The scent was unmistakable: floral and musky, wafting off Red's body, straight to Sybil's brain. Sybil approached the dressing table, and Red smiled when she noticed her in the mirror's reflection.

"Is that," Sybil asked, sniffing, "La Femme Provocante?"

"Yes, it is! I was wondering –"

"So, what's the occasion?"

Red glanced down, a rosy tint creeping into her cheeks. Sybil hiked a brow – Red didn't blush; she accepted compliments confidently and waved off suggestive remarks from would-be admirers. In fact, she was more likely to slap a man for saying something untoward than she was to change color.

"Well," she said, slowly, "it's not an occasion, per se …"

Sybil's smile faded, a looming silhouette crossing her mind. "It's him, isn't it?"

Red nodded. "He likes it on me. I put it on one night before a show, and …" She chuckled. "Anyway, I was wondering if you could put me in touch with the perfumer." She looked up, eyes sparkling, and Sybil's heart turned over in her chest.

That was the light, the look, she'd yearned to see, for years. That it wasn't her who brought that gleam to Red's eyes nearly killed her. But she was nothing if not gracious, so she swallowed her heartbreak and slipped on the pleasant, inoffensive mask that had served her so well, personally and professionally.

"Of course, love," she said, patting Red's shoulder. "Anything for you."

"Thanks!" Red turned back to her makeup, oblivious to how deeply Sybil meant what she said.

⁂

Just a Mr. Nobody? Singer Red Spotted with Mystery Man at Canals Café

Sybil punched her fingers through the tabloid page, and tore out the picture of Red's bodyguard, leaving only the zoomed-in image of Red at a café table.

"Temper, temper," Asher said, from across the meeting room.

"I have every right to be angry." Sybil glared at the crumpled scrap of paper. "How could Red choose this? What does that hulking imbecile have that I don't?"

Asher smirked. "I can think of one thing."

"Shut up! There's no way somebody so rough and uncultured could possibly appreciate Red's talent. He probably can't count past ten with his shoes on!"

"Doesn't matter."

"Of course it matters!"

"Not to Red. She chose him; she must have a reason."

"But –"

"You can't change people's hearts. Just be glad she's happy."

Sybil frowned. "You don't understand what I'm feeling."

"Yes, I do. Grant isn't the first man I've been attracted to. There were others, who, whether because of orientation or compatibility, just didn't work out. Sometimes, things got ugly, and hurtful words were said. Consider yourself lucky: no matter who Red chooses as her lover, you're still friends. Appreciate that."

Sybil sighed, deflated, and looked at the picture of Red. How could such a petite woman provoke such outsized feelings? Setting aside the tabloid, Sybil picked up her phone and dialed.

"Hello, Rodrigue? This is Sybil Reisz. I've a prospective client for you … a dear friend of mine."