by Emma Savant
“An absolute pleasure, Dior,” Alastair said, and then he started talking. He seemed like the kind of person who liked to talk. Clarence made his way around the room and stood well behind Alastair, where I would have a clear view of him. I made eye contact and cracked a smile. He grinned and leaned against the wall, watching us like we were actors in a play.
“I think the interpretation is really the thing,” Alastair said. He was still talking, and didn’t seem to need a response from me, so I tuned back out.
Clarence sipped his drink. He waited until I was looking right at him, and then a tiny twitch started at the corner of his mouth. He immediately suppressed it, doing a very bad imitation of a serious person. I giggled.
“Well, I don’t know that it’s funny,” Alastair said. I started, and quickly made my expression match his. I shook my head. He was right. It wasn’t funny at all… whatever he was talking about.
Clarence made a show of examining his fingernails, then checking his watch. He sighed, shoulders heaving dramatically, as he waited for my conversation to wrap up. I couldn’t have agreed more.
“Dior,” August hissed in my ear. I jumped again; I hadn’t realized he was standing so close. I straightened and tried to focus on what Alastair was saying.
It was no good. My gaze slipped back to Clarence.
“Dior,” August muttered in my ear, his lips barely moving. “Pay attention. It wouldn’t hurt you to flirt with the man.”
Of course. I shouldn’t be making faces at my friend; I should be flirting with this handsome, interesting producer. My attention snapped to Alastair, and I moved a step closer to him.
“Then he said to me, ‘This is really the most influential piece we’ve seen since Markozy's short at the Cirrus Film Festival back in ninety-three,’ and while I don’t know if that’s strictly true, it was certainly an excellent thing to hear from a member of the Grand Council of Magical Beings.”
“I’m sure,” I murmured. I tilted my head and looked up at him. Past my focus, I saw Clarence shift behind Alastair, but I couldn’t be bothered with anyone else right now. “Your work has been such a contribution to our culture.”
“That’s exactly what Reginald said. Coming from a member of the Council, and, of course, as the father of our own beloved Heir, it was a real confirmation of the importance of my work.”
“Your work is so important,” I gushed.
He really was attractive. Maybe he didn’t realize how much I liked him. I brushed a piece of imaginary dust off his shoulder, being sure to let my fingers linger.
“Sorry,” I said, leaning in and not sounding sorry at all. “Looks like someone spilled crumbs on your jacket.” I brushed his shoulder again, and this time, I let my hand rest there for a moment. “I suppose that can’t be avoided. It’s so crowded in here.”
It wasn’t crowded, but he didn’t seem to mind my standing so close. He glanced at August, then half-smiled down at me.
Movement behind him caught my eye. My gaze shifted for a moment, just long enough to see Clarence’s face. All playfulness was gone; his mouth was set in a line. I caught the hurt in his dark eyes for the briefest of seconds, and the world around me slid into focus with a jolt.
I stepped back, pulling my hand away from Alastair as though I’d been burned.
What was I doing?
“Excuse me,” I said.
“Dior,” August said, but I was already gone.
So was Clarence.
I scanned the room, looking for any sign of him, but it was as though he’d never been there. I angled through the crowd and found my way to the door. The balmy night air hit me with its freshness. The long driveway outside this opulent house didn’t hold anyone I recognized. At the end of the drive, I saw a shadowed figure slip away through the gates.
I couldn’t run after him in these stupid heels.
Before I could slip my second shoe off, a firm hand closed around my arm.
“Let him go,” August said in a low voice. “Don’t waste your time with him. Finish the party. When you’re done, go home and pack your things.”
“Why?”
The golden haze was closing back in around me. A tiny consciousness in the back of my mind fought for air, but she was quickly drowned out by the feeling of trust and contentment that filled me as August spoke.
“It’s time for you to move into an apartment more fitting to a musician of your stature,” he said, and of course, he was right. I couldn’t believe I hadn’t thought of it before. “There’s an opening in my building. You’ll move in there.”
“Of course I will,” I said. “I’ll get everything together tonight.”
Chapter 12
Dad stood in the doorway of my new apartment’s bedroom, his arms folded.
“Are you sure, honey?” he said. “This all seems kinda sudden.”
“This will be better,” I said.
I threw my hot pink suitcase on the bed in my new apartment and unzipped it. My regular old T-shirts and jeans looked ragged compared to this sleek cream and gold room. The comforter on the bed was as thick as my hand was wide, and covered in the most luxurious cream-colored fabric I’d ever touched.
“The rehearsal space is here, and it looks better for me to be here instead of in our dinky little place.”
“I didn’t think our home was dinky,” Dad said.
I realized from his tone that I’d said the wrong thing, and looked up just in time to see him smooth over the tight expression on his face.
“I didn’t mean it like that,” I said. “I like our apartment. It’s just, August is trying to create a specific image for me as Dior, and this place matches that persona better. You know?”
“No, I get it,” Dad said.
“You’re welcome to move in with me,” I said, for what had to be the twentieth time.
