Blacklist

by Geneva Lee

  Poppy, however, is completely oblivious to this and continues on her crash course conversation. “What does your family do?”

  “All sorts of things,” Lucas says. “We don’t have a traditional industry, I suppose.”

  “Are you”—Ginny begins before Malcolm cuts her off.

  “How refreshing. A Renaissance man,” he says, fingers fidgeting on a salad fork. “Certainly, we could all use a break from business discussions, though.”

  “Probably. Did I hear you’re running for Senate?” Luca asks, managing to find an even more delicate topic.

  Malcolm squirms in his chair. No doubt he’s wondering what could come of a DeAngelo’s interest in his campaign. MacLaine Media always considers the needs of its foreign investors, like the DeAngelo clan, in its publications and programs. However, politically, the family’s concerns lie with Valmont and its taxpayers—or lack thereof, if a MacLaine can help it.

  “He’s going to win,” Ginny says proudly.

  “I imagine so.” Luca’s smile bares a bit too much teeth to be congenial.

  “You met in London? When?” Adair asks, dragging the topic back to how I supposedly met Luca. It’s not a simple question, though. It’s an interrogation. I don’t know if she thinks Luca’s story is bullshit, but she’s going to dissect it until she knows for sure. That much is clear.

  “What was that? Four years ago?” Luca passes the ball back to my court.

  When you’ve been in life-and-death situations with someone, you know how to communicate in precarious moments. Luca understands the answer to that question could have serious consequences. Trust Adair to want the particulars.

  I tilt my head to him before shrugging at Adair. “Honestly, it’s all a blur.”

  It’s a non-answer. It’s also the best I can do without knowing why she’s asking the question.

  Ginny laughs, the tinkle of it falling like shattered glass between us. “That’s funny, because Adair was in —”

  “Oh! The salad,” Poppy interrupts. This time it’s not an innocent insertion. I don’t miss how she casts a furtive look at her best friend.

  The waiters could not have timed it more perfectly. The table partners into private conversation as the plates appear before us. I murmur an absent thanks to the server, but never take my eyes off Adair. She shifts into protective mode, adjusting the face she wears for the world. She chats with Kai, returning to her futile flirtations. Their conversation continues through dinner. Luca feeds an ever-increasing stream of bullshit to Poppy, who drinks it up while Cyrus appears torn between amusement and disapproval. He’s never been able to decide what to do with Poppy: invest in her or take his chances on finding a better prospect. It’s clear his feelings toward her haven’t changed. Cyrus never loved Poppy Landry before. He doesn’t now. Love matters less than business alliances in Nashville. Still, there’s no rock sparkling on her finger. It’s worse because she loves him. Anyone can see it. What I can’t decide is whether or not she realizes he doesn’t return that love? It’s obvious to everyone else.

  Luca’s drawling baritone interrupts my reflections. “And that’s when Sterling says ‘I’ll buy you a new Rolex, but you have to take care of the camel.’”

  I turn my head to stare at him while laughter breaks out across the table. Maybe I need to pay more attention to what he’s spewing before his lies become a liability.

  “It sounds like you two have had quite the adventures.” Adair doesn’t sound impressed. She quirks an eyebrow in challenge.

  “We have,” I tell her. Let her wonder if they involve camels or not.

  The main course arrives and I stare at the block of artfully arranged tofu drizzled with a thick, green sauce.

  “What happened to chicken or steak?” I ask.

  “All the entrées are vegetarian,” Poppy says. A glance around the table confirms that we’re all eating the same dish.

  “This is an event for an animal shelter,” Adair reminds me smugly.

  “There are some patrons who prefer a cruelty-free menu,” Poppy says. Her dark eyes round with concern. “If you want something else...”

  I hold up a hand. “It’s fine. I’ll find something tasty to eat later.”

  I keep my eyes on Adair as I speak. She turns away, her cheeks flushing.

  The food is saved by the sauce and its warm notes of curry, pepper, and coriander. A hint of Kaffir lime blends delicately into it. It’s probably better than the boring chicken usually served at these events.

