3. Corps de Bordeaux
“ P retentious-looking thing, huh?” Brylie inspects the ring, a gold band with an I-have-no-idea-what-carat boulder sits on my finger.
“Ugh,” I groan, snatching my hand back and turning the ring so the diamond faces my palm.
Brylie has her thinking face on while Lucy worries the feathers on her tutu from the Swan Lake corps de ballet she and Brylie wore to match my bodice.
For the after-party, I freshened up and changed into something more comfortable and less sweaty, while still matching the masquerade theme.
Now I’m in satin ballet flats, the white swan feathered bodice without the leotard, and my Giselle romantic tutu.
A white-veiled feather crown pins back half of my hair with the rest tamed in loose barrel curls that fall over my shoulders.
I would’ve felt pretty, but ever since Momma showed up, I might as well be a Troll doll. At least if I decide to dramatically cry from rage or pity, my feather mask will hide my tears.
Brylie shrugs. “Take it off. It’s not like he’ll notice. He’s barely talked to you all night.”
I wince. “It sucks that you’re right.”
Lucy analyzes me in that curious way she has of reading people like a book, right down to the last page. Which is a relief at the moment because I don’t want to have to spell out the confusing mix of emotions inside me.
“You’re spiraling, huh?” she finally asks. “That’s why you’re in the darkest corner of Masque?”
“Yup, I’m spiraling.” I wrap my arms around my stomach, where fear, anxiety, and regret churn like a hangover from hell.
“And I don’t blame you!” Brylie whisper-shouts around her drink cup. “That was like proposing at someone else’s wedding.”
“Not helping, Bry,” Lucy scolds.
“I know, okay?” I answer anyway. “I feel awful about that too.”
“ You shouldn’t feel bad,” Lucy insists. “It’s his fault.”
She glares at the back of Zy’s head while he probably brags about how he came up with the idea to sabotage Bon Temps Night.
I mean… propose.
“I bet he did it to corner you into saying yes,” Brylie spits. “He’s even telling people this is your engagement party. He made tacky flyers and everything.”
She points to the black and gold invitations on a nearby table, save-the-dates I never agreed to.
I snort. “I appreciate the enthusiasm, Bry, but not everyone is a villain.”
A strobe light flickers over her scowl. “They are in my book. At least until they prove they’re the hero.”
Lucy shakes her head. “In my books, Zy is as white knight as they come.” Her nose wrinkles. “I’m partial to the villain myself.”
“Really, Loose?” Benoit melts out of the shadows, resting his arms over our shoulders. “I would’ve expected you to fangirl over the blond romantasy prince.”
“They’re always the real bad guys!” Lucy scoffs. “I thought you said y’all read my books. That’s romantasy 101!”
“Eh, maybe I just skim to the spicy parts. Nox is the one who actually likes them.” Benoit’s smirk grows as he slips her drink from her hand and downs it in one fluid motion.
“Benny!”
“I take my shadow responsibilities very seriously, and you know the rules. No underage drinking in Uncle Jaime’s bar.” He points to the man who’s been in our lives since before we were born.
Jaime took over Masque when Madam G passed, and suddenly, our fun uncle became a stickler for the rules.
Now he crosses his arms, wearing a raised “don’t try me” brow.
Lucy pouts back, hands on her hips. She’s much sassier with a liquor coat on, but Jaime takes her threatening posture for what it is—adorable—and grins back.
She huffs and drops her bravado. “Okay. Y’all are rude, but whatever. I’m gonna go dance.” Grabbing Benoit and Brylie, she drags them to the dance floor. They’d probably go willingly, but she’s too annoyed to give any of us an option. “C’mon, Luna!”
“In a minute, I should talk to my boyfriend.”
“Fiancé, you mean?” Brylie grimaces, then salutes. “Godspeed.”
I automatically salute back. Godspeed, indeed.
Despite my resolve to confront Zy and my messy emotions, I slip deeper into the darkness to gather my courage.
Everyone from the auditorium has packed into Masque.
Jaime outdid himself, decorating the speakeasy like an idyllic forest lake with classical ballet songs playing between mainstream dance tracks.
