Sharise looked as surprised as Vera felt. "I'm... not sure."
"Wait." Vera gestured toward the entrance, where Marina had thrown her arm around Carmen and pulled her close to whisper in her ear like they were schoolyard BFFs. Or girlfriends. The romantic kind. "You didn't know about this?"
"Well, Carmen and Marina did talk on the yacht. I had a hand in that." She looked a little embarrassed. "That's what started it all."
"All what?"
"The kerfuffle. But I didn't know Carmen was inviting Marina here."
"Doesn't Carmen tell you everything?" Vera asked without thinking. She wished she'd bit her tongue when the concern creasing Sharise's beautiful eyes began to look an awful lot like hurt.
"My job would be so much easier if she did."
Still clinging to each other as though making up for all those months of non-contact, or as though to prove to all the bystanders that their fondness was authentic, Carmen and Marina headed off towards the bar.
Sharise shook her head. "Maybe they really made up. Or Cora might have suggested it. Damage control."
"It could be both?"
"It could be."
"So... why are we doing damage control? What was the 'kerfuffle'?"
"Do you need a drink? Oh, you have one. Good. Why don't we sit down for a minute. "
Distracted was not a mood she was used to seeing on Sharise.
They wove through the crowd to the tables by the far end of the pool. It took a long time. Everyone wanted to say hello to Sharise. Vera suspected they were sniffing for the dirty details as eagerly as she was. Sharise seemed to think the same; while she greeted them all pleasantly, she kept running her empty palm over her hip.
Vera couldn't focus well enough to appreciate how many celebrities she was meeting. She had too much on her mind. She needed to know whether she could finally come clean about working for Marina and get this horrible weight off her shoulders. She needed to know what had happened on that yacht – whether it was dramatic enough to bury any potential story about a stylist taking an embarrassing illegal swim in the canals. She needed to know whether Fatima Bhatia was really going to be here later.
Most importantly, she needed to know whether Ellie's presence was going to spoil her opportunity to see Sharise in a swimsuit.
When they eventually escaped from the crowd, Vera sank into a delicate chair with a sigh and set her wine glass on the table. A few sips of prosecco had been enough to sate her desire for celebration, and wobbling lights at the edges of her vision made her regret demolishing that whole bottle of wine with Jay. It wasn't too late to start sobering up a bit.
Beside her, Sharise sat facing the party. Their knees touched, a silent thread of support in the contact.
"This is not gossip. I'm only telling you this because Carmen's image is part of your work. And because you're her friend." Her dark brown eyes were serious. "I trust you not to share the details with anyone."
"Of course."
Sharise nodded once. Still twirling the martini glass she had yet to put to her lips, she surveyed the glittering guests. At nearby tables, people chattered, laughter sprinkling the night air.
Vera reached over to squeeze her hand under the table. Sharise laced their fingers together and held on.
Keeping her voice low, she said, "After her premiere went so well, Carmen decided it was a good idea to post about the bouquet. Cora put something together. Maybe you saw it before she took it down?"
Vera shook her head. She already had a bad feeling about this.
"The post suggested Troy wanted to support Carmen. It didn't mention the apology."
Sharise went on to explain what had happened in broad strokes. Troy, seeing Carmen and Marina talking on the yacht, had confronted them.
"Apparently the flowers were meant for Marina. The delivery must have got mixed up."
Vera winced.
"But Troy seemed to think this was some scheme. That the two of them were conspiring to ruin him."
"What? How is a post about a bouquet supposed to ruin him? And why would he think they cared enough to conspire against him?"
"He's a famous white man," Sharise said, as though that were explanation enough. Which it was.
Troy had been drunk. He'd started shouting. When he'd turned to slurs that Sharise wouldn't repeat except to imply they were about Carmen being Latina, it got physical: Carmen shoved Troy into a server, making them drop their whole tray of dishes. They'd been taken away after with what looked like a sprained wrist.
"Yikes," Vera said. "Fuck Troy, seriously, but hurting the staff is a bad look."
"Yes. And there was, in fact, a drink thrown, just like you guessed. Marina tossed her cosmopolitan into Troy's face, glass and all. Split his cheek open."