  “I hope it’s okay,” Poppy says, leaning closer as I finish a bite.

  “I love curry,” I say genuinely. “I ate a lot of it in London and Mumbai.”

  Adair pushes away from the table so quickly that her chair nearly topples over. “I’m going to the powder room.”

  She can’t cover that she’s visibly upset. I know why. I remember how she used to dream of studying in England—of living there. Instead, she’s been stuck here in Tennessee, and it’s all her own damn fault.

  “I should go get ready for the auction.” Kai stands and places his napkin on the table. It’s obvious that he’s going to check on her. I’ll never understand all her little lapdogs or how they chase after her. Even after all this time, they don’t seem to care how she treats them.

  “Kai is emceeing the auction tonight,” Poppy says, diverting everyone’s attention away from Adair’s dramatic exit.

  “So how does this work?” Luca asks. “I see a little fur ball that I can’t live without and I have to outbid whoever else wants it?”

  “No one actually takes pets home” she says, laughing as though this is obvious. She seems genuinely amused at the thought. “It’s all ceremonial. It’s sort of a runway show of animals combined with an auction.”

  “No one adopts the animals?” I ask. I will never understand rich people. “Why not just ask everyone to write a check instead of all this trouble?”

  And expense.

  There’s a shared look among the Valmont heirs at the table.

  “It’s nice for people to see where their money is going,” Ginny explains.

  “The dinner encourages people to donate more,” Poppy agrees. “After, you get to take a photo with your pet before he heads back to the rescue.”

  In other words, it’s a chance to seem benevolent to your peers. It hardly matters the motivation. Whether it’s the guilt of seeing poor, helpless puppies without a home or just to show off how good of a person you are compared to your neighbor, motives don’t matter. It’s another pageant of wealth and privilege. I wouldn’t be surprised if the evening ends with everyone donning masks and robes while chanting mystical incantations to the gods of banking and finance.

  “How charming,” Luca says under his breath.

  “There are some really adorable animals,” Poppy says, oblivious to his sarcasm.

  Everyone claps as Kai takes the stage with a microphone in hand. He beams a million-dollar smile at them. “Good evening and thank you to everyone who came out to help us support the Valmont Animal Rescue.”

  Last year he was nominated for a Grammy, and now he’s stuck entertaining socialites in the name of friendship. Kai is just another object in the Valmont collection of treasures, expected to return at a moment’s notice whenever they need to use him for a function. He’s a crystal vase brought out of the china cabinet for special occasions.

  “Tonight, you’re going to meet some of the animals you’re saving with your adoption money,” he continues.

  Adair quietly rejoins us at the table. I want to keep her in my sights, so I pretend to be absorbed by the overview of how the auction will work.

  “If there’s a guinea pig, I’m bidding,” Luca warns in a whisper.

  “Thank God, they don’t let you keep the animals,” I mutter.

  “I would make an excellent pet owner.” He clutches his chest.

  “No, you would not.” I can’t imagine Luca being responsible for another living creature.

  “Every
one, say hello to Diamond,” Kai says as an older woman in a black satin gown carries a tabby cat on to the stage. She looks uncomfortable, her dress isn’t designer or expensive. Undoubtedly, she’s a volunteer who has been tapped to parade around the animal population for the amusement of the Valmont elite.

  “Diamond started her life on the mean streets of Nashville. She enjoys scratching posts, belly rubs, and catnip. Now don’t forget, ladies, diamonds are a girl’s best friend.” Kai looks pained to say this bit, and I’m about to ask who wrote the script when he hits us with: “The bidding will begin at one thousand dollars.”

  Luca sits up and stares around. “A thousand bucks for an alley cat? These people have lost their damn minds.”

  I chuckle quietly. I suspect he hasn’t seen anything yet.

  When the bidding concludes, Diamond raises just under three thousand dollars for charity.

  “I take it all back,” Luca says quietly. “This is genius. I wonder if I can get one of these women to adopt me.”

