Broken (9 page)

Oddly, maybe two hours later he went out for dinner. He insisted we not order room service. Maybe it wasn't so odd. He put his arms around me after dinner. He slept like that, entangled in me, for the rest of the night. I fell asleep early that night.

When I woke up, the sun was shining on my face. In the light of day, something felt a little wrong. Everything was as sweet as I had imagined it, yet more awkward than I thought it would be. Merek's touch was always sweet, though. I liked him. I just didn't know how to love him. When did “like” become “love”? In my heart, I knew I wanted my first time to be with Noel. I could swear I would see him again. But it seemed ridiculous to think of him every moment of every day.

I didn't care what he would think about this, although Merek had done something I didn't agree with. He had an aversion to booking reservations. He remembered the protection, but purposely forgot the reservation. He rolled me over to face him.

“Are you okay?” he asked. He looked just as scared as I felt yesterday. I shook my head.

“Are you upset at me?” he asked.

“No,” I said. But I should have been. What the heck was with him? He had me freaked out for a minute. It wasn't until late last night he confessed he had not reserved the room. When he told me that we just walked in, I almost walked out on him. But I let it go.

“Let's order breakfast,” he said.

“Everything is fixed now?” I said.

“I did it,” he said. It was sudden and swift. I couldn't be mad at him for very long. Feelings were such a strange thing. I was in great suspense. Had they suddenly changed? I didn't think I could be very sure about them right then. Deep in my heart, I knew that sometimes I was really good at pretending. So good that I didn't even know.

I was looking at my schedule for the week. I had three bookings so far. Since school hadn't started yet, Lisa was going to book every job possible. I was the It girl at the office and it should've felt great. Modeling was a world where it felt like people loved me. Though I felt empty inside. “What's on the inside is what counts”—that's what Mama used to say. When I was at work, no one cared about what was on the inside.

I lay my head down on my pillow. Edna used the softest sheets on earth to make my bed. Half the time, I didn't want to get out of it, especially on Sunday mornings. My cell phone was going off. I kept it somewhere on my body all the time so I could feel the vibration when it rang. Sierra had sent me a text.

“What are you doing?” she texted.

“Nothing,” I texted.

“I'm on your block. Coming up,” she texted.

“Okay. Cool,” I texted.

A few minutes later, Sierra was at my bedroom door. Edna had let her in the front door. Before she could walk to sit on my bed, I had to ask her something that was on my mind.

“Do you ever wonder what people say about you?” I asked.

“Nice way to greet me. Hello,” she said.

“Hi.” I gave her a hug.

“I don't know. I think people would say you have the best genes ever!” she said.

“People would say you are smart,” I said. Sierra winced a little.

“Really smart and pretty. I would want people to say I was smart,” I said.

“I would say you were blithe,” she said.

“You think I'm cheerful?” I had the image of a cheerleader in my head.

“More like carefree. I mean you're a supermodel, and your bedroom is the size of my parents'. Plus your boyfriend is super hot.”

“Thanks,” I smiled. I knew Sierra meant well. I didn't have the courage to confess: All that glitters isn't blithe.

We were quiet for a moment. She marveled at my room like she did every time she came over. She loved this heart I drew on the wall when I was like eight. It was now chest high.

“This is like my heart,” she said.

I had the names of my family written on the inside. I had since outlined that outside of the heart with Swarovski crystals. My latest blingtastic obsession.

“You're way too sweet sometimes,” I said.

“Would you make a new one for us?” she asked.

I went over to my desk and pulled out a pen with a feather tip. I drew a heart and inside I wrote Milan, Sierra and Frenchy 4Ever!

“You are beyond awesome.”

“What would I have without you guys? You're like my sisters,” I said. Sierra hugged me. It was then I decided to get a little more serious.

“Don't you ever want to be described as ‘ardent'?” I asked.

“That's an SAT word.” She typed the word into her cell's notepad. “I'm taking the October test,” she said.

“A photographer said it to me last week,” I said.

“What does it mean?” she asked.

