“Paperwork?” I ask, deciding to steer the conversation in a different direction. “I didn't know your and Gill's job required much, um, paperwork.” I pause to pick up a pair of designer jeans and Aveline gets in close, putting her red lips close to my ear.
“How do you think you're going to live a normal life without a passport? A driver's license? Maybe you might want a birth certificate. That's my thing.” Aveline leans back as I look over at her and realize for the first time that I'm actually about four inches taller. Wow. Attitude really is everything, isn't it? If asked, I would've said Aveline was about ten feet tall.
“Do you use the originals to … you know … uh …” I look around and I'm not sure what to say. I know how picky Gill is about procedure and all that. What am I free to talk about here? “Procure new ones?”
“Don't need the originals,” Aveline says as I start to wander towards the shoe section in the back. “I have my own methods of getting shit done. You don't worry a thing about it though. Really, you've done enough.”
“I didn't really do much of anything,” I murmur, my eyes scanning row after row of designer heels and boots. Nothing much except let Gill pretend to abduct me, force me to let him into the store, show him where the safe in the back was.
“You have no idea how important you were to all this,” Aveline says, her voice softening a little. She picks up a metallic fringed sandal and frowns. “Don't let that asshole brother of yours tell you otherwise.”
“He's not really my brother, you know,” I say, expecting her to respond with something like oh, I know, but stepbrother's the same thing, isn't it? Instead, Aveline lifts her face up to mine, her eyes wide and her sensual mouth parted just so. How could Gill not be in love with this chick? Mon Dieu. Aveline really is gorgeous.
“He's … Cliff isn't your dad?” Aveline says as I blink back at her in confusion. “I heard you call him Papa—more than once.”
“Yeah, well, my mother married Cliff when I was sixteen.” I take a deep breath and feel that familiar pain yawning open inside my heart. “She died when I was seventeen, not long after we moved to France. Cliff took care of me, got me through it all. He …” I can't tell the rest of the story, not now, not here, not to some woman I just met. “Gill's my stepbrother,” I say and recognition flickers in Aveline's green eyes. “He didn't bother to tell you that?”
“He doesn't tell me shit about shit, not unless it pertains to the job.” Sounds like a typical Gilleon reaction to me. “Who, exactly, you, Cliff and Solène were wasn't important, not really. It took a whole lot of pressing on my end to even get him to admit that you guys were family at all. The rest, I was just guessing.” Aveline pauses as I pick up an open-toe bootie and ask the sales associate if they've got a women's ten in the back. I'm kind of done with the subject, but I can see Aveline's not ready to move on. “So is Solène your sister then? Or Gill's?”
“Cliff adopted her after my mother passed away,” I say and then attempt to change the subject. “Do you like this?” I ask, turning to hand the bootie over to Aveline. “I think you'd look amazing in it. Très chic.”
“Not really my thing,” she replies, her eyes narrowing slightly, cogs and wheels spinning in her gaze as she puts the information I've given her together. I'm absolutely dying to call up Leilani and have a mindless conversation about which episode of Supernatural is our favorite—it changes on every re-watch and during every new season. Leilani won't twist my words back at me, read between the lines, try to analyze everything to within an inch of its life. But I can't call her, not yet, not until Gill says it's safe. Technically, I'm supposed to be dead.
I put the display shoe back and accept the box from the sales associate, sitting down and draping the clothes I'm carrying over the bench next to me.
“So … what about you? You said you met Gill through a series of business associates, but is that all there is to it?” I put on my best conspiratorial girlfriend voice, the one I use with all my friends when I'm fishing for gossip. I didn't plan on asking Aveline about Gilleon outright, but fuck it. “Are you guys a couple?”
“Holy hell, no,” Aveline says with a curling of her lip. “I'd sooner date a brick wall. Gill's hot, I get it. I mean, I've seen the man naked once or twice, but we've never gone there with it. Dating him would test the patience of a saint.” I decide not to ask Aveline when and where and how she managed to see Gill naked because, honestly, that would imply that I cared. And I don't. I don't give two shits about it.