16. Serena
Serena
Serena: hey, sorry i missed your call. heading to a shoot for onyx
Serena: everything okay?? where have u been??
Serena: let's hang out this weekend, ok? i miss u
Bianca: I miss you, too. Sorry, things have been really busy. I can’t do this weekend, but I’ll check my calendar.
I frown and tuck my phone in my pocket as the large doors heading into the Onyx lobby slide open for me. The lobby is cool and fresh. Cucumbers and lemon peels float in the ice water at the coffee bar.
The receptionist nods to me. I wave and head for the elevators, shivering at the difference between the sunny warmth outside and the chill of the AC in here. It’s already mid-June, and the city is heating up. It doesn’t help being crammed between bodies on the subway, either.
My pulse thrums steadily as the elevator rises.
It’s not like I have to see Travis, but he’s usually around in the office, especially when I’m meeting with the creative director, like today.
We’re gathering before the shoot for the next hotel, which is a little different conceptually.
According to the email, this one is a little softer, located closer to the river, with a slightly lower price point.
My photography will need to reflect this.
The elevator doors open and I step out, fingers drumming on the strap of my camera bag. When I get to the conference room, Henry greets me.
“Serena! Early for once.”
“Ha,” I mutter, then something occurs to me. “Hey, just give me one second. I need to deliver these photos to Mr. Oakley.”
I’m pulling a thumb drive out of my bag when I catch Henry shaking his head from the corner of my eye. “You’ll have to email or wait. He’s out.”
My head snaps up. “Of the office?”
“Of the country,” Henry’s eyes sparkle and it occurs to me, for the first time, that he might be just as interested in Travis as I am. “Apparently, he had some important business in London, then Tokyo. Wish I could jet around like that.”
I bite my tongue to keep from saying, “Yeah, on Mr. Oakley’s jet?” Henry might be cool, but he’s still technically my boss.
Yeah, an internal voice chides, like that’s stopped you before.
“Oh,” I drop the USB drive back into my bag. “Too bad.”
Henry shakes his head sadly, “All that travel, and the man doesn’t even have an Instagram.”
“Honey!” I call into the house when I open the door: “I’m home!”
“In here!”
Four different voices call back to me from four different parts of the house, and I shake my head, shrugging off my raincoat and hanging it by the front door. I unzip my camera bag from its rain cover and leave it on the table.
“Serena!” Lillie is the first to make it to the hallway, sliding in from the kitchen in her knee socks. There’s a smear of something brown over her cheek, and her hair is a darker purple than it was when I left. “You’re back! Tell us every—oh!”
Lillie and I turn in tandem to see Bianca hitting the bottom stair, her pink tufted leather duffel over her shoulder. Her dark hair is held back by a headband, her black dress pressed and falling halfway down her thighs. As usual, she looks perfectly put together.
“Bianca,” I say, surprised. I can’t, apparently, think of anything better to say to my best friend.
“Serena,” she responds, smiling—does it look forced? Or am I imagining it? When she turns to look at the front door, it tugs on the hair caught under the strap of her duffel bag. “Sorry—I was just on my way out?—”
“And she won’t tell us where she’s going!” Lillie singsongs, laughing maniacally before ducking back into the kitchen. “Good luck getting anything out of her, Serena!”
I raise my eyebrows at Bianca and try to smile normally at her. When was the last time I saw her in person? Just passing by in the hallway? Like this?
“Hey,” I say, dropping my volume and stepping closer. I try to read her face, to figure out what the hell is going on with her. “Is everything… okay?”
Bianca adjusts her bag and slides past me, toward the door. She toes on her Mary Janes and grabs at the handle. “Everything is fine. Sorry. Just busy. I’ll, uh, check my calendar! Like I said!”
And with that, she opens the door, slides out, and disappears into the gentle drizzle.
I move to the door, thinking to say something to her about grabbing her raincoat, but there’s a driver walking her out, holding a sleek black umbrella over her head before she tucks herself into the backseat of a large, dark gray SUV.
What the hell?
This must have something to do with her grandfather. The rich asshole who never makes her feel like she’s good enough. But why won’t she talk to me about it?
I bite my lip and watch the taillights disappear at the end of the street.
“So, any idea what the hell that was about?”
I jump, bringing my hand to my heart as I turn to face Georgia and Grayson, standing in the hallway together and looking out. Both mild-mannered and responsible, it hits me for the first time that the two of them would make a cute couple.
Now is not the time for matchmaking. I push those thoughts away and shake my head. “No. She’s like, locked up tight right now. She hasn’t really talked to me since I moved back in.”
“Hopefully her family isn’t being too hard on her,” Georgia says thoughtfully, tapping her fingers on the inside of her arm and looking past me to the dark, rainy street.
“I know what will cheer everyone up!” Lillie says, appearing in the hallway again. “Matcha brownies with dark chocolate ganache!”
We file into the kitchen and accept a square of fudgy, rich dessert from Lillie. As I chew, I try to focus on the flavor, on how it’s the perfect amount of sweetness. But I can’t stop myself from thinking about Bianca. Of her disappearing into the night.
“I’ve been working on this recipe for days,” Lillie says, “I just got my hands on ceremonial matcha. Is there a good depth of flavor?”
Flavor. Food. Sexy chef.
As though summoned by my thoughts of him, my phone buzzes in my pocket.
Ryan: What do you say? Come take pictures for me, Serena.
I stare at my phone for a moment as Lillie and Georgia argue over which flavor profile is better, matcha or chai. Then, after finishing the final bite of my brownie, I tap on my screen, answering Ryan.
Serena: fine, but i’m expecting my tip in the form of baked goods.