He waved me off. “Still have six months on the lease,” he said. He stepped into the room and walked slowly around it, taking everything in. “Besides, this isn’t really my style.”
“It’s not mine, either,” I admitted. “I just have a really good feeling about being here.”
“It’s your life,” he said. “I guess you were always going to move out eventually.”
“Most people are thrilled when their adult kids finally get out of their house,” I said.
“Not me,” Dad said. “I like having my adult kid around.”
I smiled at him and held out a hand. He took it, and I gave his hand a good, long squeeze before going back to pulling things out of my suitcase.
“You’re sweet, Dad,” I said.
The golden haze that had seemed to fill my world with a bright glow these past few weeks had followed me into this apartment; when I looked at Dad, he seemed soft around the edges, as though I were viewing him from a distance through a mist.
That was nonsense, of course. I was just being sentimental. His edges looked as solid as ever, and while the room was filled with gold, it all came from the textured wallpaper, the modern candle sconces on the walls, and the sequined pillows on the bed.
“Anyway, me being gone means you can actually invite your friends over to watch Orbs games even when I need to rehearse at home,” I said. “Plus, you’ll get the remote all to yourself.”
“I know you’ll be all right,” Dad said. “I just worry sometimes.”
“I’ll be fine here,” I said. “I promise.”
The next morning, I woke up to the sound of my new doorbell ringing like the speaker was about to shake itself right out of the wall. There was an enchantment on it; with every ring, the sound got louder and the itch under my skin to answer the door grew stronger.
“Oh my god, what?” I shouted, throwing off my covers. “Come in. Come in!”
Whoever was at the door couldn’t hear me, and I made a mental note to get rid of that charm or install an intercom system, whichever was easier.
The apartment felt strange as I ran through it, foreign and much too elegant for the likes
of me. I’d been in upscale hotels before, of course, and my tour bus was nicer than our apartment by a long shot, but that didn’t mean I was ready to live in a place with thick cream carpeting and golden candle holders on every wall.
Like I’d told Dad, though, I did have a good feeling about it. The novelty would probably wear off soon, and this glamorous place might even start to feel like home.
The doorbell shrieked again and the need to answer the door intensified. I silently cursed myself for leaving my wand on the nightstand instead of bringing it with me to blow the doorbell up, and threw open the door.
“For the love of all that is Glim, stop pushing that thing,” I said.
Sadie looked pointedly at Briana, who rolled her eyes and shouldered past me and into my apartment.
“How did you guys even get up here?” I said. “I thought you had to be buzzed into the residential floors.”
“Mari let us in,” Briana said.
“I didn’t know she worked Sundays,” I said.
“Unless she has a twin,” Sadie said.
She slid her soft leather purse off her shoulder and set it carefully on the hall table, then slipped off her ballet flats. Briana kicked off her sneakers and took off down the hall.
“This is amazing,” she called back to us.
Sadie shrugged and followed after her. I trailed behind them, listening to the oohs and aahs and Sadie’s thoughtful commentary on the postmodern light fixtures’ interesting use of negative space.
Finally, they settled in my living room, which contained an enormous L-shaped cream couch and soft enchanted lights that emanated from behind three enormous diamond-shaped decorations on the wall.
“This is so freaking classy,” Briana said.
“It’s elegant,” Sadie agreed. “I wasn’t crazy about August’s office, but he must have a great designer for the living spaces. How many apartments does he own?”
“Don’t know,” I said. “Calista’s on the floor below me, and Mari’s in the building too, I think. I don’t know about his other clients.”
“You should find that out,” Briana said. “If Gabriella Dobashi lives here, I want to meet her.”
“Gabriella has a mansion on one of the hills,” I said. “No way would she live here. These are nice, but not big enough for the kinds of parties real Glim celebrities throw.”
“You are a real Glim celebrity,” Briana said. “And I want to exploit you for all your exciting new contacts with other celebrities, please.”
“Dior is just Dior,” Sadie said. “Don’t be ridiculous.”
“Anyone hungry?” I said. Listening to people debate my celebrity status was way too uncomfortable. “I’ve got some leftover takeout in the kitchen, or we could make sandwiches. Dad brought over some groceries.”
I’d had to run to the nearest convenience store for mayonnaise earlier, since Dad never left a store with everything on the list, and my food-conjuring charms tended to make everything taste slightly sour.
They followed me into the gourmet kitchen and sat at the gold marble island while I threw soggy chow mein and spicy chicken into the microwave.
“How’s the new album coming?” Sadie asked, a little too casually.
I narrowed my eyes at her, but her face remained as placid as ever.
“It’s good,” I said.
“I heard you weren’t doing much of the writing,” she said.
“Who told you that?”
I hadn’t. I’d been careful to not mention that part, because I knew if I did, she and Briana were going to give me exactly the looks they were giving me now.
“Your dad might have mentioned it,” Briana said.
“When were you talking to my dad?”
“We might have texted him,” she said.
“We did text him,” Sadie said. “And then we went over to your place to chat with him, because you’ve been acting weird lately and we’re worried about you.”
