The After Party (A Badboys Boxset)

by Karr, Kim

  For some odd reason, I started to sweat even though it was cold outside.

  The lock finally gave way and I felt a swoosh of relief. The door swung open and Mrs. R stood before me in her plain taupe pants, white blouse, and practical shoes. Her salt-and-pepper hair was pulled back in a tight bun. She was very proper. Like an English nanny. I both liked and disliked the idea of it. I wanted Clementine to have the freedom to express herself while understanding the rights and wrongs of the world. I wasn’t certain Mrs. R would allow for the former, but at least I knew I would.

  She moved aside. “Good morning, Miss Sterling. Clementine has been waiting for you.”

  I stepped inside. “How’s everything going with her?”

  “Very well. Thank you for asking.”

  I had the oddest feeling that I was like a stranger to her. Of course she didn’t know me, but still, she knew I was a part of Clementine’s life. When I’d first met her, I thought she would be ideal for Clementine, but maybe my state of mind wasn’t exactly in top shape then because today she seemed cool, aloof. It was as if she didn’t like me for some reason.

  “Mommy!” Clementine called, barreling toward me at toddling speed with her juice cup in her hand.

  “Don’t run,” Mrs. R warned, but her smile told me it was concern in her voice and not the need for obedience I’d heard in my father’s voice every day of my young life.

  I dumped everything in my hands and bent down with my arms extended. When Clementine reached me, I scooped her up and kissed her. “Good morning, silly girl. How are you today?”

  Her hands clasped my cheeks and she opened her mouth for another kiss. Open-mouthed kisses were her thing. She breathed on me and she smelled of Cheerios and orange juice. A scent I had grown to cherish.

  I held her tightly, the wave of love I felt for her as powerful as blood. She might not have been mine, but I felt like she was. “Look, I have a new friend to join your others.” I set her down and handed her the stuffed elephant.

  She giggled and threw her arms around the soft fur. “Rosie,” she beamed.

  My heart leapt at how much she loved her new Rosie.

  “Mrs. Sterling, would you like me to prepare her breakfast now?” Mrs. R asked.

  Still in the foyer, I glanced around at how tidy everything was. In the family room, all the toys were in the toy chest, the board books were placed neatly on the shelf, and Clementine’s stuffed animals were nowhere in sight. “Oh, no, we do that together, but thank you. Did Traci come?”

  She tidied her bun. “She came Monday and will come again tomorrow.”

  “Oh, it’s just everything is so neat.”

  Mrs. R’s eyes lit up. “Yes, Clementine and I did some straightening up of her things yesterday. They were in quite a disarray.”

  Panic set in and I didn’t know how to stop it. “She has to be allowed to play,” I found myself saying, knowing I was being ridiculous.

  “Mommy,” Clementine said again, but when my eyes darted down to hers she wasn’t looking at me. She was looking at Mrs. R.

  A twinge of jealousy struck and it was followed by unreasonable disappointment.

  Mrs. R bent to Clementine’s level. “Now sweetie, we discussed this. I’m Nanny and,” she pointed to me, “this is Aunt Elle.”

  Clementine was oblivious to the entire conversation as she pretended to give Rosie some juice, but I could see in that moment that Mrs. R truly cared for her and that my tension was tainting my view of the situation.

  “How about I bring Rosie upstairs to your room to join your other friends in our tea party and you go make breakfast with your aunt.”

  She was correct. I was her aunt, not her mother.

  I plastered a smile on my face and took Clementine’s hand. “Come on, let’s get those pancakes going.”

  Mrs. R gently took my arm. “I hope you don’t mind that I’m trying to make the situation clear for her. We were in the park yesterday and she was calling every woman there ‘Mommy.’ I’m certain she misses her own mother and with no one constant woman in her life, she sees everyone as her mommy.”

  The sucker punch came out of nowhere, but I knew it wasn’t intended to hurt me. Clementine did have a parade of women in her life. Nannies, housekeepers, Michael’s sister, me, but none were here all the time. “No, not at all. You did the right thing.”

