Chapter 17
‘I don’t want to rip the beautiful dress.’
Phoebe was standing tentatively on the final step of the fire escape as Gabriella and Luca watched her from below.
It was a bit of a leap to the concrete ground of the alleyway but not unsurmountable.
Although Gabriella’s experience with getaways of this nature were vaster than her niece’s.
And the way Luca had slid with confidence across the ironwork as they made their way, she was guessing this wasn’t his first rodeo either. Somewhat intriguing.
‘You’re not going to rip the dress, Phoebe,’ Gabriella called to her.
‘Hey,’ Luca said next. ‘And if you rip the dress it’s OK. I can fix it.’
‘Don’t say that,’ Gabriella said in a lower tone.
‘What?’
‘Well, you know, I can’t fix things like that in the future, so a positive affirmation that nothing will happen to the dress is better than positively encouraging the possibility of ripping.’
Luca stared at her like what she had said was either in a foreign tongue or unintelligible for another reason. And then he spoke. ‘What the fuck?’
‘What?’ Gabriella said, shrugging. ‘I don’t have needlework skills and I’m pretty sure my stylist is not supposed to judge me.’
‘I’m pretty sure I’ve never heard anyone describe a potential accident like a misdemeanour liable for punishment.’
‘I didn’t say that.’ She swallowed. Had she?
If she had it was the years and years living with her parents where every mistake or accidental incident was treated like failure, followed up with isolation and excommunication until a deep apology was given or enough time had passed to grant re-entrance into familial patterns.
Luca took a step closer to the bottom of the metal stairs and held his arms out. ‘So, Phoebe, just sit on the bottom step there and jump. I’ll catch you.’
‘I don’t know,’ Phoebe said, teeth chattering with cold or nervousness or possibly both. ‘What if I slip and—’
‘You’re not going to hurt yourself,’ Luca reassured.
‘It’s OK, Phoebe,’ Gabriella said. ‘If he doesn’t catch you, I will.’
‘I was going to say… what if I slip and the dress tears?’
‘OK,’ Luca said, grabbing the metalwork with one hand and hanging from it like a much finer dressed version of a scaffolder or, maybe, Tarzan. He reached for Phoebe. ‘The dress is just a dress at the end of the day. You are more important. Come to me. I got you.’
All Gabriella could do was watch as Phoebe listened, did as instructed and somehow, through some kind of limb logistics that should not have been able to work, clung to Luca’s free arm allowing them both to drop safely down to the ground.
‘OK?’ Luca asked Phoebe. ‘In one piece?’
Gabriella watched Phoebe looking around at every aspect of the skirt of the dress. This was a behaviour brought on by Monica Felix’s life attitude. Carelessness was a cardinal sin in her opinion.
‘I think everything is good,’ Phoebe told him, happily.
‘Great,’ Luca answered. ‘Everything is great then. So, let’s go.’
‘And where exactly are we going?’ Gabriella asked.
‘To see a friend of mine.’
‘That tells me nothing.’
‘To arrange some alternative styling.’
‘Alternative? What does that mean?’
He smiled, walking backwards and heading to the exit of the alley. ‘Here’s the really fun answer to that,’ he whispered, rather darkly. ‘I have no idea!’
Gabriella frowned as he turned around and headed off. Who was this guy? Then Phoebe took hold of her arm.
‘He’s funny, isn’t he?’ Phoebe smiled. ‘I like him.’