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“Of course, Rogue-o-licious.” He smiles at me. “Have you never?”
“Can’t say I swing that way,” I say. “Pretty sure no one should.”
“But you kind of want to know what it would feel like, don’t you?” He flutters his fake lashes.
“So you didn’t see that guy?” The hallway is empty. He had a lucky escape, but if he keeps pestering Ivy, sooner or later we’re going to have words.
“There you are, Love,” Adira says as Ivy and my brother join us. “Danica wants you to keep the dress.”
“I can’t do that,” Ivy says. She plucks at the rainbow skirt. “The hours that went into it. The cost.”
“Danica said it was even more perfect on you than she could ever have imagined.” He takes her hand and twirls her around. The material fluffs up in front and the train follows. “You have to keep it.”
“B-but.”
He stops her mid-spin. Puts a finger to her lips. “One more thing. She’s coming over to check out our costume closet. I showed her a couple of your pieces and she thinks you’re fabulous, babe.”
Ivy gasps. “You did not.”
“Of course I did. She might be considering mentoring you, which means even more brilliant costumes for all us whores.”
“That’s awesome.” If that’s what Ivy wants. I tug her back into my arms. Where she belongs. It’s been a long week without her. As busy as I’ve been, time with her is all I’ve craved.
The last evening we spent together she’d been sick and closed off. She’d lied to me about who had called her that night. Tried to. When I called her on it she hadn’t denied it. Anyone else and I might have considered the motives, but I don’t think it’s easy for her to let me in. Or anyone. That’s something I’m going to have to fight for.
My focus immediately lifts to the hallway. “Was it that guy?”
“Huh?” She stares up at me with clueless eyes.
“Is there something serious here that I don’t know about?” I ask.
She told me she would explain why she’d felt the need to be obtuse just as soon as we had a moment. But she’d spent the next four days barely able to lift her head from her pillow. On painkillers and antibiotics. And I’d had scenes to finish shooting. I’d kept our text messages brief and light. It just seemed like whatever was on her mind that night should be discussed in person.
Or maybe the real reason was I didn’t want to push. I want her to open up to me because she trusts me, not because I corner her. And I’m pretty sure whatever she’s hiding is probably going to make me want to spend a couple of hours in the gym, punching the shit out of a bag like I did after I dropped her off that night.
I couldn’t stop thinking about all the things she’d already told me. About her brother. About how she’d hurt herself after her dad died. About how her mother treats her like a burden. Property.
“Can we talk about it later?” she says almost inaudibly. “When we’re alone?”
I don’t want to let it go, but she has a point. The dressing room is a hive of activity. If it’s complicated, and I get the feeling it is, then it’d be smart to wait until we have some privacy to rehash why she felt the need to lie to me.
I wiggle my jaw to ease the tension that builds automatically when I think about it. But then my thoughts move onto how lonely she must have been since her dad died. Even before that.
When my mom shut down it had hurt like hell. But at least I’d had Rebel and Riot. We’d had each other. Ivy had been alone. Well, she might as well have been, considering the way the people she was with treated her. Like she was the problem. As much as I hate it, I’m not exactly surprised that she has a way of minimizing herself and avoiding topics she feels could upset me.
We might be opposites. While she’s quiet I’m loud. While she shies away and attempts to fade into the background I distract with an over the top personality—but we’re more similar than I think she realizes.
“Yes, so we need to tidy up in there.” Adira strips out of his tuxedo jacket and hangs it on a hanger that he pushes onto the nearest rack. Chunky earrings follow suit. Pins are pulled from his coiffure.
“Oh my God, it’ll take a month.” Ivy kneads at her skirt with both hands.
Adira removes his blond tresses to reveal a skull cap. He drops the fake hair onto a wig head and hunts around the makeup table in front of him. “Where are my makeup wipes? Who took my wipes? I have a date to get ready for.”
Ivy grabs a pack from another table. “Here.”
“Thanks, Love.” He takes her hand and squeezes it.
“I’ll help with the closet,” I offer. “I can lend you my assistant, Kia. She’s an organizational whiz.”
