Chapter Ten: The Estate
Baz found Gwen cradling a glass of wine on the steps of a house that looked like it had been transplanted straight out of the Tuscan countryside.
"Took you long enough," Gwen said, tugging her sweater around her. It hardly looked like it was keeping her warm, considering the way it slipped delicately down her shoulder. Even when her hair fell away from her messy bun in wispy tendrils, Gwen looked like she stepped out from the pages of a minimalist lifestyle magazine. Eat healthy, grow plants, look cozy but still chic.
"Not all of us have chauffeurs," Baz replied. He'd actually taken a cab. The gated community of Ironwood was too far from the grid of reasonable public transportation. Who needed convenient bus stops when every five-car garage on the lane had the choice of Porsche or Mercedes Benz within?
It was strange to walk through the neighborhood. Gwen's family home nestled into the same kind of closed communities Baz usually had to sneak into. It was strange to be invited in, like he was a reverse vampire, only permitted to enter if no one saw him come in and no one saw him leave.
He couldn't keep being the roguish outsider if he kept stepping into the upper class like he belonged there. Or rather, he couldn't keep being the roguish outsider if he wanted to be part of that world, like Ariel lusting for legs in the middle of the Atlantic.
Gwen only drew herself up from the steps of the porch when Baz climbed up them. She led the way through the arched front doors, opening into the practically cavernous entryway. Dual staircases mirrored each other up to a second-floor landing. Baz's footsteps echoed off the tiled floor into the wide, empty space.
Gwen gave Baz no time to admire any of the intricate details of the house.
"I've been wondering something," Gwen said, leading Baz from the foyer into the kitchen.
"And what were you wondering?" Baz asked, stepping behind Gwen into the rustic stonework glory of the room. It truly was like stepping into an Italian vacation. He was half-convinced that if he threw the French doors open, he'd step out onto a balcony overlooking a vineyard.
Gwen busied herself with a bottle of Cabernet Sauvignon. How could a kitchen feel like a holiday to someone who must've seen the real thing?
"How many glasses would it take before you'd get into the hot tub with me?" Gwen asked.
Red crept up Baz's neck and splashed into a second wine glass. Gwen looked up at him, feline eyebrow arched.
It struck him that it was the first time he'd ever seen Gwen without heels. She didn't quite meet his eye level without them.
"Are we making wagers?" Baz asked, taking the glass. Did he really want to know the answer? Did it suit him better to hold out on her or to give in?
"No," Gwen said, "it's more like an experiment." Her lipstick left a perfect mark on her glass when she drank.
He was her test subject.
The elegance of drinking imported French wine in a Tuscan revival kept Baz from going too far too fast. He leaned over the counter, trying to appreciate how expensive the bottle must have been. He honestly couldn't tell the difference between it and the wine from the theatre.
Gwen took both her glass and the bottle silently into the next room of the labyrinth: a lush sitting room, an electric fireplace flickering under the mantle.
Baz couldn't tell which warmed him more: the fireplace or the red in his hand.
Bookshelves climbed the walls on either side of the mantle, carefully curated to display thick leather-bound books, souvenirs, and picture frames. The photos there told the story. There was so much of Rei, so much of Gwen, but not in the forms Baz knew either woman. Rei wore her convocation gown in one, smiling radiantly in Faraday colors. Gwen, young and in a strikingly outdated dress and her hair pin straight, was caught candid backstage at a photoshoot or fashion show. Gwen and Rei both, tottering on the edge of adolescence, ate shaved ice somewhere on a different continent. Baz studied them, standing in front of the shelves while Gwen settled onto the sofa behind him.
She promptly drained the rest of her glass, eyes distant and unfocused.
"My father's the sentimental type," Gwen said. Baz turned to fill her glass before she had a chance to do so herself.
Her disinterest, her drinking, tempted him. Maybe it was his habit of trying to get his hands on things that didn't belong to him. Gwen's feelings were not his own. There was something about her and about Rei lurking under the surface.
The way they were entangled was an iceberg and Baz should've steered around it instead of heading full steam straight into it. He might sink in the process. But, also, there was the wine.
"So, why the drinking?" Baz asked, settling into the opposite end of the sofa.
