Complex City

by G H Edwards

  Within days Claire was receiving free clothes from high-end fashion boutiques in the city that she’d only ever read about. They gave her everything from business outfits to formal gowns in hopes that she’d wear one during a TV appearance. Heather was soon directing Claire’s fashion choices because she said Claire dressed like, “she was still sleeping on the streets of Miami.”

  After two weeks of nonstop press coverage, Claire wondered how celebrities did it. Her small apartment was full of clothes, shoes, and even fan mail. Being the new Claire Gale was a full-time job. Heather now planned her weekends, and she was being whisked to and from various meetings and increasingly more events. The speed and scale of her new fame stunned many, including Claire. She felt like her whole world was suddenly jammed into overdrive. On the one hand, she was a grieving widow coping with this new world on her own, and on the other, she was Houston’s new darling and even was on magazine covers. She confided in Heather about this mix of emotions. Heather told her she was “designing” her; slowly she would emerge from her cocoon and would be a powerful woman with a past that made her stronger. But in the meantime, Heather advised, in her usual coarseness, to “be the grieving widow. Everyone loves a grieving widow, but also be an engaging up-and-comer. But not too engaging—everyone stops liking a grieving widow when she starts banging everyone.” Claire was blown away that someone like Heather even existed. She seemed to forget that people were people and not just props on a stage.

  Claire had just gotten off the phone with a writer at a Houston magazine called Sway when her phone rang. It was her usual caller, Heather.

  “Hey, girlie. How was Sway?” Heather asked in her usual fast-paced speech.

  “Good. They were nice,” Claire said walking over a pile of unworn clothes.

  “Great. Hey, meet me downstairs in ten minutes?”

  “Why don’t you just come up here?”

  “Just meet me in front of your block, please.”

  “Okay,” Claire said, exhaling a large breath so Heather would know she was bothering her.

  “You’d better look nice!”

  “Yes, ma’am,” Claire joked. Heather was always harassing Claire because she often left the house without being “camera ready,” as Heather called it.

  Ten minutes later, Claire stepped out of her block’s lobby. She wore fashionable jeans and a new patterned top. She had applied light makeup and quickly styled her hair, and she was proud of herself for the result. She stepped into the passenger seat of Heather’s personal car, which was parked illegally, blocking a lane of the street.

  “Why didn’t you just come upstairs?” Claire asked, as she sat down.

  “I thought I told you to look nice!”

  Claire let out a loud sigh and looked at the ceiling of the car. “Why didn’t you just come upstairs?” she repeated.

  “Well, that’s what I’m here to talk to you about,” Heather said. Other vehicles were honking and cursing as they sped around the parked car. “I can’t make the trip to your place anymore.”

  “Oh,” Claire said surprised.

  “Yeah. I’m sorry, girlie, but your place is gross.”

  “Oh.”

  “I mean, I feel like I’m gonna get dysentery from just riding in the elevator. I don’t even like driving down here.”

  “Oh.”

  “Yeah I know, but it’s not your fault. And I’ve been working to fix that. Have you ever heard of Terry Allen?”

  “Of course. He owns the blocks,” Claire said, looking behind them as a pair of headlights seemed to hover in the rear window, lighting up the car.

  “That’s right. Well, I got you invited to a formal fundraiser tomorrow night, and I’ve arranged for you to meet him and his wife.”

  “Wow, that’s amazing!” Claire said, smiling.

  Officially Terry Allen owned Allen Corp. Apartments and was a billionaire, but unofficially he was the gatekeeper to the upper class. It was said that no one moved into the top-numbered blocks without his personal approval, which had made him very popular. Hardly a day went by when there wasn’t a newspaper or TV report on his and his beautiful wife Sharron’s movements.

  “What’s the fundraiser for?” Claire asked.

  Heather shrugged. “Hell, I don’t know. Sick kids or dying puppies. Whatever. The point is you’ll meet the man who might be able to move you out of this dump.”

  “You think Mr. Allen would move me up in the blocks?”

  “Of course he will. You’re the new ‘it’ girl. It was bound to happen, and honestly I’m surprised it took this long.”

  “Well, I don’t know. I mean he’s really…big league,” Claire said, wincing as a large white truck swerved around them, its horn blaring.

  Heather seemed not to notice the angry drivers all around them, “Of course he’ll move you up, as long as you stop dressing like that. I’m thinking maybe mid-fours thousands. And think of it this way: if your fame is only going to be short-lived, then we need to slurp up all we can while you’re still hot. But if you stay on top, which you will, he’s the kind of person you want to have on your side.”

  Claire smiled and agreed and arrangements were quickly made. She was happy to end the conversation and leave the car. As she walked to the lobby doors, she looked up to the top floor of her block. She was always a little shocked when she saw how large her building was. It seemed almost impossible to see the top. She looked to the left then to the right and saw the nearly identical blocks lining the road as far as she could see in both directions. She saw the millions of windows and thought of how many residents would cut off their arm to meet Mr. Allen, and she was going to do it. She couldn’t believe things were going this well.

