by Scott, Kylie
Me: Good luck. x
I’ll tell him about my day (and possible list of grievances against his family, society, and the patriarchy) later. He’s got enough to deal with right now.
“Hello! What do we have here?” Emma, Beck’s half sister, sweeps into the room. Privacy is just not a priority with these people. “Oh, I like that dress on you.”
“You do?” I check myself once more in the mirror. “It feels great.”
“Excellent.”
“The new Fendi Baguette came in, I see.” Selah gives the green velvet handbag on Emma’s arm a covetous look. “Very nice.”
“Isn’t it just? I’ve only been waiting forever.” Emma casts an eye over the collection of clothing hanging on the racks and packages spilling off the second couch and onto the floor. “Who’s been shopping?”
“I picked up a few things for her,” says Selah.
Emma snorts. “Beck is gonna regret that. Trusting the ex with your money…most unwise.”
“Speaking from experience?” Selah cocks her head.
Emma sits on one of the sofas, crossing her legs and swinging her foot back and forth. “I’ll have you know, Matías disapproves of my wealth. He said, ‘Only he who has spirit ought to have possessions.’”
“What?”
“Right? I hate it when he quotes Nietzsche at me.”
Selah wrinkles her nose. “Like nihilism ever made anybody smile.”
“This is my point,” says Emma. “But no, we’re all soulless capitalist scum addicted to material goods and out of touch with the common people, apparently.”
“Nietzsche wasn’t a nihilist,” I say, almost without thinking. My favorite English Lit professor had a thing for Nietzsche’s early period, and could quote the Birth of Tragedy almost verbatim. “And he didn’t care less about the common people. He just worried that people’s possessions would become their focus, instead of culture and spirit and the things that really matter. Art. Literature.”
There’s a pause as they both turn to me. Selah’s eyes narrow and there’s something new in her gaze. Like she’s looking at me for the first time. Really looking. Not that she approves of what she sees.
Emma smiles and shrugs. “Well, I don’t know about Nietzsche, but Matías was wearing a Brioni suit when he said it. So you’ll forgive me if I misread the context. There were some mixed messages coming through.”
I smile graciously and let them return to their conversation. Meanwhile, my head is busy. So Selah and Beck did used to date. Given the weird vibe and animosity between them (at least on his part) it certainly makes sense. And she’s obviously a part of, or still lurking on the fringes of, his family life and fortunes.
Interesting.
A man walks in with a tray of glasses and a bottle of something in an ice bucket and places it on a small table. At times like this, it feels a little weird not to be the one doing the serving. Another reminder that I’m not one of the rich people and do not belong here. No matter how great the dress. And the dress is really fucking great. When Beck is ready to replace me with someone his family finds more suitable, I’m taking the dress home to ease my heartache. The booties can come too.
Selah starts pouring the champagne. “Some Dom. Thought we might be in need of refreshment by now.”
“I think we’re done here,” I say.
Pausing her pouring, Selah inspects the racks of clothes. “Which ones are you keeping?”
I nod to the smallest collection.
“We might need to go further afield if that’s all you could find. I’ll reach out to some contacts at other stores and a couple of designers who are good at plus size.”
“No need. That’ll be plenty.”
Selah opens her mouth, then closes it. “All right. Tell you what, why don’t I finish up here while Emma accompanies you to the salon and spa?”
“You’re not cutting my hair.” This is not a suggestion. This is a statement.
“It won’t be me taking her, I’ve got a meeting. Someone else will have to wrangle the new girlfriend.” Emma sips at her champagne. “You do need a trim, though. I can see the split ends from here. And a keratin treatment and some highlights wouldn’t hurt you either.”
“Her skin is going to take some work,” adds Selah. “And those brows…”
Emma nods. “The ragged claws you’re calling nails definitely need fixing.”
“I’m not even going to comment on the length of her leg hairs.”
“You just did.” I frown. What a pair of assholes.
