Laure felt much better after a shower. She decided to walk to the kitchen instead of call for something to eat. Jacque didn't speak in much more than grunts or broken English with a thick accent, but the desire for soup got across. The soup helped even more than the shower.
After that, she walked the grounds. The sun felt good on her skin. The mansion was always a bit stuffy and dark, but that helped it feel authentic and luxurious. Laura was almost shocked to see the twenty-first century waiting for her outside the front door. Cars. Skyscrapers. Street lights.
Honestly, it all felt a little busy compared to Camille's little nook. It was like Laura had found the adult version of Narnia. Behind those doors was a whole other world with orgies and erotic poetry and smutty writing. It was two hundred or more years ago and Camille was a Baroness or Duchess.
But the outside was loud. And bright. People honked their horns. Everyone was on their phone as they walked: either talking, texting, or listening to something. Everything wanted her attention. Time was faster here, but it wasn't more pleasant for the speed.
Unfortunately, cell phones are a plague, and Laure felt hers heavy in her pocket. Her mistake with Claire made her want to check in with her dad. For all she knew, Claire had called him yesterday claiming Laura had been kidnapped.
"Hello?" her dad's soft voice came through on the other side.
"Hey Dad," said Laura through her smile. Claire was her roommate, but her dad was her best friend. Her mom died in childbirth, and they were all the other had in the world. They both loved reading for hours and hours at a time. He gave her a love of stories and writing. They could sit for days at home, reading next to each other, eating at the same time with a book out, and not say a word. But they always felt close. Her father's silence was familiar to her, like a favorite blanket.
"Hey you," he said back. She could hear his smile.
"Did Claire call you?"
"Why would Claire ... did you two have another fight?"
"No. Nothing like that. It's just, she was freaking out yesterday and I figured she would call you."
"Why was she freaking out?" asked her dad. "Is everything okay?"
"Everything's great." Laura felt it sounded a little forced, but it was true. Everything was great. She was freaking out a little this morning, but she'd been feeling better since Nikki visited and she ate. Camille helped too. And the doctor didn't say anything was wrong with her. Yeah. Great. She felt great.
"I got the job."
"That's great! Oh, sweetie, I'm so proud of you!" Laura brimmed with energy and delight to hear that from her father. For months she was afraid she wouldn't accomplish anything, wouldn't put her degree to use. She would be another failed English major, another useless aspiring writer, another person who wanted to study books and instead, wasted their tuition on semi-professional book clubs.
But she wasn't that now. She was a copy editor. She had a job. She lived on a lush estate. She hadn't failed him. She was doing something with her silly love of books. And maybe Camille would be a good contact to get her foot into the industry. Maybe Camille could look over some of the stories Laura had written or even blurb Laura's first book. Anything was possible now. Everything was moving so fast.
"Wait," said her father, "Claire was freaking out because you got the job?"
"Yes, but no." Laura chewed on her bottom lip.
"Explain."
"Well, the job came with some unexpected perks. One of which, was a new place to stay."
"They gave you your own apartment?!"
"Sort of?" squeaked Laura. She was afraid if he knew the whole truth, than her whole fantasy would crumble down. Her dad would tell her that this wasn't safe. She needed to get out. But Laura didn't want to leave. She could feel the house pulling on her to stay, to make a life there. Even now, she felt the house urging her to go inside, to get out of the bright sun and noisy city.
"Explain."
Laura sighed. "Part of working here is an intense privacy thing. They want me to live on the grounds, in the same estate that Camille does."
"You live with her?"
"Not like that!" squeaked Laura as she blushed. "I live on the opposite wing. The house is unbelievably huge. It's Secret Garden huge."
"And is she a Mr. Craven?"
"Not at all," smiled Laura. "She's something else entirely. I've never met someone like her before."
"But you're safe? You're sure?"
"Safe as houses. Mansions, in fact. Safe as mansions."
"That's strange, asking you to move in," said her father. She could hear him running it through his mind, trying to figure it out.
"She has staff that live there. It's like that. I live on the same floor with the other staff. It keeps me nearby. She prioritizes her privacy and she works weird hours. She didn't start writing last night until almost midnight."
"Wow. So she's one of those needy artists that can only write if everyone around her is wearing yellow?"
Or nothing at all, thought Laura. "Something like that."
"But you're okay?" asked Laura.
"Yes."
"You'd tell me if you weren't?"
"Of course."
"Promise?"
"Promise."
It wasn't technically a lie. Laura was okay. Sure, she was sick, but she was feeling much better. She didn't need to worry her father with the strange details of the muse sessions, and she'd die before she ever talked to her dad about sex. He wouldn't even let her read Mrs. Dalloway in high school (she read it at the library anyway), and that book was scandalously tame. There was a hint of a rumor of a potential sighting of a potential kiss between two women. That's it.
No, she wasn't going to tell her father about the poem orgy.
"Do you need help moving out?" he asked.
"Oh, no. Her servants packed all my stuff and moved it for me."
"Ah, hence the Claire freakout," said her father.
"Hence."
"Did they forget anything? Do you need anything? I can send you some of those veggie straws you love so much. Or I can ..."
Her dad kept talking, but Laura wasn't listening. She saw something move off in the distance, on the grounds. It looked like a person, a girl. She had shoulder length hair. It was platinum blonde, almost white.
"Hey Dad?" asked Laura.
"Yeah."
"Can I call you back tomorrow?"
"Sure."
"K. Bye." Laura didn't wait for her dad to respond. She was already moving, following the girl. Was she a child? She seemed short from a distance. Laura walked around the corner of the house. There was a grove of trees behind the house, and Laura saw the wisp of white hair fade into the trees. Who was that girl? Is she the same maid that ran out of Camille's room the night before? Did that girl have white hair? Laura couldn't remember. And the girl just now, the one that ran off into the trees wasn't dressed as a maid.
Laura wanted to follow, but the sun was going down. It would be time for dinner soon and then the Muse Session. Laura didn't want to miss another chance to read Marcilla. More than that, she didn't want disappoint Camille, who went through so much trouble to make sure Laura was ready for tonight.
Laura went off to eat. She spent the meal gossipping with Nikki. Apparently, Nikki had some stories that Angelica wasn't as uptight as she appeared to be. Yes, Angelica was kind, but she was a stickler for the rules and way things should be. Laura had a flash of Angelica's face as she called her a child earlier that day.
Yes, Angelica could be uptight.
Nikki was excited to go out tonight. She had a blind date with someone Jacque had set her up with. Apparently, her date didn't speak a word of English, but Nikki didn't mind. She didn't plan on doing much talking.
Laura needed Nikki to ramble on. She was getting nervous as the Muse Session approached. The first night, Laura had no idea what she was getting herself into. But now she knew she would see Camille again, naked. She would get to read Marcilla's words. She would hear Camille orgasm and feel it shake the room.
***