  CHAPTER 46

  The next day was free of any interviews, and Heather had herself and Claire booked into a spa to begin the preparations for the evening. Heather informed Claire they both would be attending the event so she could oversee the meeting and act as Claire’s date. Claire assumed it was really because Heather wanted the exposure, but either way this announcement made Claire happier than she’d expected. Although Claire didn’t like Heather on a personal level, she had come to find her presence comforting, like listening to music during a thunderstorm. During a full-body massage, Heather briefed her on Terry and Sharon Allen.

  “Sharon’s hobbies are really just looking beautiful and knowing everything about everyone,” she said. “She’s exactly what you think of when you hear the word ‘socialite.’ If cocktails at lunch had a human form, it would be Sharon. But what people don’t realize is she controls how her husband sees people.” Heather paused as a tiny woman ground her back with a pair of small fists. “If you can get on Sharon’s side, then you’ll win the affection of both. And Mr. Allen, well he’s the richest, most powerful man in the city. He’s a guy who likes to be in control, but when it comes to the social side of things, he defers to his wife.”

  Claire listened intently as she received her first-ever massage a few feet away from Heather.

  “But don’t get me wrong,” Heather continued. “Mr. Allen is a very nice guy and a total hottie. I’ve debated sewing myself into a chair in hopes that he’ll sit on me.” Claire laughed. “But mostly he’s more interested in business than he is in schmoozing.”

  Claire wondered how she would get close to a man whom she knew very little about and with whom she had very little in common.

  “Do they have any kids?” she asked in a grunt as her back was being compressed.

  “No, which has always been a discussion in the gossip circles. Some people believe they don’t want any, but from what I heard, Sharon can’t have kids. Rumor has it that Mr. Allen only learned about that after the wedding, and he wasn’t too happy. I’ve thought about having my eggs surgically removed and throwing them at him when he walks by.”

  Laughing again, Claire asked, “How do you know all this stuff about them? Is there some gossip TV channel I don’t know about?”

  “No.” Heather
chuckled. “The Allens are the closest thing Houston has to royalty, so you won’t hear many bad things about them. People who work for them usually hear the details—that’s what I was told—but you never really know.”

  “What kind of things do the Allens like to do? I mean, what can I possibly talk to these people about?”

  “Tonight, the black-and-white fundraiser—that’s what they do. Sharon does the usual socialite things like getting boob jobs and having tiny stupid dogs, but Mr. Allen just works.”

  “He seems very intimidating.”

  “He’s nice, but it can be intimidating meeting him. I mean, the man owns everything,” Heather said offhandedly.

  “I thought he only owned the blocks?”

  “Let’s just say he owns a lot more than you know. But you won’t hear him say that.”

  “Then how do you know?” Claire asked.

  “Rumors of course. Let’s just say I know he has his fingers in a lot of pies, but unfortunately none of them are mine.”

  Claire thought about Michael. “What about the hospitals and medical stuff? Does he have anything to do with that?”

  “I don’t know about medical stuff. Why do you ask?”

  After a short pause, Claire said, “Well, I need to find something I can talk to him about. I used to work in a hospital, so I figured maybe that would work.”

  “I wouldn’t worry too much. I’m sure he wants to ask about your trip, so that should be good enough.”

  That was the subject Claire was hoping to avoid.

  CHAPTER 47

  Claire looked at herself in the mirror in the small bathroom she and her husband used to share. She was dressed in a long black gown and had her hair professionally done after the spa trip. As she looked at her reflection, a wave a grief overcame her. More than anything, she wished Michael was there with her. She still saw him in her head as she knew him, a healthy handsome man, and she wondered what he’d say if he could see her now.

  Walking from the bathroom, she had a feeling she didn’t belong here anymore. She thought that maybe it was being dressed up in a formal gown or the piles of foreign clothes everywhere, but something inside her felt like she was ready to move on. The thought saddened her, and for the millionth time she questioned what she was doing.

  Claire and Heather took a car service to the event. As they sat in the backseat, Claire mentioned how nervous she was—this was her first major formal event. Heather assured her it would be fine because she had heard through her sources that Sharon was nearly obsessed with Claire and had watched every interview. Claire was shocked; she knew that for all of Heather’s flaws, she was good at making Claire feel confident.

  As they pulled up to the building, dozens of paparazzo were packed on the sidewalks. Cameras flashed like strobe lights as Claire stepped out of the car. They asked her to stop and pose for them, and she did, still feeling uncomfortable and exposed in front of the camera. She gave them a bashful smile and was blinded by the flashes. After the photographers seemed satisfied, Claire left and was joined by Heather as they walked through the grand entryway.

  Claire was awestruck as they entered the long hall where the fundraiser was being held. It was a long rectangular shape, extending out in front of her and was packed full of beautiful people. It definitely was the largest room she’d ever been in. A tall second story walkway wrapped around, overlooking the dozens of well-dressed partiers. Although she was dressed and made up for the evening, she felt extremely out of place as she walked in. As if sensing her discomfort, Heather wrapped her arm around Claire’s and said she knew just what she needed.