“Passionate and intense.”

Sierra didn't understand. I wanted to feel like I was on fire, like a rocket. I wanted to love something, to express the other parts of me no one ever saw.

“I want that as part of my vernacular,” Sierra used air quotes around the word “vernacular.”

“This is not about the SATs,” I said.

“Whatever,” she laughed.

I barely blinked before the topic changed to guys.

“Did you and Merek … you know?” Sierra asked. What made her ask that?

“Why? You think it's too soon?” I asked.

“No. I mean I'm still … you know. There are no worthy candidates,” she said. I rolled my eyes. How long would it be before that got old? It was just sex, not the disarming of an atom bomb. Was it really such a delicate subject? A guy needed to be a rocket scientist to pass Sierra's qualifications. Though, I must admit, she wasn't half wrong because she wasn't missing much.

“Frenchy told me that Cara told her that she saw you guys walk into the W downtown. Don't tell that I told you, though,” Sierra said.

“I wouldn't,” I said. I felt so invaded, like someone had seen me getting dressed—or worse. Maybe we were being videotaped. “I should tell Cara I know I'm being stalked,” I continued. I really meant that. I was so angry. But part of me was a little frightened. I hated that I was shaken. I had liked to think of myself as somewhat brave. The brave part of me would wait before I confronted her. All I knew was that she was constantly around. She was involved with my brother. Why did she care what Merek and I did? Maybe she was like a school paparazzi. She seemed to know a little something about everyone—just enough to make them like her or pretend to like her.

“I don't know what's up with Frenchy, but she's mad at you because you didn't tell us,” Sierra said.

“I was going to.” I got up and walked into the bathroom. I hadn't told anyone yet. It was just two days ago. I washed my face. I didn't know how I felt about the whole thing. For a while, I just wanted it to be my little secret. When I first started modeling, I hadn't told anyone at school. I had all types of friends then. I was just a junior with no stake in the A-list at school. Now, I was at the top of the A-list. Did it mean I was more
interesting than the 500 other students at school? Did it mean they would be whispering about me and Merek?

Before I could fully emerge from the bathroom, Sierra was standing right by the door, staring at me.

“Did it hurt?” Sierra asked.

Sierra was one of those people who said whatever she was thinking. We had all thought that before, when someone told us they'd done it for the first time. But I was always too shy to actually ask.

I walked over to my dresser and picked up a hair tie. I pulled my hair back into a ponytail. I wasn't ready to talk about it like that. But she was standing over me for an answer. After I had done it, I knew I could never love him like I loved Noel. It was like our entire relationship flashed before my eyes. Should I tell her that what she thought it was, it wasn't?

“It was perfect. It was at a hotel. He was sweet. And it did hurt the very first time,” I said. I pursed my lips shut. I thought she could see I didn't want to discuss it anymore.

“Let's do a movie,” she said.

“What's playing?” I said. Oh, god. I hated going to the movies. Going to the movies translated into intense lip-reading for two hours.

“Something good should be On Demand,” she said. And, like that, Sierra was staying for the night. Sometimes I thought she liked my house better than her own. Every time we were over at her house, she was angry at her mom. But she wouldn't tell me why. At least, it didn't feel like I was getting the whole story—something about her
mother not treating her dad right. In my house, it had always been the other way around so that threw me for a loop. I tried not to think about it. But the idea slipped into my mind anyway. I would trade places with her any day. If I had Mama back, I would never be mad at her.

The next day was Monday, the last Monday of our summer break.

“Let's take Fifth,” I told Daddy's driver, Mr. Taylor. I liked to drive by the Park.

“Where to, Ms. Milan?” he asked.

“Bergdorf,” I said.

“Should we call for an appointment?” Sierra asked.

I laughed. “They always squeeze me in,” I said.

“I love being VIP. … Can you believe school is this week?” she asked. I shook my head no. “Where did the summer go?” she asked. Wherever it went, it had taken my heart with it.