"Because Rei gets to run away when things get hard and I'm here," Gwen replied. She raised an eyebrow. "You?"
Because he may have ruined his life and it wasn't for any good reason. A long trail of bad decisions did not trailblaze a path to redemption.
"Long day. Bad day," Baz replied. His legs tingled, a sure sign that his body was beginning to recognize the drinking.
"Tell me," Gwen pressed. She stretched out her long, slender legs so her ankles crossed over his thighs.
"I'm being grossly underestimated. Usually, I like it that way, but I'm tired of being a puppet," Baz said. His thoughts came tumbling out of him. Training with Diego channeled away most of Baz's frustration, but they didn't talk. Baz couldn't. How could Diego not judge Baz for the choices he made?
"A puppet?" Gwen asked.
"You never feel just... empty, being one thing to so many people?"
"What one thing would that be?" Gwen asked, already knowing the answer. How could she not? Did she just need him to say it?
"Beautiful."
She made her living on a specific talent. She was more than the long line of her legs and distant green eyes. Commanding, headstrong, as capable as any person of the depth of emotion that led to drinking on a weeknight.
Gwen smiled. The way it came unnaturally, only upturning her mouth, was answer enough.
"What is your one thing, then?" she asked.
Baz caught himself, a confession on the tip of his tongue. He was nothing more than a certain applied athleticism, a certain skill set. Once, he was nothing more than his potential. People told him he could be the best. Now, he was a hired hand capable of accomplishing what no one else could.
"Stealing keys from coat checks," Baz replied, half-smiling. He found himself holding an empty glass, and found Gwen reaching over the sofa to take it from him, readily pouring another. The tension of being in Gwen's company eased. For once, Baz wasn't playing a role in front of her, not in the same capacity he had at Rei's or at the theatre.
"I'm sorry for typecasting you," she said. "Don't think of it as typing... think of it as your personal brand. There's more flexibility."
Her smile teased before her wine glass.
"What is your personal brand?" Baz took the bait. Gwen sidled closer, throwing one arm over his shoulder.
"Oh, that's easy. I'm the girl across the room you never get the courage to talk to, but really I'm desperate for it. I'm so lonely being beautiful and unattainable. Daddy didn't love me enough, so I just want someone to pay attention to me." She toyed idly with the chain around his neck, putting on a subtle pout.
Baz swallowed hard, setting his glass on the side table before he dropped it.
"That's a lot to convey in a public image," he said once he could actually get words out of his mouth again. His whole body throbbed, following the distinct rhythm of his wild heartbeat. Was it her closeness that got his blood pumping, or was it a very confused shot of adrenaline warning him of impending danger?
"Is it working?" Gwen raised an eyebrow.
Baz didn't dare answer. Gwen didn't need him to. She took advantage of her position to tug at his shirt, pulling it over Baz's head with his help. Her eyes roved over him as if he was her meal instead of her company. Predatory. Pervasive.
"I think it's time to get the hot tub going," Gwen said. She pulled away, electricity still tingling where her touch graced him a moment before.
Baz reminded himself to breathe, taking a too-deep drink before following Gwen through the French doors out onto the veranda.
Gwen peeled off her jeans and sensually pulled her shirt over her head. It looked practically practiced, the way she went through the motions. It occurred to Baz that it probably was.
Her underwear didn't sparkle with a hundred diamonds like in the ads. Her set was daring and lacy instead, stark white against the subtle golden tinge of her skin.
Baz stripped to his boxer briefs without any of the same grace or appeal. In Gwen's presence, everything he did felt clumsy and awkward when he had never really been either of those things. He couldn't afford to be clumsy on the rings or repelling from Rei's apartment.
Gwen whistled as he slipped into the water, perching herself on the edge of the tub.
"I know a handful of models who could benefit from your fitness regime," Gwen said. It was the best and most straightforward compliment she'd ever paid him.
"Old habits die hard," Baz shrugged, suddenly sheepish. He leaned over to reach for his glass.
"You really were a gymnast," Gwen mused, finding her own glass as she slipped into the water next to him. Her foot grazed his and Baz had learned enough about Gwen to very much doubt that it was incidental.
"I don't lie often," Baz replied, "people just choose not to believe me."