  After two drinks, Claire felt she was finally becoming comfortable enough to move around. She was getting used to Heather introducing her to everyone in sight, so as they made their rounds, Claire fell into her practiced grieving but still-engaging self. After thirty minutes and almost a complete revolution around the ground floor, Heather squeezed Claire’s arm and whispered, “There they are.”

  Claire saw the brilliant couple standing nearby, talking to other beautiful people. They all seemed to glow with a confidence she’d never seen before. It was as if they had a spotlight on them from some unknown source. She recognized Mr. Allen instantly, having seen him thousands of times on TV or in magazines, but she was surprised he was even more handsome in person. Her stomach dropped at the first sight of him. As Heather escorted Claire toward them, the circle of beautiful people parted, and Allen made instant eye contact with Claire. She felt she might collapse on the spot.

  “Mr. Allen. Hello. I’m Heather Russell from APG,” Heather said, extending her hand and receiving a light shake. “And this is Claire Gale. I’m sure you’ve heard of her.”

  As Mr. Terry Allen shook the small hand of Houston’s newest celebrity, Claire felt an immediate tension between him and her.

  “It’s nice to meet you,” he said smiling, looking into Claire’s large brown eyes.

  Claire meekly allowed her hand to be shaken and nervously brushed a piece of hair behind her ear, giving a coy smile.

  Sharon, being used to women’s strange responses to her husband, stepped forward and grabbed her attention. “Hello, Claire. It’s wonderful to meet you,” she said sweetly, shaking hands with Claire. “I think I’ve seen every interview you’ve done. You are so brave. I mean, so brave. Sweetie, I’m so sorry about your husband. It is just tragic.”

  “Thank you, Mrs. Allen,” Claire said, looking down.

  The rest of the crowd stood by in silence, watching with rapt attention.

  “I just can’t believe you went all the way to Miami! I mean, the things we wives will do for our husbands…am I right?” Sharon said, putting her hand on Claire’s arm.

  Claire smiled. “Yes, you’re right… I have to say that you’re even more extravagant in person than you are on TV.” She had been practicing that line ever since she first learned of the meeting.

  “Oh, bless your heart,” Sharon said with a small wave.

  “That is some story, Claire. It must have been terrifying in Miami,” Allen said, which was also a line he’d been practicing.

  “Well, yes. It’s nothing like Houston, that’s for sure…. I just miss my husband so much. I mean, I’m still processing everything, I guess,” Claire heard herself say.

  “Yes, I can imagine it must be so hard for you,” Allen said, studying her.

  “Yes, it is. But we both tried our best,” Claire said with a slight panic in her voice.

  Sharon nodded theatrically. “You know dear, both of my parents died from gerivirus. I know how hard it is.”

  “Oh” Claire said, she didn’t know that. She wondered when they died and if she was married to Terry at the time. She made a mental note to check that.

  “It’s all so tragic,” Allen said, stepping forward, boxing out the other guests. “We were just going to sit down. Would you like to join us?”

  Claire agreed and was led through the parting crowd to a staircase. Heather watched with a proud smile as her disciple was taken into the Promised Land.

  Claire felt the eyes of everyone in the room on her as she ascended the tall staircase that led to the second floor. She still wasn’t used to wearing long formal dresses and heels, so climbing the stairs was a complicated task. The beautiful couple made it to the top first and turned to watch Claire reach the crest. She was relieved to have made it to the top without a single stumble.

  “It’s always a challenge climbing stairs in these outfits, isn’t it?” Sharon told Claire with a smile.

  Claire laughed. “Oh, my God, that was terrifying.”

  She was blown away by the view she saw from the balcony. There were hundreds of people dressed in their finest mingling across the enormous room. She looked around and saw that the second level wasn’t just a walkway but there were dozens of finely decorated tables scattered throughout. She assumed that later in the evening guests would file up to have dinner, but for now it was just the three of them. She leaned over the raili
ng and looked at the faces of the crowd below and noticed that while she watched them, many of them were glancing at her. The room was full of the most impressive people in the mega city, yet she was the one everyone was watching.

  “Quite a view, isn’t it?” Mr. Allen said, leaning against the railing next to her.

  “I can’t believe I’m actually here.”

  “Well, you’re the main attraction here tonight. Everyone in the city is talking about you and your amazing trip.”

  Claire sighed. “This is pretty unbelievable.”

  Sharon walked over and put her hand on her husband’s shoulder. “Well, what you did was unbelievable.” Allen nodded in agreement.

  “Looking back, I feel pretty stupid for trying it, but we felt like we had no choice left,” Claire said.

  “You shouldn’t feel stupid honey. It was love,” Sharon gushed.

  “You went to Miami to look for the cure for gerivirus?” Allen asked.

  “Yes, my husband thought it might be there, but it wasn’t of course,” Claire said, wanting to change the subject.

  “Of course. Do you know what gave your husband the idea there was a cure and that it was in Miami?” Allen asked in an offhanded tone.

  “I asked him over and over, but he wouldn’t ever give me a straight answer. He said he read something somewhere about something like a cure in Miami, but he wouldn’t tell me where.”

  “Ah. So you trusted your husband so much that you blindly went on a trip that could have killed you both?”