Chapter 19
Beauty in the Broken
Paisley
My body gets carried away by two emotions: tingling joy and a heart racing with uncertainty.
I shower longer than necessary and take even more time drying my hair.
But the more time I take, the more nervous I get.
So I put the hair dryer to the side, shake out my hair, and take a deep breath before going back to the living room.
Knox is lying on the couch playing with his phone. Hearing my steps, he looks up. “Weird.”
“What’s weird?”
“I was positive you’d been swallowed up by the drain.”
“Ha, ha,” I say, sitting down at the other end of the couch and digging my toes beneath a cushion. “Do we wanna get started?”
“Yeah. I just need your help for a sec.” Knox sits up and hops over to me. He gives me his phone. “How does he do these polls?”
He’s referring to the snowboarder Jason Hawk, his face and wide smile staring back at me from the whole flood of images of his Instagram posts.
“He’s terrible,” I say.
“Right?” Knox scrolls through the photos before stopping on a particularly terrible one showing Jason with a trophy and flashing that smile. I can see his molars. “His mouth is huge. Like Cheshire Cat in Alice in Wonderland.”
I nod. “What kind of poll are you talking about?”
“Wait.” Knox clicks on Jason’s profile image and his story covers the phone. In the background, I see him midjump, in the foreground the poll button. The question: Who thinks I’m going to stomp @knox-winterbottom into the ground at the X Games?
Possible replies: Me and You know it!
“Oh, wow. What an ass face.”
Knox grunts. “I don’t really give a shit. But my dad just called and naturally is of the opinion that we can’t let something like this stand. Now I have to write something, and I have no idea how it works.”
“Seriously? You’re a star snowboarder, you’ve got…” I hit the back button and look at his own profile, “seven hundred thousand followers, and you don’t know how to do a poll?”
He pouts. “Help me.”
I laugh. “Okay. Take a photo from your own gallery or just take a new one. Wait a sec.” Our faces appear on the display as I switch camera positions.
I change the angle so that only half of my face is visible next to his and scowl.
The moment I push the button, Knox looks at me and laughs.
It’s…a cute photo. Even if I hardly recognize myself. “Right, and now…”
“Wait.” Knox reaches for my hand before I cover the photo with a sticker. My heart plummets three floors down. He clears his throat, takes his phone, and turns it away from me. Then he gives it back.
“What did you do?”
He ignores my question. “So, how does this poll thing work?”
“Here, look. You see? These are stickers. You click on them and find one you like.”
“Okay, cool.” Once again he takes his phone back, clicks on the poll, and types: Who takes their big mouth too far? Answers: Jason Hawk and The Cheshire Cat.
Men.
We spend the trip downtown in silence, an embarrassing one that I try to break here and there with questions about tomorrow night’s event.
It turns out that there are going to be a few of his sponsors, so, all in all, some fairly big fish.
Knox asks me whether I know what I would like to serve already.
When I reply that, in fact, I have no idea, he recommends a pot roast. “Those guys love that stuff. Especially Big Po.”
“Big Po?” Whenever I think of sponsors, I get the image of serious men in serious suits. Big Po sounds more like some big high-school football player. “Do I really need a dress when the guests have names like Big Po?”
Knox laughs. “That’s not really his name.”
Nooo, really?
“His real name is Dr. Edward Hansing.”
“Which would naturally lead one to think Big Po, I mean, of course.”
“He’s an insider.” He stops on a side street by the bell tower. William is right in the middle of having a lively discussion with a street musician. “Po stands for potato, actually.”
“Do I need to know what Dr. Edward Hansing and potatoes have in common?”
Knox grins. “I don’t think so.”
We get out, and Knox moves around his car to me. In the glow of the iron streetlamps, I see the snow whirl around him, a single flake landing on his cheek. He wipes it away and smiles. I catch myself wanting to reach out and caress his dimples. The thought frightens me.
“We’ve got to motor a bit,” Knox says with a glance at the big clock on the bell tower. “The shops are closing.”
“But that’s just nuts, William,” we hear the musician saying as we walk past. “You can’t mean that at all seriously.”
“It’s in the municipal code,” William responds severely. “It has been in the municipal code for years, and for years street musicians have respected it.”
“But I am the only street musician in Aspen.”
