“Of course,” I reply, moving to stand next to the young woman.
The sound of her camera’s shutter echoes in the space around us as she takes selfie after selfie, making weird faces in some and duck lips in others.
Finally she’s done. “Oh my god, this is awesome!” She grabs me in a sudden hug and instantly I’m back on that red carpet watching a knife coming through the air.
I can’t breathe.
By the time I’ve gained control of myself again, the young woman is gone. I take a shuddery breath. Panic attacks came fast and furious in the month after the incident but I thought I’d conquered those. But I’ve learned a hard lesson tonight. Anxiety can return at any time and in any situation.
“That happens a lot, huh?”
My heart starts pounding fast again. What does she mean? Did Casey notice my reaction? Then I realize she’s talking about the woman taking my picture.
Slowly, I move back to the railing. “The fans have made me who I am.”
Her eyes look down at the railing. Then I notice what has caught her attention. My hands are shaking. My fingers tighten around the balcony rail.
“Are you okay?” she asks quietly.
“Fine. Just tired.” The look on her face tells me that she doesn’t believe me. But I’m not ready to talk about what just happened or about what happened on the red carpet a few months before we met. So I give her the same explanation I usually give Philippe when he notices I’m not myself.
“I think I’m experiencing burnout. I used to find inspiration in the people around me, the energy of each city I visited, the sights, the sounds. But for a long time nothing has inspired me. Everything looks the same. No mystery. No excitement.”
“No mystery or excitement, huh? I didn’t realize I was that boring.”
Fantastic. Now she thinks I’m insulting her company. “Sorry. That came out wrong. It’s just this whole routine is so…routine.”
We both laugh. I look out over the venue, noting the tasteful decorations and elegantly dressed people. My heart rate slows and the tightness in my chest eases. Observing the activity below is helping to calm me down. Then Casey’s arm brushes against mine and I realize that it’s not the room that’s soothing me.
It’s her.
“I can’t imagine considering champagne in a five-star hotel as routine,” Casey comments. “I suppose you come to a lot of parties like this. Poor baby, your life is so difficult.”
Shock has me standing up straight before a smile tugs at the corners of my lips. “I sound like a spoiled brat, huh?”
“Maybe a little. But I really think you have it all wrong. People may seem predictable sometimes but they’re never boring. People are complicated and fascinating.”
She gestures to the level below us. A couple is dancing off to the side in a darkened corner, oblivious to everything around them. “This is a perfect example. Tell me what you see.”
I squint down at the couple. “I see a couple dancing. I see this at these parties quite often. People get bored and wander off. Growing up, my brother and I were forced to attend many social events. My mother is very concerned with appearances, you see.” Memories of those parties would shock my sweet Clumsy Girl right down to her toes. “If she only knew how many of her prim-and-proper friends we caught in compromising situations over the years, she probably wouldn’t have been so insistent that we attend those parties.”
She nods toward the couple again. “You say they’re a couple but how do you know
? Just because they’re dancing together?”
I lean close. “No, I assume because of the way he has his hand on her ass.”
She peers over the railing again. The man has one hand firmly on the woman’s bottom while the other rubs slow circles on the skin exposed by the plunging back drape of her gown. The woman stands on tiptoe to press her mouth to her lover’s. They obviously don’t care that anyone can see them and I wouldn’t either. If you find someone who makes you feel that way, you shouldn’t care about anything but being together.
“That doesn’t mean they’re a couple,” Casey continues, even though her face is now bright red. “Look at how they touch each other. They’re so desperate. So urgent. Perhaps they’re forbidden lovers. Maybe they haven’t seen each other in a long time and this is their only chance to be together.”
“That’s very romantic.”
She smiles. “But you don’t agree.”
“It’s more likely that they’re just another bored married couple who got tired of socializing. But I like your version better.”
We turn to face each other and she stumbles slightly and grabs onto me to avoid falling. Her cleavage is jammed against my chest and I’m afraid to breathe because I don’t want to do anything to make her move out of my arms.