Love Your Life(92)

She hands a microphone to John and waits, smiling.

“We’re very proud, yes,” says John stiffly.

“Extremely proud,” chimes in Elsa, grabbing the microphone from him. “And of course we’re very proud of you, Genevieve, for writing your wonderful book.”

She leads a round of applause, while Genevieve simpers.

“Well, you all helped me,” says Genevieve, looking bashful. “Especially Matt, of course. Ladies and gentlemen, this man is a hero.”

    “I’m really not,” says Matt, with a tight smile.

“It’s true!” Genevieve opens her eyes wide. “He helped me so much with my research. And…this is no secret to any of you guys…” She lowers her voice to an emotional throb, looking around at the faces as though to make as much eye contact as possible. “He’s helped me so much…personally. Harriet’s House is about love and heart.” She blinks earnestly at the crowd. “And this man is all about love and heart.”

What? I stare at her furiously. She doesn’t get to say Matt is about love and heart. I do.

Genevieve grasps Matt’s hand and holds it up, and a cheer rises from the crowd.

“Get back together!” yells a voice from the rear, and Genevieve scrunches up her face as though she can’t hear.

“Sorry? What are they saying?” she says to Matt, with a laugh.

“Get back together!” The voice increases in volume.

“We love you, Matt!” cries a girl about three feet from me.

“You’re perfect together!” shouts another girl hysterically from across the room. “Genevieve and Matt forever!”

“Look, this really isn’t what we’re—” begins Matt, but Genevieve cuts straight across him. (I swear her microphone is turned up to a higher volume than everyone else’s.)

“That would be lovely in so many ways.” Her face droops a little sadly. “Because we did have a special magic together. But it’s not meant to be. Is it, Matt? No matter what these guys think.” She gestures at the audience with a rueful, wistful smile.

    My entire face has flamed. What is she saying? How is this appropriate? In fact, why am I even sitting through this? Abruptly, I get to my feet, reach for my bag, and start edging along the side of the auditorium.

“Oh no!” Genevieve suddenly trills charmingly. “I’m so sorry. Ladies and gentlemen, I think we’ve upset Matt’s new girlfriend. Ava, don’t be shy, you’re part of the Harriet’s House family now!”

She gestures in my direction, and to my horror, a spotlight finds me. Immediately, the whole audience swivels round. And it’s all very well Matt saying it’s “online rubbish,” but these people aren’t online. They’re right here, gaping at me and even taking photos.

“She’s not that pretty, is she?” murmurs a girl in front of me to her friend, and I glare back indignantly.

“Hi,” I say shortly. “I’m sorry, I have to go. Enjoy the show!”

I head to the door, murderous thoughts swirling round my head. All I can say is, there’d better be a Harriet’s House bar and it’d better serve Harriet’s House vodka and they’d better do double shots.



* * *



—

There is a Harriet’s Bar, it turns out, and it’s half empty, which I guess is because so many visitors have flocked to the main auditorium. It doesn’t serve vodka, but it does sell “Bubblegum Bellinis,” and I sit down on a barstool and order two in quick succession. I know I shouldn’t let Genevieve get to me. Or the superfans. Or this Japan business. But I can’t help it: I’m bubbling over with stress.

    Every time I discover a new layer to Matt’s life, it’s a more toxic, complicated layer. And he doesn’t even seem to see it. He doesn’t seem to recognize it. He walks around with blinkers on, like some sort of horse pulling a heavy wagon, and his job is the wagon….No, his family is the wagon….

Abruptly I realize I’m muttering to myself like a crazy person. I glance up, hoping that no one’s watching me, to see a face I recognize. It’s Matt’s grandpa. What’s his name again? Oh yes, Ronald. He’s sitting at the other end of the bar, dressed in a pinstripe suit, drinking a glass of wine, and he’s such an incongruous sight on his pink fluffy barstool, I can’t help smiling. He catches my eye, clearly wondering if he knows me.

“I’m Ava,” I say, sliding along to join him and extending a hand. “Matt’s friend? We met at the Warwicks’ house?”

“Ava!” His eyes brighten. “Yes, I remember. Are you enjoying the expo, my dear?”

“Kind of,” I say. “Aren’t you at the event? Everyone’s onstage right now. Matt, his parents, Genevieve…”

“I know.” A faint shudder passes across his face. “Very entertaining, I’m sure. It’s the audience that I find difficult. They shriek.”

“Yes,” I agree. “They do. I guess you’ve been coming to the expo forever?” I add, as it occurs to me that Harriet’s House has been his life too.

“Well.” Ronald seems to consider this. “We didn’t have an expo in my day. Everything was different. Less…excitable. I always come and see how things are getting along.” He gestures vaguely toward the auditorium. “But I prefer to be out here.” He lifts his glass to me in a toast and I follow suit. “And you?” he queries politely. “You didn’t want to watch Matthias onstage?”