“C’mon, Alice,” says Emma. “I’m sure Mommy Dearest already gave you the lecture. You know, can’t embarrass the fam followed by you’ll still look like you—just the best most expensive version of yourself. That sort of thing.”
“Yep.”
Emma just shrugs. “What can I say? She’s mostly right. This is mostly for your own good. Not to be unkind, but people were asking who the hobo with Beck was yesterday.”
“What?” I ask. “Wow.”
“Yeah. It’s harsh.”
“Very.”
“And I kind of have to agree with them,” says Emma.
“I don’t think I like you after all.”
Selah laughs. “No one likes her.”
“Oh, my sweet summer child.” Emma’s smile is benevolent. “We’re not here to be liked. We’re here to get shit done. You think you’re getting new threads because Grandma actually likes you or wants you here? It’s because she wants Beck back under control. At least, I’m guessing that was her message to Mama yesterday. Best make the most of all of this while you can because you never know what tomorrow will bring. Now quit your whining before you give me a headache.”
I say nothing. Sometimes keeping your mouth shut works best. And she’s not telling me anything I didn’t know or at least suspect. But still…to be honest, when it comes to today’s shenanigans, I’m more averse to the idea of people trying to inflict change on me than I am to getting pampered. It’s worth remembering that Beck likes me how I am. At least, I think he does. He never mentioned me being fundamentally lacking in all the ways and needing the overhaul they clearly intend to perform. Maybe it slipped his mind?
No. Nope. This I will not believe.
This is all such a trap. The clothes and accessories and so on. When do you stop and feel like you’re enough? Pretty enough, smart enough, good enough? There’s an edge of desperation to it all that makes me uneasy (even more so than general). And yet I want to fit in and make Beck proud. But look at me, I’m like the anti-Selah. Big where she’s little, clumsy where she’s graceful. No way will I ever compare. Guess I’m just going to have to settle for being me. Albeit a slightly slicker version of same.
“I’ll take her to the salon and spa,” says Selah in a not so happy tone.
“Aw,” says Emma, “what a lovely bonding experience that’ll be for the two of you.”
I down the Dom. It’s not bad. “Fine, I’ll go. But I can find my own way. I’m sure Selah has better things to do. Where did the clothes I arrived in go?”
Selah doesn’t even hesitate. She also doesn’t meet my eyes. As liars go, she kind of sucks. “Probably sent to the dry cleaners. Wear one of the new outfits.”
“Are you lying to me?”
Emma cackles like an evil witch on her way out the door. “Have fun, ladies!”
“Selah, did someone throw my stuff out?” I ask with more than a tad of aggression. “Because that is not okay. At all.”
Her eyes and mouth widen. Not sure if it’s fear or surprise or what. “Now, Alice…”
“You are fucking kidding me.”
And Selah gives me a most put-upon expression, accompanied by a heavy sigh and tired eyes. “Look, I’m not sure, but it wouldn’t surprise me. Rachel’s instructions for you were detailed, to say the least.”
Curbing my need to swear is a major victory. These people are the worst. If anything has happened to my Austen shirt I will burn something down.
“Thank you.” I do not sound appreciative, but oh well. It’s been a long day.
“As for the other matter…look, we don’t have to like each other. Given the situation it would be bizarre if we did. But just because I’d make a convenient villain doesn’t mean I am one.”
I think it over. “Out of curiosity, are you going to be making a play for Beck?”
“He and I have some things to discuss.”
“Not sure he’d agree with you.”
Her lips flatline. “That’s between me and him.”
“You’re right, we’re probably not going to be friends,” I say. “But I don’t have the energy for making enemies. At least, not today.”
“Let’s just be superficially nice to each other and get this done, okay?”
“Get what done, exactly?”
She finishes her champagne. “It’s just a tidy up. I don’t know why you’re making such a big deal out of it.”