Marina throwing drinks on Carmen's behalf was definitely a good sign. "Nothing a bandaid and the cost of dry cleaning can't fix," Vera said hopefully.
"It wasn't. Until Andre stepped in. I guess he thought he could be a gentleman."
The whole clusterfuck had culminated in Troy and Andre rolling around on the deck trying their best to strangle each other.
"I mean, there's a lot to unpack here. But mostly they sound like children, oh my god."
Sharise's chuckle sounded strained. "Worse. Children usually learn from their mistakes."
"Well, yeah. Fans love this shit. Reality TV and gossip columns exist for a reason."
"Exactly." Sharise blew out a sigh. "Even a big yacht is a small boat. There were a lot of staff and a lot of guests who saw it all. So Cora is trying to tie things up. Keep this from overshadowing the positive news about the premiere. And Carmen-" Sharise waved her glass in a gesture that encompassed the whole party "-is trying to give people something else to talk about. And to remind them that her goodwill is more useful to them than whatever a gossip site might pay for the story."
"But, if it does get out, Troy is obviously the one most in the wrong here."
"Famous white man," Sharise said again, in a deeply resigned tone. "The truth doesn't matter to the story. And who knows what parts might have been caught on video. It's better if we can keep it quiet."
Vera didn't point out the obvious. No matter what Cora did, someone would talk. This story might be about petty interpersonal drama with a racism garnish, but it involved a lot of very famous people, one of whom was currently the darling of the Venice Film Festival. That made it worth something. Vera couldn't help a moment of guilty relief at the thought that no one would care about her canal accident when they had this A-list scandal to draw their eye.
So now she had a lot more reason to hate Troy, but she still didn't know whether Carmen and Marina had actually made up.
Which was frustrating as hell. She had done her job exquisitely. Her look garnered Carmen all the attention she could possibly have asked for. Those red carpet photos would be plastered on all Venice Film Festival coverage for days, even–or maybe especially–if tonight's scandal leaked. Now Carmen and Marina were making sure everyone at this party thought that they were friends again, and she still didn't know if she was in the clear.
But Sharise gripped her hand under the table like it was an anchor, like she needed to ground herself in Vera's touch to avoid... What? Stressing over not being able to help more?
Vera looked at her, really looked at her: at the sharp set of shoulders that her flowing lace top couldn't soften, at the tiny muscle quaking in her jaw, at how her eyes darted from guest to guest as though trying to guess who might be taking Carmen's generosity now while planning to betray her to the press. And she understood.
She was so tired of having to worry about Carmen fucking Juarez's drama, her feuds, her mercurial moods. But she was even more tired of Sharise feeling responsible for Carmen's screwups. She hated seeing her hurt like this.
"It's not your fault," she said, squeezing Sharise's hand firmly.
"It might not have gotten out of hand if I hadn't convinced Carmen she should talk to Marina."
"Then you should blame me. I'm the one who talked you into going along with our little matchmaking plan."
Sharise let out a trembling breath. "It was also upsetting for me to see them at each other's throats."
"Then blame me for not telling you that I suspected the bouquet might not be for Carmen."
"How could I blame you for that? I was suspicious, too."
"Then why blame yourself?" Vera asked gently.
The martini glass made no sound when Sharise set it on the pristine white tablecloth. "I'm responsible for her, Vera."
"Carmen is a grownass woman. You can't stop her from making her own dumb mistakes."
"I can sure as hell try," Sharise said wryly, and Vera remembered her first impressions of the woman, of how she had seen so much of her relationship with her own sister Ivy in the way she treated Carmen.
"That's not even your job. You're her manager, not her big sister," she said. It came out sharper than she meant it to.
The light caught a gleam in Sharise's eyes. A moment later, she had blinked it away. Vera couldn't have said for sure that what she had seen was the sheen of tears, but she regretted her tone anyway.
"I'm sorry. You know I love how caring you are. You're incredible. I just don't think Carmen appreciates everything you do for her."
A tiny smile curved Sharise's lips. "Carmen is a diva and sometimes she does some really dumb things or gets involved with the wrong people. And yes, technically, she's my boss. But she's my family first. And I won't be the kind of family who turns my back when I'm needed."
