Simon and I were the last to arrive at the Liquored bar, and I could feel all eyes on us. Just like I had imagined, we had gotten the rumor mill started. But I didn’t want to live up to the cliché of the model who slept with the photographer to get the job. I was not that kind of girl. I knew I shouldn’t care what other people think, but I did.
“What are you having?” Simon turned to me.
“I’ll have a vodka cranberry—but wait … Hey, hold on, I’ll give you the money.” I was reaching into my purse, but Simon put his hand over mine, and something inside me fluttered.
“No, it’s on me. After what you did for us, let me at least buy you a drink.”
I sat next to Noah, watching Simon walk over to the bar.
“Hey … can I ask you something?” I continued when Noah nodded. “How long have you known Simon?”
“We’ve been friends for a while, give or take five years. Why?”
Those past two days I’d gotten to know Noah, trusting him enough to divulge my personal struggles. We later discovered we both had our share of mommy issues. My mother had been absent from my life since the age of six, and Noah’s mom couldn’t come to terms with him being gay. They hadn’t spoken to each other in the past two years.
I felt we shared enough that we could speak freely, so I asked the question that had been scratching me all day.
“What’s the deal with Simon and Vanessa?” I said. In one movement, I gathered my hair into a bun.
“Oh, honey, don’t go there.” Noah swirled the mint leaves in his glass with a clear stir stick.
“Were they an item?” I frowned. After what I’d witnessed, I felt compelled to know. Maybe Vanessa was one of Simon’s scorned lovers. Simon had once told me he never got involved with people he worked with. I wondered if she was the reason for his rule.
“Truthfully, it’s a hell of a story … Too long and complicated to get into it. Get my drift?” He knitted his brows together.
No one was willing to talk about it, and I had to respect that, but it only made me want to know more.
“Now it’s my turn to ask a question.” Noah smiled like he knew he would put me on the spot.
“Sure.”
“Are you involved, or … contemplating getting involved?”
“With Simon? No.”
“Right,” he said. I wouldn’t believe me either if I were him.
“Why would you say something like that?”
“Oh, I don’t know. The way you look at each other, I guess.”
I laughed. “Well, we have to. I mean, how else are we supposed to work together?”
“I’m not talking about what happened in the studio. I’m talking about that night at the Cellar Bar.” He grinned. “You two were mighty cute and cozy.” Noah’s eyes twinkled, which made me wonder who else was watching us that night.
“Ah, yeah okay, I won’t deny there’s a certain chemistry between us—but it’s strictly professional.” For now. “To be honest, I don’t know Simon that well. But hypothetically … would it be a bad thing?” I tilted my head in Simon’s direction. He stood at the bar, talking to the other model. I observed his body language; he wasn’t into her the way I imagined any man in his right mind would be. Her, on the other hand …
“It’s not for me to say.” Noah looked into his glass, then his eyes met mine, as if he wanted me to understand something without revealing too much.
“Simon is very selective in the people he surrounds himself with. He’s the type of guy who’ll give you the shirt off his back, but also the kind of person who can retreat within himself with no warning. He’s got issues he needs to work out, and I don’t think he’s found a way just yet. I want to be honest—because I like you.”
Noah pushed his glass aside and looked at me.
“You’re leaving, and Simon travels a lot. I’m not sure how this will work out for you two.”
I didn’t know why Noah’s words were so disheartening.
“Honestly, I’m not in the slightest interested in Simon. I mean, he’s an awesome guy, but we wouldn’t have anything in common,” I said, watching Simon from across the room. I felt relieved when I found him alone again.
All this talk about Simon, but I hadn’t given any thought to my baggage—a messy, worn-out duffel bag with stale clothes. At this point in my life, I could say I was a professional when it came to being rejected.
