Page 99
From: [email protected]
Subject: Re: Re: Re: Re: A new opportunity
Dear Ms. Gibson,
As I have not heard from you since our call, I’m reaching out to ask if you have made up your mind re: the offer made by us. Have you been able to review the contract I sent over? Let me know.
All my best,
Linda Norton (she/her)
From: [email protected]
Subject: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: A new opportunity
You can tell my father that I’m not interested. I think I’m just too gay for the mainstream. He’s probably better off with someone who actually has a shot to succeed.
Best,
Florence Gibson
37
They spend another night together, and then another day. It’s the easiest thing in the world, being with Florence. After weeks of living in each other’s pockets, they know each other’s quirks and routines and how to be silent together. The only thing that’s different is that now when Luca wants to touch her, she’s allowed.
They’re lying in bed in their pajamas—Luca playing a game on her phone, Florence playing with Luca’s hair while her head is resting in her lap—when Florence suddenly says, “I think I finished the song.”
It takes a moment for the words to register. Between the late hour and Florence’s fingers carding through her hair, Luca is so sleepy she feels like she’s melting into the mattress. Setting down her phone, she tilts her head so she can peer up at Florence’s face. “Really?”
“Yeah. Earlier when you were in the shower.” Florence’s fingers toy with the hair curling at the nape of her neck. “I think I like how it turned out.”
This is another thing Luca loves: the way they talk before they go to sleep, like a natural continuation of all their nights in hostel lobbies. Florence is always at her most honest a few minutes after midnight.
“What’s it about?” Luca asks.
“My father.”
Luca turns her head a little so she can brush her lips against Florence’s thigh. She waits.
“I think I’d like to play it in Hyde Park,” Florence says at last. There’s an unfamiliar nervousness to her voice. “If the rest of the band agrees.”
“Do you think we have enough time to learn it?” Luca asks carefully. The Hyde Park show is in five days.
“It wouldn’t have to be anything fancy. Just me and my guitar. Maybe a few piano chords, if Miray . . .”
She trails off. Luca isn’t certain how the sentence ends in Florence’s head. If Miray wants to. If Miray is up for it. If Miray isn’t angry at me anymore.
Luca presses another kiss to her thigh.
Florence draws a shaky breath. “I’m going to ask the others to come over to my place tomorrow.”
“Not the practice room?”
“I’ve spent way too much time down there this week.” Florence’s eyes drift over to the window. “Maybe it’s silly, but I thought it might be symbolic. No one except Miray has been in my room before.”