Her smile was stitched with so much sadness. And Vera felt like the biggest asshole on the planet for not realizing sooner that Carmen wasn't the only one who was desperately lonely.
She had known that Sharise hadn't spoken to her mother in years, that she had barely ever known her father. She had wanted her own family so badly that she had almost married a woman who had cheated on her. Hell, she had let Vera move in even though she hadn't been ready to take that step. Yet, all this time, Vera had been so focused on her own career, her own plans, her own desires, that she hadn't noticed just how deeply Sharise was hurting.
Something twisted between her ribs.
"Hey." She put her other hand over their entwined fingers and held it there until Sharise turned to look at her fully. She grinned, a crooked little thing. "I get it. Family is complicated, right?"
Sharise's lips twitched, maybe remembering how she had reassured Vera using those same words, months ago now.
"Carmen is so fucking lucky to have you looking out for her. You even got her a career-making role with this Merry Sanders film. But there's only so much you can do, you know? Shit happens. And damage control is Cora's job."
Looking down at her glass, Sharise flicked the little green olive. It ricocheted off one slanted glass wall, bobbed to the surface, and spun slowly in a circle.
"You're right. I know you're right." So quietly her words almost drowned beneath a sudden burst of laughter at the next table, she said, "Honestly, I just... Sometimes I think I'm just not very good at my job."
This time it was Vera's eyes that prickled. "Oh, my love–"
"Sharise! Thank god. Cora asked me to find you and I've been looking everywhere. Am I interrupting?" The rake-thin person with a puff of bleached hair didn't even have the grace to look embarrassed when Vera shot them a murderous glare.
"It's okay." With a tiny smile for Vera, Sharise drew away. "Sorry. I'm needed."
Vera bit her lip. "Come find me when you're done?"
"I will," Sharise said in a tone that heated Vera all the way to her toes.
As Sharise followed the person away, Vera flagged down the nearest server.
Three glasses of water and one censored conversation with Jay later (he'd picked up some rumours and it was very hard to keep her promise to Sharise and not to tell him everything), she was on her way back from the bathroom when she finally spotted Sharise again, by the door, with–
Vera managed not to scream, barely.
Dressed all in sage green with a gold-embroidered veil folded delicately around her oval face, Fatima Bhatia looked even more gorgeous in person than Vera could have imagined. Her bronze skin was smooth as silk under the shimmering lights, and her amber eyes shone as she laughed along with something Sharise had said.
Heart leaping, Vera took one step toward them, then stopped.
This was her idol, the woman whose designs had always pushed the boundaries and Vera's own sense of what was possible in fashion, who she had dreamed for years of meeting–whose staff wouldn't even return Vera's calls when she was trying to get Carmen or Marina into a Bhatia gown for the film festival. She was right there, less than twenty feet away, talking to Sharise. All Vera had to do was walk over there and ask Sharise to introduce her.
But she couldn't. Not a single one of the millions of things she had once dreamed of asking Fatima Bhatia remained in her suddenly empty head. She didn't even have any designs to show her.
"She's exactly as intimidating as she looks," said a voice soft as a sewing needle driven into her skin.
Vera whipped around. Ellie, inky curls twisted into a pompadour, lips bent in a smirk, lounged against the railing, the night sky a perfect blazing backdrop to her ethereal beauty. She wasn't wearing sweats or sneakers today; instead, skinny black pants and a blazer with no shirt underneath were brought to a point by a pair of deadly snakeskin stilettos.
Blinking at her stupidly, Vera said, "What?"
"Bhatia." Ellie flicked one finger in the direction of the designer. "Do you really think she has time to waste on people like you?"
"I wouldn't waste her time."
"She has better things to do, I promise. You're nobody."
Vera drew herself up to her full height, and though she still had to look a long way up at Ellie, she raised her chin like a challenge. "Am I? You obviously remember exactly who I am."
Eyes narrowing, Ellie leaned closer. "There are thousands of people exactly like you out there. Any one of them could do your job. You're replaceable."
"Replaceable is what people say when they've fucked up so bad that the people they care about don't want them around anymore."
