Beyond the Pale Motel by Francesca Lia Block Read Free Book Online Page A

white satin corset dress with layers of pink and black tulle underneath that Bree had designed and made. Bree with her artist’s eyes and hands also went downtown at dawn to buy a truckload of pink and white peonies, and calla and Stargazer lilies, at the flower mart, arranged them in her collection of pretty wine bottles, put my hair in a pompadour, and did my makeup all cat’s eyes and pink and white glitter. Very Adele, although no one had heard of her yet. (When she came on the scene I was happy to have a beauty icon I could identify with.) Cyan was the photographer that night and didn’t really talk to anyone. But I remembered him coming into the dressing room where I was applying my pale pink frosted lipstick.
    â€œMay I photograph you now?” he said in the mirror. “The light is perfect.”
    I turned to him, smiling. The picture is still my favorite—my eyes bright with hope, lips parted with anticipation.
    â€œCatt?” I turned to him. “Your face is so full of love. It’s like you can see the love in everything.” I didn’t want to acknowledge it at the time, but the way he had said that, the way he looked at me, there was something more there, more than what was in the eyes and voice of my husband when we stood in front of all our friends and said our vows. It was a cool evening above the fraught, shining city, and I hadn’t been able to stop shaking throughout the entire ceremony, as if my body knew everything that was to come.

 
    #4
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    â€œGood-looking guy, right?” Scott said.
    He had gotten me to Body Farm by telling me I had to show him pictures of Skylar’s tryouts. Scott and Skylar adored books, baseball, and each other (not in that order), so I knew Scott really wanted to see the pictures and would normally have come to me. But he was trying to get me to work out instead of staying home under the covers with Sasha.
    The last picture was of Sky and Jarell. We’d found out that Skylar was on his team. Practice started in a few days. I had to admit that I was looking forward to it.
    Rick, on the treadmill beside me, chuckled at Scott’s comment. Good-looking guy. He and Todd were always teasing Scott about being secretly gay. It never seemed to bother him much.
    â€œI guess so. If that’s your type,” I said.
    Scott knew me too well to buy my playing-it-cool attempt. He laughed, but it was weaker than his usual chuckle. “Yeah, right.”
    â€œI prefer shorter white guys with glasses,” I teased him, like usual, but he didn’t smile, which was a little weird. Like everything lately. To be honest I had always preferred tall, bald guys with tattoos, but at least one of them wasn’t any good for me.
    â€œYou mean Harry Potter?” Rick said.
    We told Scott he looked like Daniel Radcliffe. He insisted people had always said Johnny Depp.
    â€œAbs now, Rickster.”
    â€œAww, Scotty, really?”
    â€œYou need to get that six-pack going.”
    â€œLet’s see yours,” I teased Scott. “Show us how they’re supposed to look.”
    â€œYeah,” Rick chimed in.
    Scott shook his head. “Nah. I’m not in the best shape right now.”
    What? That wasn’t like Scott. He always enjoyed the opportunity to show off his muscles. I frowned at him but I didn’t say anything. My head felt a little light. Maybe I just needed water? Or to go home and get in bed. Try to touch myself while fantasizing about Skylar’s new coach, use him to keep visions of Dash away.
    Rick finished his set and huffed off.
    â€œHey, Catt.” Scott reached for my wrist and I stopped the treadmill, wiped sweat from my face with a towel, and turned to him. There were dark circles under his eyes, just visible beneath the rim of his Harry Potter glasses.
    â€œYou okay?” I asked. But I asked too casually, I know that now. Hindsight is twenty-twenty, but what good does it do