Текст книги "Just Me"
Автор книги: L.A. Fiore
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Chapter Seventeen
The following morning Logan took me into his studio, where he showed me canvas after canvas. Most of his works were of landscapes, but his use of color and the compositions took my breath away. He said he didn't typically do portraits, but the few I saw could hold their own against the finest portrait artists ever.
We entered the kitchen for a drink and that's when I saw two additional pieces. One was of Saffron and an older gentleman—looking at each other and laughing: the affection between them was clear. The other painting was of Saffron standing behind a bar pouring a beer. I studied the portrait, the love that Logan had for Saffron was shown in every brush stroke. He stood silently at my side looking at the painting.
“I did that during a time when I wasn't with Saffron and I missed her so damn much.”
“You can see that, your love for her practically jumps off the canvas. I drew a sketch of Bastian right when we first started dating. When Ms. Whitney saw it, she told me my love for him was very evident. I guess, since it was mine, I didn't really see it, but I understand now what she was saying.” Turning slightly in his direction, I asked, “How long have you been offering this scholarship?”
“This is the second year. The last was an artist who focused on sculpting, but I wanted to concentrate on painting this year.”
“Lucky for me,” I said teasingly. He smiled in reply, but I watched as the smile faded.
“Lark, can I ask you something?”
I turned to face him and when our eyes locked he asked, “What was it like for you living with your uncle and aunt? I realize it's none of my business, but Saffron mentioned that you told her about your aunt kicking you out of the house. Was she always so intolerant of you?”
He was right, it wasn't any of his business and yet I found I didn't have a problem with sharing my personal life with him. And more, I didn't candy-coat it but told him exactly how it had been. “She ignored me and lied to my uncle to make it seem that I was disinterested in the family, when really she didn't want me anywhere near them.”
“And your mother?”
I was tempted to lower my head before his serious gaze, but I held it. “At the risk of making myself look less in your eyes, the truth is my mother died because she had too many vices and indulged in them recklessly. The time I spent with my uncle was like staying at a resort in comparison.”
“And your father?”
“Never knew him.”
“I'm sorry. I shouldn't get so personal.”
“It's fine. Sometimes I wonder who he is and if he even knows about me. In my room at home, I have a print of the sculpture, Mother and Child, by David Cambre. I used to pretend that he was my dad and that he had created the sculpture for me. It was easy to do since we looked so similar and shared a love of art. It was a childish fantasy, but also comforting. It made the concept of my dad seem more real. When David died, I actually mourned for him because it felt as if a little piece of me had died with him.”
Logan turned abruptly and walked toward the kitchen. “I'll get us some lemonade.” His voice had grown hoarse.
For the rest of the day I thought about Logan's reaction to what I had said about David. He had looked stricken. Was it simply sympathy for the girl who was unloved enough to have her own aunt kicking her out of the house, the same girl who pretended a familial connection to someone so far removed from her sphere, or was his reaction fueled by something more?
***
The following morning found me walking through town checking out the local shops. I stood outside the bakery eating a chocolate-covered cream donut when Saffron appeared and the way she eyed my donut made me nervous.
“You got any more of those?”
“Yeah, would you like one?”
“I'd give you my arm for one.”
I reached into the bag. “Not necessary, keep your arm.”
I watched her take a bite and honestly, she looked like a woman in the midst of the most intense orgasm of her life. I looked down at my donut and wondered if we were eating the same thing.
“Since I got pregnant, I can't get enough of these guys. It really is no wonder that I'm as heavy as a small whale.”
“Not a small whale, maybe a large dolphin.” This earned me a look, so I lowered my head to keep her from seeing my grin.
“Are you heading somewhere?” She asked in between mouthfuls.
“No, just walking around.”
“Mind if I join you?”
“Not at all.”
We started from the bakery, when something caught my eye across the street. “Is that a statue of a swordfish?”
Saffron's bark of laughter confirmed it. “Yeah, Logan made it and dedicated it to the town.”
“I want to get a better look.” I crossed the street and stood in front of the life-sized swordfish carved from a dark-blue marble. As silly as the intent might have been, the statue was beautiful. The lines, the detail were flawlessly executed. The bag of donuts I held slipped from my numb fingers.
“Holy shit.”
“Lark?”
I couldn't even get a handle on my emotions because there were just too many burning through me, the strongest of those being joy. I leaned closer so I could whisper, “Logan is David Cambre?”
