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Beth smiled and rested her cheek against my shoulder. No matter what happened tonight, it was worth it to see that look on her face, knowing someone had her back for once.
As we made our way inside, I tensed, bracing myself for the out-of-place feeling that washed over me. Beth appeared perfectly calm on the outside, but I wondered if that was simply years of practice at masking her discomfort.
The entryway opened into a large room with pale walls and the muted golden glow of lights, illuminating dozens of pictures of Beth. Some of them were full-body shots in tiny bikini swimsuits or silky scraps of fabric. Most of the pictures portrayed Beth like a puzzle—hip bones; a bare shoulder; her naked back; one arm extended gracefully, flowing out to the long, thin tapered lines of her fingers.
At first glance, the exhibition could be viewed as an incredibly flattering homage to Beth and her beauty. I could certainly attest to the fact that every inch of her was gorgeous.
But the longer I looked at the pictures, the more unsettling they became. As if Beth wasn’t seen as a whole human being. Her body was on display in pieces.
Beth gave a tired sigh.
“It always feels strange to be in front of the camera,” she said. “Paraded around like a prize pig.”
“You looked comfortable in front of a camera at the diner,” I pointed out. “Taking those pictures of us.”
“That’s different.”
“How?”
She shrugged, gesturing to a waiter with a tray of champagne. She took two glasses and handed one to me. I held it stiffly, preferring a bottle of beer instead.
“When I’m modeling, I have to do what people tell me. Sit a certain way, stand up straight, tilt my head a little more to the left. I might as well be a plastic mannequin. When I’m taking the pictures myself, there’s no pressure to perform.”
Beth and I drifted through the gallery with the other guests as we talked. I couldn’t help noticing how more men seemed to cluster and linger at certain pictures—especially the lingerie shots with the barely-there lace, or the wet bikini shots with Beth’s nipples pebbled against the fabric.
The thick, sour taste of bile burned in the back of my throat. Maybe it would be easier to swallow if this was something Bethwantedto do. But it wasn’t. Her mother pushed her into it. And that made my fingers curl into a fist at my side, wishing I could knock out every man who openly leered at Beth when she was vulnerable and exposed.
“What would you rather do instead?” I asked.
Beth turned to stare at me with a wide-eyed blink.
“If you didn’t have to model,” I added. “What would you want to do with your life?”
She faltered, a crease of concentration forming between her eyebrows as she considered.
“I…I don’t know. No one has ever asked me that before.”
A high-pitchedclink-clink-clinkdrew everyone’s attention to the front of the gallery where a woman stood at a small raised dais. She lifted her champagne glass high, tapping her fork against it until the murmur of voices fell silent.
“Is that your mother?” I whispered.
Beth nodded, swallowing her champagne in one gulp.
They shared the same white-blonde hair and striking blue eyes, but the similarities ended there. Beth’s mother looked pinched, her movements rigid. Where Beth had still managed to protect some of her joy in life, Beth’s mother looked like a whip ready to lash out at anyone who crossed her.
“Ladies and gentlemen,” Beth’s mother said. “If you don’t know me already, I’m Donna Golde, and I’m so pleased you joined me this evening for a toast to my beautiful daughter, Bethany Marie.”
She raised her glass to a murmur of approval from the crowd. Beth’s grip on my arm tightened.
Donna went on. “I’ve spent many sleepless nights putting together this exhibition. But the sacrifices I have made were worth it to see my daughter’s success skyrocket. It’s every mother’s dream that her daughter does well in life, isn’t it?”
She smiled, surveying her audience for several seconds longer than necessary. I handed my champagne glass to Beth. She took it gratefully and chugged it down with a big gulp.
“As some of you may have heard,” Donna finally continued. “There are rumors flying around that my daughter will soon be engaged to the prestigious Holmes family.”
She gestured to her right where Lionel stood next to the dais.
“You’ve got to be kidding me,” Beth hissed.
