Ivory White : A House of Misfits Standalone

by Cambria Hebert

  “I like it. It’s mysterious. Just like me.”

  “More like he doesn’t want to drink out of the mug Earth bought him.” Beau snickered.

  Under the table, Fletch kicked him.

  “This is your mug?” Ivory asked, glancing between the Care Bear and Fletch.

  “It’s Lucky Bear,” Beau answered.

  “Are you very lucky?” Ivory asked him.

  “Stupid bear,” Fletch grumbled, turning back to play in his eggs.

  “He’s lucky he’s stayed out of jail this long.” I teased.

  Fletcher took offense. “I don’t need luck. I’m just good at what I do.”

  “And what is it you do exactly?” Ivory asked.

  “He gets fired a lot,” Beau said around a mouthful of eggs.

  “I thought you said you were good at what you do,” Ivory deadpanned.

  We all laughed.

  “Your food is going to get cold,” Fletch mumbled, pointing to her plate.

  She glanced at me, and I pointedly glanced at her plate. She sighed and began eating. “Mmm,” she said after a moment. “These eggs are delicious!”

  Earth froze, caught off guard by the compliment. “They’re just eggs,” he mumbled.

  “Not so. I’ve had eggs by some of the best chefs in this country! I don’t even normally eat scrambled eggs because I don’t like them. What’s your secret?”

  Crossing his arms over his chest, he stared at her. “I cook them in fat.”

  I think he thought she would be horrified. “Fat makes everything taste better,” she announced and ate more. “Did you know that fat will also help keep you looking younger and makes your hair shiny? Fat is essential to the body. It’s why I like cream in my coffee.” She picked up some bacon and took a bite. “Organic. And in moderation, of course.”

  We all sat there staring until Earth lowered his arms and cleared his throat. “It’s cheap at the corner store.”

  “Here, have some fruit,” Fletcher told her, sliding a bowl of strawberries toward her.

  “Oh!” she exclaimed. “Those look very nice for this time of winter. But no, thank you.”

  “C’mon, just one,” Fletcher said, picking one plump red berry out of the bowl by its stem to dangle it in front of her face.

  Ivory shrieked and shoved away from it.

  Fletch and his berry followed.

  “No.” She gasped, tangling up in the blanket and plummeting right off the side of the chair.

  “Fletcher!” I growled, pushing back from the table.

  Beau was already helping her to her feet, at the same time pulling her free from the blanket. I couldn’t help but notice the way Beau’s hand wrapped around her upper arm, how he used his strength to help steady her.

  My back teeth gnashed together, and a feeling I didn’t like wormed around inside me.

  “What the hell?” I pinned Fletch with a look.

  Grimacing, he lowered the berry to his side. “Who is scared of a strawberry?”

  “I didn’t mean to react so…”

  “Dramatically?” Earth put in.

  She gave him a look, then turned back to us. “I must still be shaken up from yesterday. And then when that berry came so close…”

  “Did the killer threaten you with a strawberry and a knife?” Fletcher asked, eyes wide.

  Kid was a moron.

  “No,” she said quite seriously, not even amused by his stupidity. “That might have killed me for sure!”

  No one said anything. Beau finally released her, and something in my chest loosened.

  “I’m highly allergic. Just touching them causes me to have a harsh reaction.”

  “Huy…” Fletch worried and tossed the berry onto the table. “I didn’t know!”

  “This is ridiculous,” Earth grumped and left the kitchen.

  Snort stared between his owner and the table, debating if he might get more snacks if he stayed.

  “Snort!” Earth bellowed.

  The dog scurried after him, his heavy breathing leaving a trail of sound behind him.

  “Let me help clean this up,” Ivory said, reaching for a few plates.

  “No!” we all exclaimed at once, and I pulled her around so I could step in front of her.

  “Why not?”

  “We can’t be sure what the strawberry touched,” I explained. Pulling a chair back, I directed her into it and handed over her mug. “Just sit there.”

  Fletcher hurriedly scooped the remaining food from his plate into his mouth while Beau carried the dishes over to the sink.

  Ivory wasn’t even quiet for a full minute. “So Neo is a painter, Fletcher is good at getting fired, Earth owns the bar, and Beau… What do you do?”

  A few looks passed between us.

  Beau cleared his throat. “I work with computers.”

  “That would explain all the high-quality tech in this apartment.”

  Beau’s red eyebrows lifted. “You know about tech?”

  One of her shoulders shrugged. “Not really. But I know high-quality when I see it.”

  “So, ah…” Beau shifted, all our attention still focused on this strange girl in the middle of the kitchen. “What do you do?”

  “Hey, princess!” Earth’s voice carried in from the other room.

  Ivory straightened. “Yes?” she called ambiguously.

  “You’re on TV.”

  17

  Ivory

  * * *

  The headline across the bottom of the large flatscreen was assaulting, and even though I knew I was fully alive, I felt I was actually dead and was staring down at the world’s reaction.

  Elite NYC Heiress Missing – Presumed Dead!

  “The Upper East Side, home to the city’s most elite, is in shock this morning as it has been reported that the daughter of the late Arthur White, founder of the Fortune 500 company, W, is missing. A discovery of blood at her last known whereabouts has people assuming the worst.