We could start at the root of it: my mother was at the top of that list. The runner-up was Marc, my first real boyfriend in college. Things were great until I ruined it by telling him I loved him. Well, I’d never imagined he would break up with me over it. I was a mess for weeks. I had allowed someone to wreck me because I sincerely cared for them. It sounds kind of cruel, doesn’t it? After Marc, I’d never allowed those words to come out again, not to anyone. Yup, that’s baggage for you. I hoped that, miraculously, my dirty laundry would get washed on its own or disappear at customs, but I guessed things couldn’t get resolved on their own. You have to come up with your own resolutions. I just wasn’t sure if I was ready for it yet.
“Hey, the next time you’re in town, we’ll get together with a couple of mojitos. Maybe I’ll tell you all about it then.”
“Sounds like a plan.” I smiled. Simon came around the table, placing my drink in front of me, but before I could thank him, he raised his glass.
“Okay, guys, let’s cheers to a fantastic shoot that almost went to shit. I couldn’t have done it without you fuckin’ amazing people, and Mable, thank you for saying yes. It seems you’re always there at the right time.” He glanced down and smiled. It sent chills of excitement throughout my body.
“Cheers,” everyone yelled, bottles and glasses clicking together.
Gloria slid into the other chair next to Noah.
“Hey, you know what I wanted to ask you? How did you keep Elaine away?” Noah said to my cousin.
“Oh, she was supposed to come, but had a flight out to L.A. at the last minute. She thought there was no need to come since we had everything under control. Little did she know. Anyway, it all worked out fine,” she said, taking a sip from her wineglass.
“That’s not like her. She puts her nose into everything—like, everything!” Noah said.
As I sat there listening to their conversation, I remembered that, at one point, during my emptying of the boxes, that there had been a very sophisticated-looking woman who had walked into the room. She had taken one look at me—or, I thought she had— it was hard to tell; she was wearing big sunglasses.
“She was there,” I interrupted.
“What?” Gloria peeked her head around Noah to get a better look at me.
“Yeah, the first day of the shoot. She came in but left before I could ask her anything.”
“What did she look like?” Gloria asked.
“Late fifties, Chanel suit, big glasses, and blond pageboy haircut.”
“Yeah, that sounds like Elaine Furstenberg,” Noah said, taking the last sip of his drink.
“Weird. Why would she leave like that?” Gloria said, looking at both of us.
“You think she was spying on us?” Noah asked.
My attention shifted to Simon, who was sitting in front of me, talking to one of the crew. I’m not sure what to make of Simon. At times he seemed hard to read, but I was never afraid of the unknown. While everyone at the table slowly scattered around the room, I found myself alone with Simon. He sat across from me, and we smiled at each other like two kids playing some sort of game.
“What’s next for you?” I yelled over the loud music.
He picked up his bottle and chose the seat next to me. “Sorry, what was that?” His leg gently brushed against mine. I wished he would do it again.
“What’s next on the agenda?”
“I’ll take some time off. I say that, but I never do.” He smiled. “I wish you could stay.”
“What?” My heart stirred up, shaking the dust off. Only now, with the sound of Simon’s voice, did it respond.
“Stay in New York, and we could work together again.”
I yearned to say yes. What if he meant something more than just for work? This was flat out clairvoyance. I knew how this would play out, and if I stayed Simon would become the biggest rejection of all.
“You’ve got something special … going at it like an apparatus, full of energy and postures. For a moment I thought I wouldn’t be able to keep up.” He smiled gently before he continued. “It was a real pleasure to shoot you.”
“That’s very kind, but I’m no different from any other model—”
“No, you’re definitely something else. Not everyone gets it the way you do. Everyone thinks modeling is about showing up and putting on a beautiful face, but it’s more. You understand that every garment has its own personality, a fluid quality to it. You have to love what you do; that’s the only way it’s captured on film.”
“Where were you when my agent gave me the boot?” I smirked, peeling back the label on his beer bottle.
“I’m surprised you’re not doing this full time. Obviously you had a bad agent. Let’s prove her wrong … And stay.”