The warm water and gentle buffeting of the jets lulled what was left of his nerves and it must've been wonderful for the bruises still decorating his skin. His whole body was relaxed, even when Gwen inched closer.
He raised his glass, tipping it her way, nearly spilling. Gwen paused before clinking her glass against his. She sipped tentatively before setting it aside.
It took very little to be dangerously close and Gwen jumped right over that line. Baz's head buzzed in a wine-fueled haze as Gwen draped her arms over his shoulders. She straddled him, her eyes unavoidable.
"You're in love with her, aren't you?" Gwen said.
The temperature made his heart fast and frantic. Gwen made it worse.
"What?" Baz fumbled for coherent thoughts, for words that might explain that it was much more complicated than that. Rei was courage he'd never quite worked up to. She was a life he threw away.
"It's fine. I'm used to being second best in his house," Gwen said, leaning in to trail her lips along the line of his jaw.
Baz's thoughts still swam, dizzied and on fire. Gwen was wrong.
"If she won't have you..." She was so close that the whisper sent a chill down his spine. "I will."
There was still a protest on the tip of his tongue, even as Gwen leaned in to silence him. Her lips pressed against his, angry and fervent. Baz was too stunned to stop her, to make sense of what Gwen said and what she did and the clash that came between the two ideas.
"I'm not," Baz insisted, catching his breath the second she parted even just a hair's breadth from him.
"Then why look for her?" Gwen asked.
Baz didn't have a better answer ready. He knew that he was so sure it wasn't just about Rei, and that was the only thing that counted. But why, really?
"I have to," he said.
Gwen's arms tensed around his neck. Wet tendrils of her hair hung around her face, leaning back to regain space between them.
"Why?"
"You're not the only one who wants to find her," Baz said, "maybe I was just in the wrong place at the wrong time."
Gwen shook her head. "You're not making any sense. Talk to me."
His face was suddenly too hot. All of him was. The tub made it hard to breathe, his chest too tight to expand.
Rei was gone. She was gone and someone wanted to find her. She had what they needed. A key. A will. Things that were supposed to be in a Japanese puzzle box and weren't. Rei had things that were worth taking from her and trashing her room for.
"Where is she?" Gwen pressed.
"I don't know," Baz said, "somewhere in Temperance. In an apartment somewhere, maybe."
Baz fumbled for something to touch, something to ground him. His fingers found the ring at his neck, pulling it back and forth across the chain.
Gwen reached up, cupping his cheeks in her hands in a gesture too tender for the fight she'd had in her a moment before, ready to drag Baz into a frenzy.
"An apartment?" Gwen repeated. Baz didn't answer. All he could do was fall into her green eyes, the same ones that seemed to be looking right at him from every ad she ever did. In the ads, she always looked uninterested, like she knew exactly where she stood and that she was at perfect liberty of choosing who was worth of her attention and wanted everyone else to know it. Baz was worthy of that attention, at least in this moment.
"Why haven't you found her yet?" Baz asked, "if you know her so well?"
Why did everyone in the world want his help in finding this mysterious woman? Why was it somehow his responsibility when they had only ever been classmates, people who made eye contact across a lecture hall? How could he possibly have a better idea of where to look when the people she grew up with hadn't a clue?
Even without the wine, Baz wasn't entirely sure he could wrap his head around how he simultaneously desperately wanted Gwen and also wanted to be as far from her as possible. Gwen needed him for the same reason everyone else did: to get to Rei... just not in the way he expected. It was wrong to want the catharsis, to give into Gwen.
He kissed her anyway, trying to erase what she said. He wasn't in love with Rei, so there was nothing stopping him. There was nothing truly wrong with giving Gwen what she seemed to want, to let her have whatever it was she was after. Baz pulled her closer, pressing their bodies together until she could see that he wanted her. If that was what she wanted, she could have it. If all Gwen wanted was a drinking buddy and a distraction, Baz would happily oblige.
Her nails raked down his back, no doubt leaving trails down his skin. Gwen kissed him until he couldn't breathe, her panting ragged in his ear whenever they parted.
Gwen satisfied what his afternoon at the gym hadn't been able to. There was no room to think about anything but how she shifted against him, an expert in seduction and the steps that came afterward. The wet, white fabric didn't leave much to imagine.
If Rei wouldn't have him, Gwen would.