Candlemoth: A Holy City Romance (8 page)

Chandler came down the aisle of the store.  He was pale and serious looking, but devastatingly handsome in a rock star sort of way.  He had a narrow nose, bright, intelligent eyes, and a sidecut that draped down over one side of his face like a bird’s wing.  The effect was devastatingly glamorous. 

He was wearing shrink-wrap-tight black jeans, a slim black shirt with cutoff sleeves, and old, clearly beloved black combat boots.  He was years younger than Beren.  

“Honey, bless your heart,” Chandler said to me, softly.  He touched my shirt gently, as if checking the material for flaws.  “Well, don’t worry about that,” he said, pulling his hand back slightly.

“Worry about what?”

“So let’s see… you’re built like a little minx, aren’t you?  Long and lean.  And what is the big event?” Chandler said, glancing over at Beren.

“The hottest date of her life,” Beren said.

“Oh, okay!  That means we need you in something
tight-tight
, to bring out those curves.” Chandler headed smoothly towards a rack of dresses near the register, his glossy black jeans attractively tight against his long, coltish legs.

I trailed him shyly.  “I don’t know if I have any- I mean, these?  Are not curves.  I’m hardly a B cup.”

“It’s all about the nipple and the shape, honey, not volume,” Chandler said, smiling over his narrow shoulder at me.  “Just like a glass of champagne.  Think of it like this: would you rather have the very best, or just a whole bunch of,” he waved his hand, “flippy-floppy, fizzless… volume?” 

“Well, I never thought of it quite like… that…” 

Like a couple of record aficionados, Beren and Chandler began carding through racks of clothes.  It all would have looked right at home on somebody like Hazel.  But clearly I was a lost cause- now and again they’d glance over at me, holding up a dress.  Then they’d shake their head and put it back. 

I was hopeless.  Soccer mom for life.   

I wandered over to the wall, admiring a display of tan dresses posed beautifully on mannikins.  Each was accessorized with tortoiseshell sunglasses, a python purse, and strappy python heels. 

I don’t like to feel vulnerable, so I’ve always been uncomfortable wearing tight dresses and high heels.  But this color combination looked cool, ever so slightly bitchy, and effortless.  I loved it in spite of my wallflower sensibilities, and tucked the color story away in my mind. 

Wondering how Hazel was doing, I tugged out my phone and texted her. 

“Hey bae,”
I wrote,
“how you feeling today?”

“so much better!”
Hazel typed back instantly.
“how was your shift?”

“hot ;)”
I said, flushing a little.  I could tell her the rest later.

“thought so… getting pretty hot over here too.  that guy, Roger?  we’re hanging out again. he said he’s sorry.  he’s soo sexy, Lily!”

Right. 

It’s her business, I thought, putting my phone back into my purse. 

But then I heard my stepdad’s voice in my head.  I knew just what Steve would say if he were here with me right now.  “Lily, most people need acceptance more than they need advice.”

I tugged my phone out again. 
“Coffee tomorrow?”
I wrote back.
  “Want to hear all about it!”

“Yes!” 
Hazel rounded off her text with a bunch of smilie kiss-faces, and then the ‘typing’ bubble disappeared from my phone. 

Feeling better now that Hazel felt better, I dropped my phone back into my purse.  I looked up and saw Beren and Chandler were laughing, having a ball.  From the way Beren’s eyes lingered on Chandler’s face whenever he thought the younger man wasn’t looking, I realized why we’d come.  Hmm.  But it wasn’t like Beren to be shy...

I caught them glancing at me again.  “You guys look at me like I’m raw material or something,” I said, smiling.

“Darlin, don’t take this the wrong way, but in the right hands everyone is just raw material,” Chandler said, happily.  “There are cotton people and linen people and leather people and people who are just mud.  But you, sweetheart, you are the
finest
velvet.”  Realizing he’d been gushing, he peered down into the racks of clothing, embarrassed.  “Anyone ever told you that?”

