by Liz Madrid
Heath shrugs. “Unfortunately paper trails tell a different story, Not-Blythe. According to company records, for the last four months, she and Ethan have been misusing company funds for personal use — from the use of private jets to the Caribbean, even disbursements to non-existent companies by the millions. She has Swiss bank accounts under her name, all with funds that can be traced to Kheiron Industries.”
When I don’t answer him, my mind swirling with all the worst-case scenarios that could possibly befall my sister, Heath takes a step forward, closing the distance between us so he’s standing right in front of me.
“So now ask me again, Not-Blythe,” he says in a voice that seems to sound much lower than it did earlier, “why you shouldn’t be worried about your sister.”
6
Stakes
The moment a member of the staff brings the retro-yellow suitcase that Blythe banished out of the penthouse, I can tell that Heath isn’t too keen on my wardrobe choices either. He frowns the moment he sees the black Crocs stored inside a plastic bag marked Carly’s Co-Op, next to neatly folded hand-painted batik dresses by a local artist, cargo shorts and tank tops.
“Not bad — if we happen to be in Woodstock in 1967,” he mutters.
“They’re California cool. You know, laid-back style. I mean, Nevada City’s between Sacramento and Lake Tahoe. There are trails…and the Yuba River. It’s an old mining town and just outside my window, you can hear the deer eating apples straight from my tree at night,” I tell him, the words tumbling so fast in my discomfort.
And I keep going, suddenly feeling self-conscious. ”It’s not like high heels are the norm over there. Sure I use them when I need to, but then, I don’t go anywhere but downstairs to the shop, and then to yoga and sometimes, the river.”
But Heath doesn’t show any signs that he’s even heard a word I just said. He tips the lid of my suitcase closed with his foot.
“Get dressed,” he says.
“Why? Where are we going?”
“We, my dear, are going shopping.”
Twenty minutes later, I’m sitting across from him in the limo, sitting as ladylike as I possibly can and self-conscious that my dress is so short that it rides up my thighs. But Heath doesn’t seem to notice my discomfort — or my thighs. He’s on the phone, talking to someone. Sometimes his gaze does drift down but he it’s like he can’t stand looking at me for he directs his attention to the window, at the world outside the limo.
“Yes, get her everything she’ll possibly need. A full wardrobe,” he says to whoever he’s talking to on the phone. “Itinerary so far is Saint Lucia, Santa Barbara, and possibly Geneva, though I hope we don’t have to go there. Oh, and don’t forget make-up and hair. She needs to look like she belongs.”
He smiles, but not to me. “You’re a doll, Alicia. And I apologize again for my behavior yesterday.” He pauses, listening to her talk on the other end of the line. “We’ll see you in a few minutes.”
When he hangs up, I’m glaring at him. “I don’t need you to dress me up like I’m some doll. I can dress myself. I can even put my make-up on by myself.”
“You’re a natural beauty, Not-Blythe, but your wardrobe — and your make-up skills — just might need some updating.”
“Oh please, what’s so hard about-”
“If we have to find Blythe, that means you need to fit in. It means you need to look the part, even act the part,” he says. “Where we’re going, there are strict unwritten rules.”
“Rules? Who the hell imposes stupid rules on how I’m supposed to look?”
“Other women, though these days there’s also social media,” he replies. “I don’t think most men care either way, not when we get to see how you really look the morning after.”
“And I bet you’ve seen a lot of them,” I mutter as I cross my arms across my chest. He’s so arrogant I can’t stand it.
“Look, I meant no offense about your make-up,” Heath says softly. “I prefer a woman’s natural beauty over what society dictates how she should look like.”
“Anyway, I’ll pay you back,” I say. “I’ll keep track of all expenses-”
“You’ll do no such thing,” Heath says just as his phone rings and he answers it. The moment he starts talking to someone named Tyler, his tone changes. He’s all business now and though his gaze occasionally lingers on me as he discusses financial figures, percentages, gains and losses, at the same time looking over financial figures on an iPad. By the time Conrad parks the car along Madison Avenue, I’ve long tuned him out, my thoughts only on what I’ve gotten myself into.
I could still stick to my original plan of calling the shop and have Mick or Norah wire me money so I can take the first flight home. But if what Heath tells me is true, I can’t possibly fly home knowing that Blythe is in a lot of trouble. Whether or not she’s actively involved in an embezzlement scheme, I can’t possibly return to my old life and sell souvenirs without knowing that I’ve intentionally turned my back on my own sister.
The door opens and Conrad helps me out. In my high heels, I have to concentrate walking like I own the place, my hips swinging from side to side like I know what I’m doing — that in this dress, I’m as hot as Blythe even on her bad day.
