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I zoom in closer.
To say she’s beautiful would be a wild understatement. She’s so cute and stunning, it’s weirdly…painful. It makes my chest feel strangely tight.
She has dark hair that’s pulled back from her face, which is so beautiful I’m wondering if she’s used one of those filters. No one can be this flawless. Her eyes are amber-colored, framed by long, dark lashes. A few curls have escaped to frame her face delicately. She’s staring directly at the camera but she looks almost bored. Sultry. Her lips are full and pink. She’s wearing what looks like a tight, skimpy yoga outfit. She has a tattoo of a musical note on her wrist.
I’ll admit I’m intrigued.
Not bad, right?
What if she’s a psycho like all the rest of them?
It’s a joke, almost.
Dude, when did you get so cynical?
Somewhere between crash and burn 800 and Margot The Lunatic
A little “ha ha” attaches to the text.
Seriously tho, Cleo has assured me she’s a “sweetheart with grit” and an “insane talent”
Talented at what?
I guess you’ll find out
I sigh heavily, taking another look at the photo of the girl. She really is stunning.
Fine. I’ll have my driver pick her up at 5 pm sharp. We’ll take the helicopter
Lol. Sure thing bro. Have a good night. I’ll call you tomorrow
The night goes quiet and I zoom in on the photo again.
Ivy.
It’s dark in my apartment except for the city lights and the blue reflection of the pool outside. And my phone, which glows with the girl’s perfect face.
Today’s Tuesday.
I’m surprised by the turn of my own thoughts. Because what I’m thinking is: only three more days to go.
5
I wake from a deep sleep, my eyes blinking open to almost-darkness. It takes me a few seconds to get my bearings.
I live in Soho now. In the loft I bought for Josh. And for me.
A deep sense of relief settles.
It’s so nice here and I don’t need to panic because our mother’s sick and Josh is acting out again and Aunt Sarah is leaving for California.
When you grow up with a sense of fear that’s almost paralyzing some days, it takes a while for your subconscious mind to shift.
We’re okay now.
I had a sold out show at a new, tiny but perfect little venue in the East Village last night called Starstruck and I didn’t get home until after midnight.
I reach to check my phone. It’s 9:51 a.m. I must have been really tired.