I warmed.  “Thanks,” I said. 

“Everything's already there,” Chandler murmured, almost as if he were talking to himself.  “You’ve got the look, the walk, the coloring.   My job is just to help you show it off.”

You could tell he was a true aesthetic. Chandler wasn’t out to please a soul.  Anybody could see he thought of life itself as a work of art.  Chandler would shudder at the very idea of saying anything he didn’t believe was true.  His compliment meant so much to me that I glanced down at the floor.

“All right, honey, try these on,” Chandler said, handing me a small stack.  Each dress was so tiny that the whole stack couldn’t have weighed much more than a sub sandwich.  “And come out and show them to us!”

“Shake what your mama gave you!” Beren said.

“Yeah right,” I said.  I slipped into the dressing room.

“What’s Lily’s heritage?” I heard Chandler say to Beren, quietly.  “I can see the Japanese, maybe some Native American.”

“A little French Creole too, they think,” Beren said.  “She’s adopted.”

“My, my.  French velvet, to be sure,” Chandler said.  Then their voices dropped, and I could only hear a soft murmuring.  I took my time trying on the dresses.

              The first dress was too tight.  The second was too short.

But the third was perfect.  I stood there stunned, as if my reflection had morphed into a stranger’s.  It was the kind of dress I would never have picked out for myself, but I had to admit it looked as if it were tailor-made for me.

It was scandalously simple.  The slinky ivory material cast a candle-lit quality over my tan, and the top half of the dress had criss-cross straps with an O-ring detail just above my breast bone.  You couldn’t see any cleavage, because I didn’t have any, but that little glimpse of skin was better than jewelry. 

Best of all, there was a cut out detail beneath the O-ring that showed off my waist, too.  I’ve always had a skinny little-kid build, but The Dress gave me curves I didn’t know I even had.  

Best of all, it felt wonderful.  It was cool and light and silky against my skin, as if I were moving shoulder deep into a pool.

              “Lily, what are you doing in there?  Come on and show us, we’re dying!” Beren said.

              I stepped out slowly and did an embarrassed whirl for them in front of the dressing room curtains.  Beren and Chandler’s eyebrows shot up like roller coaster cars. 

“Is it okay?” I said.

              “Oh my god.  Its destiny.  I need a picture.”  Chandler snapped a shot of me on his phone.  “Okay, and you have a pair of stilettos?  Red lipstick, your hair in a bun- and these-” he reached back to the counter and handed me a pair of heart-shaped aviator sunglasses.  “Promise.  Just try them on.”

              “Oh, they’re cute!” I said.  And they were.  The dress was sizzlingly sexy, but matched with the carefree sunglasses, the outfit looked effortless.

              “You’re adorable,” Chandler said.  “Razor hot.”  He smoothed my hair back behind my ear. 

“This dress is incredible,” I marvelled.  “I feel beautiful, but strong, too.  Usually I don’t feel like myself in dresses, but it holds me in, and it still lets me move-”

“Have you ever modeled before?” he interrupted.

I shook my head.  “Nah.”

“I think maybe I made that dress specifically for you,” Chandler said, suddenly shy. 

I took off the sunglasses, amazed.  “You made this?  God, you’re talented.  You’re incredible.”

“It’s one of a kind.  Do you like it?” Chandler said, unblinking.

“I love it.  I love it, love it, love it.”

“I still have a lot of work to do, but I’m putting a collection together.  I’m going to need a model.  I’ve been looking, but until now, nobody has seemed quite right.  I’d love for you to have that dress, Lily.  It belongs on you.  Would you do some modeling for me in exchange for it? It would mean you’d have to do some runway work-”             

“Oh gosh, a thousand times yes!  Wait- a runway?  As in, walk a runway?  Um-”

“I know you can do it, Lily,” Chandler said.  “You’re a natural.”

I met Beren’s eyes.  “Maybe we can pull it off together,” I said.  Beren beamed. 

