I winced. But even I had to admit, I’d been furious when he’d hit on her at my house. It didn’t really make sense. That was what Connor did. That was what I did, what we did together. But couldn’t he see that Ana was different?
“Sorry again about that,” I lamely offered. She nodded. “Connor and I go way back.”
“You mentioned.”
A couple of people entered the restaurant and sat down at the table right next to us. I shifted in my seat, angling my profile away with my brim down low. Tense, I waited, but they began chatting together, oblivious to my presence. I exhaled the breath I hadn’t realized I was holding.
“Is it worth all of this?” she asked.
“Sorry, what?” I’d become so engrossed in sussing out whether we’d been discovered, I’d nearly forgotten where I was and who I was with.
“Your fame? Is it worth it? I mean, people hide in trash bins and pop out at you to get a good candid photo of you. That’s got to feel awful.”
She was right. It did. I just hadn’t talked to anyone outside the fishbowl in so long I’d almost forgotten that I was in one.
And I’d brought her into it, set her down right in the middle of the muck and invited everyone to come and see. Sweet Ana the children’s librarian, who now had headlines making fun of her in her big coat and my buddy-old-pal Connor asking her to suck his dick.
“Paris,” I said, without thinking it through first. I did some of my best thinking without thinking at all.
“What?”
“I want to take you to Paris,” I repeated. The cobblestone streets and gas lamps, the tiny bistros and chocolatiers and cafes. The city of romance, with a million shadowy, hidden spots where we could tuck ourselves away. “Have you ever been?”
“No, I’ve never been to Europe. We have family in Russia and my parents have talked a lot about heading there one day, but it’s a really expensive trip.”
“We can go to Russia next.”
“Next?” Now she looked confused, and she was right. There wouldn’t be a next. So, I’d focus on the now.
“So, Paris. What do you say?”
“Don’t you have a show on New Year’s Eve in Vegas? Paris isn’t on our PR itinerary.”
“Plenty of time,” I assured her. “We can fly there red-eye on the 26th. That’ll give us four days before we have to fly back.”
A smile snuck across her lovely face, her eyes lighting up. “Really? Paris?”
“Paris.”
“I mean, Paris!”
“You’ll love it.”
“Let’s go!”
My phone rang, breaking the moment. Lola. She always flipped out if I didn’t pick up, and she usually made it quick. “Sorry, I should take this.” I turned away from Ana as Lola shouted into my ear, thrilled. My biggest sponsor had re-entered the fray, agreeing once again to back my show in Vegas.
“This girl is priceless!” Lola yelled into my ear. I had to agree, though probably not for the same reasons. “I can’t wait for her to dump you! That’s going to shoot you over the moon.”
“Yeah.” Significantly less enthusiasm from me about that future development.
I ended the call and we ended our meal, but I wasn’t ready for the night to end yet. Thankfully, Ana didn’t seem ready, either. We stood together in entrance of the restaurant, neither of us taking the plunge into the frigid December evening air.
“So what’s this about your roommate’s show tonight?” I asked.
“Oh, I’m not sure about that.” She shook her head. “She does performance art? Or live installations? I’m not exactly sure what to call them.”
“Sounds intriguing.”
She looked at me with a mixture of amusement and trepidation. “The last show, Liv had this huge cut of beef on a table. She slowly cut it, paper thin, then stitched the pieces together into a shirt.”
I nodded. OK, then.
“And she was naked.”
“Let’s go see what she has planned for tonight!”
Ana shook her head with a light laugh, wrapping her scarf around her neck. She pulled her chestnut hair out so it fell in loose waves. I could picture it fanned out on a pillow as she lay on my bed. Down, boy.
This woman had me so worked up. I’d had my dick in my hands more in the past week than I had over the past year. I was always a horny bastard, but I usually just turned to whatever wet, willing pussy was right next to me. But this time, only Ana would do. But she was the one I’d legally bound myself to not have. How was that for a great joke?
“Are you sure you want to go?” Ana asked. “I mean, I kind of have to go, because Liv’s my roommate. But you don’t have to.” She looked up at me as if she truly couldn’t believe I was sincere. I had to agree. A week ago I would not have been going to an art student’s live performance show in Brooklyn. But now, I couldn’t think of anywhere I’d rather be. It was with Ana.
“Absolutely.” I linked my arm through hers and we set out into the streets. The Pratt Institute was only a couple of blocks away, and her roommate had reserved an underground space next to it until midnight. I couldn’t remember the last time I’d just walked around city streets incognito, but it seemed like we hadn’t been spotted. It could have something to do with not being at a VIP club or a celebrity-studded after-party or all the other places I usually went with other famous musicians and models and actors. Guess I had been living in a bit of a bubble.
I was out of it now. We pulled open a graffiti-strewn metal door, the kind that seemed like it should be sealing off a walk-in freezer. Down a narrow stairwell, we descended into a dimly lit maze of hallways perfectly suited to a horror movie. The only sounds were an ominously loud drip from a leaky pipe and a buzz from a malfunctioning light bulb.
“Are you sure this is the right place?” I had to ask.
“It’s where she did it last time,” Ana confirmed. “She said she wants viewers to feel unsettled.”
“Job well done,” I commended her. Ana led us down to an unmarked door and opened it.
Inside, the room was brightly lit, the walls stark white. The only furnishing was a table. On it, her roommate, Liv, sat buck naked. Directly behind her on the wall, spraypainted in black, were the words “DON’T LOOK AT ME.” Liv sat there glaring at us.
A few other people stood near us in what I guessed was the viewing area. So we all could not look at her?
“OK.” Ana exhaled, holding my hand.
“I’m confused,” I murmured to her. She nodded in agreement. “Do we talk to her?”
“No, I don’t think we’re supposed to,” she whispered.
“Are we supposed to look at her?” Ana shrugged, and I could tell she was suppressing a nervous laugh. “Do you get what she’s doing?”
She leaned in close to me, her hand on my chest. I liked the feel of it there, light yet warm.
She whispered in my ear, “I have no clue.” Now I had to suppress a laugh. “I know she wants people to come here and see this so let me just give her a little shout out and then we can go.” Before I knew was she was doing, she held out her camera, snapped a quick photo of her roommate and then pressed the infamous button “post.”
“Did you just post that photo online?” I asked, too late.
“Yes, why?”
“Where?”
“Just Facebook. It’s not like I have that many friends.” She apologized, sensing my alarm.
“And you probably haven’t disabled the GPS in your camera phone.”