Gold Shimmer

by P. T. Michelle

  As happy as I am for her, a part of me twinges with jealousy. I desperately wish I had the freedom to spend the night with Calder, to find out if that amazing orgasm I experienced with him was just a one time thing. Could I really let myself go with him? But unlike Talia, who could completely hide behind her anonymity tonight, I came to the party as someone else behind my mask and had to maintain that underlying persona. No matter how much it killed me.

  Crawling out of bed, I stumble to the bathroom. I’m still in my costume. Well, minus the heels. As the light pops on, I flip my dark, rat-nested hair out of my eyes to stare in the mirror. I’m tired and bleary-eyed, but even looking a bit haggard, I have perfectly spaced eyes, nice lips, and symmetrical bone-structure. Perfect from a photographer’s perspective. Some would call me pretty. Just like Celeste.

  I scowl at the image.

  Not only did Celeste cost me Calder tonight, she cost me my inner peace. Jake would’ve smirked at Cass if he happened to run into her tonight, but otherwise he would’ve pretended she didn’t exist. Coming face-to-face with him shook me more than I thought it would. I wasn’t prepared for the full deluge of self-disgust that hit the moment he touched me.

  I didn’t throw up because I was drunk like I let Calder believe. Jake makes my skin feel like it’s teaming with bugs and my stomach dip and rise like a seesaw. The sheer dislike rocketing through me flushed my cheeks and made it hard to breathe. I loathe him with every fiber of my being. I can’t believe that I ever thought he was attractive. I hate that what he did to me fucked with my mind, twisting me inside out. If I could’ve flattened him with my fist, I would’ve right there in front of everyone. But I wasn’t me. I was Celeste. Proper. Bitchy. Spoiled. And put on a pedestal by him.

  I scowl at the face in the mirror that has caused me so much grief, then hit the light switch, cutting off the image.

  My phone buzzing with an alert draws my attention just as I start to crawl back into bed. I grab it from Talia’s nightstand so it doesn’t wake her, my heart rate jumping when I see it’s from Calder.

  From: Mr. Navy

  To: Raven089276@boxmail.com

  Come fly with me, Raven. I promise to keep you warm.

  Biting my lip, I send him a message back.

  From: Raven

  I shouldn’t have to remind you that you’re Navy, not Air Force.

  From: Mr. Navy

  I’m also a qualified pilot. I promise I’m fully capable of taking you to the mile-high club.

  My heart races. I already miss his sexy arrogance. The promises he made just before I had to leave echo in my mind, twisting my stomach in excitement despite the fact it will never happen. He caught me off guard in so many ways. Even though there’s no guarantee he’d be able to repeat the experience I had with him tonight, if circumstances were different, I’d want to let him try.

  Maybe…once he gets back from deployment in a year or so, I can find a way to bump into him as me. I shake my head when I realize that I don’t even know his last name. But if I stalk Celeste’s social media, I’ll bet someone will mention him in connection to her after tonight. Sadly the last thing I want to do is watch the gossip firestorm now. I quickly delete the social media app from my phone so I’m not tempted. My fantasy of running into Calder as me will have to remain just that. Even in that scenario, I would be lying to him all over again. My heart is heavy as I send him a note back.

  From: Raven

  You’re a man of many talents. Who knew you were so multifaceted? Sadly, I can’t come out to play.

  From Mr. Navy

  Then I’ll come to you.

  Panic seizes my chest. If he shows up at the Carver’s estate, I’m toast. I quickly type an email back.

  From: Raven

  I can’t. Sorry. I have to keep an eye on Scarlett. She’s not feeling well.

  From: Mr. Navy

  Then if I’m stuck here awake by myself, tell me something about you. What are you going to do when you graduate from college?

  My fingers pause over my phone’s keyboard. I could lie and talk about going into business like my father wants me to, but instead I share what’s lived only in my heart. Something no one else knows.

  From: Raven

  I’m going to travel the world, creating imagery that takes your breath away and makes you wish you were there.