“How do you know that?”
“I've extensively studied David Cambre and this...” I pointed to the swordfish, “is a David Cambre. It even has the small crescent moon he carves into all of his works.”
“Jesus, you really do know David's work.”
“Why did he change his name?”
“Because he isn't one for being in the spotlight, so he used a different name to help keep some anonymity. He was a celebrity, but a reluctant one.”
I paled, thinking of my conversation with Logan yesterday.
“What's that look for?” Demanded Saffron.
“Yesterday, I told Logan how I always secretly wished David was my dad. He's probably packing up my stuff as we speak and calling the local asylum.”
Saffron grabbed my arms firmly. “Don’t even joke about that. He would never send you away, not ever.”
She was so adamant in her reaction that it fueled the suspicion that had taken root yesterday, that there was another reason for why I was brought here. Now wasn't the time to think on it, Bastian and I could hash it out later. “He faked his own death?”
“Yeah, after a stalker fan from hell made threats against me. It was the last straw for Logan and his alter ego. I suppose since you know that you should know the rest. Logan's full name is Logan David MacGowan.”
I went into shock. Logan MacGowan entered the art scene about five years ago and blew the minds of everyone with his landscapes before he dropped from sight, but he was also David Cambre and, more shocking, he was Logan Dupree: the man I was here to study under. Yeah, I was in shock. When I was able to pull my head from that, I realized Saffron was still talking.
“...at the time it seemed like the only option. He took my maiden name, Dupree, since MacGowan had a link to Cambre, but Dupree didn't. Now, I wonder if all that wasn't a bit drastic. But Logan felt he had to do this for our family’s safety. There are many things I love about Logan, countless things, but his loyalty, his unwavering devotion to his family and friends, is on the top of the list. A finer man—with the exception of your lovely Bastian, you'll never find.”
Devotion to family, an interesting choice of words. More than likely, I was just being fanciful but was it possible that Logan really was my dad? I couldn't deny the family resemblance; we were both artists and he did send for me, in a way. Was it possible that he was my benefactor who successfully foiled the Rosses' plans? Had he been watching over me at a distance? Never had I thought the day would come that I'd be face-to-face with my dad. Bitterness warred with excitement—if he was my dad, why had he waited until now to reach out to me? The anger I normally felt at thinking about my father was there, but it was tempered by the fact that Logan wasn't a faceless stranger, but a genuinely nice person. I was tempted to ask Saffron point-blank who he was to me, but I just couldn't seem to say the words.
My thoughts turned to Logan as the full impact of his talent hit me. “He trained in sculpting work, but then he just picked up painting? He's one of the best I've ever seen. I can't believe I'm training with Logan David MacGowan. Do you think he would mind if I asked about his work as David?”
“Are you kidding? To be able to share the full range of his skill with you would thrill him.”
***
For the rest of the day my feet didn’t touch the ground. I couldn't wait to tell Bastian and as soon as he got home, I didn't even let him put his keys down before I pulled him out the back door.
He chuckled, probably because of the look on my face. I felt like a kid in a candy store. “I'm guessing you have good news,” he asked as he brushed my hair from my cheek.
“Oh, I do. Have you seen the swordfish statue on Main Street?”
“Not sure how you can miss it.”
“It's a David Cambre.”
“Here, in Harrington, land of festivals, cars named Jaws and square dancing engagement parties?”
“Yep. You want to know something else?”
He had a twinkle in his eye when he asked, “What?”
“Logan Dupree is really Logan MacGowan, aka David Cambre.”
Bastian was silent for a minute before he clarified, “Logan is Cambre?”
“Yeah.”
He grabbed me and folded me into a hug. He was beaming.
“Why are you grinning like that?”
He dropped me back on my feet, but kept his arms around me. “My talented fiancée has David Cambre in awe of her work.”
“In awe may be stretching it a bit. I like hearing you say your fiancée, though.”
“I like saying it,” he countered. Saffron's story this afternoon had stirred up too much emotion for me to be distracted for long.
“Bastian, do you think it's possible that Logan's my dad?”
His response was not the one I expected. “So you've wondered too.” He wasn't surprised by the question at all.
“Yeah, I'm not just imagining things?” I couldn’t imagine how life would change if he were officially my father, but I kind of wanted that new life to start as soon as possible.
