Bared to You

party for Cary, not Gideon, and I was going to
keep that first and foremost in my thoughts.
Once we’d moved outside, we found a large,
elaborately decorated marquee erected in the
rear garden. Although the day was beautiful
enough to stay out in the sun, I found a seat at a
circular table covered in white damask instead.
Cary patted my shoulder. “You relax. I’ll
network.”
“Go get ’em.”
He moved away, intent on his agenda.
I sipped champagne and chatted with everyone
who stopped by to strike up a conversation. There
were a lot of recording artists at the party whose
work I listened to, and I watched them covertly, a
bit starstruck. For all the elegance of the
surroundings and the endless number of servants,

---

the overall vibe was casual and relaxed.
I was starting to enjoy myself when someone I’d
hoped never to see again stepped out of the
house onto the terrace: Magdalene Perez, looking
phenomenal in a rose-hued chiffon gown that
floated around her knees.
A hand settled on my shoulder and squeezed,
setting my heart racing because it reminded me
of the night Cary and I had gone to Gideon’s club.
But the figure that rounded me this time was
Christopher.
“Hey, Eva.” He took the chair next to mine and
set his elbows on his knees, leaning toward me.
“Are you having fun? You’re not mingling much.”
“I’m having a great time.” At least I had been.
“Thank you for inviting me.”
“Thank you for coming. My parents are stoked
you’re here. Me, too, of course.” His grin made
me smile, as did his tie, which had cartoon vinyl
records all over it. “Are you hungry? The crab
cakes are great. Grab one when the tray comes
by.”
“I’ll do that.”
“Let me know if you need anything. And save a
dance for me.” He winked, and then hopped up
and away.
Ireland took his seat, arranging herself with the
practiced grace of a finishing school graduate.
Her hair fell in a single length to her waist and her
beautiful eyes were direct in a way I could
appreciate. She looked worldlier than her
seventeen years. “Hi.”
“Hello.”
“Where’s Gideon?”
I shrugged at the blunt question. “I’m not sure.”
She nodded sagely. “He’s good at being a
loner.”
“Has he always been that way?”

---

“I guess. He moved out when I was little. Do you
love him?”
My breath caught for a second. I released it in a
rush and said simply, “Yes.”
“I thought so when I saw that video of you two in
Bryant Park.” She bit her lush lower lip. “Is he fun?
You know…to hang around with?”
“Oh. Well…” God. Did 
anyone
know Gideon? “I
wouldn’t say he’s fun, but he’s never boring.”
The live band began playing “I’ve Got You
Under My Skin” and Cary appeared beside me as
if by magic. “Time to make me look good,
Ginger.”
“I’ll try my best, Fred.” I smiled at Ireland.
“Excuse me a minute.”
“Three minutes, forty seconds,” she corrected,
displaying some of her family’s expertise in
music.
Cary led me onto the empty dance floor and
pulled me into a swift foxtrot. It took me a minute
to get into it, because I’d been stiff and tight with
misery for days. Then the synergy of longtime