William shakes his head in exasperation. Then he notices us. “Knox, how nice. Could you please tell Vaughn that he needs to respect the municipal code?”
“What’s up?”
A deep sigh breaks from the musician as he leans against his guitar case with his underarm.
“I was singing Christmas songs. William, however, is of the view that that is only allowed from the twentieth of December onward. Any sooner,” he made quotation marks in the air, “and the municipal code forbids it.”
“Oh, Will,” Knox says. “Really? Right now?”
William seems enraged. “The ordinance…”
“It’s not even official.” Knox rubs his temples and shuts his eyes. “We’ve been having this conversation forever. It is simply a piece of writing that you’ve drawn up.”
“And the inhabitants of this town are thankful to me for it!”
I doubt that. And the way Knox smiles at William’s words leads me to believe I’m right. He looks at the street musician apologetically. “Keep on playing your Christmas tunes, Vaughn. It’s the middle of December. It’s totally fine.”
William looks like he’s about to explode. It takes all I’ve got to keep a neutral expression. The way this little thing has totally unnerved him is just too funny.
He points at Knox then at Vaughn. “We’re going to have a word about this at the next city council meeting.”
Knox rolls his eyes. “Whatever, Will.”
We move on, and for the second time since arriving in Aspen, I am introduced to the exquisite side of this little town.
“This is where, above all, the tourists go shopping,” Knox says.
I look at the elegant clothing in the shop windows and am amazed as one designer outfit after another catches my eye. “There’s no way we can buy anything here,” I say. “It’s all far too expensive!”
He shrugs and waves me to follow him across the street. “Look at it as your work uniform.”
I follow him to a store with Valentino written above the entrance. “Sure. My work uniform for over a thousand dollars?”
“Will it make you feel any better to know that Dad can take it off his taxes?”
“A little.”
“Good. Then let’s go.”
We step inside and it’s like I’m no longer in Aspen.
Everything looks so different! No rustic wooden floor, no fire going in a fireplace.
It’s as if the town had two sides. And I have to admit that I prefer the magical winter wonderland with its cute little cafés, comfortable restaurants, and small decorated streets where everyone knows each other.
Seeing as we don’t have much time left, I need to find a dress here, but I have my doubts after trying on the first one.
The saleswoman has me try on various cuts and colors she thinks match my eyes, but I’m not enthused about any of them.
Not because they aren’t nice, but because they simply aren’t me.
The version of me in one of these expensive things… just isn’t me.
I come out of the fitting room with two more dresses, shaking my head. The saleswoman purses her lips but doesn’t say anything when taking them back and hurrying off.
With a sigh, Knox gets up from the velvet-covered stool. “It’s just for one evening, okay? Afterward, you can burn the thing for all I care.”
“I know. It’s just…” I lean my head against the fitting room wall. “No idea. It’s just weird.”
“I get it.” His voice sounds sincere. I think he truly understands me. “But give it a shot, can you? You can pretend it’s not real. A role play, just for one evening.”
I smile faintly. “Well, okay.”
The saleswoman returns. A strand of hair has come loose from her ponytail. She looks hopeless as she holds up another dress. “This is the last one in your size.”
With a thankful smile I take it and disappear into the fitting room.
It’s a black dress that goes to just above my knees, the fabric is decorated with pearls and sequined fringes.
I like the V cut, it shows off my collarbone, and, interestingly enough, that’s the part of me I like the most. Through the chiffon shift, my body will be covered at all the right places and, I’ve got to admit, I like the dress.
With a somewhat unsure smile, I come back out.
Knox looks up from his paper. I can see him swallow.
His glance wanders from my face across my body, and his lips part for a fraction of a second before he catches himself.
“Okay,” he says slowly, rubbing his thighs.
“I was just about to say something, but, ummm, sorry… You look so beautiful that I forgot.”
My smile grows wider. “I’ll take it.”
For a while we walk through the streets of Aspen in silence. I am happy that Knox is carrying the black Valentino bag that has my new dress. Somehow, I would have felt uncomfortable with it, and I think Knox knows it.
Having left the area of the expensive shops behind us, next to Abercrombie & Fitch I see two women pointing at us and squeaking.