  Clementine and I went into the kitchen while Mrs. R left us alone and went upstairs. As always, I enjoyed my time with her. We made the batter, cooked the pancakes in the shape of princess tiaras, and then ate them with lots of syrup.

  I shoved my own issues aside. Mrs. R was good for her. She was stable and reliable and could see what I had failed to see.

  “How was it?” she asked Clementine as she entered the kitchen.

  “De . . . lick . . . is,” she said, rubbing her tummy.

  My heart fluttered. She was cute beyond words.

  “If you don’t mind, Miss Sterling, I’m going to take her for a walk before the rain starts. It looks like it might just storm all day.”

  I was washing the frying pan. “Please, call me Elle, and that’s a great idea. I’ll just finish up here and be off. I have to get to work by ten.”

  “You can leave those. I’ll clean them up later.”

  I pushed the hair from my face. “I’m almost done.”

  “Okay, then, we’ll be off.”

  I wiped my hands on a towel. “Give me a kiss, silly girl.”

  In her shiny patent leather shoes she came over to me. “Bye, bye.”

  I gave her a big squeeze and kissed her. “I love you and I’ll see you this weekend.”

  She gave me that open-mouthed kiss and then took Mrs. R’s extended hand.

  As soon as I heard the door close, I ran into Michael’s office.

  Sightless eyes were watching me, or that’s how I felt as I plugged the thumb drive into Michael’s computer and a series of letters and numbers flashed before me. The bar at the bottom moved at a snail’s pace. I dug my fingernails into my palms as it inched ever farther toward one hundred.

  Five.

  Six.

  Seven.

  I glanced around and noticed the bouquet of roses on Michael’s desk.

  “That’s it,” I thought, and ran toward the tile that hid the keypad.

  With shaky fingers I tried to move it. Nothing happened. I tried to turn it. Nothing happened. Had he relocated it?

  Feeling defeated, I pushed in as I went to shove away and the tile popped open. I entered 7673—the numbers that corresponded to Rose, Michael’s mother’s name. The dead woman whose pictures were everywhere. The mother he had obviously loved.

  I couldn’t believe it, but the bookcase to the left of the fireplace slowly started to open. My heart was racing and I bit my bottom lip in an attempt to steady my shaking body.

  Anticipation clogged my throat. I wanted to run inside and see what all the fuss was about, but I was cautious and I waited for it to fully open. My eyes glanced back to the computer screen and the bar read 100 percent. Torn between the safe room and the computer program, I decided to eject the thumb drive first.

  Once I did, I turned back and the door was still fully opened. I shoved the thumb drive in my pocket and wondered how long I should wait to see if it closed on its own. I should have asked Miles. I patted my pockets for my phone but it was in my purse, which was out in the foyer, and there was no way I could leave Michael’s office with the door to the safe room, panic room, or whatever you want to call it the way it was.

  It remained fully open. I stared at it. It hadn’t closed by now and I knew it wasn’t going to. I was certain of that. I saw a large five-prong handle on the inside and knew it was there for someone to pull it shut and lock the door quickly by turning it.

  Bracing myself, I took a tentative step forward . . . nervous but filled with hope that going inside would lead me closer to the truth.

  One step.

  Two.

  Three.

&n
bsp; And I was inside.

  It was smaller than I had imagined. Twelve by twelve at the most. The air smelled musty and dry like the basement. But it was neat and clean. The walls were a deep blue. There were three clocks across the one directly opposite me. Each was labeled—Tokyo, London, and Washington. Under them was a desk that stretched the entire length of the room. Two monitors were located on each end of the desk. To my right was a couch sandwiched between open shelves with bottles of water, cans of fruit, and first aid supplies. There was another couch sandwiched between cabinets.

  Curious, I started with those.

  The center of the room was clear and if Michael had money or drugs hidden inside the room, they’d have to be in there. My pulse was thundering in every pressure point in my body as I moved quickly. If Michael came home and found me in here, I’d have no excuse that would ring true. Clementine wasn’t even in the house.

