Read Online From Barcelona, with Love by Elizabeth Adler - Free Book Online
Authors: Elizabeth Adler
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off for a âromanceâ with her latest passion. Johnny, his name was, and sheâd had no choice but to get on with being alone. At first, it had definitely been scary.
Sheâd thought about calling Lorenza, but that would have been telling on Jassy and Paloma would never do that. She loved Jassy. Jassy had saved her when she was scared out of her wits with her mother going crazy, locked up in that awful house in Hollywood that used to be home. Her lovely home, with her lovely mom, and her lovely life. Just like normal people. Except of course Mom was a star but that didnât alter their home lives.
So sheâd stayed on alone in the big suite in the Ritz, ordering up room service, mostly the grilled ham and cheese sandwiches the French called Croque Monsieur, and spaghetti, and lots of ice cream. Sheâd even ordered a bottle of champagne because she liked the grown-up way it sounded. She told room service her aunt was throwing a little party. Of course she hadnât drunk it; sheâd tried that before, sipping from untended party glasses, and didnât really care for the taste. She went for lonely walks all over Paris, and she thought a lot about her mother. Remembering. Waiting for the day she would come back.
Loneliness, Paloma had decided then, was a sad thing. She had never been lonely when Bibi was around.
Bibi was the best mom. Sheâd cooked Spanish empanadas and churros, and American mac-and-cheese, or sent out for Mulberry pizza or sushi. They would eat together in front of the enormous TV with their bare feet propped on the big tufted black leather ottoman, swigging back Diet Cokes and giggling at SpongeBob SquarePants or the latest Disney or animation feature. Later, her mom would make sure Paloma showered and she always helped her wash her hair that was definitely not like Bibiâs. It was lighter, carrot-color, and Paloma thought hideous, and besides it was wildly curly, which was one of the reasons she had cut it all off.
Bibi would drag the comb through her damp hair, trying not to pull, but there were lots of ow s and ouch es. Then, both in their pajamas now, they would sip herb teaâchamomile because Bibi said it made you sleep better. Then it was teeth brushing, and if she had school the next day, Bibi made sure Paloma had her schoolbag packed. If not, she would tell her she could lie in luxuriously until she absolutely wanted to get up, and when she did, if Bibi was not working, they would breakfast together and maybe play tennis. Paloma wasnât very good at tennis, âclumsy with the racquetâ her mom said; or theyâd swim, or go to the beach, or horse ride out at Malibu, though Paloma wasnât keen on that either. Sometimes, they would shop, but Bibi always got recognized and caused too much of a commotion with the paparazzi, and it wasnât fun. So instead the stores sent things over for her to choose from, brought by very smart young women who were even skinnier than Palomaâand she was a skinny kid. In fact those girls were so skinny Paloma sometimes wondered if they were really her own age and just playing dress-up.
In the evenings, Bibi often had things to do and Paloma would have friends for a sleepover, or she would go stay with them. Maybe they would go bowling, or dance a bit to some wild punky music they liked, bouncing up and down and throwing their heads from side to side, arms flailing, legs like pogo sticks, but they still called it dancing. Or sometimes Bibi would take her out to supper, at Geoffreyâs on the ocean at Malibu, where you could hear the waves whisper and the wind held moisture that collected in tiny crystal drops on the strands of her long red hair, and the maître dâ and the waiters all made a fuss of her. Being Bibiâs daughter was fun sometimes, but sometimes it was a pain, when the public clamored for autographs that of course Bibi always gave, though never at dinner. That was not
Sheâd thought about calling Lorenza, but that would have been telling on Jassy and Paloma would never do that. She loved Jassy. Jassy had saved her when she was scared out of her wits with her mother going crazy, locked up in that awful house in Hollywood that used to be home. Her lovely home, with her lovely mom, and her lovely life. Just like normal people. Except of course Mom was a star but that didnât alter their home lives.
So sheâd stayed on alone in the big suite in the Ritz, ordering up room service, mostly the grilled ham and cheese sandwiches the French called Croque Monsieur, and spaghetti, and lots of ice cream. Sheâd even ordered a bottle of champagne because she liked the grown-up way it sounded. She told room service her aunt was throwing a little party. Of course she hadnât drunk it; sheâd tried that before, sipping from untended party glasses, and didnât really care for the taste. She went for lonely walks all over Paris, and she thought a lot about her mother. Remembering. Waiting for the day she would come back.
Loneliness, Paloma had decided then, was a sad thing. She had never been lonely when Bibi was around.
Bibi was the best mom. Sheâd cooked Spanish empanadas and churros, and American mac-and-cheese, or sent out for Mulberry pizza or sushi. They would eat together in front of the enormous TV with their bare feet propped on the big tufted black leather ottoman, swigging back Diet Cokes and giggling at SpongeBob SquarePants or the latest Disney or animation feature. Later, her mom would make sure Paloma showered and she always helped her wash her hair that was definitely not like Bibiâs. It was lighter, carrot-color, and Paloma thought hideous, and besides it was wildly curly, which was one of the reasons she had cut it all off.
Bibi would drag the comb through her damp hair, trying not to pull, but there were lots of ow s and ouch es. Then, both in their pajamas now, they would sip herb teaâchamomile because Bibi said it made you sleep better. Then it was teeth brushing, and if she had school the next day, Bibi made sure Paloma had her schoolbag packed. If not, she would tell her she could lie in luxuriously until she absolutely wanted to get up, and when she did, if Bibi was not working, they would breakfast together and maybe play tennis. Paloma wasnât very good at tennis, âclumsy with the racquetâ her mom said; or theyâd swim, or go to the beach, or horse ride out at Malibu, though Paloma wasnât keen on that either. Sometimes, they would shop, but Bibi always got recognized and caused too much of a commotion with the paparazzi, and it wasnât fun. So instead the stores sent things over for her to choose from, brought by very smart young women who were even skinnier than Palomaâand she was a skinny kid. In fact those girls were so skinny Paloma sometimes wondered if they were really her own age and just playing dress-up.
In the evenings, Bibi often had things to do and Paloma would have friends for a sleepover, or she would go stay with them. Maybe they would go bowling, or dance a bit to some wild punky music they liked, bouncing up and down and throwing their heads from side to side, arms flailing, legs like pogo sticks, but they still called it dancing. Or sometimes Bibi would take her out to supper, at Geoffreyâs on the ocean at Malibu, where you could hear the waves whisper and the wind held moisture that collected in tiny crystal drops on the strands of her long red hair, and the maître dâ and the waiters all made a fuss of her. Being Bibiâs daughter was fun sometimes, but sometimes it was a pain, when the public clamored for autographs that of course Bibi always gave, though never at dinner. That was not
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