  “Ivory White, who is the sole heir of her father’s dynasty, is also the CEO of her own fashion and beauty company, Reflection.

  “It is being reported that Miss White was out for her routine early-morning run in Central Park yesterday morning and did not return home. She has not been seen since. Her bodyguard and driver, who were both with her at the park, say that despite the blood splatters that point to foul play, they saw no sign of any trouble and that the young elitist seemed to vanish into thin air.

  “A missing persons report has been officially filed, and the police are asking that anyone with any leads or information at all about the potential whereabouts of Miss White should call immediately.”

  I felt the stare of many eyes as the news anchor droned on about me as if everything I was could be summed up on a single sheet of paper. The photo filling the right side of the flatscreen wasn’t my best, but looking at it further, I understood why it was chosen. The black Balmain suit, which featured a fitted skirt and textured jacket, and black Louboutin heels made it seem as if I were attending my own funeral. The oversized black sunglasses and long black hair made my white skin appear even more like snow.

  Like I’m a ghost already.

  I stood in between the kitchen and the couch, my feet having stalled out since I first saw the screen.

  Something light brushed against my arm, and I glanced at Fletch, whose honey-colored eyes were awed. “That’s you?”

  It seemed to take all my effort just to swallow, so all I did was nod.

  “Audra White, Ivory’s stepmother, has yet to release a statement, and it is being reported she is being treated at home for shock. She has been in contact with the authorities and is doing everything in her power to make sure her beloved daughter is found safe.”

  I snorted. Earth stole a glance over his shoulder to where I stood. I shrugged.

  “It is also being reported that the executives over at W and Reflection are all scrambling as stocks begin to plummet. An executive emergency meeting is being called for la
ter this afternoon.”

  The screen flashed to a crowd of people (mainly reporters) gathered outside a very familiar high-rise building. The crowd parted, and a man in a three-piece gray suit stepped through, stealing the screen and all eyes the second he was visible.

  It wasn’t only his height that made him stand out in the crowd, but the way he carried himself, the confidence that radiated around him. The dove-gray suit was tailored to fit his broad shoulders and lean waist. The pale-pink tie would have looked girly on anyone else, but not on this man. Everything else about him radiated masculinity, and even the color pink bowed down to it.

  His blond hair was styled perfectly, but not so perfectly that he looked like an ass. He carried a leather briefcase, wore custom leather loafers, and accentuated everything with a somber but brave face as he pushed his way into the building.

  My building.

  “What are you doing, Ethan?” I whispered, moving closer to the TV.

  “You know him?” Beau questioned.

  My hands gripped the back of the couch as the picture changed and the reporter asked once again that if anyone had any leads to call.

  “Of course, we will keep the city up to date as any new information or leads come to light about this breaking story.”

  Just like that, they transitioned into the weather as if everything that had happened to me since yesterday could be neatly summed up in a few sentences.

  The silence in the room was jarring because quiet in a room with these four men and a snorting dog was something that hadn’t occurred since I’d walked through the door.

  Automatically, my stare went to the one whose silence seemed the loudest. He stood not very far away, but still, the distance seemed tremendous.

  “You know him?” Neo’s voice was calm and quiet, but it sent chills up my spine.

  Words failed me, so I nodded.

  “How do you know him?”

  All four men stared, waiting for explanations and details.

  Despite the weight of four pairs of eyes, I stared at only one. “I-I’ve known him a long time,” I said, still ensnared by his stare. I couldn’t really pinpoint the way he looked at me, but I guess it didn’t matter because I was trapped there just the same.

  “How do you know him?” Neo repeated, even more of an edge to his voice. It was different. He seemed different suddenly. The air around him shimmered with something new… something intense.

  He’s an acquaintance.

  A friend.

  I went to school with him.

  Our families know each other.

  All of these were absolutely true and accurate. But these were not what tumbled from my lips as I stood in the middle of four men, a loud-breathing dog, and paintings that seemed to wake up my soul.

  “He’s my betrothed.”

  The heat from the painted fire consuming the color off the wall just steps away suddenly seemed scorching. As if it were actually burning, I felt it’s melting intensity reaching out, trying to consume me too.

  Tension sucked all the oxygen out of the room. Our stares remained locked as my lungs nearly shriveled and my skin felt tight.

  “Be-what?” Fletcher wondered close by, reminding me there were three other men in this room.

  “Betrothed,” Earth repeated, and my lungs constricted more.

  I swore I heard something in his voice, almost as though he were disgusted but also not surprised.

  I wanted to look at him, but I was still trapped by Neo’s eyes.

  “That’s a big word,” Fletcher whined. “I don’t get it.”

  “They’re engaged,” Neo answered in that same calm yet monotone way.

  All his animation is lacking. I wasn’t used to seeing Neo so… flat. Usually, everything he did was with some sort of vigor.

  “You’re engaged!” Fletcher exclaimed.

  A muscle in the side of Neo’s jaw ticked once. Vaguely, I wondered where his dimple had gone. His eyes flicked away, dismissing me and making me nearly sag.

