Pure Red Read Online Free

without your SPF 50.
    “Good evening, Jacques. Good evening, Cassia,” Monica says, holding the door open for us. What seems like a dozen silver bracelets dangle from her arm. She’s Lucien’s on-again, off-again, now apparently on-again assistant.
    She gives Dad a kiss on the cheek, then me. I walk through the gallery, imagining I’m some super singing sensation just flown in from London on my private jet. Wave. Greet. Smile. Kiss. Exhausted when I make it to my final destination; in my case, the wooden chair behind Lucien’s desk. Dad only makes it halfway across the room. He’s stuck talking to Mrs. Murble. She has on a long flowered skirt that sweeps the floor and her hair is piled high like a sno-cone. Hopefully someone will catch his distress signal (tugging on his left earlobe) and rescue him. Not me. I like to witness her insanity from afar.
    I look up. Lady in Red. Still here, in her yellow-wood frame. Not my first choice in frames—it doesn’t do justice to the beauty of the painting. It’s like a really hot guy wearing suspenders and a bow tie. I’d never tell my dad this, though.
    I can’t exactly explain the feeling, but the first time I saw Lady in Red , I couldn’t keep my eyes off of her. She looks like a movie star in her cherry-red bikini and over-sized sunglasses, relaxing on her pale blue beach chair. She’s surrounded by powder-white sand, and at her feet sits the ocean. But it’s more than that. Everything in the painting is in perfect proportion. It’s one of Dad’s finest pieces. Next to it is Lucien’s Masquerade , two couples seated on jumbo-sized wicker couches overlooking a gigantic swimming pool. If you look closely into the clear, aquamarine water, you see a crushed rose at the bottom. Lucien never talks about his love life.
    A waiter approaches with a platter of cheese. He hands me a napkin and I spear a few squares with a toothpick. I leave the fancy crackers for the guests because I know Lucien keeps a box of Saltines in his desk. There’s an open packet sitting in the drawer; I turn it upside down and watch as the four remaining crackers slide out, along with a multitude of crumbs. I lay two down, top them with cheese, then add another cracker.
    I munch on the little snacks and soak in the crowd. Much more interesting than the families at the basketball game. Dad’s talking to some lady with short blond hair. She’s very pretty. She keeps on grazing his arm and smiling. I wonder if she’s the one he’s dating.
    I feel a strong grip on my shoulder. “I see you found my secret stash,” Lucien says. He laughs and crumples up the empty packet.
    “Yup. Every time.” I laugh too, but my gaze doesn’t move from the lioness pawing my dad.
    “How’s basketball going?” he asks.
    “Good.” I nod. “B-ball might just be my thing.”
    Lucien stares at me and strokes his chin. “I can hear th e WNBA announcer now: ‘Cassia Bernard scores another three-pointer!’ ”
    “Lucien, Lucien,” Monica yells, mid-crowd.
    “See you later, kiddo.” He pats me on the back and rushes over to speak to a man with a really wide straw hat.
    I wonder if he was serious. Nah.
    My focus is quickly back on the blond lady until she moves on to talk to someone else, giving my eyes a rest. Why hasn’t Dad introduced us? How long have they known each other?
    I take a small piece of note paper, fashion it into a mini broom, and sweep the crumbs on the desk into a pile. I’m about to throw them away when I realize the garbage can has been moved.
    There’s one near the door and another in front of a painting of a homeless woman searching through the trash for newspaper. How fitting.
    The garbage can near the door looks like my safest b et; no need to upset the homeless lady. I clutch the crumbs in my hand and weave through the crowd. I avoid eye contact with Mrs. Murble and nod at Dad’s accountant, Hank. Somebody is staring at Lady in Red . Somebody new. Somebody with a very cute butt! I