Chapter Ten
I’m eating breakfast the next morning when Luca calls. I answer the phone the way people do in Italy. “Pronto?”
“Story, what the hell?”
I put down my glass. “What’s wrong? What the hell what?”
“You haven’t looked at the tabs?”
“No, why would I? Do you look at those things every day?”
“You’re splashed all over them. ‘Is Astoria Herriot already cheating on Luca Kinnaird? Maybe Luca has met his match!’?”
“I have no idea what you’re talking about. Let me put you on speaker while I look.”
Luca’s angry sigh pulses from the phone. I’m trying to like him, but his obsession with influencer gossip is a bit much. Still, when I pull up a tabloid, I’m there with Jack. Laughing as we come out of the bookstore, buying icy drinks, and clinking our plastic cups together. Hoo boy.
“That’s just my classmate. You know, the brother of the stupid blond kid. It was nothing.”
“Well, it looks like something. It doesn’t matter what it really is, it only matters how it looks. That’s the whole point of us, remember?”
I shouldn’t care that he says this, but his tone is so angry, it stings. “So what am I supposed to do? Hide in my house unless I’m with you? We went to a bookstore to get a birthday present for his mom. We’re barely even friends. But we’re both going to Princeton, so we’re trying to get along better. It was nothing.”
“Please don’t let it happen again.” It sounds more like a command than a plea.
“I’m sorry. No one has ever been interested in my little life before.”
Luca pauses before he replies. “I guess it wouldn’t have occurred to you.”
“I’ll be more careful. Believe me, I don’t need anyone learning the truth. I can’t wait to go back to being invisible.”
This time when he pauses, I swear I can hear him angrily tapping on something. “You’re not invisible just because you aren’t in a tab.”
I practically snort. “Really? You and everyone you associate with seem to believe it’s the only thing that matters in life.”
He doesn’t answer. The silence is so long, I begin to wonder if he’s hung up.
“Listen,” he says at last, “I’ve got to go. Jasmine’s calling. She’s probably seen it.”
“Okay, bye.”
“Bye.”
I set the phone down. My luscious piece of toast with vegan butter and quince jam suddenly tastes dry. How am I ever going to pull this off for two whole months?
Maybe Jack wanted to get into the tabloids and figured asking me to the bookshop was the way to do it. But that doesn’t really seem like him. He’s never been someone who seeks attention. Patrick is the one who sucks all the air out of a room. I was worried about what Patrick might do tonight, but now I have to worry about seeming to be too friendly to Jack, too. I don’t know what to think about anyone anymore. I miss being a loner. You don’t have to scrutinize people’s motives.
I wonder if I should text Jack to tell him about the tabloids, but then he texts me.
Guin just told me our photos are in the tabloids. They made it seem like we were on a date. I’m really sorry. I hope I haven’t messed anything up for you.
He seems genuine. And if I didn’t notice we were being followed, why would he? It’s okay, Luca’s seen them. He understands. I feel like a jerk because we aren’t even talking about the same understanding.
Okay, good, because I could tell him it was nothing if you need me to.
No, thanks, we’re good.At least in our way.
Okay, cool.
I set the phone down and go shower. A little before twelve-thirty, I meet Anna Maria in Monti. We have a quick lunch and spend a couple of hours dress shopping through secondhand stores while she not-so-subtly pumps me for information about Luca. I only say things that are true, which mostly amounts to me saying, “I don’t know.”
I’ve almost given up hope of finding a dress when I see a Christian Dior gown that looks as if it were made for a medieval princess. It’s black taffeta with spaghetti straps. Copper embroidered flowers fall across it in delicate swirls. The skirt has a touch of black crinoline underneath. I hold it up.
“Che bella,” Anna Maria says, pushing back her auburn curls. “Try it on!”
When I come out, she nods and smiles. “That’s it.”
“Apparently, though, all rich people are five foot seven or taller. I’m going to be dragging it across the floor all night.”
