Beautiful People - Chapter 14: Chapter 14

It was a long drive to Sharise's apartment in North Hollywood. Endless traffic hummed around them while the last orange fringe of the sun fluttered and vanished behind dry brown hills. Vera's notifications started pinging before they were halfway there. Carmen--or maybe Cora, she must have access to Carmen's accounts now--had posted a high-quality copy of one of the red-carpet shots and tagged Vera. Early reactions bracketed the extreme ends of the spectrum - screaming and love, or disproportionate disgust. Vera deleted a few seethingly vitriolic messages. Any talk was good talk, but she didn't need that misogynist garbage in her DMs.
Every time Vera's phone vibrated, Sharise's hand twitched towards her own phone as though she expected the sound to be a call from Carmen, another crisis that only she could solve. Her face remained calm, and each time she carefully settled her hands back on the wheel like nothing had happened, but Vera could see the faint pinch in her brow.
When she got the text from Jay saying, Do us all a favor and have some mind-blowing sex. Stressed Sharise is a pain in everyone's ass, she turned off her notifications.
Sharise lived on the top floor of a long building, low like all structures in the area and faced in smooth white stone. Palm trees waved along the sidewalk and yellow lights showed welcoming faces behind ornate balcony railings.
"This city keeps giving me this feeling like I'm in Hawaii," Vera said.
"Intentional. Pretending to be a tropical resort makes us forget about the smog giving us lung cancer."
Vera snorted a laugh.
Sharise unlocked the door and pulled it wide, letting Vera slip inside first. The door clanked shut behind them. A gleaming, off-white hallway stretched out, but the elevator was broken.
"It's been down for two months," Sharise said. "It's not all bad. I get my workout from the stairs."
They started up the steps. The stairwell was just wide enough for them to walk side-by-side. Their elbows kept brushing together.
Vera said, "Don't get mad at me for stalking you--"
"That's a great conversation starter."
"Sorry." Grinning, she tugged at her earlobe. "I'm telling on myself. I wanted to see what movies you were in. You were the best sassy black friend I've ever seen, by the way."
"Oh my God." Sharise pinched the bridge of her nose between two fingers, but she was smiling, just the tiniest bit. "You didn't watch Lights on After Class. It was awful."
"I did. I'm sorry. And it was so awful. Worse than Never Enough Smiles. But you were great, even if whoever designed your costumes should've been fired. And you were so cute when you were seventeen."
"You're trying to flatter me."
"I'm not. It's true. You were good." Vera nudged her, trying to ignore the ache already twinging in her thighs. It wasn't fair. Sharise didn't look like the climb was bothering her at all. "But I wanted to ask-- Your dad is a big-time producer, right? Did you grow up in LA? Is that why you wanted to be an actor?"
Sharise's smile faded. Their footsteps echoed up the stairwell. "My parents divorced when I was young. I travelled a lot with my mom."
"Oh, wow. To her shows and stuff?"
Silver beads clinked together as Sharise shook her head, face impassive. "Kids need structure, not behind-the-scenes access to Paris Fashion Week."
"No way. A dream." Vera pressed her palms to her heart. "I'm seriously so jealous. I would've loved to grow up in that world."
"Maybe you would have. I didn't thrive with constant reminders that I could be successful if I just lost weight."
Vera winced. "Yikes. Your mom said that? She doesn't still talk like that, does she?"
"I don't know. We don't have a relationship anymore," Sharise said, her voice flat and expressionless.
"Shit." Vera's throat tightened in sympathy. "I'm so sorry. Now I feel bad for always complaining about my annoying sister."
"Don't be sorry. It was the best decision I ever made."
Vera didn't have anything to say to that.
By the top of the six steep flights of stairs, Vera was puffing. "That is a workout. Oof. I need to start swimming again." She pressed a hand to her spasming side.
"You're a swimmer?" Sharise's keys rattled in the lock. The climb had barely deepened her breathing.
"I was competitive in high school. Won a silver medal once. Now I just do it to stay fit." Vera followed Sharise inside the apartment. "Haven't kept it up since my last relationship, though. My arms are limp noodles now." She pushed up her rolled sleeve and flexed comically, pursing her lips. "I can't believe you're not embarrassed to see how out of shape I am."
"Your level of fitness is nobody's business but your own."
Somehow Vera melted a little more. She slipped her heels off, aches sharp in her arches and a small spasm shaking up one calf as she relaxed her feet flat onto the floor. She really did need to start swimming again. And stretching. Wearing heels shouldn't make her legs hurt so much. "You mind if I use the washroom?"
"Just down the hall."
Following Sharise's gesture, Vera looked around with interest. She hadn't expected the apartment to look so soft: everything was white and newly-hatched-chick yellow and a pale, dusty rose. Old-fashioned white wicker end tables and overstuffed chairs furnished the living room. Peeking into the bedroom on the way by, Vera saw a quilt that bloomed with a whole garden of roses and daffodils and violets; the second bedroom lifted watercolour landscapes of ocean and desert above the desk and between the bookshelves. In the washroom, the silver rack held fluffy towels of a pale, blushing pink. Vera found herself smiling at discovering this ultra-feminine side to Sharise. Just when she had been starting to feel like she knew her so well.
