She chuckles.
“Because I want you to learn to do what you want, not what anyone tells you to,” she says cheerfully, snips with her finger over my nose, and turns to go inside, holding out a hand for me to take.
“You know too much about me,” I say.
“I know just enough,” she answers. “Are you coming or not?”
I look at her for one moment. The way she stands there, waiting for me with her outstretched arm, barefoot, grounded, calm, and yet excited. No pigeonhole big enough for her to fit in.
I smile.
“Coming,” I say, and take her hand.
What I enter into blows my mind. I mean, I am aware she has money by now, but this studio? Brick walls, a steel staircase leading to a gallery and a terrace, a massive black kitchen area, a leather couch that looks like it must have cost what I earn in a year, and a window front with a view of the One World.
“If you don’t close your mouth,” she says, “I might put my tongue into it.”
I look at her while I close my mouth. This studio must have cost millions upon millions. The mere size of it!
“You are like rich-rich,” I say.
“And hopefully the example you needed to understand that not all rich people are bad.”
“Not so sure about that,” I say dryly.
She laughs.
“Who knows,” she says. “Come, let’s find the birthday girl.”
She leads me up the staircase to the gallery, where two walls are covered ceiling-high with bookshelves. I tilt my head to read some of the titles.
“Won’t help you with anything,” she says. “El redecorated everything here.”
“She did?” I asks.
“Yes, it looked like a princess exploded in here before. She made it fit who she thinks I am.”
“And is this you?” I ask, curiosity piqued, because it was an explicitly strange word choice.
“A solid closer call,” she says.
“What’s the least you?”
She sniggers.
“That lamp,” she says, and points at a lamp that looks like some birds lost their feathers for it. “I hate it, but El loves it. So it stayed.”
“So you two are roommates?”
“El lives here most of the time,” she says cryptically and pulls me outside.
I am pulled onto a glass-enclosed landscaped roof terrace with a huge sitting area, fireplace, and a perfect view of the Empire State Building.
“Mouth,” she says, as if I were her toddler that need reminding not to lick people.
“El, she’s here!” calls Amelie, and the extremely beautiful blonde lurks around a corner from a barbecue area.
She is so beautiful, she frightens me. Not forgetting the encounter we had in the bathroom, but I am rendered speechless by her.