  Judging from how many women in the room keep glancing in our direction, it wouldn’t be hard for him to find willing matrons. Not that he needs the money.

  Next up, a small terrier catches the eye of Ginny. Malcolm grudgingly raises his paddle, looking uneasily at me. He shrugs as if to say women. We both know he doesn’t have the money just to show off for philanthropy. That doesn’t stop him from driving the price up to $5000, though. He winds up in a pissing contest with another man whose wife is whispering furtively in his ear. It’s like their entire reputations rest on what sad dog to fake adopt.

  “And now the lovely Adair MacLaine would like to introduce you to Zeus,” Kai says, and I’m surprised to see Adair leading a giant black dog onto the stage. Zeus has a brutal look to his muscular body. There’s clearly pit bull in his blood. But he doesn’t strain against his leash. His tongue lolls comically out the side of his mouth. “Zeus came to our facility after being saved from an animal shelter that doesn’t have a no kill policy. It’s animals like Zeus that need our help. He was discovered chained up in a yard in East Nashville, but despite his rough beginnings, he’s proven to be a gentle giant. The bidding will start at $300.”

  “Why so low?” I asked Poppy. “Cats are going for thousands for fuck’s sake.”

  “He’s a mix,” she explains. “They’re impossible to adopt—at least to families. Most people don’t want their children around that type of dog. We’re very selective about potential owners, but he hasn’t had a single interested party in the three months he’s been at a shelter. He was scheduled for euthanasia at his prior rescue.”

  I know a thing or two about being unwanted, how it feels to be passed around like people are just taking turns putting up with you. When the bidding starts there’s hesitation. A few spare pitying glances, others return to conversations. He’s not the adorable puppy that makes for sweet social media photos. Adair whispers something and the dog sits immediately. He soaks up the praise as she pats his head.

  “Why is Adair up there?” I ask.

  “She volunteers at the shelter. You know how she loves animals.”

  “Ever since she had to stop riding, this has been her passion,” Cyrus adds.

  “She stopped riding?” This is a surprise.

  “Competitively,” Poppy tacks on, shooting daggers at her boyfriend.

  There’s a story here. A few more glasses of wine and I’ll get one of them to spill it. For now, I can’t stop looking at Zeus. The bidding has already tapered out. He isn’t going to raise more than $400 when it’s all said and done.

  “Adair adores him,” Poppy says, “but she’ll never adopt him.”

  So, she loves him, but he doesn’t deserve a place in her heart? Before I realize what I’m doing my paddle is in the air.

  “$5000,” I call out.

  Heads swing my direction. Kai is momentarily gobsmacked. I don’t miss how Adair flinches when she realizes I’m the bidder.

  But I didn’t do it for her.

  No one challenges my bid, although a few assholes yell jokes about how I’m bidding all wrong. That’s not how I see it.

  “Are these animals available for adoption?” I asked Poppy after the bidding moves to the next animal.

  “Yes,” she says, her eyebrows knitting together. “But—”

  “I’ll double that bid if you can arrange for them to have his paperwork ready tomorrow morning.”

  “You don’t have to actually take him home,” she reminds me.

  “For ten thousand bucks, I’d rather have a dog than a picture.”

  “You old softy,” Luca mutters so only I can hear.

  When Adair returns to the table, she accepts praise from everyone as though she fucking sold the dog. In a way, she did, but it’s not because she’s some beautiful soul. She keeps her eyes carefully from mine. She knows why I did it.

  “Sterling is adopting Zeus,” Poppy announces.

  “I was there.” The chill in her voice instantly diminishes the mood at the table.

  “No, he’s actually adopting him.” Poppy claps her hands together as though I’ve made her night.

  Adair’s mouth hangs open for a second before she clamps it shut. She doesn’t recover before the auction ends and the evening progresses on to the dancing portion. Yet another course in the endless buffet of tonight’s fuckery.

  “You don’t look pleased,” I say to her.

  “It seems like you have something to prove,” she says.

  “That I love animals?” I offer.