“No. As soon as we met him I wondered. What I don't understand is why he hasn't come out and told you. I'm guessing he doesn't want to freak you out, but with how much you look alike, he must realize that you're wondering about it. And why did he wait so long?”
“My thoughts exactly. Not to mention Saffron and her words to me earlier. It was almost as if she was telling me without actually telling me.”
“What are you going to do?”
“Wait him out. He obviously has a plan and I'm still getting used to the idea that I may have found my father. It's funny, because I've thought about my dad so many times through the years and in every scenario I was livid that he abandoned me. Why I don't feel that emotion now surprises me, but I'm guessing that's because he isn't anonymous anymore and I actually like him.”
“He really does seem to want you here, they all do.”
My focus turned to the waves crashing against the surf, the salty spray dampening my face even from our distance. “I can't see him with my mom. He's so together and she was so flighty.”
“Opposites attract or so I've heard.”
I should be freaking out. It was more than likely that my biological father set this whole thing up, a man who had kept his distance from me all of my life. I was definitely conflicted, but I wasn't freaking out. And as much as I liked Logan, the real reason I was so centered was because Bastian was here. Now, more than ever, I was so glad he had come with me to Harrington.
“I'm glad you're here.”
He dropped a kiss on my head in reply.
“What's Broderick's house like?”
“It's a beauty of a place. It needs a lot of work. Much of the original woodwork can't be restored, so it'll have to be custom-made, but the walnut floors, after a sanding and polyurethane, are going to be incredible.”
He was so animated; it warmed my heart to see him doing what he loved to do. “What are you working on?” I asked.
“I'm designing the specs for the custom work, the mantel, newel post, banister, balustrades and the crown moldings.”
Wonderment, I was sure, filled my expression, because though I knew what it was Bastian wanted to do with his life, I hadn't really appreciated what “restoring” entailed until I looked it up. It wasn't just building, but designing using engineering. It boggled my mind that even though he hadn't started his undergraduate work, Bastian knew what he was doing. I knew he was smart but I suspected he was more than smart, brilliant was a good word.
“What are you thinking Lark?”
“It sounds like you are doing exactly what you were hoping to do this summer.”
“It really is and if I had known about this job first, I would have fought to get on the crew. Broderick isn't just restoring, he's trying to do so in the most eco-friendly way. It'll cost more in the end, but it's going to be one hell of a place.”
“I guess you're locked into the job in Concord though, huh?”
“Yeah, I could stay. Broderick has already said as much, but I don't want to burn bridges.”
“So you're still leaving in a few days.” I felt him watching me but I couldn't look up at him without tears running down my cheeks. I wanted him to stay, especially now that he was doing exactly what he had hoped to be doing, but I knew I wasn't being fair. Three months wasn't all that long.
“Lark?”
“I'm just going to miss you so much.” I wiped at my eyes and he responded by pulling me close.
“Lark?”
“I know.” My hands moved under his shirt so I could touch his warm, hard skin as I pressed my face into his chest.
“Please don't cry.”
“I'm not crying. My eyes are leaking.”
His chuckle rumbled in his chest. I kissed him right on the spot where my name rested over his heart.
“Lark?”
“I'm okay. I'll be busy learning from a master and if I work fifteen-hour days and sleep for nine, I won't have time to miss you. And if I keep telling myself that maybe I'll begin to believe it.”
He reached for my face. “It's less than a four-hour drive from here to Concord. I've worked it out so that I can work Monday through Thursday, freeing up Fridays to give us three-day weekends.”
“Really?”
“Yes, there's no way I'm staying gone for three months.”
I threw my arms around him and squeezed him hard. “You are brilliant. Have I ever told you that you are brilliant?”
He chuckled as he hugged me back.
“Take Baby. The thought of you on your motorcycle doing all of that traveling scares me.”
“Okay.”
“I am so happy.”
“I will always endeavor to do whatever I can to make you happy.” He replied, with amused sincerity.
We started back to the house and I couldn't stop myself from smiling because I was happy. Being in this crazy town with Bastian was close to perfection.
“Bastian, can I ask you for a favor?”
“Anything.”
How easily his response was given only reinforced what I wanted to ask of him.
“I've never really signed my art before and I don't want to sign it O’Bannion, because I really didn't know her and what I did know of her, well…you know.” I stopped walking and turned to him as I worked my lower lip before I just asked. “Would you mind if I signed my paintings Lark Bastian? I thought of using Ross, but I don't really want my art linked to your parents either; I want it linked to you because you inspire me. You are like my muse.”
