• C H A P T E R T H I R T Y - F I V E •

the one where
it unravels

Veronica had no idea what she was doing.

It was no different from any decision she had taken, but her gut feeling was in control now, and it was pointing at this place with a glaring spotlight. Everything about this building screamed money. From its outside contemporary architecture, to the expensive chandeliers and extravagant interior. Veronica shrunk under the blinding luxury, wishing she had at least bothered stealing something from Chloe to fit in.

She shook her head, forcing herself to focus. What would Chloe do? At that thought, she pushed her shoulders back and walked with her chin tipped up. She swallowed once she reached the receptionist's desk, who studied her in under a second and her eyes barely narrowed.

Great. Veronica resisted the urge to roll her eyes. Natasha 2.0.

"Hello." Veronica's smile was tight, and the woman schooled a smooth one.

"Good evening. How may I assist you?"

"Yeah, um. I'm here for Elena Durant's art exhibition." She was about to ramble but sealed her lips shut.

"I'm afraid the exhibition has been canceled."

"Oh, I know. I'm just here to take a look. I've been meaning to purchase one of her paintings. I hope it's no trouble."

The woman's eyes took in her appearance and arched an eyebrow. Veronica knew that look. The look that meant to say you? Veronica bit her tongue and the receptionist didn't comment. "Let me see what I can do. Are you on the guestlist?"

Veronica blinked. Her heart swelled to twice its size and she swallowed the sudden panic bubbling inside of her. "Sorry?"

The woman's eyes narrowed. "It's a private exhibition and only a few people were invited. Did you receive an invitation?"

Of-fucking-course it is.

Fuck it. Veronica thought she had nothing to lose.

"I do. I don't have it on me, now. But my name's got to be on the guest list." She smiled, hoping it didn't look awkward, flicking her wrists to keep her voice even.

"Name?"

For a split second, she wished Allen had a gender-neutral name. It would've made it so much easier for her.

"Veronica Walton."

Why bother?

As the woman's eyes skipped through the list, Veronica looked around for a way to escape. She could call Allen. His name was surely on the guest list and he could get them in. But what good use was that? He'd drag her out by her hair. She could use the restroom and find her way around. She could do that...

Damn it. She should've done that first, that way if she was caught, she'd say she was lost-

"Ma'am?"

Veronica snapped her focus back to her, and it seemed like she'd been calling her a few times.

"Oh, sorry."

"It's on the third floor."

...?

It felt like she just hit a brick wall. How was she possibly on the guest list, when she hadn't been invited-

Oh.

She had completely ruled out the possibility that Allen could have added her after their little argument that she had ended with her attempt to allure him. She personally thought her attempts were laughable until she got too deep into the act and felt genuinely flustered. He had said he was going to take her, but she didn't expect him to actually do it. She thought she'd have to stalk him the day of the exhibition and force herself in his car.

So, she had won.

Interesting.

Not a good example to set for her if she needed something from him in the future.

Veronica realized that her mind was wandering again. It was until her eyes stung that she realized she hadn't been blinking. She snapped back into focus and shook herself into awareness, plastering a huge smile.

"Great, thank you!"

Veronica stepped inside the large space and was almost blinded by how light it was, her sneakers squeaking against the concrete polished floors. Her steps echoed against the high-ceiling walls, her eyes skimming through the paintings. They weren't many in numbers. Compared to the size of the room, they were less than she was expecting to see, the white gaps of the walls being the dominant part.

She started her inspection right in the middle, her mind wandering at random and in a disordered fashion as she skipped from one wall to the next, nothing particular catching her attention. She pirouetted for a while, contemplating her coming here in the first place. Was it a smart idea? What was she even looking for? Something to catch her eye-

NAME ONE HERO WHO WAS HAPPY

She frowned, halting her movements when she caught the title of a painting on a wall in the middle of the room. She was surprised she just took notice of it now since its size and colors stood out of the rest. She approached it and inspected the tag:

I feel like I could eat the world raw

- Madeline Miller,

The Song of Achilles

Oh.

The title of the gallery made sense now.

Veronica didn't know much about Greek Mythology; she thought they were a little over the top and would only enjoy them when she was depressed and in need of anything to weep over. She enjoyed reading about them, sure, but she couldn't memorize who's the God of what, and who's the son of who, and what this one did to deserve that. The ones she did remember were Medusa, Hercules (1), Icarius and the sun, Hades and Persephone, and Troy (2). But the Song of Achilles, that she needed to whip out her phone and google to know.

A quick skim of the summary made her mind wander, and she plopped down on the ground directly facing the oil canvas. It was disorienting and blurry and dark, with only a few shreds of yellow glow she managed to effortlessly blend. She couldn't decipher the shapes and for a moment wondered if Elena purposely hid the true meaning behind a layer of confusion. All she could clearly see after minutes of inspection were eyes and a small, unsettling smile.

The longer she stared the more this gallery felt like a strange revelation. It was like Elena was screaming through these paintings, urging people to see her, bare. No mask, no shield.

Veronica felt a pull at her gut. Elena needed paintings to express herself. Did she have no one to talk to? Somehow, she felt she understood her. It was hard for her to open up as well, and she wished she had paintings to pour and pour into them everything she had.

