Beautiful People | wlw

Twenty-four: Canals

"There must be some mistake," Vera said, adjusting the gold chain of her Prada purse around her wrist. "I was invited."

The bouncer stared at her, unimpressed. She regretted talking Jay into those cocktails at the hotel bar. Her skills of persuasion felt a little fuzzy. Straightening her back, she tried to look like she belonged among the crowd whose shimmering edges could be seen in bright glimpses through the windows of the restaurant, their laughter tumbling out between flung-open panes above the bouncy beat of music.

"You're not on the list," the bouncer said in exactly the same calm but unmovable tone as the first three times they'd said it. They folded thick tattooed arms across their broad chest. "Please step aside." Their sexy Italian accent did not make Vera's embarrassment any less acute.

Jay took Vera's elbow. "We'll just move over here and call the person who invited us and get this sorted out." He steered her through the line, collecting pitying stares as they went. "Excuse us."

"I was invited," Vera protested, but she let Jay lead her back to the side of the canal, out of the way of the cheery evening crowd strolling down the stone street. Moonlight shimmered on the dark water at the bottom of the steps.

"Who invited you?" Jay asked.

"I don't remember. Some Venician influencer."

He snorted. "Venician?"

"Venetian? I don't know! There was an invitation. I think it's their party. Or maybe they were just asking me to be their plus one."

"Did you tell them you were coming?"

Vera grimaced. "I don't remember."

"So you didn't."

"It's a party! Did you see how many people were in there? They have room for two more." Her heel caught between the stones underfoot; she would have face-planted into the street if Jay's steel grip hadn't kept her upright.

"Oh, sweetheart." Jay pushed her down onto a low stone seat outside a shuttered bakery. "Next time you should let me organize the celebration. Planning isn't your best skill."

"I am perfectly capable of planning things." Vera lifted her foot. The cobbles had thoroughly scuffed the skinny stiletto heels of her white sandals. She frowned and set her foot back down. She didn't want to think about that right now. Right now she wanted to find a party to celebrate that she had dressed Carmen fucking Juarez for the most important premiere of her career while arranging a matchmaking scheme that was going to save her own butt. Not that the plan was complete yet, or that any part of it had been flawless. But still. She knew it was going to work. She wanted to sip prosecco, make connections, and drink to her own success.

"The city is full of people here for the film festival. There are parties literally everywhere right now." She pulled out her phone. "Let me see what else I was invited to. Maybe someone I know will be in line and we can sneak in with them."

Jay wriggled his own phone out of the back pocket of his jeans. "I know people who are here in Venice. Some of them will be doing something fun."

They searched their messages, checked their feeds for evidence of ongoing parties, and texted people they knew. While they waited to hear back, Jay produced a bottle of wine from somewhere between his tasseled shirt and skin-tight white jeans.

"We can at least get our own party going while we wait," he said.

Vera looked around quickly, but no one gave Jay or his wine bottle a second glance. "Are we allowed to just drink that on the street?"

He laughed. "As long as we don't get drunk enough to try swimming in the canals, I'm pretty sure we're good."

"There is no danger of that. Let's find somewhere a little less busy, anyway. I feel weird doing this."