“Because I basically like me how I am and don’t see the need for radical change just to please you asshats?”
“Wow,” she says, brows raised. “Did you pick the wrong boyfriend or what?”
It would be great to hit something. Even being pretend-nice to these people is hard. “All of this isn’t for Beck; it’s for his family.”
She just smiles. “Same thing, Alice. They’re the same damn thing.”
CHAPTER FIVE
“Miss, can I help you?” asks the bellboy.
I’m standing outside a spectacular big old hotel, generally getting in the way, and cluttering up the sidewalk. I don’t know what I’m doing here. Maybe this is a mistake. I’ve stayed in many motels over the years, but never an actual hotel. Mom and Dad were into camping trips for family holidays and it’s not like I’ve had the money to splash out. Yet here I am.
After the salon and spa, Selah shoved me into the back of another vehicle. The driver could have dropped me at the wrong place. Though given the recent turns my life has taken, probably not.
“Miss?” the boy repeats.
At least I now look the part with my glossy ponytail, perfectly painted black nails, and makeup. I feel like chonky Cinderella. Never has my cat-eye eyeliner been so perfect. My designer jeans are high-waisted with pleats, worn over a white T-shirt bodysuit, with a black Burberry trench, and a sweet simple pair of Manolo Blahnik suede flat mules in black. This is my casual outfit. Because even if the weather allowed for it, flip-flops and denim cutoffs aren’t done in Beck’s world, apparently. I picked out a couple of other outfits for more dressy occasions. At least the family can no longer accuse me of being a total embarrassment.
“I—I, um…” I stutter. So just a seventy percent embarrassment then.
“It’s fine. I’ve got this, Sam.” Beck strides out of the beautiful boutique hotel in a navy suit. When he looks me over, he’s doing the careful blank face thing again. “Don’t I know you from somewhere?”
“They attacked me with your credit card.”
He sticks his hands in his pants pockets. “Rachel only said she was taking you out. Said she wanted my AMEX in case something caught your eye. I assumed several somethings did because the concierge mentioned they dropped off your things earlier.”
“I don’t mean to be overdramatic, but…they did things to me,” I say. “What do you think?”
“What do you think?”
“What do I think you think or the other way around?”
“The other way. I think.” He frowns in thought. “It’s been a long day.”
I look down at myself. “I’m not sure. I guess I like it. Some parts of it, at least.”
“Well, I like the parts that you like.”
I smile.
“But mostly I just like you.”
“Thank you. I like you too.” I take a small step forward, pressing my lips gently against his. An innocent enough kiss, given we’re in public, if a slightly long one. The minute I’m close to him, everything feels better. Like I belong right here regardless of hair, waxing, or designer goodies. “Couldn’t help but notice the name on the building. I guess hoping the Heritage was just like a coffee cart or something was kind of stupid of me.”
“We do have a coffee shop here, if that counts?”
“Not a bit. What else do you have?”
“Allow me to show you, fair Alice.” He holds out his elbow for me to take. “Welcome to the Heritage.”
There’s lots of glass, painted black walls, and various art deco features. Makes sense since it’s got to be about a hundred years old. Farther in, dark paneled wooden walls lead up to antique light fixtures hanging on the high ceilings. Velvet sofas, long low coffee tables, and leather wingback chairs. Modern art mixed with more old-world type antique pieces and large fresh flower arrangements. This hotel is so cool it hurts.
And everyone seems to be watching us. Staff and guests included. One person even pulls out a cell and takes a picture, for fuck’s sake. How rude. Beck either doesn’t notice or doesn’t care. Guess he’s used to this level of attention. But it kind of makes me grateful for the clothes. They act as armor against all the inquiring eyes. Either that or these people are undermining my sangfroid. I don’t know. The shoes are pretty and the trench is kind of cool. I take comfort in this.
“We have a gift shop, barber shop, cocktail lounge, and a restaurant.” He nods to the people behind the lobby counter and guides me toward a bank of elevators. “I know they look old, but they work.”