  The bottom cabinet was a refrigerator that was empty. The top held a few guns, ammunition, and flashlights. The other cabinet was completely barren, but salt crystals were on the bottom of it. There was also a safe on the top that I wasn’t even going to try to open.

  The desk held the monitors and a keyboard. I clicked the enter button and was shocked to see rooms in the house pop up as well as the front and back doors. In plain sight were the kitchen, the family room, and Clementine’s bedroom. Thank God, none of the other bedrooms were being monitored. Still, it made me a little jumpy to know Michael could watch me almost anywhere.

  Oh, God, could he see me now?

  I was just about to give up and run when a sheet a paper with what I knew to be my sister’s writing caught my attention. Her letters always looked printed in all capital letters and they were easily identifiable. My heart stuttered a little as I reached for it. It read:

  Gabby,

  You must have known how much I need you right now. Things in my life are a mess. I need to get away. Please bring Clementine, a bag of her things, and as much money as you can. Meet me later tonight at 615 One Park Lane. Don’t tell anyone, especially Michael, and please, be careful.

  Love, Lizzy

  Tears stung the back of my eyes and I sucked in a breath to hold them back. My sister had tried to contact me and somehow Michael intercepted the note. The wave of sadness I felt was excruciating.

  “Miss Sterling, are you still here?”

  My eyes darted toward the door and I spotted a sealed vanilla envelope on the desk labeled Clementine’s Paternity. I had no time to look through it now, though; Mrs. R and Clementine were back and I had to get out of here. Frantic I was going to be caught, my hands were shaking hard and my mind was a scattered mess.

  Clop, clop, clop, like a little racehorse I heard Clementine’s small footfalls on the wooden floor in the foyer.

  Snapping into action, I shot like a rocket out of the door. The door. How was I going to close it? I hoped it was programmed as Miles had described. Holding my breath, I reentered the code and then closed the panel that covered it.

  “Miss Sterling.”

  I felt a flicker of terror. Was I going to get caught?

  The panic room door continued to close and I hoped it wasn’t noticeable that I’d been inside. With no time to dwell over it, I tore toward the office doors, which, thank God, I’d shut before sitting at Michael’s computer, and placed my hand on the knob. My heart was in my throat. A quick glance back told me I’d left the desk the way I’d found it and that the panic room door had completely closed. I heaved a sigh of relief and shut the door behind me. Then I crept out into the hallway and saw Mrs. R and Clementine in the hall powder room.

  Mrs. R hadn’t seen me, and I tiptoed toward the kitchen and then turned on my heels. I drew in the deepest of breaths that I could and said, “I’m still here.”

  She peeked out of the bathroom. She was soaked from head to toe and so was my little princess, who came surging for me when she saw me. “Mommy.”

  Mrs. R was still looking at me. I shrugged and gave Clementine a little huff of laughter. “What happened? Did you get rained on?”

  “Wet,” she giggled.

  I laughed harder and held my hand out. “Come on, I’ll take you upstairs and get you changed.”

  “Oh, I can do that, Miss Sterling.”

  “Please, call me Elle. And you get dried off while I take care of her and then I need to get going.” Peyton opened on Wednesdays, so I could be a little late.

  The rain had become a downpour by the time I pulled away from Michael’s house. The minivans, swing sets, and porch swings along the road were a blur. Rain or shine, I didn’t care. I was just relieved that I’d made it out of there without Michael coming home and without getting caught by Mrs. R.

  That woodsy, pine-like smell was still potent in the car. I glanced in the backseat and saw nothing. When I got to the boutique, I’d have to check the trunk. Something had to be in there.

  Taking the shortest way, I turned the corner and I swear I saw Michael’s car heading in the opposite direction, toward his house. I hoped I was wrong.

  When I felt like I could mask my overwhelming need to vomit, I fumbled for my phone and called Logan.

  “Are you okay?” he answered, worried. “I saw you called and tried you back. Why didn’t you answer?”

  Even through everything, the sound of his voice made me smile. “I couldn’t, but listen, I’m on my way to the boutique and everything went well. More than well, in fact.”

  “Did you install the program?” he asked, clearly concerned.