Briana shot her a look. Sadie held up her hands.
“We are,” she said. “No point beating around the bush.”
I frowned. The microwave beeped, and I stirred the chow mein and put it back in for another minute.
“Not to be indelicate or anything, but what the hell?” Briana said to me.
“We’re just concerned,” Sadie said. “I know your career has been moving quickly, and that’s great, but we feel like maybe you’re not taking care of yourself or taking time to do the things you want to do.”
“I’m doing everything I want to do,” I said. “I’m rehearsing a new album, I’m learning choreography for my next video, I’m prepping for the next tour, I’m meeting people in the industry—I’m doing everything I want and more. I’m so lucky.”
“No one’s arguing with that,” Briana said. “We just feel like, maybe, you’re going so quickly that you’re losing sight of some things.”
The microwave beeped. I ignored it. The charm woven into the wires would keep my food hot for hours.
“Like what?”
“You always write your own music,” Sadie said. “You’ve been adamant about that from day one.”
“We were with you in high school,” Briana said, raising her eyebrows. “We were there for that little adventure.”
I remembered it all too clearly. Before I’d put out my first album, my manager at the time—a short-lived connection named Brenda, who was trying to establish herself as a manager just like I’d been trying to establish myself as an artist—had tried to convince me to take on a number of songs her nephew had written. I’d hated the songs from the first time I listened to the demos. They were shallow and repetitive and not me, and I’d put my foot down with so little tact that Brenda had quit in a huff.
That was before I’d started playing in the big leagues. Things had changed. The golden haze pressed around me.
“I like these songs,” I said.
“You’ve always said writing is one of your favorite parts of the process,” Sadie said.
“That the only songs you can stand to sing five hundred times are the ones that mean something to you,” Briana said.
“Maybe I’ve found meaning in these.” Annoyance edged my voice.
“And suddenly you’ve stopped talking about Clarence,” Briana said. “Which is even weirder.”
I hadn’t even tried to talk to him. I’d started to text him a dozen times, and every time, I’d deleted the text before I could send it. August’s words echoed in my head: Don’t waste your time with him. Of course August was right. August was always right. I had my career to think about; I couldn’t be wasting energy on some guy.
“Clarence doesn’t want to talk to me,” I said.
“I think something else is going on,” Briana said.
“We both do,” Sadie said.
I turned around and pulled the food out of the microwave. Steam rose from the chow mein, and it looked as fresh as it had been last night. This beat my re-heating spells by a long shot, as evidenced by the fact that nothing had caught on fire.
There was so much to love about this apartment, and my career, and my manager. Why did people feel the need to start prying?
I dumped the food out onto three plates and handed them off without saying anything. Briana and Sadie followed me back into the living room. I could practically feel the looks they were shooting each other behind my back.
“Things are good here, you know?” I finally said, turning around to face them. My movement sent chicken sliding off the edge of my plate; Sadie jerked her hand and caught the chicken with a spell before it hit the floor, then levitated it back up.
“We’re not saying they aren’t,” she said, her voice just a little too soothing. “This just feels odd to us, and I think it feels odd to you, even if you’re not ready to admit it.”
The golden haze pressed around me, invisible but still so real I could almost reach out and touch it.
I sat down on the couch and played with my fork, not looking at either of them.
“Dee, it’s okay if things aren’t perfect here, you know?” Briana said, sinking onto the couch next to me. She set her food on the coffee table and twisted to face me. “I know a lot of great stuff is happening, but it’s okay if it’s not all going just like you want it to. We just want to be here for you.”
“I think he’s controlling me,” I said.
The words leapt out before I could think about them, and I was so, so glad. Instantly, my mouth clamped shut and my tongue felt like it was glued to the roof of my mouth.
I breathed hard through my nose and tried to shake the feeling off, but it wouldn’t budge.
“Who’s controlling you?” Sadie said. “August?”
She and Briana exchanged glances, like I hadn’t said anything that could surprise them.
I smiled, and my tongue loosened. “No, August is wonderful,” I said, calmly. “He’s helping me so much with my career. I’m lucky to have him.”
“Well, damn,” Briana said.
She put a hand on my arm, and I was so grateful to have smart friends that I could have screamed with it if I hadn’t been too busy smiling. I couldn’t wipe the expression off, but I knew they could see through the grin, and that, in turn, made it more genuine.
“I think you could use a little help,” Sadie said.
“I don’t need help,” I said. “Everything is fine. Really.”
I forced myself to nod, as hard as I could, and she understood. She set her food down, too, and came to sit on my other side. She held a hand up and moved it slowly in toward me, feeling my aura.
She scrunched up her face in concentration, then shook her head. “Bri, I can’t,” she said. “This is your area.”
Briana nodded and felt in toward my aura, too. She didn’t say anything, but then her eyebrows shot up.
“Ooh,” she said, almost delighted. “That’s weird.”
“What?” I said. My tongue felt stiff and heavy again. I put my hands on my lap and squeezed my legs, trying to channel my frustration in a way my body would allow.