Page 113 of The Good Girl Effect
I stare at Julian’s face, watching it morph from a performance of pity to sly deceit. He’s telling me this to taunt me, maybe even ruin our relationship. Why? I don’t know. Jealousy, resentment, cruelty. After seeing him and Jack onstage, I thought they had mended things, but now I see that Julian likes to meddle and disrupt the peace just for the fun of it.
For these reasons, I try not to let it bother me. Jack would have told me this already. Our relationship hasn’t been serious until recently. If he had plans to move to America, he would have shared them by now.
Wouldn’t he?
I can’t deny that it all makes sense. Jack’s loyalty to this club has been half-hearted. I could always tell there was a sense of urgency in his behavior as if he just needed to get through the next month or week and then everything would be different.
But surely he can’t be thinking about moving awaynow. Bea is so happy now.
Everyone is so happy now.
Just then, Jack looks up and finds me. I notice the hint of hesitation on his face, and I imagine him hiding something from me. Maybe Julian was right. Maybe Jack is still planning to leave, and he just needs to find a way to break it to me.
Rule #39: There must always be trust.
Jack
Ican feel Camille’s skepticism as I finish off her arms-forward harness. With her fists together under her chin, she’s taken on that calm, serene expression she always does when I’m binding her.
Even so, I can tell she wants to say something. Likely, she wants to ask me how I’m feeling. Maybe I still seem tense. Fuck, I am still tense.
Tonight wasn’t just about the club. I’m proud of how the grand reopening went. Even after everyone we knew left and the patrons began to play, I could feel a sense of pride for what we’ve created.
But it’s about so much more than that. It’s about tying up loose ends here in Paris.
Ironically, that’s exactly what I’m doing now with Camille. Finding the friction center of her harness, I wind the long synthetic rope through and slip it through the hoop above her head.
As I make eye contact with her, I ask, “Are you ready?”
She nods confidently.
With that, I gently pull on the rope until she has to stand on the balls of her feet. I won’t suspend her like this yet. I intend to have her hanging upside down in an inversion, but first, I need to finish the harness on her legs.
“Are you feeling okay?” I ask, brushing a strand of hair from her face.
“Yes,” she replies. “Are you?”
I give her a look that’s partially scolding. “This isn’t about me,” I whisper.
A small crowd of people have gathered around our station, watching us work, but neither of us pay them any mind. We’ve kept the back room mostly the same with some upgrades in decor, furniture, and security. But the main purpose of this room is for demonstrations and, well, showing off.
And right now, I’m showing off this beauty.
“It is about both of us,” she whispers in return. “And tonight is very much about you.”
I lean down to work on the dragon hip harness, wrapping the doubled rope around the soft flesh of her thigh, careful not to pinch her delicate skin.
“Tonight is not about me,” I mutter as I work.
Emerson Grant didn’t fly all the way from Briar Point, California, just to see me. These people didn’t show up tonight to see me. They came to see the club.
And when I leave, which I someday will have to do, the club will be fine without me.
My hands halt as the thought paralyzes me. Leaving Camille feels impossible now, but it can’t be. I’ve just thrown myself into this…relationship…too fast. Just like with Em, I fell too easily.
This isn’t like Em, my relentless mind reminds me.
Camille sees into my soul. That’s the only way to put it. She has a way of lifting the veil of my mind and crawling inside, butinstead of running from the darkness she finds there, she wraps her loving arms around me and thaws everything that froze the day Em died.