She kneels down. “Well, you could give it a little flounce, like this, at intervals, and trim the crinoline, which is easy to do. I think it would seem like the dress was designed that way.”
“You’re brilliant!”
“Yes, but now I get to meet this beautiful boy sometime.”
I nod but don’t make any promises.
I pay for the dress, which is less than two hundred euros, since it’s considered yesterday’s trash, but Anna Maria has to babysit her nephew, so I’m on my own to find a dress for the opera. In a vintage store I’ve never been to before, I find a black slip dress for twenty euros. It’s more “look at me” than I’d normally wear, but I’m supposed to seem like I belong with Luca, so I push myself out of my comfort zone. The less conspicuous I am, the better, and, in this case, that means being more conspicuous. I tell myself I’m like an actress playing a part, which almost makes it okay. Plus, there’s a sliver of me that feels like I have something to prove, on behalf of all the ordinary, overlooked girls everywhere. Because, really, the only difference between his world and mine is money.
I head home and get ready. It’s almost six-thirty when Luca texts to say he’s found a parking space and wants to come up and meet my mom.
Did she put you up to that?
No, just thought it would be the correct thing to do.
When I walk out to tell my mom Luca’s coming up, her eyes pop at my dress. “Wow, my little girl is pretty grown-up suddenly!” I’m glad Luca isn’t here yet, because I blush. “I have a perfect necklace,” she says, and runs to her room.
She’s just fastening a garnet-laced choker on me when Luca knocks. I open the door, and he raises his eyebrows at my appearance. “Okay?” I ask.
He nods but doesn’t smile. “Definitely.”
He steps past me, and I introduce him to my mom. He’s over-the-top charming, complete with a sudden smile. It’s the Luca he puts on display whenever we’re in public, but he also manages to survey our apartment, without ever seeming like that’s what he’s doing. His gaze travels slowly over the novelty of a middle-class flat, and I get the feeling he’s surprised by the smallness of it.
“Your home is lovely. So cozy!”
“Thank you, Luca. It’s so nice to meet you. Story hasn’t told me much about you.”
“Well, I’m happy to answer your questions, Mrs.Herriot. But at the moment, Story and I should go, or we might miss the first act. Perhaps we could all have dinner together one night soon?”
“I’d like that very much.”
I fake a British accent. “Yes, let’s all dine together soon, shall we?” I deadpan between them, and they smile. I push Luca toward the door.
I don’t ask Luca why he went out of his way to meet my mom. I’m sure it’s because he wanted to vet me more after my screwup about Jack yesterday. Now he knows I really am the awkward, regular girl I seem to be, with the single mom and an ordinary apartment stuffed with books and watercolor paintings.
When we reach the car valet, I’m whisked out of the Ferrari to cameras whirring and flashing until we enter the theater. As we climb the grand marble staircase from the lobby, Luca whispers, “The best part about the opera is that they can’t take our photo in here.” I look up, and he smiles. We meet our hostess, a princess from Belgium. I didn’t even know Belgium had a monarchy. The princess is an older woman, with dyed-blond hair, and you wouldn’t suspect she was different from any of the other rich women here except for the two men in dark suits who hover in our box. Luca has already shown me how to greet her, so I know to dip down in a short curtsy.
“It’s lovely to meet you, Astoria. Luca hasn’t told us much about you.”
“There’s not much to tell,” I say.
Luca glides his arm around my back and presses his thumb against me in warning. His hand is warm through the thin silk of the dress. “What Astoria means, Your Royal Highness, is that she’s not very interested in celebrity. She’s much more focused on her academic pursuits.”
“Oh, I see,” the princess says. “You must tell me about that.”
So, I explain that I’m going to Princeton in the fall, this time dropping “Your Royal Highness” into the conversation where it seems appropriate. Luca relaxes his hand. The princess asks what my parents do. I tell her my dad died when I was eleven and go straight to my mom. Being the daughter of a diplomatic attorney seems to be an appropriate connection for a girl Luca might date, as she nods approvingly. I guess he’s lucky the girl in the gelateria wearing yellow that day wasn’t the daughter of someone Luca’s world wouldn’t find acceptable, although if they knew about my dad, they’d probably look at me like they would the daughter of a sanitation worker. But the princess is gracious as she introduces me to her other guests.