We were considered the avant-garde of fashion at school, so we had to keep up appearances. For the next three hours, I got a hair gloss and blow. Sierra changed her hair color, cut off four inches, and had it flat-ironed pin-straight. Her natural hair color was brown, so she had it dyed slightly lighter. Her hair color matched her eye color.

Later on, we walked across the street to Tiffany's. I'd been going to Tiffany's on Fifth since I was a little girl. Mama used to take me there. I knew it was weird that I called my mom “Mama,” like I did when I was a little girl, but it made me feel closer to her. It was hard to explain. I had never told anyone. But there were so many moments in the day that I wished that I could see her face.

“We …” Sierra was speed talking. I couldn't make out more than one word of what she was saying. Sometimes, if I missed one word the whole sentence didn't make any sense.

“Oh, can you repeat that?” I asked.

“I was saying we should get matching necklaces. Since we're best friends, only you and I will have them,” she said.

“What about Frenchy?” I asked. I didn't think Frenchy and I were as close as Sierra and me, but I didn't want to be mean. Everyone had to get necklaces.

“I'm not putting Frenchy's necklace on my card,” she said.

“I'll put them all on mine,” I said.

“You're so good to us,” Sierra hugged me.

“This is us,” I pointed to a charm necklace with butterflies, rocking horses, stars, and hearts. This had me written all over it.

“Impeccable. You work with the hottest designers, so it's only natural their impeccable taste would permeate your skin,” Sierra said.

“I'm not a science project. Next thing I know, you'll be using words like ‘osmosis,'” I said. Sierra laughed. Didn't she think I could have good taste all on my own?

The saleswoman came over to us dressed in a light gray suit with super long hair reaching her waist. “How can I help you, ladies?” she asked.

“We'd like three of these necklaces,” I said.

“Were you on the cover of …?” the saleswoman started to ask.

“Yes.” I smiled. I hated when people asked me that. I wasn't just the girl on the cover. It felt good to be called beautiful, but nobody saw past that.

“I have a message,” Sierra listened to her answering machine. I had to have all my messages converted to text. I'd never tell her, though. There were still parts of me that felt like I couldn't tell her. I was becoming an expert at secrets. Not such a great skill, in my book. But I had no choice.

“You know how I told you I left a message at the library? The library at your boy's school,” she said.

“Yeah,” I said.

“Well, she left me a message,” she said.

“What?” I said.

“Let me play it for you,” she said.

“No! Just tell me,” I said.

“Chill, I have to listen to it again,” Sierra played the message again.

“What did she say?” I asked.

She started walking to the door with her phone to her ear. I grabbed her and turned her around so I could see her face.

She was still listening to her phone. Her eyebrow arched. “She said your boy will be working with her for the semester and to give her a call. He starts next week. He's there Wednesday through Sunday, if you were to stop by. She's there Monday through Friday. She left a phone number,” Sierra said.

Mr. Taylor was waiting at the car out front. “How was shopping, Ms. Milan?” He opened the door.

“Very well,” I said.

“Are we taking Ms. Sierra home?” he asked.

“No, let's go to your place,” Sierra said.

“Home,” I said.

Her company was welcomed. Dimitri and I would be the only two at the house with Edna for the week. Daddy was in L.A. on business. He wouldn't have dreamed of taking us. When I got lonely, and everything seemed so still as if I could feel each minute passing, I fantasized about secretly flying away. Once I thought of hopping on a flight to Paris, staying at the Park Hyatt Paris, and shopping until I dropped to return home unmissed, unnoted, with bags of goodies Daddy would assume I picked up on Madison Avenue like a good girl. I still loved my Dad, though. I only had one.

“Text me her number,” I said.

“The librarian's?” Sierra asked.

“Yes. What's her name?” I asked.

“What would Merek think?” Sierra asked.

I just looked at Sierra for a moment in shock. Wasn't she my friend? Why was she worried about Merek?

“Don't tell a soul about this. You already swore. If you do, I will have to hunt you down. Don't tell Frenchy either. No one!” I said.