“Yes,” Avery said, with more pause than Leda had expected. She let out a great breath. “But he’s really hurt me.”
“By hooking up with me?” Leda demanded, and immediately winced at the baldness of her words. “That was so long ago, it’s ancient history,” she added, more tactfully.
Avery seemed almost not to have registered her outburst. “No, it’s not that … he’s been with someone else. More recently.” Her eyes flicked downward. “I’m pretty sure we’re over, for good.”
“You don’t mean that girl from the gala, with the tacky dress and the British accent? What was her name, Catastrophe?”
“Calliope,” Avery corrected, with a ghost of a smile. “They met while Atlas was traveling, in Africa. She and her mom just moved here.”
“Really. She met Atlas halfway across the world and now she’s in New York. How awfully convenient.” Leda’s instincts pricked to life. “What’s this girl’s story? Where is she from?”
“I don’t know. She went to boarding school in England, I think.”
“What does her page on the feeds say?”
“I haven’t really looked at it,” Avery said reflexively. Leda knew what that meant: Avery didn’t want to look at it, because the moment she did, Calliope became real.
Thank god Avery was so pretty, Leda thought, because otherwise this world would destroy her with its unforgiving ruthlessness. And thank god that Avery had Leda, to protect her. “Here, I’ll look her up,” she offered, and muttered to her contacts. “Calliope Brown, feeds search.” When she found the right account, way down the page, she gasped.
“What is it?” Avery asked.
“Send link to Avery,” Leda said, and watched as the page appeared on Avery’s contacts too.
Calliope’s page only dated back a couple of months. There were pictures of New York, a few from Africa, and before that—nothing.
“Maybe she’s new to the whole feeds thing,” Avery said, but even she sounded dubious.
Leda rolled her eyes. “Every ten-year-old on the planet has an account. This is seriously bizarre. It’s like she never existed at all until she met Atlas this summer.”
No way was this a coincidence. Something was going on, and whatever it was, Leda was determined to find out.
The decision sent a wave of energy snapping through her, a renewal of confidence in herself—and a fierce determination to fix this for Avery. They were friends again, and therefore any enemy of Avery’s was now an enemy of hers. She was still Leda Cole, damn it, and no one hurt the people she cared about.
Avery’s voice was shaky. “Can we talk about something else, please?”
Leda nodded, temporarily setting aside her quest for retribution. “Like what?”
“Like what’s made you all happy and easygoing. Is it a boy?”
“Maybe.” Leda’s face flushed at the thought of Watt.
Their queso arrived, a skillet of melted cheese topped with shaved green onions, and Leda used the opportunity to change the subject. “You go first, though. What else have I missed?”
Avery scooped queso onto her plate with a quinoa chip. “Everything. This Dubai party is kind of a mess, to be honest. You should see how worked up my mom has gotten …”
Leda sat there, listening as Avery poured her heart out, feeling like her own heart was expanding within her chest. She had her best friend back. And there was a new boy in her life—a confusing, dangerously addictive one.
Everything was finally starting to right itself in her world.
RYLIN
RYLIN MOVED THROUGH the Salve Regina wrap party after the final day of shooting, feeling glamorous in her slinky red dress and studded heels, grinning so hard she thought her face might break.
They’d rented out a penthouse bar for the occasion, on the top floor of a skyscraper—well, the LA version of a skyscraper, which had a measly 104 floors. But since none of the buildings here were very high, it still had sweeping views over the city, and of the glowing Hollywood sign in the distance. Lush plants dotted the dimly lit space, which was all curves and gilded surfaces and scattered mirrors.
Rylin wandered contentedly through the crowds. Crewmembers nodded and greeted her as she passed, which made her smile even brighter. She’d been pleasantly surprised by how readily the cast and crew had drawn her into their fold. She hadn’t realized what an instant bond it would create: working such long hours in such close quarters, the whole group striving to build something together.
It had been an incredible week, she reflected, as she slid into a banquette next to Seagren and some of the other film crew. She’d worked hard during the filming hours, and still spent a lot of time with Xiayne in the edit bay late at night: cropping out the bits of holo that they wanted, folding the slices over one another like layers of soft, transparent lace. They’d pulled all-nighters twice, resorting to caffeine patches and four a.m. Tater Tots to keep them going; returning to the hotel at dawn to shower and then hurrying straight back to set, where it started all over again. But it had been worth it. Rylin knew she’d learned more from this week of work than from a year of lectures at school.
Around her the laughter was growing wilder, as the night wore on and everyone kept drinking the fresh-squeezed cocktails. Rylin saw one of the minor actors, the queen’s cousin, making out with the prime minister in the corner. The tiara worn by Perrie, the actress who played the queen, had been passed around all night as various people put it on to take drunken snaps—even Rylin had sent Chrissa a snap of herself in it, just for fun. Perrie now stood in the center of the room, still resolutely wearing the bodice from her costume, though she’d paired it with black leather pants. She was attempting to lead the crowd in a drinking game, where she read snippets of dialogue and they all guessed which of the cast or crew she was impersonating, but everyone was shouting too loudly for much of anything to be heard.
Rylin leaned back in the banquette, laughing, as Xiayne approached their table.
“Slide over, you two.” He was wearing a navy shirt and jeans, and his usual infectious smile. His hair looked tousled, as if he’d been standing outside, though they were too high up for that.
Rylin and Seagren obediently scooted over to create space. Xiayne took two grapefruit cocktails from a passing tray and handed one to Rylin. She didn’t even think twice about the fact that her teacher was handing her a drink.
“Okay, spill. Which of you hated the other one more?” Xiayne’s voice was light and teasing.
Seagren snorted into her cocktail. It wasn’t her first of the night, and she was obviously loosening up. “Rylin hated me.”
“Not at all! You were a great boss!” Rylin protested, which made Seagren laugh even harder.
“I was terrible,” she slurred cheerfully, “But that’s the way my first boss treated me, so it’s only fair. Circle of life, and all that.”
One of the stage managers came over and held out a hand to Seagren. “Wanna dance?” he asked, nodding to the center of the room, which was devolving into a loose, drunken dance floor.
“Why not?” Seagren took the guy’s hand.
Rylin glanced at Xiayne. His eyes danced as he looked over the crowd, clearly pleased by the roiling chaos on the dance floor. She felt suddenly like he was a high school boy who was proud that everyone had shown up to his party.
“So, Rylin. Are you still glad you came out here?” he finally asked, turning back to her. A tiny curl of his inktat had escaped the collar of his shirt to snake up onto his neck, like the tongue of a flame. Rylin forced herself to look up at his face.
“It’s been incredible. Thank you for making it possible,” she told him.
“Thank you for all your help in the edit bay. You have an incredible natural eye.”
There was a sudden collective squeal from the other side of the room. Everyone had huddled around the windows, excited about something. “What’s going on?” Rylin asked, but Xiayne had already stood up.
“The first display ad, on the Bubble, for Salve Regina. I didn’t think it would go up for another week! Come on!” Xiayne grabbed her hand, sending a shiver up Rylin’s arm. She stumbled after him, around the corner to a side room. It was suddenly very quiet, and private.