Then, unable to resist another peek into the bedroom on the way back, Vera saw the four bulging cardboard boxes stacked against the wall under the tall window. It felt like catching her fingers under the needle of her sewing machine. The memory pricked, Carmen asking, "Has Ellie come back to get her stuff yet?"
Vera frowned at the floral quilt. Maybe the decor wasn't Sharise's choice at all. It made her stomach twist to think of Sharise decorating this place together with a woman who would go on to break her heart.
Sharise was lifting two wine glasses down out of a cupboard when Vera returned to the kitchen, and she stood for a moment admiring the strong curve of Sharise's spine, the subtle grace in the movement of her arms. In a narrow crystal vase on the counter by her elbow, tulips were just beginning to blink open. The whole scene seemed so tranquil, so perfect, like Vera had conjured it into being simply by wishing it.
Turning, Sharise smiled at her, eyes warm, and Vera didn't understand how someone could want anything more than to have Sharise smile at them like that. That smile warmed her right down to her toes, crooked a matching smile onto her own lips.
"I like your place," Vera said, because she couldn't say, I promise I will never take you for granted.
"I should've warned you I have the taste of a white grandma," Sharise said in a dry voice, and Vera probably shouldn't have been so relieved.
"I think it's cute. I love your quilt." Vera stepped forward to accept the wine bottle and a bowl of plump green grapes, a crackle in the brush of their fingertips.
"You don't need to lie to me."
Vera arched one delicate eyebrow. "I'm not lying."
"Of course. I--" Sharise looked down, busily gathered up the wine glasses, corkscrew, and her keys. "Ellie hated it all. She was always trying to change things."
"How long ago did she move out?" Vera asked delicately.
"A couple months."
"Is that her stuff still in the bedroom?"
"It was... Abrupt." There was a hem of sadness in her voice that Vera didn't feel she had the right to pick apart.
They slipped back into their shoes. Vera's feet protested the climb up the last flight of stairs to the roof. Outside, the night air wasn't quite cool enough to lift goosebumps on Vera's bare forearms. Potted plants ringed the roof, plastic lounge chairs and small wrought-iron tables scattered between. Overhead, the belly of the darkened sky glowed dusky with the warmth of the city.
They set the refreshments down on a small table, and Vera crossed to the railing at the edge of the roof. Lights starred the city all around as though they had fallen from the empty, too-bright sky. In the distance, dark, opaque masses of mountains interrupted the rosy glow of the horizon. Traffic hummed on the freeways below, out of sight, but otherwise it was quiet.
"For some reason, before I came here, I imagined I'd be able to see the Hollywood sign from everywhere."
Sharise came up beside her, close enough that their arms touched, and set her hands on the railing. "Not in NoHo. There's the Burbank sign. It's just a B."
"Pretty lame."
"Everyone wants something to be proud of."
"You still haven't told me what you want to be proud of."
Flickering golden lights caught in Sharise's dark eyes. She said nothing, just turned and went back to the chairs. Settling herself with her feet still firmly on the ground, she reached for the wine.
Vera dragged her chair right up next to Sharise's and kicked off her shoes again with a clatter. With a sigh, she collapsed onto the forgiving plastic seat. A cool breeze kissed her cheeks. Traffic sang, far away.
There was a deep, still comfort in being together like this. It was the first time they were so completely alone. The hectic city continued to buzz around them, never sleeping, but they weren't going anywhere. They weren't worrying about whether Carmen might decide she needed them or Jay might walk in with a question or even what the articles were going to say tomorrow. They were just existing, together.
Curling her feet up underneath her, Vera watched Sharise's deft hands twist the corkscrew into the bottle; her short manicured nails glossy in the dim light, delicate creases in her knuckles, smooth curve of thumb into wrist as she squeezed the arms of the corkscrew together.
"Ellie, she-- She wants to come get her stuff," Sharise said, eyes on the cork. "She's been trying to arrange it through a friend. I want it gone. I need the space. I can't really afford this place on my own."
Vera bit her tongue on the silly question she wanted to ask - Does that mean you need a roommate? - and instead said, "So why hasn't she?"
The cork popped free. Sharise set it aside carefully. "I've told her I'm busy with work. And I am. You know that. But I--" She let out a small laugh, ruched with shame. "I'm just afraid to see her again."
Vera thought about how hard it had been, after Alex. How much it had hurt to see him with his new girlfriend. How much more awful it would have been if they had been living together.
"Do you still love her?"
"No." Sharise let out a tight, uncertain breath. "I don't love her anymore. But I'm afraid, if I let her back in-- She might convince me that I do."
Vera popped a grape off the vine coiled in the bowl. She studied the imperfect surface of it, warm wisps of shadow caught in its divots and creases. There shouldn't be another woman who could shake Sharise's foundation. It was a bitter thought. She bit the grape in half. "Do you want some support?"
