Page 34 of The Moon & His Tides
“Are they still back there?” she continued her line of questioning. “My dad and my uncles still live on the island.”
“My twin sister moved to Milan on our eighteenth birthday. My older sister is in Paris studying art.”
“Fancy.”
I shrugged, the movement dislodging a piece of wet hair over my forehead into my eyes. “All Giselle ever wanted was to be an artist. Cosima and I have been working since we were kids to make it happen.”
Linnea cocked her head. “Why would you put her dreams before your own?”
It was such a childish question that it threw me for a moment. There were only a handful of years between us, but I suddenly felt ancient, bones heavy and creaking beneath my skin.
“Many reasons,” I murmured, looking into the glimmering blue of the pool, shining with lights in the dark night. “She had a bad time of it in Naples, too soft and young and pretty. Every place has its underbelly, but we lived in the one in Napoli, and she drew bad characters to her like moths to a flame. But she had talent. Talent enough to get into the school of her dreams and get a tidy little bursary so we could afford to dole out money for the rest. I’m still saving money for my eldest sister to attend graduate school in the States. She’s whip smart,” I confessed proudly. “She wants to be a lawyer.”
“What about you, though?”
“I’m here, aren’t I?”
She peered at me closely, twirling a lock of thick blonde hair around her finger like a cog working in a machine. “Following your dream now, I hope.”
“I always was,” I assured her, though for a moment that hadn’t been true.
When I was fourteen, I’d almost capitulated under the weight of pressure from the local mafioso to join his ranks. We hadn’t seen our gambling addict of a father, Seamus, for weeks, and Mama was down to making us pasta in olive oil and ground pepper for every meal, the portions getting smaller every day. A mafioso showed up at our house when Mama was out and the girls were all home with me. He’d threatened to take them as payment for Seamus’s debts.
I’d never felt fear like that before or since, the bone-deep certainty that all that stood between my sisters and a truncated lifetime of misery wasme.
I shivered, and it had nothing to do with the cool British air.
“So you want to be famous?” Linnea clarified, walking on her toes at the edge of the pool, all long lines and fluid grace, dragging a toe in the heated water from time to time and balancing with her arms held out at her sides.
I shrugged. “As a byproduct of acting and being good at what I love.”
She shot me an unimpressed glare. “Are you just saying that to like… impress me?”
I arched a brow. “You’re sixteen years old. Why would I want to impress you exactly?”
“Because you know my mum,” she insisted, jutting her chin forward.
“Who is…?”
“Miranda Hildebrand,” she said almost pugnaciously, and I wasn’t sure if it was me she was taking umbrage with or the fact that Miranda was her mother.
Given that Miranda was currently sleeping off about six drinks too many in one of the Meyers’ guest bedrooms, I assumed it was the latter.
Still, I didn’t want to insult my new young friend by pointing out that Miranda was a B-list celebrity at best, known more for her failed marriages to famous men than for her own mostly soap-filled career.
Instead, I said, “I live in the same estate as Adam Meyers and his wife. Don’t you think I’ve already got as much of a leg-up as I need?”
Her full mouth flatlined, and she fisted her hands on her hips. “So youdowant to be famous.”
“Cazzo,” I muttered under my breath. “Of course, I do. Anyone who wants to be an actor wants to be famous because you cannot perform without an audience and it’s better to perform for one who loves you than hates you. It’s hardly something to judge someone over. Everyone wants validation of some kind, especially an artist.”
I paused, noting the way she rolled her lips between her teeth.
“Don’t you?” I asked softly.
She jerked a little as though I’d pushed her. “No.”
I cocked my head. “It’s not a weakness, you know?”
