“So, you’ve found me, Sheldon,” he calls to Pierce, who rushes forward. Mari thinks he’ll envelop the other man in a hug—Pierce has always been very easy with his affection—but he catches himself at the last moment, instead grabbing Noel’s hand and pumping away in the world’s most enthusiastic handshake.
“This place is unreal, mate,” he says to Noel. “Thank you for letting us bum around it with you.”
Noel smiles, waving his free hand. “Been bored off my tits out here on my own. Needed some fresh blood.”
He looks at Mari then, and she can already see it, that assessment she gets from so many people. They look at her, and they see how much she resembles her mother, how she has her father’s red hair. And sometimes, she thinks, they look at her and wonder what it is about her that made Pierce leave his wife and family behind.
Then his eyes slide over to Lara.
Even though Noel Gordon is a stranger, Mari feels a strange kinship for him in that moment because his expression says exactly what he’s thinking. A sentiment she’s felt herself.
Ah, yes. You’re here.
How many times has she had that sinking sensation in her chest, coming home from a café or food shopping, only to find Lara perched on the sofa next to Pierce, her chin in her hand, a sly smile playing across her face?
Too many.
And now, here is someone who finally understands what it’s like to wish Lara were anywhere else, and even though Mari knows she should feel a sense of outrage—or at the very least, some sympathy for her obviously besotted stepsister—she just feels a kind of fierce gladness.
It’s not just her. She’s not just jealous or small-minded or, god forbid, bourgeois as Pierce sometimes likes to accuse her of being.
“And I see Miss Janet has made the trip safely,” Noel says, his smile twisting a little, and at her side, Mari feels Lara pause.
Janet is Lara’s real name, a name she hasn’t used in several years, deciding at fifteen to rechristen herself “Lara,” after a summer obsession with Doctor Zhivago.
And, Lara had reasoned, lying on her stomach on Mari’s bed, stockinged feet kicking in the air, it sounds better with Larchmont. Lara Larchmont. It’ll look so good on posters, don’t you think?
Mari hadn’t asked what kinds of posters Lara planned on gracing—that changed frequently. Actress, singer, model … whatever Lara had decided was the most glamorous identity that week.
Now her stepsister shakes a finger at Noel, her smile bright even as Mari sees the uncertainty in her eyes. “Naughty Noel,” she says. “You know I hate that nickname.”
“Not so much a nickname as your actual name, but why quibble?” Noel replies, throwing his hands wide, and Lara laughs.
Mari does, too, even though she’s not sure why.
“This is my sister,” Lara says, all jittery energy as she bops up behind Mari, wrapping her arms around Mari’s waist in a way she has never once done before.
“Stepsister, isn’t it?” Noel counters, smiling a little at Mari, who stands there frozen between Lara and her lover.
“Oh fine, get technical,” Lara says. Her voice has changed in that way it does, her accent becoming posher, her vowels more rounded. She lets go of Mari, stepping around to stand next to her. Pushing herself up on the balls of her feet, she grins at Noel and adds in a fake whisper, “You’ll probably end up falling in love with her.”
“Lara,” Mari mutters, her face going hot. Lara gets like this when she’s feeling insecure, pushing herself to higher and higher levels of outrageousness. Mari may be used to it, but she doesn’t want it here, not in this lovely space where she had hoped to free herself of all this bullshit.
Noel only laughs. “She has enough to deal with in one musician, wouldn’t you say, Mari?”
He turns his attention to Pierce, still standing there with his hands clasped in front of him, his face glowing. “Hope you’ve brought some songs with you, my friend. My well feels quite tapped at the moment, so I’d like to actually hear someone else’s music instead of my own insufferable shite.”
Pierce nods quickly, his hair falling into his eyes as he steps forward. “Fuck yeah, man, I got a ton of stuff I can play for you. And, like, maybe you could add to it or something?”
“Collaborate?” Noel asks, raising his eyebrows, and before Pierce can answer, Mari interjects, “His stuff is amazing. Musically speaking. Your lyrics might be a little tighter, but what Pierce can do with a guitar…”
Noel swings his head to look at her. Like Pierce, he has blue eyes, but his are darker, and Mari can see that they’re bloodshot, violet circles underneath.
Stepping forward, Pierce raises his hands. “Oh, I don’t know about all that. I mean, she’s my old lady, you know, she’s gotta say that stuff.”
He grins at Noel, and Mari is about to argue, but then Lara is there again, having pulled her own guitar case out of the car.
“I have some songs, too, Noel,” she tells him. “I’ve been writing, like you suggested, and I really think—”
“Lara, you barely play, babe,” Pierce cuts her off with a laugh, and even Mari can’t feel too sorry for Lara right now. The guitar is merely the latest hobby Lara had picked up, and it’s true, she seemed to spend more time picking out which guitar to buy than she actually spent using it.
“I’ve been playing for nearly a year now. I’ve taken lessons and everything,” she insists, which is news to Mari. The only lessons she’s ever known Lara to take were the same wretched piano lessons Mari’s stepmother forced them both to take, and Lara managed to wheedle out of those months before Mari did.
Noel ignores Lara, and turns back toward the house.
“Johnnie!” he yells. “Stop being awkward and come say hello to our guests!”
Mari had thought Noel was here alone, was fairly certain he’d just said he was by himself, but sure enough, another man comes out the front door, squinting a little in the sunlight, running a hand over his shaggy black hair.
He’s actually dressed, wearing a faded T-shirt and jeans, a pair of battered moccasins on his feet, and as he approaches, Mari notices that he’s taller than Noel, and possibly even more handsome.
“Johnnie here,” Noel says, slapping the man on the back, “will be serving as our entertainment director, as it were.” He smirks a little and Mari wonders what he means even as Johnnie shrugs, giving a sheepish smile.
“Hi,” he says, offering his hand first to Mari, which she likes. It was all beginning to feel a little Boys Club to her, what with Noel and Pierce immediately attempting to impress each other.
“Hullo. I’m Mari,” she says, and he smiles, revealing a slightly crooked front tooth. Mari likes that tooth, too, likes that it breaks up the otherwise symmetrical perfection of Johnnie’s face.
“Mistress Mary, quite contrary,” Noel sings to himself, and then he surprises her by suddenly putting an arm around her shoulders, pulling her close.
“Like I said, I’ve needed fresh blood around here.” The smile he gives her seems genuine, and Mari once again tries to wrap her mind around the idea that the voice that sang “Autumn Sun” resides in the throat just inches from her face right now.