The lights flicker, and we take our seats. I catch a glimpse of Jack in the box next to us, and we smile and nod hello. Luca whispers, “Ah, the ripped guy from the tabs.”
“Yes.”
“We should say hello at the intermission so no one suspects I’m concerned about a rivalry.”
I flip to my British accent. “As you wish, my lord. Anything to avoid pistols at dawn.”
“Funny.”
I’ve never been to an opera, but I like taking it all in. Luca asks me to translate, though there are English descriptions printed in the program. We sit with our heads close together as I whisper lyrics to him. At the first intermission, we go to the hallway for refreshments. I introduce Luca to Jack and his family. Luca is usually so relaxed, but with Jack it feels like he’s sizing him up. I wish Mrs.Rooney happy birthday, and she thanks me for helping pick out her new cookbook. Patrick tells Luca they should hang out sometime but Luca is expertly evasive. I guess because his mom is there, Patrick doesn’t say anything mean, like how surprising it is that Luca would date the most unpopular girl from our school. The lights flicker, and I’m glad to escape back to our dark box.
The performance is three one-act operas, and the last one is a comedy by Puccini about two young lovers. The girl is too poor to have a dowry, but the boy is expecting to inherit a fortune from an old relative, and then they’ll be able to marry. The relative dies, and they find out he’s left everything to a monastery. The lovers, now too poor to marry, beg the girl’s father to help them. In a beautiful aria, she tells her dad she can’t live without the boy, and her father loves her so much that he schemes to save them by pretending to be the dead man long enough to write a new will, even though he’ll be arrested if he’s caught.
When the song begins, I forget to translate for Luca. Instead, I’m just listening, leaning forward and transfixed, and when I see the dad’s reaction to his daughter’s desperate pleas, I have to wipe tears from my cheeks.
“Story, what’s wrong? Why are you crying?” Luca whispers. He looks around as if he’s afraid someone will notice me.
I shake my head and explain what the dad’s doing even though he thinks the boy isn’t worthy of his darling Lauretta.
“You’re a sucker for a love story, aren’t you?”
It’s on my tongue to just say yes. “I think I’m a sucker for a father-daughter story,” I say. My eyes burn. I turn back to the stage, away from Luca’s penetrating gaze. For the rest of the performance, I focus on translating so I’m not overly emotional. Luca slips his arm around me as I murmur the lyrics into his ear, and I hope it’s for show and not because he feels sorry for me. It feels sweet, but he’s just an actor. Or as Jack says, a player.
When the opera ends, we’re invited to dinner at a nearby restaurant with the princess and her entourage. She takes me by the arm as we leave the theater. “My dear, I hope you won’t mind me saying, but I saw you entranced by Lauretta’s aria, and how it brought you to tears. It’s my absolute favorite piece in all of opera!”
“It’s so beautiful!” Around me, cameras flash like heat lightning. “I’ve never been to the opera before. I wasn’t expecting anything so lovely. Thank you for including me, Your Royal Highness.”
The princess squeezes my arm and tells me that she sang opera when she was younger but, of course, couldn’t do it professionally. She explains the history of Puccini’s comedy, which is based on a canto in Dante’s Inferno, which is based on a true story, as we make our way to the restaurant, and the history buff in me loves this. Luca trails behind with the others in the group.
“Oh, Luca, I’m so glad you brought Astoria with you tonight,” the princess says, turning to him as we reach our destination. Candles glitter through the windows of a posh new restaurant, and the ma?tre d’ rushes to open the door. The place smells of rosemary and fresh bread and balsamic vinegar, and it makes my stomach growl.
Luca smiles and takes my arm from the princess. “Thank you, Your Royal Highness. So am I.” We follow the princess into the restaurant, and I chalk up a small win for all us ordinary girls.