"Support?" Sharise handed her a glass.
Grinning, Vera took a small sip. The wine was dry as Sharise's jokes but had a subtle, fruity finish. "Yeah. Backup, when she comes over. So you don't have to see her alone."
Sharise poured her own glass, set the bottle down, swirled the amber liquid. Then she smiled, a little more than the tips of her teeth. "Actually, yes. I would love some support."
"Just let me know when," Vera said, and held up her glass.
They clinked and sipped. Sharise's eyes sparkled in the dim, drifting light.
Vera shifted closer, smile widening. "Have I told you that you're fucking gorgeous?"
That surprised a low laugh out of Sharise. "Why do you say that like you think I don't know?"
"Because maybe you don't know that getting to see you every day is the best part of coming to LA."
"I don't believe that you think sitting here with me on a roof is better than seeing Carmen walk down a red carpet in a style you designed."
"Okay, I'll admit that's pretty fucking amazing, but--"
"Or your two hundred thousand followers."
Vera pouted. "Only a hundred and fifty last time I checked. But yeah, actually, being here with you is better than that. Even two hundred thousand followers doesn't compare to seeing you like this." She brushed the pad of her thumb feather-light along the length of Sharise's cheekbone, down over the soft curve of her cheek. Sharise sighed into her touch, eyelids dipping low. "You're glowing. You look like the stars are trapped under your skin."
Sharise didn't laugh again. Her lips were curved deeply, her white teeth catching the low light. Her own thumbs traced the hip of her glass. "I don't mind if you want to flatter me. I love how forward you are."
"Excuse me, you're the one who did that--thing with those chopsticks," Vera teased. "It doesn't get much more forward than that. I mean, unless there's some other message you expected me to take--"
Sharise looked away, perfectly sculpted brows knotting. "I got carried away. You were being so cute."
Warmth bubbling in her stomach, Vera set her wine glass down. She shifted closer still until their legs pressed together, calf to thigh, her knee against Sharise's hip, their heartbeats thrumming together through linen and vegan leather.
Vera said, "I like you carried away."
With slow, gentle hands, she gathered up Sharise's hair and tucked it behind her shoulders. Deep shadows painted the bared length of her neck and collarbone and that delectable plunging neckline. Breath quickening between delicately parted lips, Sharise watched her lean in very, very close, barely a thread of air in the gap.
"Would it be too forward to tell you that I'm absolutely dying to kiss you?"
"We were literally just talking about my ex," Sharise said, her voice faint as though she couldn't quite catch her breath.
"Would you rather keep talking about your ex?" Vera let her palm settle against the warm cleft where throat met shoulder, and Sharise did this thing, with her breath, this small, soft sound of utter want escaping between her teeth. Vera's lips bowed in an impish smile. "I don't think I'm being a very successful distraction if that's what you want."
"Jesus Christ, Vera, of course that's not what I want."
Setting her wine glass firmly out of the way, Sharise crossed the breath between them and Vera met her halfway, lips parted.
The first taste was sharp with wine. The second was softer, deeper. They fumbled at first, noses knocking, a little clumsy but both of them too hungry for this to care. Vera could taste her own desire silken on Sharise's lips; sank her fingers into the roots of her delicately-scented hair to pull her closer, beads rattling.
Deft hands sought a place for themselves at Vera's waist, tangled in her oversized shirt and then under it, pulling desperately until palms found the warm touch of skin. Vera gasped into the kiss. Her imagination had entirely failed to anticipate the way it felt to have Sharise's hands on her, against the bent of her ribs and the soft spots beneath and that delicate place at the base of her spine. Roses of heat bloomed one after another in her lower belly. Petals of fire followed the slow exploration of Sharise's fingertips.
"You're so beautiful," Sharise murmured against Vera's flying pulse. "So--"
They panted, not enough air but neither wanting to pull away. Vera pushed onto her knees and Sharise shuffled back to make room for her. The chair tipped dangerously for a moment. A few nervous, breathless giggles escaped between kisses before the furniture settled with a groan under their combined weight.
They slipped together, bodies curving into the empty places in the other. Vera's hands on Sharise's hips now, her leg pushing up into welcoming heat between downy thighs. And Sharise made this sound, this low moan that purred right down Vera's throat and turned her whole body to liquid.
"Fuck," Vera whispered, her lips against Sharise's ear setting off ripples of exquisite shivers. "How did we wait so long to do this?"
"Not here," Sharise said, barely more than a whisper, dark eyes shining in the dim light. "Let's go-- back to my apartment. Okay? We can--" Her hands fisted in Vera's shirt like she never wanted to let go. "I don't know. This. I want more of this."
"Of course." Catching her breath, Vera laid her lips against Sharise's throat, then against the swelling warmth of her breastbone, an answering swelling in her own chest. "Anything you want is okay, Sharise."
"Less clothes, though."
"Why are we still talking about this?"
Laughter knitting together in the cool air, they supported each other to their feet. More kisses on the way across the roof, hands laced together, and they were nearly to the stairwell before they remembered the barely-touched bottle of wine.