of dry cereal in a lazy circle. I knew if I didn't eat them soon, they'd become sodden with milk, bloated, disgusting. Despite this knowledge, my stomach was too tight and sour to coax me to try.
Sitting at the kitchen table, fixed on my breakfast, I was distracted to the point I didn't notice Carlo until he was at my elbow. “You alright?”
His words made me jolt slightly, the spoon falling loudly to clatter on the hard wooden surface. “God, you scared me,” I laughed, squinting at his curious expression.
“Answer the question,” he stated, dropping down across from me, one arm draped over the back of his chair. I knew that pose, his casual attitude. It meant that if I tried to argue with him, he'd be ready to wait out my futile attempts at telling him I was fine until one of us gave in and left the apartment. One of us always being me.
It was hard not to smile in the face of my friend's determination. “I had a weird night.”
“Go on,” he said, raising his eyebrows an inch.
Lifting my spoon, I swirled the almost melted blobs of cereal in my bowl, debating how to explain what had happened. Seeing Leah lose her composure last night, falling apart in the middle of the crowd, then enduring her wall of silence when I swept her out of there and drove her to Vanessa's... It had all added up to make the night memorable in a way I wouldn't have preferred. “Leah and Vanessa, they're in the middle of some big fight.”
This made him sit up, hands coming to rest on the table. “What kind of a fight exactly?”
“That's the thing,” I said with an exasperated chuckle, “she wouldn't tell me. I knew something was wrong, Vanessa was a complete—she was not subtle, that is, at the show. She ignored Leah almost entirely, and just...” Letting the spoon go, I pushed the bowl away in disgust. “It upset Leah, badly, but I couldn't get her to tell me what happened. We sat in my car for, like, fifteen minutes, outside of Vanessa's place?” I waited for Carlo to nod, even though I didn't need him to confirm anything. “That whole time, I pleaded with her to just talk to me, that I'd understand. She finally begged me to leave it be, said she'd figure it out. I don't know why they're acting like this to each other.”
Cracking his neck, Carlo made a long noise, a low 'hum' that faded after some seconds. “Think it's got something to do with you?”
“What?” I went stiff in my chair, thrown off by his question. “What do you mean, what did I do?”
“I've got no clue, but isn't it possible you upset Vanessa, and this is her way of handling it? Punishing Leah?”
Furrowing my brow, I set my hands on the edge of the table, studying my fingers but not seeing them. “But I don't get it, Vanessa seemed fine on my birthday, that was the last time I saw her before yesterday.”
Leaning forward, Carlo tapped the table loudly, making me look at his intense expression. “So, what happened between your birthday, and yesterday? If you did something that pissed Vanessa off, it was during that time.”
Shaking my head, unable to grasp the idea I was somehow responsible for this, I offered a frustrated sigh. “No, that can't be it, nothing happened between then and--” Instantly, I stopped talking, the realization of what I could have possibly done turning my skin clammy. Leah and I slept together, is that... could that be it?
“What?” Insistence coated his voice. “What did you just remember?”
“Nothing.” Flooding with confusing guilt, I pushed myself to my feet so hard the table jostled, my bowl sloshing milk over the sides. “I—forget it, that can't be it. I'm just going to have to figure this out directly.”
Befuddled by my movements, Carlo stood, following me out of the room, watching me snag my jacket
off the rack by the door. “How are you going to figure this out 'directly' as you put it, are you going to ask Leah again?”
“No,” I mumbled, twisting the door open in a strong yank. “I'm going to talk to Vanessa.”
****
It was early, I knew that, yet I didn't doubt Vanessa and Leah would be home. At worse, I thought maybe Vanessa might have left to spend the night at Greg's, but after watching their brief scuffle over dinner, my gut said she would have gone back to her own place in the end.
Knocking lightly, my body shocked me with how on edge it was. Sweating, droplets cruising down my spine in a tickling fashion that left me uncomfortable, I understood too well what was bothering me. Wanting to avoid considering it, though, I instead embraced the ability to go straight to Vanessa, hoping she'd give me any reason to think this fight was not over me and Leah.
It can't be over us sleeping together, it just can't.
The very concept made my belly ache with guilt. I wasn't a prude, but Carlo had been right, I'd never moved so fast with anyone, not before Leah. I'd been struggling with a number of things over this situation in just the short time of our interactions. To even imagine that sex had caused such a rift was pushing me towards an ingrained world of shame I didn't want to deal with.
When the door opened, Vanessa stood there, staring at me through the crack dubiously. “Deacon? What are you doing here?”
“I wanted to talk with you,” I blurted, in a rush to get the words out, like they were a sickness I wanted purged. “But not inside. Can we go for a walk? I don't—I'd rather Leah not hear our conversation,” I added quietly. The last thing I needed was my brand new girlfriend hearing me ask about conflict involving our sex life.
Vanessa squinted at me, her lips melting into a muted frown bit by bit. “Deacon, Leah isn't even here.”
“What?” I asked, unsure I had heard her correctly.
With a twist of sadness to her wrinkling forehead, Vanessa shut her eyes, exhaling. “She didn't tell you, did she?”