  As soon as I hit send, I make a mental note to switch to Columbia’s Visual Arts program on Monday. I’m going to do it…follow my passion for photography. I’m surprised when he doesn’t immediately fire back a response, even if it’s just to tease me about sounding so fanciful. The silence carries its own message. My heart sinking, I know it’s for the best, so I send him one last note to let him off the hook.

  Dear Calder,

  I guess this is my farewell letter to you before your deployment. Be safe wherever you’re going and take care of yourself.

  Raven

  Four Years Later

  While most people think in terms of years, as a photographer, I think in blocks of time. Seasons to be exact. Four seasons in a year; four opportunities to shine. For me, the composition of my fashion shoots—the colors and designs chosen—centers around seasonal changes. The seasons play a big part in how and where I plan my next photo session around the world. And yeah, the need to travel to places I’ve never seen is a small piece of that decision too.

  Non-stop traveling has been my modus operandi since college; that is until my mom came down with mono. And as much I teased her like crazy about getting “the kissing disease”—after the doctors took several weeks to rule out much worse ailments—I was just relieved she was diagnosed with something she could recover from. Antibiotics and loads of rest was the doctors’ prescribed cure.

  My father is a great man when it comes to running his business development company and providing for our family, but he’s the worst nurse ever. So I’ve spent the last three months tending to my mom at our Hamptons home. I already lost one family member. I sure as hell wasn’t going to lose another.

  I truly love my mom, but now that she’s almost a hundred percent, I’m getting antsy to get back into the excitement of a new project that I can really dig my teeth into. I’ll never admit to anyone that I’ve enjoyed the leisure of not having to travel these last few months, but being unable to take pictures daily has been like losing a limb. I lost count of the number of times I reached for a camera, then sighed with sadness that my equipment was packed away.

  Viewing life through a lens, adjusting it and making it better so everyone can see the perfection…it’s my own kind of therapy. I don’t expect to have a fairytale anything in my life, not with my issues, so I create visuals that feel that way. Now that I have some extra time to myself, I’ve spent the last few days driving around the Hamptons and refilling my photography well full of landscapes, waterscapes, and general “life in the Hamptons” shots. It’s a far cry from my normal glitzy shots, but oddly comforting. With all the photos I’ve taken in the Hamptons, an idea for a destination location book has already started to percolate.

  I’d gotten up extra early this morning, hoping to capture the best sunrise shots. The water was smooth with just a few ripples, perfect for reflection imagery. I managed to grab some amazing pictures, but as the sun continued to rise and the golden light began to bounce off the water like glitter scattered across its smooth surface, memories of Calder and me made it too hard to focus. I tried to move on to other areas I planned to shoot for the day, but thoughts of Calder followed me, stealing my ability to focus. What is he doing? Where did he go once he came back to New York?

  My focus blown for the day, I drive into town to clear my head and grab some coffee. When my phone rings, I push the button on my dash and put it on speaker. “Hey,” I say, while approaching the town’s shopping district.

  “Well, hello stranger,” Talia says. “Long time no talk. How’s your mom?”

  I turn on my blinker, and stop to let a guy on a bike cross the street. “Mom’
s doing much better. Thanks for asking.”

  “That’s wonderful. I’m so glad. And what are you doing right now?” She continues in a bright tone.

  “Um, I’m working.”

  A snort. “I hear your blinker ticking. You’re not taking pictures at the moment. Guess where I am?” She doesn’t even take a breath before she blurts out, “I’m at our Hamptons house! Come have lunch with me.”

  Pushing on the gas, I turn another corner, then pull into The Grinder’s parking lot and cut the engine. “I really am working, Talia. Maybe some other time.”

  “You’ve said that the last three weekends I’ve invited you here. When are you going to forgive me?”