“They’re beautiful. This whole place is. And it’s yours now?”
“I’m in charge,” he says as we step into the elevator. He pushes the button for the level before the top floor. Floor fourteen. Guess we’re taking a tour of the place starting at almost the top. Whatever. I’ll follow him anywhere. “But it’s still owned by the company at present. So I have family and other stockholders to answer to until the sale goes through.”
I nod. The elevator kicks off with the subtle clanking that modern money just can’t buy.
“What are you thinking about?” he asks.
“Lots of things.”
“Such as?”
“Well…this place is seriously impressive for starters.”
“You ain’t seen nothing yet.”
I stare at the floor for a moment. Elevators are so awkward. “Did you notice people staring at us downstairs?”
“It happens.” He shrugs. “Just ignore it.”
“Are you at the top of the most eligible bachelor list in this town or what?”
“The state list and I’m number two. Ethan holds the top place.”
Fuck me.
“It’s not who I am, Alice,” he says, tone particularly persuasive. “It’s just a side effect of the money. Ignore it, okay?”
Easy for him to say.
We arrive at the fourteenth floor and he draws a keycard out of his pocket. Whatever he wants to show me is down the end of a hallway lit by more cool old light fixtures. There’s an energy to Beck now that’s been absent since he was in California. Not that I expected him to be ecstatic when his father had just passed. But it’s nice to see him excited about life again.
After opening the door, he looks at me with a smile. “Go ahead. Have a look.”
“Okay.”
I head inside, taking my time checking everything out. If this is a big deal for Beck, then I want to give him his due. And it obviously is, because the man watches me like a hawk the whole time. The walls are painted graphite and the furniture is lush, just like downstairs, and upholstered in different shades of blue. A large open area has a living room, a long wooden dining table, and a galley kitchen with shiny white stone benchtops. There’s also a fireplace, ginormous TV, a bar and wine fridge…basically every luxury you could want. Floor to ceiling windows look out onto LoDo and there’s an outside sitting area with its own fireplace and Jacuzzi. It’s a lot to take in for a basic bitch like me.
“Are these the penthouse apartments?” I ask, heading to one end of the room. A study with a cluttered bookcase is the next thing I find, followed by a bathroom with pristine white tiles.
“No, those are upstairs. They’re double the floor space.”
“Wow.”
“They are nice,” he admits. “But I thought it best to keep those available for guests. This one is just for personal use. Figured we didn’t really need a grand piano or two extra bedrooms at this stage anyway.”
“This one is for the family?”
“If by family you mean you and me.”
I don’t know what to say. I’m starting to get the feeling I’m overusing the word “wow.” There’s every chance I’ll never become acclimatized to his wealth. Or at least, I hope not. Imagine taking this kind of beauty for granted. But on the other hand, Beck and I are finally getting some privacy. This is splendid.
“Actually thought Dad would have evicted me when I left,” he says, voice contemplative. “But he didn’t. Guess the old man was more bark than bite sometimes. At least when it came to his children. The things you learn when it’s too late.”
“This is where you lived before you went wandering?”
A nod as he leans against the closed door. “Lived and worked here. I oversaw the renovations last year. It was my project to prove myself to dear old Dad and the board.”
“You must be proud,” I say, heading toward the other end of the room. “This apartment is amazing. It’s a beautiful hotel, Beck.”
“Thank you. A lot of people worked hard on it.”
“I’m sure they did. But this place is your baby, isn’t it?”
He smiles.
And I just wait.
“This place…a lot of people thought it was worthless. Thought we should basically gut it and start over. More cost effective that way. Modern and flashy brings the people in, gets them spending. The board wasn’t interested in the history of the place or its story.”
“But you were.”
He shrugs. And it’s such a careless gesture, but his smile still lingers.
“You proved them wrong.”
“We’re making money; that’s what matters.”