Sway

Chapter Twenty-Two

Chapter Twenty-Two

Every year, Los Angeles held The Heavenly Hearts Ball to raise money for some charity or other. Basically it was an excuse to let the Hollywood types and rich entrepreneurs feel like they were doing something worthwhile with their millions while having a fancy party at the same time. Or, as I always put it, anything for a red carpet.

Dad went out on a limb this year and weaseled some tickets. Weaseled because he wasn’t exactly big in Hollywood anymore. Still, he had a few favors left to get himself in, plus Gage and me, and Beth and Shelby.

I paced the kitchen, waiting for Gage to arrive, sipping ice water to help calm my nerves. Note to self: ice water isn’t calming.

Beth swept into the kitchen, her feathered Gucci gown trailing behind her.

“Wow, Beth, you look great,” I said.

“Duh.” Her dark hair was pulled into a high topknot highlighting her magnificent cheekbones. She poured herself a glass of wine. I raised my eyebrows but she ignored it.

She looked at me slyly. “Worried that Gage isn’t going to show?”

I rounded the island, my heels clacking on the hardwood floor. “No.” Gage would definitely show—there were too many people to schmooze with, including Thea Hart, the producer of the show he was trying to land.

“Then what’s with the pacing?”

I shrugged but continued circling the kitchen table. When I came back around, Beth’s eyes were following me.

“What?”

“Nothing,” she said lightly. I didn’t buy it.

I tugged at my dress. Dad walked into the kitchen with Shelby on his arm. I widened my eyes at Beth and motioned my head to her friend who clearly wanted a piece of our father. Beth stared at me blankly. Was she blind?

“Wow! Look at my girls!” Dad extracted himself from Shelby and went to Beth, kissing her on both cheeks like a Parisian. “You are stunning.” Beth’s face flushed prettily—a softer look than she usually wore.

Dad came to me next. He cupped my face with his hand, smiling at me like a fond father. “Simply beautiful.”

I couldn’t remember the last time Dad had smiled at me like that or told me I was beautiful. Usually there was room for improvement, typically in the form of a cream or lotion or a brand new life. “Thanks, Dad.”

The doorbell rang and I pressed a hand to my stomach, hoping to suppress my nerves. I kept asking myself why I was nervous but clearly, my self couldn’t come up with any possible answers.

We streamed out of the kitchen to the front entrance. Shelby hurried back upstairs muttering something about checking her makeup while Beth adjusted the neckline of her dress. I opened the door to Gage, who looked especially handsome in his tux. Like a tanned James Bond.

He stared at me, my expertly tousled side bun, and down my navy Grecian-style Marchesa gown. They lingered on the slit over one leg, then slowly rose. It felt as if his hand was gently gliding across my skin, rather than his eyes. My whole body tingled.

“Wow.” Gage stepped inside the house and closed the door behind him. “I have never seen anyone so beautiful.”

Between Gage’s words, his eyes and my Dad and Beth standing right there, I blushed like crazy. You’d think I would have stopped blushing about such things years ago.

“Hello, sir.” Gage reached around me to shake Dad’s free hand. “Thank you for the tickets. It’s such an important cause and I’m grateful to help out.”

I wanted to point out the fact that my Dad paid for the tickets; therefore, he was the one helping out the cause. With hot cheeks and my heart pounding double-time, I couldn’t get out the words.

When Shelby reappeared, with even more makeup on than she had before, we all headed out. I stumbled over the doorstep and Gage grabbed my hand.

“Don’t worry,” Gage said, leading me to his car. “I’ll catch you if you fall.”

I raised an eyebrow and he laughed.

* * * * *

The Heavenly Hearts Ball was, in a word: heavenly. It was held in an old embassy building in downtown LA. The large ballroom was all marble floors and pillars; white marble with a dreamy swirling blue throughout that gave the feel of walking among the clouds. Combine that with thousands of candles and a string orchestra playing Strauss and I had to check my pulse to make sure I hadn’t died and gone to heaven.

Gage had calmed my nerves during our drive with his caresses and compliments. Dad, Beth and Shelby followed behind in Dad’s convertible. When we walked into the ballroom, my palms moistened, even though I had no clue what I was so worried about. As if he could sense it, Gage smiled at me, gently wrapping his arm around my waist. I smiled back, tension slipping down my body and seeping out my toes.

We feasted on the food, enjoyed the company, delighted in the music. Even Beth was pleasant for once, but that was probably due to all the rich men lavishing her with attention. Gage was attentive, never leaving my side for long, but never stifling like he had been at the family dinner.

We giggled in the corner over the outrageous dresses and faces frozen by botox. We stared at the lovely painted ceiling—a replica of the Sistine Chapel ceiling. And we danced—our bodies close together as we waltzed around the room. It was a perfect night. The only thing that put a damper on it was Shelby, pressing herself against my father on the dance floor and flirting outrageously with my boyfriend.

“Hey,” Gage said when we were taking a breather, “isn’t that Jonah Miller?” He leaned forward in his chair, peering across the room.

My eyes followed his to a small man filling a plate with more food than his teeny body could probably handle.