Or rather, at Knox. I elbow him in the side to draw his attention to his fans but by then they’re already falling all over him.
They keep on grabbing him everywhere, all the while repeating how he looks even better “in real life.”
“I saw you at the show,” one young woman wearing a red parka and a pink scarf announces.
Her friend wearing teal blue from head to toe agrees enthusiastically. “You were fantastic. And your attitude…really sexy.”
His attitude? That makes me laugh—I’ve seen so much more of his attitude than these women ever will.
I cast Knox a sidelong glance. His smile looks tense, but I don’t think the women notice.
Then I get an idea. “We should get going, Knox,” I say. “You know, Jason’s party…”
“Jason Hawk?” the woman in red and pink squeals while from her friend comes an awestruck “Oh, my God.”
Knox shoots me a genuine you serious? look. I smile and shrug.
“We didn’t want to bother you,” one of them says. “It’s just that seeing you was really rad. Wow.”
They both look starstruck as Knox says a polite but firm goodbye, and I am relieved once we’re finally past them.
Knox exhales. “As if I would ever go to one of that idiot’s parties. You’re incredible, Paisley.”
“I know.”
His phone buzzes. He looks at the display and rolls his eyes before taking the call.
“What’s up? Ah ha. Yeah, beforehand.” He pauses a moment, then, “No! Which magazine? Fine, Jennet, then tell the Mirror they won’t get any statement.
” Knox presses his lips together. “I don’t care that there’s room for speculation.
You’re my spokesperson and you tell them in no uncertain terms that I am not going to make any statement about that. Yeah, right. Yeah. See you.”
“Everything okay?”
“Yeah. The story earlier, the one with our picture…the press wants to know who you are.”
“Oh.” I look at him. “Please don’t tell them.”
His eyes grow wide. “Of course not. My private life has nothing to do with anyone else.”
“Isn’t it tough, being in the public eye all the time?”
Knox nods. “That’s why I often need peace and quiet. Like now.”
“Oh,” I say again. I sound like an idiot. “Should I leave you alone?”
He shakes his head. “You’ve misunderstood. I mean, being with you right now is…really nice.”
I begin to tingle. “Thanks.”
Knox nods toward a narrow path leading to Buttermilk Mountain. “Come on. I want to show you something.”
He leads me to a barn that is off the beaten track between the town and the mountains. It’s dark out here, so Knox turns on the light on his phone as he lifts up the door’s heavy iron bar.
“Why isn’t it locked?” I ask.
Knox laughs. “No one in Aspen steals horses, Paisley.”
The smell of hay and dung fills my nose as we step into the stable. I can’t believe my eyes. “That’s Sally!” I point at the spotted Irish Cob in the back box before turning to Knox. “Are these the carriage horses?”
He closes the door. Dust whirls up from the floor.
The light from his phone only lights up half of his face, the other remains in shadow. “Yeah. They belong to William.”
“I love horses,” I whisper. The wood beneath my feet creaks as I walk up to a Haflinger rubbing its head along the beam of its box. I softly run my fingers through its mane. “They are so pure.”
I hear a rustling. Turning around, I see that Knox has laid down in the big pile of hay by the door. The Valentino bag next to him just doesn’t fit.
“I’m tired,” Knox mumbles in a voice that’s both sleepy and throaty. I get goose bumps.
“Me too. And cold.”
In the light of his phone I can see his eyelids growing heavy. He pats his hand at a place in the hay next to him. “Then come on over here. The hay’s warm.”
I hesitate. “You still have to show me all the different kinds of champagne and how to pour them properly.”
“We’ll do it tomorrow. Come here.”
I continue to hesitate, but now I don’t have any more excuses. I slowly make my way over to the pile of hay, as though it were a ticking time bomb.
Knox grins. “I don’t bite. If you want, I can separate our two piles.”
“It’s fine.” The hay rustles when I lie down next to him. It’s warmer here.
“Wow,” he mutters. “Now you look like Baymax playing a tin soldier.”
I turn my head. “What?”
“Nothing.”
I don’t know how long we lie there, but at some point Knox’s breathing becomes heavier. For a while, I listen to him and the breath of the horses until my eyes can no longer stay open either.
My last thought before falling asleep is that I haven’t felt as comfortable as I do now in weeks.