Page 76 of Paparazzi

@jailbirds_groupie Can we talk about that video? They’re the best. But I don’t understand why they used that Iris blog after what she did to Thomas.

@wannabe_rockstar I knew it! I sensed something was up when I met them to listen to their single!

@Thomas_Jailbirds Thank you all for the support you are giving us at this particular time in our lives. Remember that the only official and reliable information about us is found atRocking in New York.

@Damian_Jailbirds Our fans are the best. I’ve always said that. Thank you all for your support.

@Michael_Jailbirds You’re the best! And remember, the only blog that doesn’t bullshit you about us is Iris’s official blog.

@Simon_Jailbirds You’re the best fans in the world. Thank you for not abandoning us at this difficult time. We’ve been wanting to tell you our story for a while. We finally got to do it.

I watch Iris asleep in her bed, peaceful, as Dexter walks around my legs, waiting for me to fill his bowl with food while I make coffee. I’ve been living in this house for a month now, and the routine is reassuring. Although, I have to say, it’s inconvenient to have all my stuff at my house. There’s not enough space in here for a pin, it’s crammed to every corner. I open the fridge and take out the bowl with the pancake mix I made last night. Iris teased me for two hours because she said I’m doing too much, but I know she’s starting to appreciate the fact that I take care of her. It’s therapeutic for both of us, I can finally let go of my guilt about the past, and she’s learning that allowing people into her life and getting help isn’t all that bad.

Dexter starts meowing, so I feed him before he goes to wake up Iris. As I pour the coffee in the cups and put them on the table, out of the corner of my eye I see Iris sitting up and rubbing her fingers through her unruly red mane. I still can’t figure out how she can tame that hair. During the night, I’m almost strangled sometimes by that mass of hair that seems to have a life of its own.

“Is that coffee that I smell?” Her voice is still croaking, and it is the most beautiful sound I have ever heard.

“Hot the way you like it,” I say as I pour a spoonful of the pancake mix into the pan.

Iris comes close, wearing my blue t-shirt she put on after we made love. It’s huge on her but makes her look sexy as hell. Her small arms wrap me from behind, and she sticks her head between my side and my arm to peek at what I’m doing.

“This thing you do where you make the mix the night before, I’m starting to like it.”

“Really? I’ll remember that when you make fun of me next time. In fact, wait a second, I’ll get my phone and record you repeating that.”

Iris giggles and gives me a hand pulling out dishes and forks for breakfast. I love the perfect way we fit together in the kitchen without getting in each other’s way, splitting the housework without even talking.

“I don’t make fun of you, I just like it when you’re in my kitchen. Like when you’re stressed, and you make cookies for an entire army.”

“If you’ve noticed, I haven’t done that in a long time. You relax me. I don’t need to decorate cookies to ease the tension.” I kiss her on the neck, making her sigh.

“Then we’ll have to find some other excuse to bake them because I like it when you focus on creating the perfect design. We should make it a fun ritual, like you did with your mom as a kid.”

My heart swells with happiness. It’s beautiful how she tries to make my past less painful, even just reminding me that baking cookies was a source of joy for me, not just a way to ease my frustration. I kiss her on the lips and get lost in her smile.

“I’d like to call the security company today, to come take a look at the locks on the door and windows. Is that okay with you?” I ask her as we sit at the table to eat.

Iris frowns and looks at me, tilting her head to the side. “Still with the idea of armoring my apartment?”

We’ve discussed this until we were exhausted, but I need to put some security between me and the outside world if I spend most of my nights here. Unfortunately, there are a lot of lunatics out there and, having doors and windows that look like tissue paper is dangerous for both her and me. All it would take is one rabid fan of the Jailbirds to get in here and put her in danger.

“If I keep spending my nights here, yes, it’s necessary. It’s not an option that our head of security is willing to put off any longer.”

Iris inhales deeply and seems to be thinking for a long time about what she’s going to tell me. It kind of unsettles me because I’m always afraid she’ll get tired of me and ask me to leave. “I’ve been thinking about something lately. Since I no longer have any particular money problems with the new job, I was considering moving into a building without a homeless person to feed in the lobby. I love this apartment, and I don’t mind feeding Charlie, Bill...Jack, or whatever he calls himself this week, but I’d like a little bigger place, one where I can have a desk and an office. Does that make sense?” she asks, and I feel a boulder lifting off my chest.

I nod and chug quickly to swallow down the bite of pancakes. “Okay...I might have a proposal

for you, but feel free to refuse, alright?”

“Should I be worried?” One investigating eyebrow pops up and terrifies me like few things in this world.

I burst out laughing, even though my stomach is in knots over what her reaction might be. “No, I just want to know if you’d like to go into business with me.”

Iris looks at me with an expression that seems more worried than angry, and I breathe a sigh of relief.

*

We enter the gates that lead to the private garden in the courtyard of the building on the Upper Eastside. Iris looks around with wide eyes, just like I did the first time I set foot in here. It feels like a parallel world. A house with a private garden that occupies the entire length of a neighborhood in the middle of Manhattan seems impossible.

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