“So a camera is definitely a good idea for you,” she teased.
I removed the lens cap and pressed the power button, configured the few settings I recognized, and pointed the lens at Finley. She held up her hands in front of her face. “Don’t you dare.”
I turned toward Paige, zoomed in on her hand against the wrinkled sheets, and clicked.
The image immediately popped up on the screen, and I turned the camera just enough so Finley could see.
“Marco was right. You’re a natural.”
“Thanks for the camera,” I said. It did feel natural in my hands—something I could hold on to.
Finley nodded toward Paige. “She’s a sweet girl. And God … crazy beautiful. She must have been burned pretty badly to be waking up in your bed. More like tarred and feathered. Poor kid.”
“I know.”
“So, you probably shouldn’t …”
“I know. I’ve warned her.”
“You know that doesn’t work. We don’t get happy endings with people like her. We ruin them.”
I pinched off the cherry of my cigarette, and then tossed the butt out the window to rest with the hundreds of others in the hidden Marlboro cemetery below.
“I don’t know. I’d consider last night a happy ending.”
“I’m serious, Ellie.”
“I know that, too.”
“And so we’re clear, I don’t do guilt blow jobs. That’s your fucked up talent.”
“I shouldn’t have said that. I was a little messed up. The firefighter kissed me. I was trying to take anyone home but him.”
“The cute one?” When I nodded, her shoulders fell. “Damn it. I wanted him.”
“You did not.”
“I tried to ignore it.”
“Ignore what?” I glanced over at Paige. I could still feel her soft hands all over me, her salty sweetness lingering on my lips.
“That he’s into you. Every time I opened my mouth it was like I was breaking his concentration. He wanted so badly for you to look at him, and you were staring at blueberry muffin over there,” she said, gesturing to Paige.
“I wasn’t her first choice. She’d rather be waking up next to Sugar.”
“Sugar was talking to Zeke about another girl. I got the feeling he’s nursing a broken heart. Paige is better off.” Finley scanned Paige as if she were a dying kitten. “Maybe she’ll be okay.”
“She’ll be okay,” I said, standing. I strolled across the room, lying next to the naked masterpiece in my bed, snuggling up next to her.
Paige reached back, tightening my arms around her without opening her eyes.
Finley waved to me, mouthing, Brunch in two hours, before she left.
I rested my cheek against the silky skin of Paige’s back, inhaling the alluring mix of stale smoke and lotion. She stirred, her blue hair dragging against the pillow like a peacock feather. I didn’t fear the awkward goodbye that would inevitably follow, or her feelings. My genuine curiosity for what she would do with her life after me settled in the nonexistent space between us. I hooked my leg over hers, the full, smooth limb sticking out of the expensive wrinkled sheet that only covered her perfectly curved ass—the same one that arched and bucked against my touch until the sun cast pastels across the sky.
“I’m awake,” she whispered. “I’m afraid if I move, it will be over.”
I placed the camera in front of her face and clicked the display button, showing her the picture of her hand. Everything from her arm out was blurry, but her blue hair couldn’t be confused with anyone else. I was prepared for her to ask me to delete it, but she reached back to caress my face.
“It’s beautiful.”
“Can I keep it?”
“Yes. Is it over now?”
“It’s over,” I said. “I’ll have José drive you home.”
“Who’s José?” she asked. She sat up and stretched, not at all upset.
“An employee.”
She smiled, her sleepy, content twin pools disappearing behind her lashes several times before she focused. “I’ll get dressed.”
She hopped out of bed, pulling on her skinny jeans and sweater, and then her boots.
“Breakfast is downstairs. Maricela will get you anything you need.”
Paige nodded, holding her purse to her chest. She really wasn’t going to ask me to join her. She wasn’t going to ask anything.
“Maybe I’ll see you around,” she said.
I propped my head with my hand. “I won’t get that lucky twice.”
She didn’t try to hide that she was flattered. Her cheeks pinked, and she carried her coat out the door, disappearing down the hall. Her footsteps were barely audible as she descended the stairs, but my father’s voice carried when he greeted her.