He didn't say anything at first and I wondered if I had offended him by not wanting to use his last name. He reached out to brush his knuckles across my cheek. “Jesus, Lark, you undo me. I'd be fucking honored to have you use my name.”
“Then that's settled.”
In a blur of movement, he lifted me into his arms and started back to the house. His voice was gruff and sexy as hell. “I was going to suggest that we lie on the beach and look up at the stars, but I'd rather look at you, naked, in bed, and under me.”
“Oh, yeah, let's definitely do your idea.”
Chapter Eighteen
The following morning I walked to the lighthouse and worried over seeing Logan again. The last time we spoke I told him, inadvertently, that I mourned for him like he was my father. Whether he was or wasn't my dad, there certainly was the potential for things to be awkward after that statement.
He was outside playing with Hunter when I arrived and, it was startling how much they looked alike.
Logan spotted me and waved with one hand as he lifted his son over his shoulder like a sack of sugar. Watching them caused a pang of envy—there was no denying the love between father and son. What would it have been like growing up with Logan as my dad?
If Logan really was my dad, Hunter was my brother. Warmth filled me with that thought. A family of my own—it was almost too good to be true. Hunter peeked out through his long bangs—two little jewels looked right at me. Logan came over to greet me, his son—my brother?—still on his shoulder. “Good morning, Lark.”
Longing tightened my throat, making speech difficult, but somehow I managed to come across lighthearted. “Morning, Logan. What's that you've got on your shoulder? Looks like maybe a sea monster or an alien.”
A grin tugged at Logan's mouth. “I thought I caught me a really big lobster.”
“Lobster you say. I do so like lobster.” I reached over and tickled Hunter's belly, causing him to break out into a fit of laughter. At that moment Saffron appeared in the doorway.
“Hunter, come love. Let's see which of us can eat more chocolate chip cookies in one sitting.”
Hunter's head immediately turned to his mommy. “With milk?”
“Of course, as if you can eat chocolate chip cookies without it.” Saffron waved at me. “Good morning, Lark.”
“Morning.”
Hunter started to wiggle, so Logan placed a kiss on his head before he dropped him on his feet. He wasted no time as his chubby little two-year-old legs carried him toward his mommy.
We watched as they disappeared inside before Logan turned to me. “I should have told you who I was. I made you come all the way up here, so the least I could do is be forthcoming. I'm sorry.”
Forthcoming in more ways than one. “Honestly, it was your secret to keep, and if you had told me you were David Cambre prior to me coming here, I probably wouldn't have come. I'd have thought you were crazy.”
A chuckle rumbled through him but faded into seriousness again, “I am really glad you're here.”
“I'm glad to be here.”
“I thought we'd paint the lighthouse. I'm curious to see a side by side comparison.”
“You want to compare my painting with yours?”
The dare was in his expression before he even spoke the words. “Not up to the challenge?”
He may be the finest artist of our time, but it looked like competition ran in our potential family. An evil little smile spread across my face. “Bring it on, Logan.”
He laughed out loud and added. “But here's the trick, we're going to paint from memory.”
“Oh.”
“Exactly. Saffron has some festival responsibilities today, so I'll set up in town to work so I'm near her if she needs help.”
“Okay, then I'll probably go set up at Broderick's since I want to see what they're doing there anyway.”
“You have everything you need, yes?”
“Yeah.” I started to go but then stopped and asked, “It's the swordfish festival, right?”
A smile spread over his face, clearly there were some really great memories fueling it. “Yeah.”
“Didn't you do a whole series on that festival?”
“Yeah, proving that some people in the art world are just pretentious asses. They went on and on about how I was inspired, a higher power giving me direction or some such shit. My only inspiration and higher power is Saffron.”
I smiled, not just at his obvious affection and love for his wife, but because I understood it completely. “Where are those sculptures?”
“A museum in Paris. I wish I had a camera on the exhibit so I could be a fly on the wall, because really if I saw them I'd be scratching my head thinking what the...”
“Well, regardless of what they portray, I'm sure they're exquisitely done.”
“Coming from an artist of talent, that means a lot.”
***
Walking home for my supplies, I decided to call Bastian to make sure Broderick didn't have a problem with me just showing up. I dug out my phone and dialed his number.
“Hey beautiful.”