  I take my phone off speaker and put it to my ear. “Not that I’m holding a grudge, but I’m pretty sure it’s bad form to get married without at least having your best friend present.” Though I am a bit hurt Talia ran off and married Sebastian—apparently “Bash” was Calder’s nickname for him—I’m having a much harder time with the idea of visiting the Hamptons house Sebastian purchased as a gift to Talia. While it might hold wonderful memories for them as the place they first connected at that party, that’s not the case for me. Too many regrets rise to the surface when I think about the place I met Calder.

  “Cass, it was just the judge, Sebastian, and me. I’m sorry that my doing so hurt your feelings, but my family situation is still up in the air. I’m not even sure who I would’ve invited to sit on my side if we’d had a traditional wedding in a church.”

  I feel bad for making her reopen old wounds about her family. “I’m sorry, Talia. Please don’t think I don’t want to spend time with you. I’ve just been swamped with my mom’s stuff.”

  “Well, at least she’s doing much better. That should give you some breathing room to start being social again soon. Speaking of being social…have you heard from Calder yet?”

  My fingers curl around the edge of my phone, my stomach churning. “No, which is the same answer the last four times you asked me.”

  Talia sighs. “I thought for sure when he asked me to apologize to you—well Celeste—for not writing back, and I suggested he contact you to reconnect, that he would. He seemed genuinely sincere.”

  I feel so lame for secretly holding out hope Calder would eventually contact me that my defensive sarcasm rises to the surface. “It’s been over three months since you saw him at Mina’s baby’s christening. And considering none of Calder’s family has seen or heard from him since then, I think we can safely assume at this point that he’s not going to contact me. Please stop asking me. I’m starting to get a complex.”

  I keep my tone light, which is so far from how I feel about Calder Blake. Yeah, that Blake, as in…he’s from one of the wealthiest families in the country. Learning Calder was a Blake from Talia had been a major “You’ve got to be kidding me” moment, considering I spent the entire evening at that party thinking he only had his military career going for him.

  “I’m sorry, Cass. I’m sure it’s not you. Sebastian said that Calder’s father dying right after the party really did a number on him. It’s driving Sebastian crazy that even with his security resources he hasn’t been able to find his cousin. Maybe I should’ve told Calder the truth about who you are when he and I talked briefly that day? That might’ve intrigued him into wanting to get to know the real you.”

  “I doubt telling Calder I was really someone else would’ve helped, Talia.” It probably would’ve made him hate me, considering how he feels about being lied to. Then again, which is worse: being ignored due to disinterest, or being hated due to disgust? Either option sucks and apparently ends with the same result. Silence.

  “I actually think the truth would be better coming from you,” Talia says.

  I wave my hand, clearing the invisible cloud over my head. “This is all a moot point, so let’s change the subject. How about a marriage party?”

  “A what?”

  “I’m suggesting that you and Sebastian throw a party, where all your friends get to eat, drink, dance, and toast to your marriage.”

  “Hmmm, that sounds like a great idea. Maybe we can have it here.”

  My stomach sinks and I quietly smack my forehead. “Or maybe in Manhattan?”

  “I’ll talk to Sebastian and see what he thinks. He’ll probably want to have it here. Thanks for the suggestion.”

  “Sure. Well, I’ve got to get back to work.”

  “Oh, okay. I’ve got some phone calls to make anyway. I’ve got a lead on an article I just got assigned. How about next time you call me for lunch plans. Friendship works both ways, Miss Cass.”

  “But of course,” I say with a laugh before hanging up. I know I’ve been the worst friend lately. I’ll blame it on the extra long-winter keeping me hibernating at home, but now that we’re having some spring-like days, I’ll have to get over it. I really am thrilled that at least one of us benefited from attending that masked party. Sebastian turned out to be a keeper, even if it took Talia and him a while to finally get together. Talk about stubborn. Then again, who am I kidding? I’m still single, so my best friend has one-upped me in that area.

  I walk into The Grinder’s cozy café, shivering at the brisk March air chasing me inside. Unlike yesterday’s sixty-seven high, today the temperature has only reached fifty. After ordering a latte, I find an empty corner table and hook my shoulder bag on my chair. Setting my camera on the table, I pull the latest issues of Vogue and Harper’s Bazaar from my bag and sit down, preparing to indulge.