She recalled just how suddenly she and Caleb announced their engagement, and how the first thing the media noted was her sudden split from Pierre Lux. Veronica's stopped. And rewound. Pierre Lux. That was a piece of the missing puzzle, too. What was his involvement? Because of Pierre Lux's reputation, Veronica wondered why anyone would think of dating him.

She opened Harrison Durant's news again when something in her mind clicked.

HARRISON DURANT ACCUSED OF SEXUAL MISCONDUCT AND BEING ANTI-LGBTQ+

Anti-LGBTQ+...

"Oh my God..." Her eyes snapped wide when her brain connected the dots. She was pressured. "I'm fucking slow. I'm so fucking slow!"

She whipped her phone out and dialed Caleb's number.

She waited as it rang, her knees jutting up anxiously the longer he took.

He didn't pick up.

She was quick to send a text message:

She huffed in frustration the longer he took to answer. There was only one logical explanation for this: they had a deal, he would use Harrison's film experience, and she would hide her sexuality now that it was known her dad was homophobic. It had to be it.

"I know I'm right," she hissed, and it ricocheted against the walls. It was followed by clattering of heels. Veronica twisted her head around to follow the sound.

Elena was standing right there.

She could ask her. It would be so easy, so simple.

"I see you found my favorite."

Ethan made sure to knock before he swung the door open.

"Chloe's not here," Danielle distractedly answered, not even looking up from her work.

He frowned. "What if I had been a burglar?"

She cocked her head, folding the wings down on the board using strips of paper and pins. "The only things of value in this place are my frames and Chlo's Rules and Regulations on the fridge. We good."

"Huh..." He trailed, closing the door behind him and slumped next to her.

"You just came back from work?" Danielle asked, feeling like he wanted to talk and starting the conversation somewhere for him.

"No."

She pursed her lips. "You look like me when I'm back from a horrible date. Were you on a horrible date?"

He rolled his eyes. "No."

"Then why you looking like a lost puppy?" There was a shadow of a smile on the corner of her lips and he narrowed his eyes.

"I don't look like anything. Let it go."

"Alright..." she shrugged, focusing back on her board. "I'm just saying it's a nice change to see you miserable."

"Kicking me when I'm low? Really?"

Danielle grinned, approaching the forceps to pinch his cheek but he was quick to bat her hand away in disgust.

"Off," he warned. "You've been dissecting crap with that."

"I'm not dissecting, I'm mounting. And they're not crap, they're pretty." She held out her frame to give him a better angle with a proud grin on her face. Ethan's top lip curled, and he grunted under his breath, just as a swift knock at the door resounded. Danielle didn't even have to check to know it was Allen.

"Come in."

He peeked his head inside, noticing the pair lounging on the couch. "Hey."

"Did you try my place first?" Ethan curiously frowned.

"Nope."

"How did you know."

"Took a guess."

There was a pause before Ethan's lips curled up in disgust. "Eugh, were you looking for me, or Veronica?" He groaned when Allen's lips rolled inside his mouth, flopping the back of his head on the cushions. "Is this how things are going to be?"

Allen shrugged, dropping on the couch facing them. "To be fair, this is where she lives." He looked around. "Where is she, anyway?"

Ethan shrugged. "I just got here." There was a stretched beat before he nudged Danielle, assuming she was too enthralled in her work to hear the question. "Dan, you know where Ron is?"

"Uh, well... I think she went for a walk?" She cleared her throat, only now dropping her tools to wipe her palms against her pajama pants, her fingers already sweating.

Allen arched an eyebrow. "Are you telling me, or are you asking me?"

"Telling you," she drawled, wincing at her failed attempt.

Ethan frowned. "What's going on?"

Danielle thought of remaining quiet and then, they might let go of the topic, but both stared at her unblinkingly and she felt her body squirm under the inspection.

"I... am bound by girls' code to not say," she blurted, tipping her chin up proudly.

Ethan blinked. "Why not?"

"Because I can't say." She forced herself to look back down at the neatly aligned butterflies.

"Not even if I get you together with Blake?" Allen tested.

"You can do that?" Her head shot up to him, eyes popping wide as the thought brought a rush of adrenaline in her veins. The look in his eyes made her falter, a tiny gasp escaping her lips when she caught on. "I don't like playing games!"

"Too bad."

"I'm not selling Ronnie out." She scowled.

"She doesn't have to know."

Her eyes narrowed. "Why do you want to know so badly?"

"I wouldn't if you hadn't played it off like it was some big secret."

She huffed, bringing her finger to her lips and gnawing at her nails. Her brain scattered as she thought it over. "How would you set me up with Blake without it sounding fishy?"

He shrugged. "My mom's birthday is at the end of the month. You all can come."

Her eyebrows reached the ceiling at the thought. "Huh. Sounds like a pretty good deal. Okay. She went to Elena's gallery."

Ethan rolled his eyes. "Wow. What a good fight you put on."

Allen frowned. "Why would she go there?"

"You only get one question."

Something in Ethan's mind clicked, and he whipped his head to face him. "You didn't tell her, did you?"

"Tell her what?" Danielle's eyes bulged, but Allen was already out the door.

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(1) Thank you, Walt Disney Pictures, 1997

(2) Although Brad Pitt did most of the job on that one, Troy 2004