The floor shimmers beneath my friends’ feet as Benoit twirls them around.
Blue strobe lights flash over Bry’s and Lucy’s white feathered costumes, their arms elongating like wings splashing water.
They’re lost in a pas de trois until two guys in light blue and gold masks spin the girls away into a waltz, leaving Benoit to eagerly head back to the bar.
All around, vines and flowers hang from the ceiling, hiding me from well-wishers and anyone I pissed off by taking their shine tonight. Only my friends know I’m in turmoil.
Is it bad to break up with a guy on your birthday?
If not, it’s definitely a faux pas at your “engagement party.” But tonight was my personal ultimatum, and, considering that peck on my cheek after proposing out of the blue, I’m more certain than ever that there’s no spark. Nothing like my last birthday.
Warm hands grip my thighs like he needs me, opening and spreading me around his hips as he holds me up, our masks keeping us anonymous, letting me just be me. His soul-destroying kiss brings me to the brink as he grinds into me, then ? —
He vanished like a ghost.
“The nerve,” I growl, then snap my hands to my sides when I catch my fingertips tracing my lips. The guy had to be a tourist, because I never saw the clit tease again, and if I ever do, I swear I’ll knee him straight in the balls. Right after he finally gets the job done, obviously.
I sigh.
Yup. More passion during fifteen minutes with a stranger than in six months with the ever-respectful Zy. Before tonight, I would’ve even sworn he liked someone else.
“Now what am I supposed to do?” I mutter.
“Didn’t see this one coming, huh, Madam Boudoir?” Nox jokes as he strides up to me. “Oh, that’s right, you were a fake medium before you were arrested for swindling people. But hey, at least you got a thigh tattoo out of it, right?”
There’s an edge in his words, sounding just as conflicted as me.
“Like you have room to talk,” I try to taunt back. “You were arrested right along with the rest of us.”
“Except Lucy. We gotta learn to listen when she says to run. Our records would be a lot shorter.”
We laugh halfheartedly, his temper heating his golden eyes. I wait for him to break the ice. He’s almost as good as I am at avoiding emotions, but he never lasts as long.
“So, you really had no idea he was going to propose?”
“Of course, I didn’t,” I snap. “Did you?”
His brow lifts. “You think Dad or I would’ve okay’d that? I know Dad likes the Thrashers, but I don’t buy his white knight act for a second. And Dad only likes him?—”
“Because I don’t like him,” I groan. “I know.”
“Well, consider that goodwill gone.” Dad approaches with Momma on his arm.
He wears all black but for an owl mask and a skeleton ribcage costume beneath his cape. Momma’s bronze and navy gown sparkles under the twinkling lights and matches the feathers pinned into her updo. She’s stunning, and once again, she’s the moon and I’m a mere shadow in her orbit.
It’s not just her looks, though. She’s self-assured in ways I’ll never be, and graceful, like the spotlight’s always on her. If I’m not en pointe, I’ve got all the confidence and finesse of a baby bird falling out of a nest. There’s no way I’ll fly if I keep getting lost in the moon.
I blink that depressing thought away and try to grin at them. But they greet me with stiff postures and hardened expressions, and I highly doubt their Swan Lake costumes are to blame.
Like Nox, they’re clearly gearing up for a heart-to-heart. That’s the last thing I want when I’m happily wallowing alone. After years of practiced avoidance, playing it off is my go-to defense mechanism to keep myself from combusting.
As soon as they leave, I’m doing it. That’s my deadline. We chat, laugh, avoid, then I break up with my ‘fiancé.’
Momma lets go of Dad to take my hand. “Do you know what made him propose? And so publicly? I knew you liked him, but… not enough, right?”
“No, not enough. He’s so… blah ,” I sigh, then smirk wickedly. “Why can’t guys be like they were back in your day when kidnapping was all the rage?”
The unscarred side of Dad’s face scowls to a comical degree. “This isn’t a joke, Luna.”
Momma plants her hands on her hips. “And that was absolutely a ‘do as I say, not as I do’ situation, young lady. You’re incorrigible.”