Ellie barked out some laughter. "Oh, kid. You think I'm still hung up on Sharise?"
"Why else are you talking to a nobody right now except that the most beautiful woman at this whole party wants nothing to do with you?"
A Pretty White Influencer appeared out of the crowd at that moment, a drink in each hand, and walked right up to Ellie. "Hey, babe. They didn't have the whiskey you wanted, so I got you-" Finally noticing Vera, she broke off with a loud gasp. "Oh. My. God. Vera Kwan?"
"Um. Yes?" Vera frowned. With her wavy, dyed silver-blonde hair, inch-long acrylic nails, and dramatic makeup that would look better in a tutorial video than under soft nighttime lighting, this woman could have been any one of thousands whose profiles Vera had scrolled past over the years without clicking. "Have we met?"
"No! No, we haven't." Apparently taking this as an invitation to introduce herself, the woman pushed the drinks into the grasp of a befuddled Ellie and clasped both of Vera's hands between her thin, chilly palms, nails digging into Vera's wrists. Her floral perfume was so strong Vera immediately felt lightheaded.
"I'm Elizabeth, but I go by Belle. At littlebellebeauty on, like, all the platforms. It's a joke. Little, because I'm short. I mean, you get it. Are we the same height? Short people problems, am I right? Anyway. Just, you know, wanted to share that in case you wanted to follow me back. No pressure." Her laughter was jittery. "Oh my god. I can't believe this is happening. You are my idol."
Vera looked very deliberately at Ellie, whose face was becoming more pinched with every word falling out of Belle's obviously enhanced lips.
Oblivious, Belle kept babbling, smiling hugely. "I am just so in awe of your career. Your work. Your following. You're living the dream. Not like me. I mean, I am so lucky to have met Ellie, thank the lord for the miracle of dating apps, am I right? But–" She stopped suddenly, her mouth hanging open. "Oh my god. I can't shut up. I don't know what's wrong with me. Am I being embarrassing?"
"Extremely," Ellie said.
"Not at all," Vera lied, at the exact same time. She was getting second hand embarrassment just listening to this. Had she been so cringey when she first came to Hollywood? It was a humbling thought. "I would appreciate it if you'd let go of my hands, though."
"Oh! I'm sorry!" Belle threw her hands up. "I literally can't believe I'm meeting you right now. Would you be interested in a collaboration? Oh my god. It's too soon to ask that, isn't it?"
"Belle, please," Ellie said, in a tone of utter mortification. Condensation dripped off her fingers as she tried to hand one of the drinks back to her girlfriend, who was too fixated on Vera to even notice.
While she wouldn't deny she was flattered to be recognized in real life, Vera had not expected it to be so profoundly uncomfortable to have someone fangirl to her face. Her skin was crawling, and the attention made her feel like a big fraud. How did mega celebrities put up with this all the time? She looked around for help.
To her immense relief, Sharise caught her eye. She gave a little wave and beckoned her over, mouthing, Come say hi.
Her heart turned over again. Come say hi to Fatima Bhatia. She could do this. She could do this without being Belle about it.
"It was super nice to meet you, Belle," Vera lied a second time, taking a step backwards, "but I've got to-" She waved vaguely in the direction of Sharise.
"Oh! Yeah, of course! I'm so sorry for keeping you!" Belle looked completely disappointed.
"So nice to see you again, Ellie," Vera said brightly. "I appreciate your advice. You really made me realize how some people are just irreplaceable."
Ellie's glare said she wanted to tell Vera to go fuck herself, but she kept her mouth shut.
As she turned away, Belle called desperately, "Will you follow me back? Please? It would help me so much!"
Vera mumbled something and ducked behind a tall thin Black guy with some badass tattoos on his forearms.
"Okay," she said to herself under her breath. "Do not be as cringey as Belle. Should be fine. No problem. Sure, you may have had a little accident with the canals earlier. And maybe you have no designs to show at the moment. But you have ideas, and you're the kind of person people actually recognize now. You can do this."
Someone nearby looked at her strangely.
Taking a deep breath, she straightened her shirt. Then she marched right up to Sharise and Fatima Bhatia with a smile that she hoped was totally normal and not at all Belle's level of unhinged.