How can anyone say no to this man? “Oh, I—”
“I could use someone like you, because you’re not a model.”
“No? So what am I?” I smiled.
“You’re a muse … my muse, a feast for my creativity,” Simon blurted out. “Something about you stirs emotions inside me. You make things happen. To be honest, it’s something I’ve never felt. This kind of connection—you can’t make this up.”
Settle down, heart.
“I guess it feels natural. When the makeup and the clothes come on, it reinvents me.” I directed my eyes back to him. “It’s nice to escape from being me.”
“Why would you want to escape from who you are?” His eyebrows crashed together.
“Doesn’t everybody?”
“I think it’s funny you say that, because under all the characters you felt you were playing today—the ones you thought you were hiding behind—I saw a girl who wants to be let out. The truth is you were playing yourself all along,” he said, looking at me with those loving eyes. “The thing is, you don’t believe what you’re capable of. Don’t allow your ambitions to come undone because of self-doubt. Only you have control over that. You’re ready to take the world by storm. No more fears, Mable. Set out and do what you’re meant to do.”
“I don’t know what to say.” I looked up at him. “Thank you?”
He let the words sit there between us before he continued. “I should be the one to thank you for helping me out of a jam. You might have saved my career.”
“So was I your plan B?” I now suspected Simon was the reason Gloria brought me along.
“No, you were my plan A,” he said, his eyes going clear. “Look, I didn’t know how the day would work out. I simply aligned my ducks, and everything happened as it should have.”
I leaned my head back into the blue-tufted chair and tilted it lightly, looking up at him. He smiled in a way that made me believe Simon Rowe never left anything up to chance. He was a man who made things happen, and I couldn’t help but wonder if he had every intention of making things happen inside of me.
“The first moment I saw you at the Little Orange, sitting on that run-down couch … You just lit up, hooking me in. I only regretted not having my camera with me that night.”
God, am I blushing? Pretty sure I am.
“There was a lot of tension on the set today.” I had to bring it up, because I was trying to convince my heart how wrong it was about Simon. Pay attention, heart. I’m doing this for your own good. There could be someone else in his life.
“Yeah. I’m sorry for the way Vanessa acted. It was uncalled for.”
“It’s not your fault.” I said. His lips parted, but he diverted his eyes away, focusing on the corner of the room.
“Hey, you think you could kick my arse in a game of pool?” I liked how he changed the subject, but I took note.
“I can,” I said matter-of-factly.
He was taken aback. “Wow, very confident bird. I like that.”
“I enjoy playing games, and it so happens that I’m fantastic at winning—like a lot.” I smiled brightly. “You should prepare yourself, because you will do a lot of losing.”
“Oh, uh … that good, hey?” His expression cleared. “No worries, mate, I’m sure I could take you down. Win with my eyes shut.”
“Listen, Crocodile Dundee, this is not my first rodeo,” I replied. He laughed louder, watching me get up from my chair, removing my jacket.
“Well, Mable, you better put your money where your mouth is.” He got up, making his way to the table, and I followed.
“Oh, I’m planning to. Eight ball?”
“Sure,” he said.
“What should we play for?” He leaned closer as I racked in the stripes and solids. Good grief, what cologne was he wearing? The scent interfered with my every thought. I need to move away from him if I wanted to win.
“What else—money.”
“Okay, twenty?” He tied back his hair with a black elastic from around his wrist. I thought to myself, not much help that will do.
“Come on, you’ve got to do better than that, you cheap bastard.” I gave him a cheesy grin.
“Wow. I don’t know how I feel about this side of you.” He quirked a brow.
“Am I scaring you?”
“Um, no. Oddly, it’s turning me on.” I half-rolled my eyes. “Okay, fine.” He inhaled deeply. “I just didn’t want you to lose your shirt over this.” His eyes flashed wickedly.