  A muscle ticks in her jaw. “I’m sure that’s it.”

  “Why don’t you and I dance? I’ll explain why I adopted the dog.” I stand up and extend a hand across the table. All our companions watch us, waiting to see how she’ll respond. She dares a look at Malcolm and I catch him nod his head slightly.

  He’s given her marching orders. I’m to be kept happy—and these days, Adair always does what she’s told. She huffs as she stands and then stomps to the dance floor. I catch her before she reaches it, wrapping a hand around her waist and spinning her into my arms. My other hand closes over hers. It’s delicate, her skin cool and soothing to the touch. Adair stares at our clasped hands for a moment as if trying to recall some long-forgotten memory. My thumb brushes over hers instinctively. She doesn’t resist as we move seamlessly into a waltz.

  “I didn’t know you could dance,” she comments.

  My hand flattens on the small of her back, holding her in place—close enough to smell the magnolia in her perfume, far enough to resist its temptation. It’s the little things about her that press on my memories. “There’s a lot of things you don’t know about me.”

  “Like where you’re going to keep a dog?” she asks. “Sounds like you’re busy running off between Nashville and London and who knows where else.”

  “Actually,” I say, leading her around an older couple who isn’t keeping pace to the music, “I just bought a place at Twelve and South.”

  The color drains from her face, but she doesn’t respond.

  “I thought Zeus looked like good company,” I add.

  “If you think that you’re going to adopt that dog just to spite me,” she starts.

  “I adopted the dog because no one wanted it.” My voice is low and laced with contempt. She flinches but recovers immediately.

  “You’re assuming that.” There’s still nothing she hates more than that, it seems.

  “Poppy told me. He’s just a bargaining chip. No one wants him. They’re scared of them. They think he’ll hurt them. They saw the cover and decided his story isn’t for them without reading a single word.”

  “They don’t know him,” she says quietly.

  “And you do?” I ask her.

  “Better than you think.” Her fingers shift from my grasp and lace through mine. “As long as you’re going to take care of him.”

  “I swear on all the dog biscuits.” I spin her in a circle, dipping her backward slightly. She blinks lik
e she feels a heady rush of blood. That makes two of us. I need to get this back on track, and quickly. “You work at the shelter?”

  “I have to have something to do.” She doesn’t sound happy about it.

  Someone taps me on the shoulder. We pause to find Kai there. “Mind if I cut in?”

  Her knight has come to save her. She looks relieved. I release her into his custody, ignoring how empty my arms feel without her in them. I have to remind myself that Adair is a burden that’s too heavy to carry long.

  22

  Adair

  The Past

  The sun is really, really bright. I scooch up on my elbows and stare around me. Pink walls and a room my mom decorated to feel like the Beverly Hills Hotel greet me. I have no memory of making it back to the pool house last night, but there’s a pretty obvious clue snoring on the floor next to the bed. How the hell did I wind up back here with Sterling Ford sleeping at my feet?

  My last memory—Sterling picking me up—is where the night ends in my memory. It’s as fixed as the period at the end of a sentence. But why him? Moving the sheets as quietly as possible, I creep out of the room, tiptoeing to the door so I don’t wake him up. I stop in the bathroom long enough to dig out a toiletry kit— my mother took the whole hotel vibe as far as possible— and brush my teeth. A quick glance in the mirror reveals yesterday’s makeup fared about as well as I did. I scrub it off until my skin glows pink, hoping to jar some memories free. No luck. There’s just Sterling’s worried face swimming in front of me, and then nothing. Full-stop. The end.

  Down the hall, I hear someone moving around the kitchen. Another person is singing. Apparently, Sterling didn’t bring me here alone. I head down and discover Poppy buttering slices of toast.

  “Good morning, darling,” she says, dancing over to peck my cheek. “How are you feeling?”

  “Like I was run over by a truck,” I say, rubbing my temples. “I wasn’t, was I?”

  For all I know, I might have been.

  Kai and Poppy share a look before he returns to the eggs he’s frying on the stovetop.