Just then, the bell on the front door rang.  A group of women swinging designer bags stepped inside, taking off their shades.  “Oh wow!” I heard them say.

Chandler slid the sunglasses back onto my face, smiled, and kissed my cheek.  “Come by next week and let’s talk.” 

“Wait- I need to-”

“It’s on me.”  Then Chandler pivoted on his heels, heading towards the new visitors.  “Welcome to Aerie, may I pour y’all a glass of champagne?”

“I’ve never seen him warm up to anybody like that,” Beren said, as we walked back outside into the heat of the late afternoon.

“He likes you,” I said.

“I don’t know.  He likes his work.  But it’s sexy, isn’t it, how passionate he is?”

“Very.  You should ask him out,” I said.

“I don’t know,” Beren said, distracted.

“Beren, are you actually intimidated?”  I squeezed Beren’s arm.  “I never thought I’d see the day!”

“He makes me feel high.  You know?  Just being around him is like, this drug,” Beren said, shyly.

“Come with me to see him next week,” I said.  “Let’s do this together.”

“I’d love that, Lily,” Beren said.  “Jesus, his ass, right?”  He clutched his heart.  “That ass is gonna be the death of me.”  Giggling, we went back to my apartment and hung out while we got ready, cranking the radio up as loud as it could go without shaking my windows.  Singing at the top of your lungs with your best friend is the best high in the world.

Then I drove to the Calhouns with my heart in my throat.  What if Ry wasn’t home?  Worse yet- what if he was?

And what if Madison was there with him?

========= C
hapter
==============================================

              But when I walked up, Ry was outside on the porch reading a book with a small peg of bourbon in the glass beside him.  He looked up and watched me approach without a word.  But as I drew closer I could see the smile beginning to play over his handsome face.

              “Take me out,” I said.

              “Is that an apology?” he said.

              “No, I don’t think so.  But I did want to see you again.”

Ry shook his head.  “Lily, you amaze me.  All right, just let me put on my shoes.” 

But he didn’t move.  He sat there just smiling up at me, as if dazed.  I put my hands on the arms of his chair and leaned down to him, smiling slightly, and I knew he could smell my perfume. 

“God, you’re beautiful,” he breathed.  He was wearing pale seersucker shorts and an open necked polo; the hair on his bare legs and arms was bleached gold against his darkly tanned skin.

“You’re impossibly erotic,” I said, slowly, and then slunk back, grinning at him, lightly touching my hair.  “Go get ready.”

“Yes ma’am.”  Ry handed me his bourbon, and headed inside, glancing back at me with an admiring smile.

Ticking the crystal glass in my hand, I took the wicker chair he’d been sitting in and looked out at the emerald green lawn.  Dusk was just falling, and the colored air was thick with heat.  The sound of locusts swelled. 

I glanced down at the book he’d been reading.  It was blue and gold leather, a gorgeously bound copy of
Tender is the Night
, by F. Scott Fitzgerald. 

Oo.  One of my eternal favorites.  Be still, my heart. 

Calm down, Lily, I thought.  He’s just a boy.

The porch door slapped again, and Ry stood there in a white linen suit.  Dark caramel loafers, no socks; I could see the tanned insteps of his feet above his loafers.  How could a man be so sexy that even his
feet
turned me on? 

Ry held out his arm.  “Ready, Lily?” he said.

We walked a few blocks to a private rooftop bar he’d heard about, and watched the stars slowly pop out over the harbor.  

It was a side of the Charleston skyline that I’d never seen.  A long time ago, a law called The Holy City Height Ordinance was passed, forbidding any buildings to be built downtown that were higher than the tallest church steeple.  The silhouettes of churches dominated the skyline, catching the starlight like night-blooming flowers. 

“It looks so different from up here,” I said, smitten, gazing out.

“Everything is about perspective, Lily,” Ry said.  “We all bring our own personal kaleidoscopes to the party.”  He looked at me seriously.  “You never know what kind of lens someone else is looking through,” he said, more softly.