“Thank you for being such a perfect gentleman,” I said. “But I told you I will not be the underdog.”
“You really think so? That’s cute.” He dragged out a bill from his trifold wallet, placing it on the edge of the pool table. “Hundred bucks, how does that sound?”
He smiled; he was enjoying this way too much. But I knew something he didn’t: I’d been taught by a three-time national champion pool player. I think I will only disclose that trivia after I wipe that overzealous smile off his face. I flashed him a knowing look as I hauled out five twenty-dollar bills from my purse, placing them on top of his. I planned to win, because I needed that money to survive the next couple of days I had left in the city. He handed me a cue stick. Unsatisfied with its condition, I passed it back to him and took another from the wall.
“Solids or stripes?”
“Solids.” I chalked the top of my cue stick.
“Okay, Mable, let’s have a fair go.” Simon leisurely leaned against the table behind him. “I’ll appreciate the view from here.” I know what he’s trying to do—rattle me up to distract me—but it’s not going to work. I can’t wait to show him who’s boss.
“Look all you want, Simon. Soon you’ll kiss it,” I said, knowing he would have full regard of my backside. I placed the chalk down and made my way back to him.
“That wouldn’t be a bad thing,” He looked slyly at me. “Don’t give me that look, you stepped right into that.”
He had me there.
“So you’re super competitive?” he asked.
“Oh, you have no idea.” I swept my hair to the side and caught his eyes while doing it.
“I’ll tell you what. I’ll take my shot standing on one limb and with one hand behind my back,” Simon approached, a little too close.
I stood there, anxiously idle. “Oh, how generous, but that won’t be necessary. Now get out of my way and let me show you how it’s done.” I nudged him with my hip to scoot him over—he was a beast—and it made no impact. He laughed and moved over, anyway.
“This will be fun, watching you lose.” His eyebrows playfully went up. I got down to my stance. I was sure he had a full view of me, but I focused on keeping low on the cue ball and struck hard as I could. The balls scattered all around the table.
“Not bad.” He walked around, then leaned in to line up his shot. Simon sent four balls into the sockets. He slowly glanced up.
Shit.
“Not bad,” I said coolly. I hate losing, even more to a man who’s getting under my skin. I had to up my game. I took my shot, and more balls went in.
“How did you learn to play?” He took his turn, and I was not happy with the outcome.
“My dad.” I smiled, trying to line up my shot, but I could see Simon goofing around in front of me, moving his stick side to side and making me lose my focus.
“I know what you’re doing,” I said, placing my hand on my hip.
“What?” Looking innocent.
“Please don’t stand in my shot.”
“Oh, was I distracting you?”
I saw how this was going; I had to come up with something better. He made his way around the table, found his opportunity, and leaned over.
“Simon?”
“Yeah.”
“I’m considering getting a tattoo.”
“Hmm.”
“Do you think it would look stupid if I get one right here?” I brought down the waistband of my pants, but not low enough to reveal anything more than I wanted. It seemed to have worked, because he missed his shot, narrowing his eyes at me.
“You have no intentions of getting a tattoo.”
“Maybe.” I smiled wickedly. “I think I’ll get one of an eight ball to commemorate this win.” I winked. As I leaned in to take my shot, Simon took his white T-shirt and pulled it over his head.
“What are you doing?” I swallowed.
“Now see, Miss Harper, two can play that game,” he said, and I had a full view of an exceptional fit torso. I laughed nervously, not because I felt uneasily hot, but because now we were drawing attention from everyone else, and soon enough we had an audience. It’s a good thing it’s slow for a Tuesday night.
“Are you guys playing strip pool? You know that’s indecent exposure, right?” Noah’s voice came from behind us.
I turned to Noah, mouthing the word damn. I tried not to focus on Simon’s body and instead on my shot.
“Gah,” I sighed. It didn’t go as planned.
“Is this distracting you?” He flexed, and I stuck my tongue out at him.
