Chapter Sixteen
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
CALENDAR.GOOGLE.COM
FESTIVAL PHOTOSHOOT
8AM–9AM
It took two text messages from Ivy and a calendar alert to get Quinn out the door. She made the early call time despite monstrous traffic and a blooming migraine. She was running on little sleep, fuelled by strong black tea and a burning determination to forget Kya Reid. In the make-up chair, she blocked all intruding thoughts with earbuds. But a while later, when she caught sight of the glittery set, she couldn’t hold back a bitter laugh.
‘What’s wrong?’ Ivy asked, popping from out of nowhere. ‘Don’t you like it?’
Quinn had not expected Ivy to show up for the shoot, although marketing fell under her PR umbrella.
‘My girlfriend said I lived in a glitter-filled snow globe,’ Quinn said. ‘Looks like she was right.’
‘Excuse me,’ Ivy said. ‘Since when do you have a girlfriend?’
Quinn blamed the tea, picked up on the fly at Starbucks, and not nearly strong enough to get the job done. ‘Sorry. I don’t know why I said that. I meant a girl friend of mine .’
Ivy narrowed her blue eyes. ‘Kya?’
‘Yup.’ Quinn looked away. ‘She’s going to roast me when I tell her about all this glitter.’
Kya would have roasted her, for sure, if they were on speaking terms, which they were not .
The crew rolled a DJ deck onto the set. Someone handed Quinn a pair of glittery headsets to use as a prop. The photographer, known only as EJ, greeted her with a twinkle in his eye. ‘I once dated a DJ,’ he said. No hello or good morning.
‘Haven’t we all?’ Ivy replied on her behalf.
Quinn remained silent. Oh look! Another wanker she’d have to put up with.
‘Ready to sparkle?’ he asked.
‘Ready as ever,’ Ivy said.
Quinn did her best, but it was hard to sparkle when just the mention of Kya had her spiralling. She wasn’t one to hold a grudge. Kya had apologized, repeatedly, profusely, orally and in writing. Apology accepted. No hard feelings. Yet … was there any excuse for what she’d done? To sneak out like that, no note, no goodbye … and for no reason at all? Who does that? If Kya couldn’t deal, it was best to know this sooner than later. Anyway, she was headed back to California. There was no use dwelling on it.
When they took a break for an outfit change, Quinn retreated to the dressing room and rifled through her tote bag for the note stashed there. She read it carefully, for about the tenth time.
I like you a little too much, and it scares me.
‘How’s it going in there?’ Ivy asked from behind the curtained partition.
Quinn shoved the note back into her bag. ‘Tell EJ I’m not ready to sparkle yet.’
‘You’re good,’ she said. ‘He stepped out to take a call.’
Quinn drew back the curtain. She could use an extra pair of hands with her zippered corset.
‘Come in.’ Turning her back to Ivy, she brushed her hair out of the way. ‘Help me out of this.’
‘Couldn’t help but notice you were struggling to sparkle earlier,’ Ivy said, as she wrestled with the zipper.
Quinn shook her head. ‘Who even says stuff like that?’
‘Wannabes and posers,’ Ivy quipped. ‘EJ stands for Edward Jr. His daddy, Edward Senior, is a junior US senator from the great state of Florida. EJ went to Princeton.’
‘I’m not surprised.’
‘Seriously, though,’ Ivy said. ‘How are you feeling overall? Ready for Music Week?’
Freed from her latex corset, Quinn removed her second outfit from the garment bag. ‘Absolutely.’
‘Awesome!’
‘It’s just …’
‘Just … what?’
‘I’m curious what the competition is up to.’
‘There’s no competition!’ Ivy cried, instantly in hype mode. ‘You’re the queen.’
‘Thanks for saying that, but do you think they’ll photograph the boys covered in glitter?’
‘Probably not,’ Ivy conceded. ‘But who cares? You look good in glitter. Besides, the boys don’t have what you have.’
‘Which is what?’
‘I hate to say this, but you really do sparkle. You’re a star.’
‘Sweet of you to say, but the competition has talent. I’ve been listening to Angelo’s sets. He’s good.’
Angelo was a newcomer, like Quinn. Unlike her, the Italian DJ had produced music.
‘Want to hear him live?’ Ivy asked.
‘He’s in town? When did he get here?’
‘No idea,’ Ivy replied. ‘All I know is that he’s playing later today on a yacht, a cocktail party hosted by Mo?t & Chandon.’
‘Are you on the list?’ Quinn asked.
‘No.’
‘Ivy, it’s not a stag party. We can’t just show up.’
‘Why not?’
‘Because I’ve got a reputation … And so do you.’
‘Have you forgotten who I am?’ Ivy asked. ‘I know every bouncer, every doorman, every valet in Miami Beach.’
Quinn wiggled into a red dress. ‘And I’ve heard this speech a million times.’
‘What are you worried about? I promise I can get us in,’ Ivy said. ‘The question is: are you up for it?’
Quinn tugged the hem of her dress. ‘Sure.’
Why not give it a go? For old times’ sake, if nothing else. She longed for the days before they had reputations to protect. Life was simpler then.
How not to crash a party: show up dressed in black when the dress code called for white. With no chance of blending in, Quinn and Ivy shied away from the marina and sought refuge at a nearby raw bar.
Though they couldn’t get in, nothing stopped the music from wafting out. Angelo’s sound reached them at the table where they swapped stories and shared a basket of chips. Quinn preferred it this way. It was much better than lurking from a corner of a ballroom. Angelo’s choices of mellow tracks produced a sound far different from her own. He was good, but so was she. Quinn wondered what she’d been so worked up about.
I can do this , she thought.
