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“Why is the bottom drawer nailed shut?”
“What do you mean?” She sat back on her haunches and pulled at the drawer. Nothing. Didn’t budge. “I never noticed that.”
Oliver walked to the identical steamer trunk on the other side of the room and easily pulled out the identical bottom drawer. “This one works.”
He returned to investigate and pointed at the edges of the drawer. “The decorative nails are holding it shut. Looks like a few are missing.”
He yanked at the drawer again, and it pulled the entire side of the trunk toward him instead of opening the drawer. The squeaky sound reminded Mia of the pair of patent leather shoes her mom made her wear when she was younger that made a similar noise when she walked in them after a rain or rubbed the toes together.
He looked around. “ Let me see if I can find a tool that will open it. A crowbar or something.”
She pulled at it some more while waiting for him to return. A minute later, he showed up tapping a long metal tool in his hand.
“Don’t damage it,” she said, feeling protective of her mom’s things.
He bent at the knees, and she stood to gaze over his shoulder as he gingerly searched for an opening that he could leverage.
He hesitated, holding the tool in mid-air, and said, “You smell good.”
“Oh, thanks.” She honestly didn’t know why.
“Are you wearing some kind of perfume or something?”
“No, but I’ve been using my mom’s shampoo. It’s fancy.”
“It smells good. On you anyway.”
The wedge became more pronounced as he gently pulled along one side of the drawer and then the other until it came fully open. The mustiness from the insides wafted through the air, tons more intense than the rest of the trunk.
She hovered close, trying to make out what was inside.
He reached in the drawer and pulled out a spiral notebook and held it up to her.
“Do you recognize this?
“No,” she said, taking it from him as she straightened and flipped through the pages. And then back to the cover.
“Who are these girls?” he asked, now looking over her shoulder.
“It says this girl in the middle is Paris Hilton.”
“Who’s she?” Oliver asked.
Mia shrugged. “I don’t know, but she looks like one of the girls I went to school with.”
“Who are the other two?”
“This one’s Nicole Richie. Oh, I know her. She’s a clothing designer. And this is Lindsey Lohan.”
“Who’s she?”
“She starred in that movie,Mean Girls,and then had a bunch of drug and alcohol arrests.”
“My mom always says that money and fame doesn’t ensure happiness.”
“Your mom is right.” Except for when it came to her mom. “I went to school with two girls that made tons of money recording YouTube makeup tutorials. They’d spend their weekends doing coke and having lots of indiscriminate sex.”
He rested his chin on her shoulder, and her body kinda tingled in a nice way.