“I think so,” Dad said, squinting in that direction. “You should introduce yourself. He’s a great director. He’d be a good man to know.”

Gage watched the little man walk the length of the table, heaping more and more food onto his plate. “I’m pretty sure it’s him.” He turned to me. “Do you mind?”

“Of course not. I think I’ll take a trip to the ladies room anyway.”

Dad rose from his chair. “Want me to introduce you? We worked on a movie together back in the nineties.”

Gage nodded at Dad then flashed his shiny whites at me. “I’ll find you.” He planted a warm kiss on my cheek and then backed away, doing a silly dance.

I laughed at his shooting gun fingers and swaying hips. He raised his eyebrows up and down a few times before turning away.

I absently chewed on a thumbnail as I watched Gage leave. The feel of his lips still lingered on my cheek.

Shelby sighed. “You’re so lucky.”

I stood up. “Yes, I am.” And then because I thought that was a little rude, I added, “Thank you.”

I navigated the crowds in search of a bathroom, observing the people around me on the way, the beautiful ballroom, the couples on the dance floor. My eyes roamed over the musicians playing their instruments, caught up in the music and oblivious to everything else. A feeling I knew all too well.

When I reentered the ballroom, the orchestra was just beginning another piece. I recognized it at once even without the usual tenor singing the lyrics. The song was “The Way You Look Tonight”, and in my memory, it was Eric singing the words.

* * * * *

It had been a random day, a random moment. I couldn’t remember what happened before or after. I couldn’t even remember when. But I could see Eric as clear as day, lying on his stomach across my bed, his feet dangling off the end. He was working on his laptop while absently singing “The Way You Look Tonight.”

“You know, I’ve always hated that song,” I said.

He turned his head from the computer in exaggerated slow-motion and looked at me in disbelief.

I tucked my legs beneath me on my favorite plushy chair. “What?”

“Don’t you dare knock Jerome Kern.”

“Who’s Jerome Kern? The writer or something?”

He sat up, indignation splashed all over his face. “Yes, the writer! Geez, Ava.”

“Did he write the music or the lyrics?”

Eric opened his mouth, then closed it again. His brow furrowed.

“Ha! You don’t even know.” I got up from my chair and sat by Eric on the bed as he turned back to the computer, no doubt to look it up. “It’s not the music I have issues with, it’s the lyrics.”

He looked at me. “What’s wrong with the lyrics?”

“I dunno. The song just bugs me. Like the guy wants the girl to look the same forever. He doesn’t want her to change. It’s like he won’t love her when she looks different, which, duh, she’s going to eventually. It’s called ageing.”

“That’s not what the song’s about,” Eric protested. “It’s about a man wanting to remember one night, one perfect moment with his love, forever. He wants to capture it for later, when he’s depressed or having a hard time or something.”

“Yeah, but if they’re still together, what does he need that for? He’s got her. She can still cheer him up, even if she doesn’t look as young and beautiful as she used to.”

Eric looked into my eyes. “But what if he doesn’t have her anymore? Doesn’t he deserve that one beautiful memory?”

* * * * *

At the time, we were just having one of our usual disagreements over a song. Neither of us knew what would soon happen. Listening to the violins slide the tune from their strings in a ballroom that looked like heaven, I wanted to laugh at the memory. Or cry. I wasn’t the same now. So different he never would have known me. But I had that one perfect moment with him locked away.

I think that made me hate the song even more.

Maybe Eric carried a memory like that of me as well, of the way I looked one night a long time ago. It was all I could really ask for now.

A hand slid into mine. I turned my head. Dark brown eyes stared back at me. I felt a pang of disappointment that they weren’t Eric’s deep blue. And then I told myself to get it together.

“Dance with me,” Gage said. His lips moved in a way that was more inviting than the request.

I let him lead me onto the dance floor. He swept me into his arms, one hand sure on my back. We circled the floor and his eyes locked on mine, unwilling to let go. I searched his face, but I couldn’t shake the memory of Eric.

Gage seemed to sense my absence. He pressed his cheek on my head and started to hum. “Nice song. What is it?”

“‘The Way You Look Tonight.’” I closed my eyes. “By Jerome Kern.”

He let out a small snort of surprise. “A favorite?”

“I hate it, actually.” I looked up at Gage to see his eyes widen. “It’s a long story.”

“Ah. An ex.” His face softened. “Bad memories.”

“No. I’ve never liked the song, that’s all.”

“It’s okay. You don’t have to tell me.”

I pressed my lips together. There was no point arguing.

“Let me help you forget.” Gage pressed his body into mine. My heart quickened, beating past the tempo of the song and our movements. The memory of that conversation with Eric began to slip away. For a second I considered grabbing it, clutching it to myself. Instead, I let it go and it wavered away. In front of me was only Gage.

“I want you for myself, Ava,” he said. “Now and always.”

My lips parted. Gage took the opportunity and filled the space, his lips blending with mine—a perfect kiss in a perfect ballroom against the backdrop of a song I despised.

In that moment, I couldn’t remember why I despised it.