What Quinn couldn’t do was sit quietly through another Ivy and Victor break-up story. Her friend shared what had prompted the latest fall-out at Blood Orange. ‘He thinks we should take a break.’
‘So do I, frankly,’ Quinn said.
‘Quinn!’ Ivy cried. ‘He wants to see other people.’
‘Let him,’ Quinn said firmly. ‘Aren’t you tired of this, Ivy?’
‘I am,’ she said. ‘But I was tired of being single before we met. I’m not sure I want to go back to that.’
Quinn reached out and touched her arm. ‘That’s not a reason, babes.’
‘We can’t all be you, Quinn.’
‘What does that mean?’
‘It means some of us get lonely sometimes!’
‘I get lonely, too!’
‘Yes, but …’
‘But what?’
‘Your music keeps you warm.’
Quinn rolled her eyes. Despite popular belief, her life wasn’t an ongoing parade. She had hard times and disappointments. She’d known heartache. But as an innocent bystander of the Ivy/Victor slow-moving car crash, she feared no one would come out alive.
‘That’s enough about Vic,’ Ivy said. ‘We never get to see each other and I don’t want to waste our time on him. I miss us. Hanging out, eating chips, talking crap. We used to do it all the time.’
‘I miss us, too,’ Quinn said. ‘I’m off carbs, though.’
Quinn promptly reached for a chip. That bit about being off carbs was a joke, but Ivy didn’t laugh.
‘I’ve been a bad friend,’ Ivy said.
Quinn shrugged. ‘It cuts both ways. I’ve been busy, too.’
‘There’s more to it than that.’
‘Doubt it.’
‘There’s something I need to tell you,’ Ivy said, chin raised. ‘You deserve to know the truth.’
What was she going on about?
‘Christ, Ivy, come out with it,’ Quinn said. ‘You’re freaking me out.’
‘Nick Lambert.’
‘What about him?’
‘He’s been pressuring me to hook him up.’
‘Hook him up with what?’
‘With you .’
‘Ah.’
‘The other night, all that confusion at Smoke, that’s what that was all about.’
‘This isn’t exactly news,’ Quinn said.
‘Why?’ Ivy asked sharply. ‘What did Kya tell you?’
Quinn went still. ‘What does Kya have to do with this?’
‘We had a chat Monday night,’ Ivy said. ‘She picked up on what was going on. She’s sharp.’
‘She is.’
‘And easy to talk to.’
‘I think so.’
‘And hot.’
Okay. That was enough. Quinn raised a hand. ‘Kya didn’t tell me anything. She’s not the type to gossip. I sized Nick up in seconds.’
They fell quiet for a while, then Ivy said. ‘Well, I’m the type to gossip, and I want to know. Is she the one?’
Quinn reached for another chip. ‘The one for what?’
‘The one for you .’
‘Absolutely not!’ Quinn scoffed, even as Kya’s note was burning a hole in her tote bag.
‘You’re not into her?’ Ivy asked.
‘No!’ Quinn cried.
‘No?’
‘No!’
‘Fine!’ Ivy tossed back. ‘No means no.’
‘About Nick,’ Quinn said. ‘Next time just tell me. I would’ve handled it. We don’t have to play these parlour games. We don’t live in Victorian times.’
‘I had my own dark motives for keeping quiet,’ Ivy said.
‘Which are?’ Quinn asked, her brows arching with surprise.
‘The man is connected.’
‘The man is a joke,’ Quinn said, dismissing this take on Nick Lambert.
‘True, but he has lots of influential friends. I didn’t want to piss him off.’
Ivy looked deflated, slumped in her seat, her shoulders rolled forward. Quinn couldn’t stomach it. ‘What’s the point of putting all this work in building businesses and reputations if we can’t piss off a random guy or two? Forget Nick! He’s a bore. In the short time we talked, I wasn’t sure if he wanted to date me or manage my career. I’m not interested in either option. And for the record, he’s not the only one with connections. Guess who else has loads of friends?’
‘Who?’ Ivy asked.
‘ You , you stupid idiot!’ Quinn cried. ‘You know every bouncer, every doorman—’
‘Shut up! I couldn’t even get you into this stupid party!’
Quinn piled more chips on her plate. ‘Trust. I’m never going to let you live this down.’
‘If it got you over your jitters, it will be worth it.’
‘What jitters?’ Quinn asked. ‘I wasn’t jittery. I was curious. It’s not wrong to scope out the competition.’
‘If you say so,’ Ivy said, unconvinced.
‘Okay! Fine!’ Quinn cried. ‘I had jitters. Happy?’
‘Why would that make me happy?’
‘I don’t know what got into me,’ Quinn went on. ‘I’m not that girl.’
‘Jitters are normal,’ Ivy said reassuringly. ‘You’re going to be fine.’
‘I don’t want to be fine. I want to be unforgettable.’
‘You already are,’ Ivy said. ‘If it took crashing a party for you to figure it out, I’m glad to do it. Anything for my only client.’
‘Wait … What?’ Did she hear that right? She couldn’t be Ivy’s only client.
Ivy averted her eyes, looking jittery herself. ‘It’s a long story. We’re going to need another round of drinks.’
‘No time,’ Quinn said. ‘It’s late. I’ve got to get going. You can tell me all about it on the ride home.’
‘Late?’ Ivy checked her gold watch. ‘It’s six thirty.’
That was late. Quinn ought to be in bed by now.
Then Ivy caught the date displayed on her watch. ‘Oh, my God! Tomorrow! I totally forgot. Big day for you. What’s the plan?’
‘I’ve got a sunrise set at Space.’
‘That’s it?’
‘That’s enough,’ Quinn said. ‘Let’s go.’