Once on the slopes, Sergio starts to wonder if yesterday was all a dream. No one has any recollection of the events of yesterday as he seems to. But he does remember taking pictures, documenting the whole day. Most notably, he had snapped a few shots of himself and Adrien from the chairlift he finds himself perched on beside his brother again right now. He pulls his GoPro out of his pocket, sure that he’ll find photographic evidence of the existence of yesterday in the camera’s memory bank.
“What the fuck,” he mutters as he flips through the photos, finding no trace of the previous day’s activities.Did someone erase them?
“What the fuck, what?” Adrien asks, sounding exhausted. “You’ve been weird all day.”
Sergio starts shaking his camera as if, like a magic eight ball, the photos will appear to tell him his fate. “The photos I took yesterday! Where the fuck are they?”
“They’re on your work camera, the EOS. Not your GoPro. Why would you even think you could find them there?”
“Not the fashion shoot from two days ago!” Sergio says, frustrated. “The ones I took of you yesterday from this lift while we were skiing.”
“Sergio, what are you talking about? We didn’t go skiing yesterday.”
“Yes, we did!”
“No, we didn’t!”
“We did!” Sergio shouts, his voice escalating louder and louder the longer this conversation goes on. The two teenagers in the chairlift in front of them turn and look at Sergio like he has two heads. He flips them off, but they continue to stare and watch the show, whispering to each other.
“Sergio,” Adrien says gently, and grabs the camera from Sergio’s shaking hands, then places it in his coat pocket for safekeeping. Which is a smart call, considering Sergio is two seconds away from throwing it into the trees. “We didn’t go skiing yesterday. We woke up, we did the Dior photoshoot, we hopped on a plane, and we came here. Holden and Henry picked us up, we had dinner, you insulted Jeremy, and we all went to bed. Are you having some kind of mental mind snap I need to know about?”
“Pfft. As if you’d care even if I did. You quit on me yesterday.”
Adrien shifts in his seat uncomfortably. “I didn’t quit on you yesterday.”
“That’s funny because I distinctly remember you quitting right here, sitting beside me on this fucking chairlift like you are right now.”
Adrien shifts again. “Sergio, I didn’t quit … not yet, at least.”
Sergio whips his head around and looks directly at his brother beside him. “You’re still quitting?”
Adrien holds his hands up in defense in front of his shoulders. “Still? Sergio, I haven’t had a chance to talk to you about that yet and given your”—he gestures his hands in opposite circles at Sergio— “stateright now, this isn’t the time to have this conversation.”
“So, youarequitting?” Sergio asks again as the chairlift drops them off at the top of the slope.
“Look, Sergio,” Adrien says, skiing to a stop and taking a deep breath. “I don’t want anything to ever come between us. Which is why I have to quit working for you.”
“Fine. Whatever, asshole,” Sergio says and propels himself forward to ski down the mountain and away from Adrien. Shouting over his shoulder as he goes, “But just so you know, you quitting is something thatwillcome between us.”
“Did you guys have fun?” Holden asks once they find each other on the bunny hills.
Sergio, the same as fromhisyesterday, doesn’t get a chance to answer as Henry is already calling his name. “Uncle Sergio! Look!” he shouts, then zooms down the hill past him, flipping forward to a stop like he’d done the previous day before to land on his rump. “Did you see?”
“Yeah, I saw,” Sergio says, planting a fake and rigid smile on his face in an attempt to remain positive in Henry’s presence. Whatever is going on is not Henry’s fault, which gives him an idea. Elaborate joke or not that might be being played at his expense, it is unlikely that Henry is in on it. There’s no way he could ever remember to keep the terms of some complicated prank clear in his head for longer than five minutes.
Sergio skis over to the fallen and giggling child and lifts him back onto his feet, then crouches down and helps him out of his skis. “Henry, what day is it?”
“Thursday?”
“No.” Sergio laughs, the first genuine one of his day. “Well, actually yes, it is Thursday. But what’s the date? It’s a holiday, right?”
“It’s New Year’s Eve!” Henry answers excitedly. “I’m going to the Weirs’ for a party. Do you want to come?”
Sergio twists up his lips and considers. Given how he remembers the events of New Year’s Eve going yesterday, a child’s celebration is likely to be far more fun, though not necessarily plausible. Frowning, he says, “I think I have my own party I have to go to.”
Henry nods in understanding. “The one my mom and dad and Jeremy are going to.”
“That’s the one.”
