3. Ofelia #3
“And look at us now.” Benny raises his glass with an ironic flourish.
“Me, teaching revolting eight-year-olds how to clap in time in London sink schools. Lourdes, playing for peanuts in her family’s flamenco bar.
And then there’s you, maestro.” He mimics bowing down in my direction.
“About to debut on a Paris stage, with the national orchestra, no less!”
“Ha,” I say, as they both cheer and whistle. “You make it sound a lot more glamorous than it actually is. I don’t have a contract, so I’m getting the lowest possible session rate. Put it this way—my fee might almost cover dinner and drinks for three of us. In a very cheap restaurant.”
“Luckily, you have filthy-rich parents who will happily fund your genius.” Benny puts his hand to his brow with a dramatically forlorn expression. “Unlike some of us.”
“Yours still aren’t talking to you, then?” Lourdes says, pinching one of his cigarettes and sitting cross-legged on the floor, leaning against me.
“No.” He shakes his head. “But I don’t regret coming out to them.
Even if they did cut me off, it was the right thing to do.
And living on a teacher’s salary isn’t so bad.
” Seeing our skeptical looks, he laughs.
“Okay, it’s fucked, I’ll admit it. My share house has mold growing up the walls and a shower that is either boiling or freezing.
But at least I’m not living a lie. And besides.
” He grins at us. “Smokes and booze are so much cheaper in France that I’m actually saving money by being here, especially since you gifted us both the tickets.
” He blows me a kiss. “Thank you for that, by the way.”
“Forget it.” I wave them both away. “No chance I was making this debut without you both here to tell me what I’m doing wrong.”
“As if.” Lourdes rolls her eyes. “You were always the star pick, everyone knew that, even the posh English girls who always called you a Russian princess.”
“Darlink.” I flick my hair and affect a heavy Russian accent. “Of course I am Russian princess!”
“So,” Lourdes says when we all stop laughing, “is the Pirate making an appearance at this thing, then?”
“Dun dun dun dunnnnn,” Benny says, wielding an imaginary bow to the verbal strains of Beethoven’s Fifth. “Make way for the elephant in the room, ladies and gentlemen.”
“Haha,” I say without humor. “No. Darya and Papa sent him an invitation, obviously, because family is everything, blah blah. But I got their seating request yesterday, and he wasn’t included in the numbers. So I would guess that’s a hard no.”
“Prick,” says Benny, at the same time that Lourdes says, “Cono.”
“Yes,” I say, laughing. “The Pirate is indeed both a prick and a gigantic asshole, but this performance was never about him. None of them are anymore.”
Liar, Ofelia.
“Good for you.” Benny climbs off the windowsill and fills all of our glasses up. “Does this new Pirate-free attitude mean we can all finally go out man hunting together?”
“I don’t know about that.” I take a mouthful of wine. “I still have a security detail downstairs, in case you didn’t notice, and while I might be Pirate-free these days, I’m still a born-again virgin when it comes to my love life.”
Well actually, not even born again—just never been touched. But that’s something I have always chosen to keep to myself, even from Seline and my closest friends. Not because I’m ashamed of it.
I’m not.
I stay quiet about my virginal status because I’m just not equipped for the endless harassment to go out and get laid. It seems to be the catchall solution for every romantic affliction of my generation, but I know it isn’t the right one for me.
And if I’m honest, instinct tells me that the moment anyone touched me anywhere near the places Alexei’s knife did, I’d run screaming from the room.
The places he marked my body are like sacred ground—never to be trespassed upon by anyone but him. His blade left scars that made me his forever.
Whether he wants me or not.
“Well, we will get you good and drunk anyway.” Benny gives me a smile that contains more understanding than his cavalier words might.
One of the things I love about Lourdes and Benny is that for all their talk, neither of them push me to do anything out of my comfort zone when it comes to sex.
“And before I go expending energy on Parisian men, who are notoriously selfish fucks, which hunk of junk is doing security for you these days, and is he straight?”
“Don’t even think about it, you idiot. It’s still Bryce and Luis, who are definitely straight, as you well know. They’ve got some new recruits, who are also straight, before you ask. They all deserve a medal for putting up with such a boring job, so leave them alone.”
He sighs with mock longing. “They’re all so divine that a boy has to dream.”
“Oh, Dios mío.” Lourdes rolls her eyes. “If I’m not allowed to sleep with them, then neither are you.”
Benny raises his glass. “Let’s get drunk, bitches. Then we’re going to hit Paris and party like Londoners, even if none of us are actually from London.”