Avoiding Intimacy (Avoiding #2.5)(46)

Andrea sighed dramatically before answering, “Well, alright.”

They walked toward an empty bench in the main entranceway and took a seat next to each other. Chyna saw a woman glance in her direction, but she kept walking. She suddenly wished she had a hooded jacket. She normally enjoyed the attention, but this felt very different.

“So, how did you manage it?” Andrea finally asked.

“Manage what? Do you know why all these people are staring at me?” Chyna asked.

“They went up this morning all over the city.”

“What did?” she demanded.

“Are you certain you don’t know? I’d be shocked if you didn’t,” Andrea said, narrowing her eyes as if she didn’t believe her daughter.

Her disbelief wasn’t really out of the ordinary though.

“Would I be asking you if I knew what was going on?”

“Marco’s new advertisement went up all over the city. You’re the cover of his boutique. You’re at every bus stop, and you have a full-page spread in the New York Times. Darling, you’re everywhere.”

Chyna saw stars. No. No. No. No. No.

This could not be happening to her. “Wha- what does it look like?” she managed to get out.

“Stunning. You’re wearing a purple mermaid dress, full sequins, perfect lines.

You look like you’re ready to crawl through the camera,” she told her, eyeing her warily. Clearly, her reaction wasn’t what Andrea had been expecting.

“I’m sure someone has a New York Times around here.”

“That’s alright,” she said. Her hand dropped to the bench. She gripped it, trying to hold the nausea back. How had she f**ked-up this badly?

“Didn’t he tell you?” Andrea asked suspiciously. “They always tell you.”

“It doesn’t matter,” Chyna said, swallowing. This was going to be much more difficult now. That damn man! “I came to talk to you about something else.”

“You look sick, darling. Should I get you something?” She waited for Chyna to respond, but Chyna said nothing. “Chyna, am I missing something?”

“Besides six years of my life, no,”

Chyna spat back coldly, shutting Andrea up real quick. “Please stop trying to mother me. I don’t need a mother right now.”

“Fine, what do you want then?” she asked, crossing her leg and tapping her foot in the air impatiently.

“You know Cassandra Corsa?” Chyna asked straight out. She didn’t want to beat around the bush with this. She just needed answers, and she intended to get them.

“What the hell do you know about Cassandra Corsa?”

Andrea asked, planting both feet on the ground as she turned to face her daughter.

Chyna shrugged. “I know enough.”

“Why are you even asking about Corsa? You have Marco’s line at your feet. You’re plastered on every corner.

I’ve been there,” she said wistfully.

“Now, why would someone like that need Cassandra Corsa?”

“It’s really none of your business.”

“It is if you are asking me about her.

Marco knows Cassandra Corsa. You could have asked him,” Andrea said as if seeing a chink in the armor. “So, why haven’t you asked him?”

“It really doesn’t matter whether or not I’m talking to Marco about Cassandra Corsa. I just asked you about her,” Chyna said, hating her mother’s perverse logic.

She had been married to Chyna’s father for too long.

“Marco won’t let you near her, you know?”

“Mother!” she cried, raising her voice, drawing unnecessary attention her way.

“Can we not do this?”

“Oh, now you want a mother,” she said, narrowing her eyes.

“I just want you to give me her phone number,” Chyna countered, ignoring her previous statement.

“Why should I do that?” Andrea asked her point blank.

Chyna sighed and stared at the ground.

She knew where this was going. She couldn’t be hard, edgy Chyna in this situation. Her mother knew her too well.

She had, kind of, raised her, and Chyna had gotten a lot of her bite and attitude from the person sitting next to her.

Everything else she had was from her father, and Andrea knew how to get around him better than anyone. Andrea also hated it more than anyone, so Chyna needed to be someone else.

“Because I need it,” she finally said. “I need her number because Marco won’t give it to me. He doesn’t want me near another designer. He thinks he owns me.”

It was mostly the truth, and it sounded like something her mother could sympathize with. It wasn’t like she was going to go around telling Andrea what had really gone down.

“Sounds like a typical male designer,”

Andrea said with a snort at the end for extra emphasis.

“Self-indulgent, egotistical, demanding, self-righteous… *s. I’d love to eliminate the whole lot of them.”

Chyna laughed at her mom’s perfect description of Marco. It was like she had experience with these types of men or something. Well, she probably did.

“Fine,” Andrea finally said. “Just because I know the situation you’re in.”