Free Unconventional (The Manhattanites #4) by Avery Aster Page B

source of entertainment, I know the other articles slammed your show because I’d lit the match.”
    “You think you’re that powerful?” I rolled my eyes, realizing when it came to Vive’s fame and power the woman was a cross between Hillary Clinton and Lady Gaga.
    “Honey, I know I am. Four million people read every word I write weekly in print and online.”
    Leaning my hip against the sink, I turned to the mosaic tile wall and felt vindicated. I’ll accept her apology.
    “ Grazie . I appreciate that, Vive. I do. But your vodka dry-out has nothing to do with how sucky my designs were.” At that point, it was me who was laughing.
    “Honey, its gin, thank you very much. Vodka has no flavor,” she corrected. “Regardless, I gotta hand it to ‘ya, girlie. The highlight of the Jemma Couture show was those guns. When they shot off and everyone hit the floor, I screamed at the top of my lungs. I haven’t had anything cray-cray like that happen to me since Lex, Taddy, Blake and I got thrown in juvie as kids.”
    We laughed so hard my shoulders shook and I snorted.
    “What’s the second reason for your call?”
    “I need a quote from you for the article I’m getting ready to upload to my website.”
    “Give me the title…”
    “I’m calling it, ‘Sex, Fashion and Love: Jemma Couture’s Erotic Reinvention’.”
    “Bueno.” I liked the sound of that.
    “All I need for you to do is answer one question which is looming for my story and then I’ll leave you alone.”
    Hesitating, I chewed on my lower lip for a second. “Okay…”
    “What’s it like to have two men who care about you so much that they’d go to the extreme of booking a sexual safari?”
    I paused for a second. I could either give the Brill, Inc. malarkey reply or the truth. I always spoke my mind, so I went with the latter. “Vive, the last few years may have been rocky for me and my latest collection was, as you so eloquently stated in your article, s-h-i-t, but today, right now…” Her nails struck a keyboard as I talked, making a loud clacking noise which was making it hard for me to focus, but I managed to continue. “I’m standing tall and feel like the luckiest woman in the world to have Luigi and Rocco at my side.”
    “Honey, luck has nothing to do with it.”
    “What do you mean?”
    “The three of you are an unlikely trio. You’re what we call in New York ‘good people’. You deserve each other.”
    “Grazie.”
    “I hope you not only find romance on this trip, but love for yourself and for them again.”
    My eyes stung with tears. Did everyone know my relationship was in need of repair? I guess Death Star Galactica had made that all apparent. I swallowed back a cry and muttered, “ Grazie .”
    “And thank you for accepting my apology,” she said.
    I cleared my throat and joked, “I’m sure your therapist will be happy to hear that, too.”
    “Hahaha. Indeed, he will.” She kept typing. “Have a great time. Text me pics, and let’s talk when you get to Moscow. I’d like an exclusive story on that leg of the trip. Something fun.”
    “Arrivederci,” I offered and hung up.
    I reached for the doorknob and held on to it for a second. I thought about my answer to Vive and my earlier prayer to God. I was the luckiest woman in the world, and I’d meant that. It’s about time I showed my boyfriend’s just how grateful I truly am. I’m blessed to have them in my life.
     

 

    The Scars on My Back

    “Naturally, I was curious, so I asked Rocco once what it was like to be in a poly relationship. He’d told me that when he, Jemma, and Luigi made love, he imagined they all three melted into each other as one. As if they were the only ones in the world who mattered. Rocco said something magnetic pulls them together and a sense of wonder happens. Desires are fulfilled. Needs are met, and afterwards, his soul doesn’t feel quite so empty. I’d remembered thinking when he’d told me that, how beautiful it must