“I prefer sassy, but toe-may-toe, toe-mah-toe, and all that.”
Try as I might to keep the banter as just that, my stomach twists.
The joke is one of those that’s laced with truth.
As much as I want out of my parents’ shadows, I’ve seen how they look at each other, filled with love, compassion, and something deeper.
Their souls are forever entwined in a pas de deux, a dance so seamless one can’t move without the other.
Compared to that, Zy and I might as well be strangers.
Momma takes my hand again and pats it like she can read my mind. “We’ll figure this out, okay?”
“She’s right,” Dad agrees. “As soon as the festivities are over?—”
“As soon as the festivities are over ?” I yelp, panic thrumming through me, all pretenses gone as I cross my arms. “Screw the ‘festivities.’ How about right now? What’s going on? And why were you in box six while I was stuck center stage having my life ruined under a spotlight?”
“I had a meeting concerning Troisgarde matters.” His lips thin. “The details of which you’ve refused to participate in.”
I open my mouth to argue, but nothing comes out. Dad continues in my silence.
“I’ve respected that decision, ma luné . However, that means tonight’s not the night to delve into those details. What I’ll say is this engagement couldn’t have come at a better time. Celebrate tonight. Come dawn, I’ll explain everything.”
He’s right, and it’s my fault. I’ve always played the rebellious ringleader, but that impulsive, devil-may-care attitude has gotten me helicopter parents who treat me like I’m fragile the moment things go sideways. To them, I’m the baby of the family, and not just by seven minutes.
So I do what I’m best at, apparently. I throw a tantrum like a child.
“Screw that. I promised myself I wouldn’t celebrate my birthday with someone who doesn’t care about me. I’m telling him tonight.”
“No. You’re not,” Dad says firmly. “You could’ve avoided this if you’d have let me ship you off to Italy like the Lucianos offered.”
“I wasn’t going to miss my showcase! This was my last dance with my friends.”
He raises his hand, calming me, but just barely. “Since you didn’t leave, you’ll have to play the part tonight. I don’t want to ruin your night, ma luné , but you have to trust me.”
“But—”
“No buts. I’ll explain tomorrow. Tonight, try to have fun, okay?”
I scowl, confused, hurt, and angry. But I finally bite out through gritted teeth. “Fine.”
He nods, then kisses my mom’s temple, lips brushing her soft, black curls. “Come, ma muse . Let’s get you a Cinderella drink.”
Momma squeezes my hand. “Stay close tonight. Don’t worry. We’ll sort this out.”
They turn before I can answer, so I glare into my empty cup instead.
He hasn’t even gotten me a drink.
“Hey, you know I got your back, right?” Nox asks, reminding me he’s still here.
I nod and initiate a side hug that bumps our cups together.
“Enough about me. Go. Have fun. Your birthday’s almost over, and there’s no reason both Bordeaux twins should sulk.”
“True. And it’s not a good look on you.” He smirks and lifts his cup. I hide my smile, pretending to sip as he realizes he’s coming up empty.
“You brat,” he snaps with sibling outrage. “Give me back my drink!”
Spinning out of his grasp, I down his gross vodka, enduring the taste before shrugging. “Whoops! All gone. You snooze, you lose, twinny.”
“Jesus, remind me to never feel sorry for you again.”
“Fine by me. Go dance with your adoring fans, manwhore.”
“Fine by me, little sis.” He smirks, then slides into his patented “In-Nox-icating” smolder and scans the crowd. Benoit nicknamed that look as a joke, but Nox ran with it. Unfortunately.
A gaggle of Conservatory girls spot him instantly. He skipped a mask so they’d know exactly who he is.
I follow a few steps behind him, but now that my family is gone, I’m back on edge. The stares have returned, stronger than before. I swear it’s from one particular direction, though.
Behind me?
I pivot slightly on the ball of one foot to squint at the dark corner I emerged from. Heat flares up my neck, my heart thumps in exhilaration, but… there’s nothing there.
My breath leaves on a huff. “Weird.”
“What’s weird?”
I yelp, spinning around to find Zy and his two cousins flanking him.