“Hi. I need to paint the lighthouse from memory, so I was thinking about coming out to Broderick’s. That way I can see his house too. Do you think he'd be okay with that?”
“He's right here, hold on a second.” After a beat or two, Bastian was back on the line. “Yeah, Broderick is totally cool with that.”
“I'm heading to the house now for my supplies, so I should be there in about twenty minutes.”
“I'll be waiting.”
***
Following the directions Bastian had texted me, I realized that Broderick's place was on the opposite side of town where it wasn't developed. Rugged beauty yawned out before me. I pulled over along a rocky peninsula. In the distance the green conifers hugged the waterline. I wanted to paint this spot, because it was so isolated, with no signs at all that humans ever passed through it. It was nature in the truest sense of the word.
I wished everyone from home was here with us to see this paradise. Thinking about them had me missing them, so I reached for my phone. When Poppy's voice came over the line, my throat got tight hearing that small piece of home.
“Hey Lark, I was just thinking about you.”
“Poppy, it's so good to hear your voice.”
“Are you okay, is something wrong?”
“No, I was just feeling homesick.”
“Oh, well we're missing you too. So how's Harrington?”
“Quirky and quaint and I love it. You know how your mom is always trying to fill rooms because she wants all of us close? You should all move to Harrington. Poppy, I really love it here and I know you would too.”
“Sounds like a visit is in order.”
“Agreed, but there’s more. I have to tell you something, but you have to keep it to yourself for the time being.”
“It sounds serious.”
“It is but, until I know more, I don't want your parents worrying. I know them well enough to know they'll be in the car and driving up here before you even finish telling them the tale.”
“Fine, I’ll keep it quiet. Are you in trouble?”
“No, it's nothing like that. Logan is David Cambre.”
“Wait. What? The sculptor? I thought you said he died.”
“He faked his death, but there's more, Poppy. I think he might be my dad.” The loud clanking that almost deafened me seemed to be the sound of her phone dropping.
Once she retrieved it, she didn't hesitate in her reply. “Are you kidding me?”
“No. Do you remember your comment at my birthday dinner about how much David and I looked alike?”
“Yeah.”
“We do, but it's more than that. His reaction to some things I've said, his wife's behavior, even that their son Hunter looks like a little boy version of me.”
“Jesus. What does Bastian think?”
“He agrees.”
“Have you called Logan on it? Maybe knocked him upside the head for taking so long to make himself known?”
“Not yet. I'm waiting him out. He went to an awful lot of trouble to get me here so I can only assume he's got something planned and I'm contrary enough to make him work for it.”
Hearing her ready agreement began to loosen the knot that had taken root in my stomach the moment I began entertaining this crazy notion.
“I really miss you, Poppy.”
“Likewise. Keep me posted, Lark.”
“I will. So how's Caden?”
And that was all it took to get Poppy to gush over her guy.
***
Broderick's place came into view and I just stopped the car and stared. His homestead was situated on the banks of the Harrington River. The sapphire blue water silently swept along its banks and surrounding the homestead were a variety of trees that I imagined were heart-stopping in the fall.
I pulled up along the dirt drive before shutting down and climbing out. I saw Bastian coming toward me and as much as I liked the view, it didn't hold a candle to him.
“Hey beautiful.” He pulled me to him and kissed me hard on the mouth.
“What a view.”
He was looking at me when he replied, “It sure is. Where do you want to set up?”
With all we'd been through, my damn knees still went weak. “I guess over there near the river, so I'm out of the way.”
“Broderick's in with the building inspector, but when he's done, he'll give you the tour.”
“It's much bigger than I was expecting.”
Bastian looked back at the house. “It's an amazing house.”
He had the same look of awe I always had when working on my art—he was coming into his own in his field and I loved it. The next words sort of tumbled out of my mouth. “I could live in this crazy little town.”
“It's funny you should say that, because I was thinking the same very thing.”
Bastian gave me another mind-numbing, body-tingling kiss, leaving me quite flustered as he walked back to the site. Maybe I wasn't so very different from my mom after all, at least in respect to Bastian, because I was definitely an addict and he was my drug.
When he disappeared around the back of the house I got to work. I wasn't at it long when I heard a cry and peered up to see an eagle fly overhead. The sight pulled my attention for a good while because I had never seen an eagle in person. It was magnificent. When it circled the top of a tree before landing, I knew there must be a nest up there.