  “That’s your fiancé?” Beau asked, curious.

  “Yet you needed to sleep on my couch.” Earth’s voice was sharp as a blade, filled with a thousand I-told-you-sos.

  “No, I—” Before the words could even trip off my tongue, I was silenced.

  “I have to go,” Neo announced, walking across the room to jerk on yet another plaid flannel over his paint-splattered T-shirt and then snatch up a black leather jacket. His flannel was a dark shade of blue, and the unbuttoned ends hung below the hem of the leather. The color seemed to compliment his skin better than the red.

  “Go where?” Fletcher wanted to know.

  “I have to work.”

  Fletcher might have said something else, but a quick glance from Neo made whatever it was wither and die before it was even born.

  He went to the door, dark hair falling over his forehead, and for a brief moment, it was like he was walking into his painting.

  “Wait,” I called out, panic suddenly gripping my heart.

  Hand wrapped around the doorknob, Neo paused but didn’t glance back.

  I didn’t say anything else because I didn’t know what to say. I didn’t understand the sudden turbulence inside me.

  He left, the door slightly ajar, leaving me staring into that slim opening with a mighty urge to chase after and beg him to stay.

  I didn’t chase people. I didn’t beg. So I stood there instead, wishing he would turn back.

  “Don’t be here when I get home.” Earth practically snarled, pulling the door wide so he could leave as well.

  He didn’t leave it slightly ajar. He slammed it shut with finality, punctuating that it was time for me to go.

  18

  Neo

  * * *

  I was in trouble.

  The kind of trouble I didn’t know how to maneuver my way out of. And maneuvering out of trouble was my specialty.

  Sometime between yesterday and this morning, I’d lost control of things I firmly had on lock.

  Beneath my skin, I was hot and stinging like I was somehow burning from the inside out. The feeling was unpleasant, and the more I stood in this room, the worse it felt.

  So I bolted. It’s what I was good at, right? Making a mess then leaving. Not committing to anything other than what required no commitment.

  My name on her lips stopped me, the burning under my skin intensified, and the urge to turn back scared me enough to push forward.

  Out in the hall, I stomped to the stairs, chest tight, the back of my neck flushed.

  He’s my betrothed. Betrothed. Betrothed.

  My hands fisted at my side. I knew exactly why I was boiling, and I hated it.

  The long hallway at the bottom of the stairs ran alongside the Rotten Apple and at the end was a door offering escape.

  Footsteps on the stairs tightened my stomach, and for a split second, I hoped.

  Hope was a cruel emotion because the disappointment that usually followed forced a bereft feeling onto someone who didn’t want to hurt.

  “You should stay away until she’s gone.”

  That bereft feeling I mentioned howled through me like a winter wind in an empty building. Closing my eyes briefly, I took a deep breath. Glancing over my shoulder, I stared at Earth.

  “And why is that?” I challenged.

  “We both know why,” Earth deadpanned, stepping off the stairs and heading toward the door leading inside his bar.

  “I don’t know what you think you know.”

  “You’re from two different worlds, and you have way more to lose than her.”

  I made a rude sound, swinging around defensively. How dare this asshole act like he knew how I felt? How dare he imply I somehow had more to lose than her?

  “Oh, here I thought it was her someone was trying to kill.”

  “Some things in life are far worse than death.” Earth’s quiet words echoed down the hallway, filling the air ominously.

  I rocked back on my heels and watched him
end the conversation by disappearing into the bar.

  He was right.

  I knew better than most people that life could sometimes be far worse than death.

  An entire party of emotions kicked off inside me. It was a party I did not want to attend, but it appeared that I was the host. Pissed off, I stalked to the small storage cubby underneath the stairs. Inside, I grabbed a small black bag, added a few items, and walked out of the building without looking back.

  19

  Ivory

  * * *

  “Where’s your ring?”

  The obscure question snapped me back to reality.

  “My ring?” My face wrinkled as I stared down at my hands. My bandaged finger hurt almost as much as last night. I should probably change the bandage…

  “You’re getting married, right? That guy looked pretty fancy. Shouldn’t you have a giant rock on your finger?” Fletcher jumped over the back of the couch, sinking into the cushions with a bag of chips clutched in his hand.

  Didn’t we just eat breakfast?

  “I’m not getting married.”

  “But you said you are bequeathed.”

  “Betrothed.” I corrected.

  Crunch, crunch, crunch. “Yeah, that.”

  “There’s a difference between being betrothed and being engaged.”

  Fletcher paused, a chip poised in front of his lips. Snort put his paws up on the sofa cushions to beg.

  “Is this like a rich people thing? Because to me, getting married is getting married.”

  I was getting a headache. That coffee from earlier was not cutting it. I longed for my espresso machine or the café on Fifth Avenue that had handcrafted lattes made from freshly ground beans from the best place in Costa Rica.

  I could almost taste the deep, smooth aroma over my tongue…

  “Maybe we should call Neo!”

  I blinked, glancing up.

  Beau’s head popped up from behind his fancy computer monitors.

  Fletcher pointed. “She looks like she’s about to pass out again!”

  “I’m fine.” I assured Beau, lifting my chin.