Laila broke out in a laugh.
“Who?” she said, mimicking the urgency in my tone.
I wanted to slap her a little bit. Remember, her liquid lunch was soaking through my shoelaces. And yet, somehow, it still felt like Laila had the upper hand. She knew things about Dorian that I could only dream of finding out.
“Oh, Connie…” She lay back down and rolled to her side, facing me. “You’ve always had such horrible taste in men. Why do you keep doing this to yourself? You’re so smart and talented, but then you go and ruin your life for the promise of a good fuck.” She clasped her hand against her mouth. “Whoops.”
She mumbled a few more things, but I couldn’t hear her anymore. How did she know?Whatdid she know? And why was everything she’d just said so fucking true? Look, I know who I am. It doesn’t make sense that women can be independent, bright, have their shit together and still be completely defenseless in front of guys who give them too much attention. But it wasn’t just any guy, okay? And not everyone gets to grow up in a loving family with so much fucking money.
Fury rose within me; Laila couldn’t get it. She was used to men fawning over her, treating her like a princess. I felt the urge to unleash on her, but she’d stopped moving. A soft snore came from the pillow she’d buried her face into, the only indication that she was still alive.
I got up, trying to avoid looking at all the Clapard boxes. I knew they didn’t belong to Laila, but I had so many reasons to be mad at her. She had this job. She was wealthy and cool and successful, always. My mind went to Julie Lillie, who had complained about the jewelry options I’d presented her with increasingly specific insults.No one cares about a Hungarian brand that makes earrings out of recycled metals melded by nuns! Silver is for basic bitches!
I imagined the look on her face if I told her about all the Clapard pieces that would never be lent—let alone gifted—to someone like her. I peeked inside the first bag, but it was empty. All the black velvet boxes I opened were as well.
I rummaged around the tiny wardrobe, confused. That’s when I saw the safe. It was at the bottom, covered by a silk blouse that had slippeddown from its hanger. And the door wasn’t even closed.
Itcouldn’tclose because it was stuffed with black velvet pouches. Inside one, I found the bestselling Clapard bangle, the one you saw on the wrist of every celebrity from LA to London. It also adorned the wrists of every wannabe It Girl who could swing the $7,000 price tag. And that was for the entry-level model in plain gold. Because silver, as Julie Lillie had correctly pointed out, was for basic bitches.
Inside another velvet pouch, I found the ring version. And in another, a matching necklace. Julie Lillie’s final Cannes event was the following night. She’d already implied that would be the end of our “collaboration.” She’d only paid me half my fee, and I wasn’t holding my breath about seeing another dollar from her. Unless… Unless I told her that a Clapard representative had lent me those specifically for her.
I studied Laila’s unconscious body. I could have asked her when she woke up. Who knows, she might have agreed, as a favor. But now that the idea had settled in my head, I couldn’t go back. Ineededthese pieces. I needed to do at least one thing right.
I glanced at Laila again.
I wished her no harm, seriously.
I would return these, obviously.
I wasn’t stealing anything, technically.
There were dozens of pouches in that safe. The safe that was left open. These pieces were nothing to Clapard. Laila was a junior employee; they wouldn’t leave anything too valuable with her. Though if you added up the cost of every piece in here… Maybe that was still nothing to Clapard, or they really should have put Laila up in a better hotel. If I grabbed a handful, no one would notice they were missing.
And I turned out to be right about this.
I was very,very, wrong about a lot of other stuff, but I was rightaboutthat.
Cannes Film FestivalDay Twelve
(The FINAL Day)
Interview of David Lasalle
Vice President of Marketing at Clapard
Conducted by Officer Truchaud of the Criminal Brigade
Also present: Amina Dembele, translator
David Lasalle:I’m going to have to report this to my superiors.
Officer Truchaud:You haven’t told them about the loss of the necklace already?
David Lasalle:No, I decided to give you a chance.
Officer Truchaud:A chance to find something that might or might not have been stolen?
David Lasalle:Correct.
