“Excuse me.Excuse me.” Bas motioned toward Cecilia, who was erecting a bounce board just below the rail of the bar to adjust for the lower light. “Bonjour. Hi. I’m Bas,” he said, outstretching a large hand. His left cheek was dimpled. At six three, he had at least eleven inches on her. A Michelangelo-worthy jawline, that disarming smile.
“Hi, Bas, I’m Cecilia.”
“Hello, Cecilia. I see you working very hard here, and I’m wondering if perhaps in that little tool kit of yours you have a proper knife.” With that, he held up first the large watermelon, and then a small paring knife, his expression grim.
Cecilia laughed. “I have an X-Acto knife. But I’m pretty sure that’s not what you’re looking for.”
“No. Probably not.”
“Hold on.” Cecilia scanned the terrace for one of Maren’s two production assistants but could not find either. Instead, she spotted one of the di Varenna team, a small gentleman whose name she did not know and whose title she was not aware of—but the fact that he was standing idle, hands in his pockets, swaying to and fro in his Gucciloafers, watching Paola adjust the cups on the bodice of Katrine’s dress, made her believe he could be put to better use.
“Scusi, signore. Lui ha bisogno di uno…”She stopped, realizing the limits of one year of introductory Italian. “Una cosa per il melone.” Cecilia mimed chopping.
“Ahhh, un coltello?”
“Si, un coltello, più grande, per favore.”
“Okay. I find.” And with that he headed off.
“Did you just send the VP of marketing for the House of Varenna to fetch you a knife?” Marc asked, handing Cecilia a clamp to secure the bounce board.
“I don’t know. Did I?”
“Indeed, she did,” Bas said.
“Well done, you.” Elliot smiled.
“Yes, thank you,” Katrine said, and then lowered her voice. “He was beginning to creep me out a little.”
“Well, he’s really going to creep you out when he returns with a massive knife,” Jaya piped up from her post on a stool at the far end of the bar where Santiago was doing his best to control her cowlick. He’d given all the girls low-slung ponytails, slightly off-centered parts. Clean, natural, but unmistakably chic.
“You have to just ignore that stuff,” Jaya continued. “The lecherous ones. For the most part they’re harmless. They’re just looking. And if we didn’t like being looked at, we wouldn’t be in this business.N’est-ce pas?”
Santiago nodded in agreement. “I always say, ‘Look, but don’t touch.’ Me, I touch the hair, but not the body.”
“Yes, well, never you, Santiago. You, we trust. You’re like family.” Jaya smiled up at him.
“I don’t know.…” Katrine made her way over to the center stool, assuming her position. “I think there’s looking in admiration,” she said, “and then there is looking that feels like more than that. Like a violation.”
Throughout this entire exchange, Anouk had remained quiet, perched on her barstool, one long leg tucked beneath her. Like a flamingo, Cecilia thought. Her eyes were darting back and forth between her fellow colleagues. In addition to being the newcomerand the youngest, Anouk’s English was the most rudimentary of the bunch, and Cecilia wondered how much of the conversation she was able to follow.
“There are a lot of lascivious men in this industry, who are just men being men,” Jaya continued. “And then there are the really bad ones. Don’t confuse the two. Because if you worry about every dirty old man you encounter, you’ll never get ahead.”
It was silent for a moment, and then Bas, who was not easily offended, forced a laugh. “Well, good to know the base level of men just being men is ‘lascivious.’”
“Right, exactly. Wonder why we even try.” Elliot smirked, catching Cecilia’s eye. She smiled in return. Elliot was posh-boy pretty. Foppish dark-brown hair, intelligent eyes. An innate confidence and charm. Cecilia imagined he didn’t have to try very hard.
“Oh, you guys know what I mean,” Jaya said.
“Do we?”
“Whatever.” She rolled her eyes, and then turned her attention to the villa. “What’s taking so bloody long?”
Marc and Cecilia had just completed mounting the last of the reflectors when Anouk finally spoke. Her voice deep, heavily accented, unfamiliar.
“I think the line is different for everyone. What feels safe to one person may not feel safe to someone else. If he makes her uncomfortable, he makes her uncomfortable.”
They all turned to regard her. This young unknown newcomer. Was she challenging the Queen Bee? Trying to assert herself?