“Okay, wise guy, put your guns away before you hurt somebody. Take your shot, will you?”
“Ouch, somebody’s not happy. Pay attention, maybe you can learn a thing or two.” He winked before sliding his shirt back on. Then he leaned down, aligning his stick.
“You’re sure you want to do that?” I asked.
“Go on, do your worst.”
He positioned himself. Just before he took his shot, I leaned close to his ear and whispered, “I can’t handle myself when I’m around you. I want you in the worst possible way.” Yup, that did it. The cue ball went off the table, and the crowd laughed and howled.
“Oh, that sucks,” I said. I looked down at my nails, freshly painted pink, somehow already chipped.
“Shiiitt.” He sighed in disbelief, and his eyes slowly trailed up the length of me. “What the hell was that?” He straightened up, his eyes filled with heat. “Explain, woman.”
“You told me to do my worst.” I flashed him an innocent smile.
“And that’s what you thought of? You shouldn’t say stuff like that unless you mean it.”
“Like what?” I fluttered my eyelashes.
“You like playing with fire?” he murmured.
“If it means winning, yes. I have a talent for getting what I want.” It’s a total lie, but I say it anyway.
“Well, don’t entice me into wanting to explore that talent of yours,” he said, close enough to my ear.
A heat rose through me, and I realized that what had started as a friendly game had become something else.
Simon’s phone buzzed from his back pocket, and it put an end to the match we were playing. A crease appeared on Simon’s forehead as he looked down at his phone.
“Sorry, I need to take this.”
I watched him walk outside and appear on the other side of the window. It was clear from his facial expression that he wasn’t happy talking to whoever it was.
Later, when Simon came back in, he made the rounds, saying his goodbyes to the gang before making his way back to where I was standing.
“Hey … I’m so sorry. I have to go. A friend is in some sort of trouble, and I need to check up on them. Will you still be around in … about an hour?” Simon slid his hands into his front pockets.
“I wish I could, but it’s been a long day,” I said. God, I was so bummed out. I knew I was being selfish, but I wanted him to stay with me. But I wouldn’t hold it against him.
“So this is it?” Simon asked. There was a hint of sadness in his eyes. “I’ll never see you again?”
It felt like a defining moment for us—all that could happen, all that, now, would never happen. I could stay and wait for Simon to return, I thought; but on the other hand, there was a good chance he wouldn’t come back. Whoever was on the other line must have been important enough for him to leave. If he wanted to stay, then he would.
“Not unless you come to Montreal,” I replied, hiding my disappointment behind a smile.
“Maybe one day,” he said, but I knew it would never transpire. “Well, I appreciate your helping me out.” He nodded.
“Yeah, no problem.” My voice must have sounded flat, because he looked like he wanted to say something more, but we remained in limbo, not sure what to do next. Do we hug? Kiss?
“Take care of yourself.” Simon was the first to step forward, and it was like time slowed down. I felt every detail of that moment. The way his hand came around me, touching the small of my back, the way he pulled me in for a kiss on the cheek. What a letdown, but it was better than a handshake.
My heart sank into my stomach as I watched him go out the door, and that’s when I realized his hundred-dollar bill still lay on the pool table. I grabbed it and rushed out after him.
“Simon! You forgot … your money.” I waved it in the air, and he walked back.
“Keep it.”
“But we didn’t finish the game—”
“You would have won, right?” He flashed me a grin and I stood there, watching him go.
“Hey.” He spun around in his steps, looking back at me. “It will give me an excuse to see you again—winning it back from you.” He winked. “I want to finish what we started, okay?”
What that could have meant, I would never know, because with one last smile he was gone.
I went back inside and found Noah and Gloria together.
“There he goes again. That bitch has him wrapped around her finger,” Noah said to Gloria.
I couldn’t help but instinctively know who that person was. It would be the first insight into the oblique illusion, the three-way circus I was to be a part of. She would always be placed before me.