Chapter 4 Twin Flame
Val’s eve came quickly the next day. Immediately I arrived I was rushed in like an experiment into a dressing room that looked like a sci-fi lab.
An Italian fashion stylist named Marcel — the lab scientist, who couldn’t bring himself to stop gushing about the striking similarity in our features, handled the glam with the help of his professional glam squad.
For two hours, I was trimmed, cut, puffed, gelled, glammed and transformed.
The final look was a dream. A gown of the blue sky, deceptively simple, but hugged my features in the right places like a second skin, it would shimmer through the flashes of lights under the moonlit sky upon my arrival in a few hours. My hair was swept into an elegant, loose knot. The makeup easily erased the dark circles under my eyes, highlighting the familiar, siren shape of them instead.
“Remember, Sheera doesn’t just walk; she glides. Think of it as an object moving through water. Shoulders back, chin up, eyes seeing everything and saying nothing much,” Natalie drilled, as I teetered on devastatingly tall heels.
By 11:20 PM, standing before the full-length mirror, I didn’t see Leah Monre anymore. I saw the ghost of Sheera, a beautiful, anxious wonder. The real Sheera had already retired to her safest haven; her private penthouse probably keeping to the doctor’s advice.
I would say ‘poor sheera’ but it would be stupid of me to think somewhere inside, she wasn’t grateful for the free time.
Natalie handed me a small clutch. “Earpiece. I’ll be in your ear all night. Now, breathe. The car is downstairs.”
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The All-Stars Midnight Ball was held at the Aztec Arena, a modern glass dome strung with cupids and bows. A carpet of pure red led to a swarm of flashing lights and screaming fans. As the sleek ford paused smoothly at the edge of the glittering chaos, my heart had a jumpscare.
“Step out…” Natalie’s voice finally came on quickly, crackled in my ear.
Star talent managers and P.A’s weren’t allowed in, but Natalie had somehow gotten herself a pass. Regardless, there would be no obvious conversation between us. She couldn’t afford to be caught.
I stepped out. The night air, cool and charged, hit me. A collective roar went up. “SHEERA! OVER HERE!” The camera flashes felt like a physical assault, aimed to cause eternal blindness. I got a hold of myself, fixed the practiced, serene half-smile on my face and began to move.
Shoulders back, chin up, I glide.
I felt the gown sweep through the carpet, and a hundred eyes of adoration feast on me. I didn’t walk the carpet; I floated through an obsessed storm.
Inside was another universe. A moderately glowy hall with petals, flowers and orchestra. The centerpiece was a massive, ice sculpture of a basketball Legend, Andrew Jackson spinning to the melody with a ball in his hands, and to the left was a giant golden sparkly microphone, also spinning to the melody of the orchestra, and a frozen statue of runway actress Millie Brown in her iconic pose. All three monuments centered beautifully to fit the nature of the award that I would later present.
Waiters with exquisite trays bearing champagne that bubbled like liquid diamond found their way around. I recognized faces from top magazine covers and Netflix originals, and mingled with the exact names Natalie dropped in my ear. I smiled a graceful one here and there so my ‘unplanned’ pictures would be dazzling enough for the media.
Atlas waited patiently at the VIP lounge to escort me to our designated table. I secretly wondered why the romantic part of Sheera’s life also felt planned.
Navigating the crowd in the heels was a tedious act. Titi would have taken a thousand embarrassing pictures of me if she were present.
I was so focused on not tripping, and maintaining the gliding softly instruction, that I woefully turned a corner too quickly near a quieter corridor and walked directly into a wall of solid, warm muscle.
The impact was soft but a bit jarring. A large hand shot out to steady my elbow, the grip firm and sure.
I looked up, and the oxygen left the room.
Atlas Freeman was taller in person, a monument of elegant athleticism poured into a tailored tuxedo suit that somehow revealed the power he carried. His skin was a rich, warm tone under the soft lights. But it was his eyes that almost sent me howling; a penetrating, intelligent grey that commanded focus, now fixed on me with a mixture of concern and curiosity.
“You might want to go easy on yourself my love,” he said, his voice a deep sounding baritone that sent a vibration to my bones. It didn’t help that he wouldn’t immediately let go.
Every dos and don’ts from Natalie’s script danced mockingly out of my head. My carefully rehearsed, gracious greeting died in my throat. Instead, I let out a squeak.
Realizing Sheera wouldn’t be this awe-struck by her man, I panicked, and blurted out the first stupidly honest thing that came to mind, my voice bubbling high with nerves.
“Oh! Sorry! I was…I was gliding too fast.”
The moment the words left my mouth, I wanted the high ceilings to fall and crush me. Gliding too fast? Sheera would never say a thing like that, it was dumb.
Natalie's frustrated sigh resounded in my ears like a flute.
A moment of silence. Then his eyebrows lifted a fraction. The concern in his eyes shifted, replaced by a flicker of pure amusement. A slow, devastating smile began to spread across his face, revealing a dimple in one cheek that had no business being that charming on a man.
“Is that right?” he said, the smile now fully formed, lighting up his features. He finally released my elbow, but his gaze held me just as securely. “Well, Sheera. A glide to our table together wouldn’t be such a bad idea, would it?”
Following my smile, he led my hands into his right arms.
He’d used my name…her name…and it sounded like a gentle tease. Pretty sure my face was red at this point. I could feel the porcelain makeup threatening to crack from the heat of my blush. This was not the planned, polished meeting. It was a collision of fireworks.
And as he smiled at me one more time reassuringly, Natalie’s voice hissed an annoying sentence in my ear:
“Get a hold of yourself, you look like a horny virgin!”
