Page 10 of Famous for a Living

I smile and release his hand. “Deal. And tomorrow, lunch.”

After a few moments he puts one hand in his pocket. Pulls out a box. “Here. I should probably give you this before your party.”

The bushy salt-and-pepper mustache overpowering Uncle Terry’s face twitches as he holds out a small box. He looks as uncomfortable in this moment as that one time when I was twelve and he visited and asked where I wanted to go, and thirty minutes later found himself inside a Limited Too with a bunch of preteens around him, picking out bras.

The square box is small and unassuming. Cardboard colored, no label. But as my fingers lift off the lid, my breath catches in my throat.

I raise the thin golden chain in my fingertips. The rose-embossed locket is so small you wouldn’t think you could fit a picture in there, and yet—

I unlatch it and sure enough, there she is. Aunt Claire on one side, hair tangled and swept up in the wind as she stands on a hillside, grinning. And Uncle Terry, much leaner in both build and facial hair, in the same park uniform he’s wearing now.

“No use keeping it locked away,” Uncle Terry says gruffly. He stands with his hands at his sides, his posture identical to his stance in the employment photo in the locket from thirty years ago.

I have a hard time finding my voice, so instead I just smile and turn to let him put it on. Aunt Claire passed away four years ago, quite suddenly and unexpectedly. It was a shock, particularly as she was one of the healthiest women I knew. And while they had never had children, I find it hard to accept that she—or he—could really mean for me to have this treasure. I’m well aware of the dozen nieces and nephews they have on her side of the family.

When I feel the clasp lock, I turn. And while my words are “How does it look?” he knows what I’m really saying.

This means so much.

I will take such care of it.

I miss her too.

“Very nice.” His mustache twitches as he looks at the necklace resting above the V-neck of my jumpsuit.

“But I just spoke with the concierge and she said there was room for two people tonight. Then she transferred me to someone else, who—no I don’t want to be transferred again—”

My eyes tick over to Zaiah. He really is the spitting image, in personality at least, of Uncle Terry. Down to the bulging vein in his neck while dealing with fellow human beings.

The elevator glides us up as I listen to a few more impatient run-on sentences. They are getting shorter and shorter as we go up, his tension rising at his obvious inability to get anywhere in the matter.

And is that . . . ?

I squint, finding it so hard to believe I think I must be seeing it wrong.

Is this man really using a flip phone? In this era?

Ding. The elevator stops. As the doors begin to glide open, there is Serena standing on the other side, her toes tap-tap-tapping as madly as a mouse in heels racing across the marble tile. Before the doors have fully opened, she throws out her arms.

“Are you crazy?” She completely ignores the two men inside. “The clock is down to two minutes. TWO. Jacquie looks like she’s about to have a panic attack. I already heard that reporter Adam Adams starting to work up an alternative piece called ‘Cat Cranwell Overcome with Rage Abandons Own Birthday Party.’ He’s telling people about the time his cat got run over by a taxi and then snapping photos of their facial reactions for the piece. The guy will do anything for a story—”

“Excuse me.”

It’s her. The girl with the Ji Cheng scarf wrapped around her delicate shoulders. She’s stepping up to the elevator, her flawlessly long legs tremoring slightly. In her hands, she clutches a phone.

Her voice is barely above a squeak, the memory of her smooth entrance into the apartment shattering with each timid, adolescent word as she raises her long lashes to meet my eyes. “I have to leave but I’m just . . . I’m such a fan. Could you possibly . . . perhaps . . . take a picture with me?”

And while Serena looks like she’s about to explode at this interruption, I find myself stricken by her up close.

Even younger.

Even more beautiful.

Eyes full of life.

Nothing but clear eagerness for the world and all it has to offer.

It’s an addicting look. A captivating look that will draw people toward her wherever she goes, once she realizes the power she has and loses her fears.