I worked for a good two hours before I heard my name and turned to see Broderick approach. He stopped just beside me but his attention was on my painting. After a minute, his focus turned to me. “Would you consider painting a mural for me?”
“Really?”
“Yeah, for the house, I've been toying with an idea for the dining room.”
“I've never done one, but, yeah, I'd love to.”
“Excellent, I was thinking maybe you and my brother could work on it together.”
I blanched at the thought of painting a mural with Logan.
“What's wrong?”
“Painting a mural with your brother doesn't seem very fair to him. I’m still only learning.”
He moved suddenly, pushing his hands into the front pockets of his jeans. I had the sense he had more to say, but thought better of it. Was he about to confirm my suspicion?
“So, would you like that tour now?”
I guess not. “Please.”
In the house tour, I understood Bastian's love for his craft because art and science came together in perfect harmony. After the tour, I spent another two hours on my painting, then packed it up for the day.
Everyone was meeting at Logan's for dinner, but beforehand Logan and I wanted to compare our paintings. We set up on the beach so everyone else could study them too, but before we did so Logan cleaned our brushes. He was so focused on his task that my fingers itched to sketch him. I reached for a pad of paper and a pencil and while he worked, I did too.
He wore a T-shirt, faded jeans and his feet were bare. There was a tattoo wrapped around his left bicep, some kind of scroll work, probably Celtic in origin. He was built very much like Bastian, tall, and thickly muscled. His long hair was pulled back into a ponytail, some of the strands pulling free from their confines as the wind gusted around us. Sketching his face sealed it for me—despite the facial hair—the lines and contours were familiar, because I saw them every morning in the mirror. I couldn't deny I was bitter because I had missed out on a lot, but then would either of us be where we were had things gone differently? Would I have met Bastian? Probably not, and so despite the bitterness, I couldn't be too angry. Everything happened for a reason.
“Okay, I'm done.” Startled out of my thoughts, I looked up to see Logan watching me. I had taken a seat on the beach as I worked.
“What are you doing?” He asked with curiosity.
Suddenly I felt embarrassed, so I tried to pass if off, but Logan wasn't having any of that. He walked over and hunched down in front of me. “May I?”
My face went beet red as I passed him my notepad. The sketch wasn't completely finished, I still had some shading to do, but the overall image was done. He examined it for several minutes then those eyes looked up into mine and I swear they looked a bit bright.
“Can I have this? I would really like to have this.”
“It's not quite done, but yeah you can have it.”
He looked down at the sketch again, his finger lightly tracing the lines, and when he spoke again his voice sounded rough. “Thank you.”
Our gazes met and held, then he smiled. “You ready?” He asked as he gestured to the paintings behind him.
“Oh, yeah.” He stood before offering me his hand to help me to my feet. As we approached, the others were already studying the paintings and I wondered about the looks on their faces until I stood in front of the easels. It was almost eerie how very much alike in style our paintings were. Even the use of color and the blending of shades were very similar.
I said out loud what I was thinking. “It's like we share a brain.”
And I knew unequivocally in that moment that Logan was my dad.
***
The following day, Logan accompanied Broderick and Bastian for a supply run one town over, so I was hanging with Saffron. We spent the day shopping for baby clothes and went to lunch. I finally got to meet Chastity since she was in town finalizing the plans for the swordfish festival.
I had to agree with Saffron. The woman was as friendly as a rattlesnake and demanding—ordering people here and there. Her attention zeroed in on a small, heavy-set elderly man. “Take that order to the bakery and make sure they have the final cost to me by mid-afternoon.” She didn't wait for a reply before she turned her glare on the nervous-looking woman standing next to her. “Is the float ready?”
“I'm not sure.”
“Well, go find out.” When she ordered Saffron, Gwen and me to test out the PA system, I came very close to telling her what I thought of her but then I saw the very small smile directed at Saffron that cut through her rough exterior. Clearly there was a story there too.
“It isn't going to test itself. We need to make sure the volume isn't too loud. I don't want to get complaints again like we did last year.” Chastity demanded.
I was stopped from making a biting remark when I noticed an odd look pass over Saffron's face. Gwen must have seen it too. She mumbled, “Here we go.”
“What am I missing?” I asked confused.
Gwen pointed accusingly at Saffron. “She's an attention junkie.”
“I am not.”
“Right and the idea of standing up there and singing isn't running through your head?”
