Rouge(40)

“Really?” He moves in closer still, his sharp shadows falling over me. “Funny. I thought I’d met a fellow freak.” Even closer now, grinning. “Snail mucin?” he says softly, looking at my face.

“Excuse me?”

“A mist, too, definitely,” he whispers, eyes grazing like a touch. “Rosewater, maybe birch milk. A double-fermented green tea, algae, and rice essence. The infamous Brightening Caviar for Radiance. And of course the Revitalizing Eye Formula. Diamond-infused for brightness, but it bleeds is the thing.” He brushes a tear from my cheek that must have just now fallen.

“How did you—?”

“Call it a wild, wild guess.” He smiles. That’s when I notice the scar on his cheek like a jagged slash. Flashing redly in the dying light of day.

“Why did you kiss me in the hall like that?”

“Me?” He shakes his head. “Oh, I would never ever do something like that. Just like you would never follow me, right?” He pulls out a small tin of what looks like red candies. “Collagen gummy?”

I shake my head.

“You sure? They’re really tasty. Cherry, I think. And they’re in the shape of a rose, see? Really pretty. Rose shape, cherry taste. Nice little mindfuck.” I watch him pop the red gummy in his mouth and hold it between his white teeth. I see his tongue press against it.

“I should—”

“They’re interested in you, you know,” he says in a low voice. “Very. I’m jealous. I envy, to use the parlance.”

“Who’s interested?”

“They,” he whispers. “The beautiful ones.” He looks at me meaningfully. The woman in red flashes in my mind. The twins in their veils. The girl-woman in black smiling at my scar as we waltzed backward around the tank. “I saw you talking with them on the staircase the other night. Never seen the higher-ups do that before. Take so much interest.”

I watch him turn the rose gummy around his tongue. Still intact. He’s not even chewing, just letting it dissolve slowly in his mouth. Behind him the sky is the color of blood. Vespers, I remember. The voucher in my pocket starts to pulse.

“I should go.”

“Not lost, are you?” he asks like he’s concerned.

“No.” Quickly, I scan the cliffs for any sight of the house. No sign. I start to walk away, but my feet are slow moving, my shoes suddenly heavy. I feel them sinking with each step, almost like they’re refusing me. Almost like they’re whispering, You are fucking lost.

“Because if you were lost, I’d be happy to escort you up there,” he calls after me. “For your free treatment.”

I freeze. Look back at him standing there on the bridge in the darkening light. “How did you—?”

“Another wild guess.” He holds out his arm in offering. “You don’t want to be late, right? They fucking hate it when you’re late. So I hear, anyway.” Attractive in the red light, holding his suited arm for me to take. Sharp, Mother would say of this man, her highest praise. The cut of his face and the cut of his dark suit and the cut of his shadows. The scar’s jagged shape gleaming in the bloody sunset.

“I don’t need you,” I blurt out, almost reflexively. “To guide me, I mean. Thank you anyway.”

He smiles, then looks serious. “Of course not. You’re just using me tonight. Letting me be your eyes in the dark. After all, we are going the same way.” Still holding out his arm. Go on.

I walk over and take it, and he smiles again, like maybe he won something.

“What’s your name, by the way?” he asks me as we start walking along the darkening path.

“Belle.” When was the last time I told anyone my name was Belle? Mira, I’ll usually say, or Mirabelle at best. I can feel Mother smiling at this.

“Belle. Of course. You know you look like a Belle? From the fairy tale, right? About a pretty girl who fucks a monster. That’s a classic.”

“I don’t know that they ever fuck exactly.”

“Well, maybe not in the story, Belle. But I’m pretty sure they fuck eventually. Watch your step there. Wow, great shoes.”

“Thanks.” Smiling now in spite of myself. Gripping his suited arm. Breathing in his skincare scent, a heady mix of extracts and botanicals I know so well. Makes me feel… strangely happy. Strangely at home with him on this dark road. Dark now, very. Water crashing on one side of me. A smell of roses on the other, close and thick. “What’s your name?” I ask him.

He raises his hat from his head, then lowers it again. “Hud Hudson.”

“Hud Hudson?”

“Don’t laugh. My mother wrote romance novels. All out of print now, sadly. Well, here we are.” I see we’re already at the gates. We must have been very close all along. I look at the man named Hud Hudson, grinning beside me in the dark. I feel tricked. How could I have missed it? Beyond the gates, the house glows red among the eucalyptus trees, glowing red too. The roses sway gently in the breeze, giving off a rich perfume.

“You go on ahead,” he says.

“Aren’t you coming?”

“In a bit. I’ll follow you this time around.”

I’m about to walk up when he reaches out a hand and holds me back. “After you get the treatment, I’d love to hear all about it. All the lavish details.”