  Suddenly, I felt a little proud of myself. I’d done it. “Yes, and I got into the safe room.”

  “What the fuck, Elle? I told you not to do that.”

  “I know, but the code hit me and I had to try.”

  His words were laced with anger. “I said it was dangerous. What don’t you understand about that?”

  I wanted to argue with him, but I knew he was right.

  “It was a stupid thing to do,” I agreed.

  His sigh was heavy.

  “Do you want to know what the code was?” I tried to extinguish his anger.

  “Yeah.” His tone was still off.

  “It’s Rose, Michael’s mother’s name.”

  “Son of a bitch.”

  There, he was fine. I laughed. “Can you believe it?”

  “No. But you still shouldn’t have gone in there. What if you had been caught?”

  The car in front of me engaged its hazard lights. I pulled around it. “Since when do you talk in the hypothetical?”

  “Since there was no plan A or plan B,” he answered matter-of-factly.

  The light turned yellow and I pressed the gas. “Okay, okay. Do you want to know what was in there or not?”

  “Of course I do. Were the drugs still in there?”

  “No, I looked everywhere. There were those crystals on the floor in one of the cabinets but nothing else. However, I found a note in there, and it was from my sister to me asking me to meet her. Michael must have gotten to it before me.”

  There was knock on his door. “Meet her where?”

  “At some address at One Park Lane.”

  “Hang on,” he told me.

  The rain started to fall harder and I turned the windshield wipers up. “Okay,” I said.

  “Put him in the conference room and see if he wants some coffee, I’ll be right there,” Logan said to who I assumed was Sheila, his receptionist. “I’m back. Sorry about that.”

  The car in front of me came to an abrupt stop and I slammed on the brakes. The car behind me honked.

  “Where are you, Elle? Are you okay?”

  “Yes, it’s just raining so hard I can’t see two feet in front of me, but I’m almost to the boutique.”

  “Take it easy, okay? I don’t want anything to happen to you.”

  “You’re sweet, you know.”

  “Now, you’re pushing it.”

  I laughed. “You are. Are you ready for the address?”

&nbs
p; “Yes, shoot.”

  “It was Six-fifteen One Park Lane.”

  “That was one of the three buildings that cokehead pointed out to Miles.”

  All the spots were taken near the boutique and I found myself weaving up and down the side streets. “I want to go with you when you go,” I said.

  “No way.”

  I decided to give in and pay to park in a lot. I hated the high cost and very rarely did it, but the rain was cause enough to splurge. The lot I found was farther away from the boutique than I would have liked, considering I didn’t have my rain boots. “Logan, please.”

  “No, Elle. Let Miles go with me and then I’ll bring you there later if there’s anything to see.”

  I switched the ignition off and fumbled for my debit card. “Do you promise?”

  “Yes.”

  My bags were on the seat beside me and I pulled them onto my shoulder. “Oh, by the way, Clementine loved her new Rosie.”

  “Did she call her that?”

  The lot was deserted. Everyone must have been waiting out the storm indoors. I opened the door. “She did.”

  “She’s the sweet one,” he joked. “Listen, I have to go. I’ll call Miles after I meet with this client and let you know what we’re doing. I have a few other things to fill you in about.”

  Water swooshed across my shoes with my first step onto the pavement and I swiped my card to pay the hefty twenty-dollar parking fee. I knew better than to complain to Logan about it because he’d offered more than once to pay the yearly astronomical fee for the parking lot just around the corner from the boutique.

  I started to move faster. The quiet of the normally bustling streets of Boston was eerie. “Logan, one more thing.”

  “Yeah, sure, what is it?”

  “It’s probably nothing, but when I opened the back door this morning to leave, it was covered with hundreds of black rose petals.”

  “Where are you?” he asked, panicked.

  He took me by surprise and I stuttered. I wasn’t exactly quite sure.

  “Where are you?” he was yelling.

  “I’m walking on a side street, heading toward the boutique.”

  It sounded like he was moving. “Listen to me and don’t argue. Get back in the car, lock the doors, and come straight here. I’ll meet you outside.” The wobble in his voice told me to listen.