  Okay, I’ll be honest…I’m scoping out the competition. Three months out of the biz is a lifetime. An entire season…gone. I have to catch up and start planning my next shoot. I really need to get invigorated again.

  I feast on the vivid spring colors as I flip the pages in the March issue, pausing on a section on Monaco. The feature highlights gorgeous women draped in jewels and flowing gowns, and striking men sporting custom tuxes as they lean against luxury cars known for their speed. Of course the breathtaking Mediterranean views make the perfect backdrop. With each new scene, the photographer did a fantastic job conveying the opulent lavishness and fairytale life in the French Riviera.

  When I reach the middle of the magazine, an advertisement with the cityscape of Manhattan stretches across both pages. Pausing, I smile at my home. I love Manhattan. It has its own glitz and glamour, and its grit and dark places too. I run my fingers across the glossy pages, tracing the skyline. The idea of photographing Manhattan like I’ve captured the Hamptons these past few days really appeals. Not just the city, but the people, the venues. No one can capture it better than someone who lives and breathes it.

  Real life. Not fairytales.

  “Still dreaming of the glitzy life, Cass Rockwell?” Celeste says breezily. Sitting in the chair across from me, she picks up the Vogue magazine and opens it with a flourish.

  While her expensive perfume adds to the heaviness of her presence, I straighten my spine and exhale harshly. She has no idea that that March issue of Vogue features some of my past work. Granted, no one but Talia knows that I’m the well-known fashion photographer Raven listed in the credits. Even on my website, I’m wearing sunglasses. And while I usually prefer to keep it that way, when Celeste stops turning pages to stare at the centerfold spread of the exclusive beach party I shot in Barcelona, a small part of me wants to say, “Now I inspire your fashion sense,” but I just press my lips together and say nothing.

  Right now all I see is the top of Celeste’s glossy dark hair, big curls spilling across the shoulders of her cashmere coat. I recognize the coat designer’s style, but I don’t bother acknowledging her vanity. She might not be looking at me, but the quick way she moves on to other pages in the magazine, flipping too fast to really see anything, tells me she’s using it as a distraction. When she glances up at me, a memory of her pausing at the end of the aisle in the school library to stare at me where I sat on the floor near the window with an oversized book in my lap, blips through my mind.<
br />
  “Shhhhhhh,” Our high school librarian, Mrs. Heart, shushed Celeste and her friend as they giggled. They were supposed to be in the library researching their projects for our art history class.

  At the same time I looked up, Celeste’s gaze landed on me. It had been a year since the incident with Jake at Shelley’s party. A year since I’d lost my sister. A year since I started wearing cuff bracelets of any kind: leather, cloth, silver, stainless steel, beaded, brass. All that mattered was the width. Two inches wide. My clothes had to change with my new accessories, so I adopted a kind of a retro hip, grunge look. And even though I couldn’t bring myself to cut my hair—my sister would be horrified—I always wore it up in a messy claw-clipped bun. Anything to keep me from looking like Celeste and off Jake’s radar.

  Apparently I’d started a trend among the girls in my grade. Bracelets on both wrists became the new “it” accessory. Sometimes matching. Sometimes mismatched. Not that I cared. I spent all my time in the library. It was the one place I knew I’d never run into Jake.

  Approaching me, Celeste chuckled when she saw the fashion designs and color swatches depicted on the pages. Squatting down, she flipped to the front of the book and read the title out loud, “Colored by Design.” Opening the cover, she glanced at the copyright year. “Nineteen-sixty-five. Really Cass?” Standing, she shook her head and folded her arms. “I have more fashion sense then that musty old book. If you want tips, I just attended fashion week over spring break.”

  I didn’t want to draw or design the clothes, but I loved studying the set ups. It helped me visualize seeing how the clothes, jewelry, and even the backgrounds, when put together via color and placement, set the whole scene and brought it to life.