Chapter 5
Helena
There was something fascinating about this woman. From the way she’d gawked at me when we’d first met, to her apparent penchant for reading old articles from fashion magazines, and how apparently she’d just been reading my Vanity Fair interview today of all days, I guess I was just curious what fate was trying to nudge me towards.
Wasn’t that the point of a party like this? To meet interesting people and see what happened next?
She was a very pretty woman around my age, with a perfectly fitted navy-blue suit, good quality, with a salon-fresh chic bob and bangs in a natural chestnut brown, very modern, on-trend. It played well with her round face shape and highlighted her eyes, a lovely warm brown color, and the specific shade of blue on her suit flattered her skin tone in a way that made her seem to glow. Just looking at her, she was clearly a woman who knew what she was doing.
And yet at the same time, she had the energy of a nervous teenager. The contrast was impossible to ignore, and then my curiosity skyrocketed once we’d gotten through the entrance tofind she’d vanished. I’d gone rambling and speculating to Estelle about it while Mr. Cheng was at the bar making small talk with the bartender, and eventually Estelle put her hands on my shoulders and physically pushed me off towards the rest of the party, sayingbabe, I can’t tell you for her, go find her and ask for yourself.
How did she always do that? Just do things without worrying about what they said about her, about what other people thought? I wondered if it was natural when you didn’t grow up with an agent measuring everything you did in an app.
And now here was Cassandra again, looking like she was nervous enough to pass out, after the most loaded looks between her and thefriendshe’d been talking to. And I was going to lose it if I didn’t get some answers as to what was going on here.
“So,” I said, stopping at the bar, a stylish thing with an upscale industrial look, two bartenders, a well-groomed and attractive man with dark skin and a moustache and an equally attractive woman with an ultra-short haircut and a nose piercing. I flagged down the closer of the two and signaled for a water, and I sank onto one of the stools, turning back to Cassandra, who was still staring at me like I was fascinating. “Now that I’ve got you cornered, are you planning your escape route again?”
She cleared her throat, and she slid onto the stool next to me. She was a bit on the short side, maybe five foot two, and she had to reach a bit to get into the stool. “I might be,” she said. “Why, do you have suggestions? I’m sure you’re an expert in disappearing. Escaping from paparazzi, admirers…”
I laughed, and when the bartender set down the glass of water, I thanked her and reached to stop her before she left. “I’ll do a glass of chardonnay, please,” I said. “And my friend…”
Cassandra suddenly went rigid. “I’m all right,” she said.
Oh, no. Shewasplanning to escape again. I’d get her to stay if I had to play dirty for it. “Just make it a bottle, then,” I said. “For the two of us.”
“What—Ms. Warrick.”
“Unless you don’t drink?” I said, playing coyly, and she blushed just a little, looking away.
“No, it’s just… I tend to say things I regret.”
“All the better.” I relaxed against the bar, sliding the glass of water over the polished stone countertop towards her as the bartender left for our bottle. “Iam, in fact, an expert in disappearing. Which is why I know how to cover all your routes of escape and get you trapped. Welcome to my prison, Cassandra.”
“Oh. Well. A master of hospitality, I see.”
I laughed. “And please, it’s just Helena. I’m not an old lady.”
“Oh, no? I thought you were sixty-five. I mean, it’s not like you’re a literal model people go to when they want a picture of an unattainably attractive woman.”
I rolled my eyes with a dry laugh. “Oh, god. Don’t make it sound weird. And besides, the modeling is just an extension of the brand around me.” I sat up taller as the bartender delivered two glasses, a precise pour of chardonnay into each from a bottle with an independent vineyard’s label, and I held my glass up to hers. “But I guess you’d know that, since you read my interview. Here’s to old Vanity Fair articles.”
“Ah, right…” Something passed over her face, and uncomfortably, she clinked her glass to mine. “Here’s to that.”
I paused. “Are you okay?”
“Of course. Just a bit scatterbrained today. Dehydrating myself doesn’t help. You know, I’d been down in the studio all day, and sometimes you get so locked in you forget to eat or drink or blink…” She took a sip of her wine, and then it turnedinto a bigger sip than I’d expected, glugging the entire glass down. I watched with my glass up to my lips as she slowly tipped the whole thing back, and it dribbled down the corner of her lips before she set it down and, I think, only realized what she’d done once she saw the way I was looking at her. She froze like a deer in the headlights, and then she coughed, cleared her throat hard, and she looked away, blushing more fully now. “Uh… wow, that is good wine.”
“I’m… so glad you like it.”
“Just really… tasty. Tasty wine.”
I nodded. “Tasty wine.”
She hung her head. “I am sorry. I’m, uh… I’m not used to coming to events like this. I mean… by myself.”
I stared at her a second longer before I softened, taking a sip of my wine and setting it down. The receptionist had addressed her asMrs.Evans-Pierre. And yet, no spouse to be seen. “I get that,” I said softly. “Truth be told, I’m a bit nervous tonight too.”
“Oh yeah?” She gave me a dry, weary smile. “Too many magazine editors chasing you down wanting to hear your thoughts on geopolitics?”