Alicia greets us at the door, and there’s no trace of her anger towards Heath from yesterday. Today, he’s back to being one of the shop’s most-valued customers as he tells her to take care of me.
“I’ll be back in a few hours,” he says before turning to face me.
“Few hours?” I ask. “I just need a few clothes, that’s all. I won’t be here that long.”
“Oh, yes, you will,” he says, glancing at his watch. “Alicia will take very good care of you and I’ll be back at three. I’ve got a lot to take care of at the office anyway. We fly out at five.”
“Where to?”
“Just worry about the basics, and we’ll catch up with your sister in no time,” he says, drawing closer and his voice lowering as we speak.
“I believe you really mean to say that we’ll catch up with your brother in no time, right?” I whisper. He’s standing off to my side and I can see that my words have annoyed him, his jaw tensing.
“My brother, your sister — does it matter? Do you think this is all a game to me, so that I can while away my precious time shopping?” he asks, lowering his head towards me as his voice turns cold. “Or would you rather the rest of the board members hear news about Blythe embezzling millions of dollars from the company that just so recently was under threat of a hostile takeover, all because its founder almost lost control of his own company when he had to sell his own shares to cover a few personal bad investments? How quickly do you think they will demand for me to do something about it if they knew?”
When I don’t say anything, he continues. “And because of such possibility, Not-Blythe, I’d very much rather drive you to the airport right now and send you home. That way, instead of wasting the day shopping so you won’t stick out like a sore thumb in social circles that aren’t going to take kindly to amateurs in Crocs and batik wear, I could be on my way to Saint Lucia right now. And when I find them, I promise you I won’t be kind — not to my brother, and certainly not to your sister.”
“Then why are you kind to me?”
“Because a part of me would like to believe that Blythe is not guilty, not when you’re standing in front of me right now, willing to do whatever it takes to prove that she’s innocent — even if it means being primped like my personal wind-up doll.”
He steps away from me and smiles to the older woman standing a few feet behind us. If she heard a word of our exchange, there’s no sign of it on her face.
“We’re ready for her, Mr. Kheiron.”
“Good. Give her whatever you feel she needs, Alicia. I’ll leave it up to you,” he says, handing her a black credit card, which Alicia accepts with a nod of her head before slipping it into the pocket of her tailored suit. “I’ll be in my office if you need me
.”
“I’ll take care of her, Mr. Kheiron. Don’t worry.”
“You always do an excellent job, Alicia. It’s the last thing I worry about,” he says before turning away from us and heading towards the door, his phone ringing again. When he answers, I hear him say Tyler’s name.
Alicia turns to face me, a practiced smile on her lips.
“Hello again, Miss Delphine. It’s so nice to see you. You look…good,” she says and I can tell she’s looking me over, her eyes narrowing as she studies my face. “My associate, Tamara, is a make-up artist. She’ll be giving you tips after lunch, along with a full kit that I believe your sister is familiar with.”
“Call me Billie,” I say, forcing a smile as I silently concede that maybe Heath is right. Maybe I do need to look like I belong in the circles Blythe and Ethan belong to. I can’t help but feel like I’m a small fish in a big pond — only the pond keeps growing bigger.
“Is he always like that? All work and no play?” I ask as Alicia guides me towards a plush couch. There’s a bottle of chilled champagne and a lone glass sitting on a side table, next to cheese and crackers, and something that looks like caviar though I’m wondering what would merit such a thing. Employees are rushing to and fro, some wheeling clothing racks in front of us, and others laying shoes in rows along the side. Why they’re suddenly busier than they were yesterday when there were two of us versus one of me today, I have no idea.
“Not always,” Alicia replies as I see someone lock the front doors, placing a sign that says, Closed for a Private Event, at the window. “Only since before their father died and he was given control of the company over his older brother.”
“I thought he took away the company from his brother,” I mutter as other women appear in front of her holding hangers of dresses, tops and bottoms. She picks a few and they hang them on one of the recently wheeled clothing racks parked before us.
“If he did, it’s not by choice. But then what do I know? I’m just a personal assistant. Anyway, what I do know is that sometimes not everything is what they seem,” Alicia says. She’s not looking at me as she talks, her attention on the clothes in front of her. She picks a dusky pink sleeveless dress with a deep-V neckline, and hands it to me.
“Why don’t we start with this one? It will make you eyes stand out,” she says even as I feel a protest about to burst from my lips — like why the lack of a dressing room with curtains when just yesterday, Blythe and I were relegated to the back room, where while the whole presentation of dresses wasn’t as grand as this one, including the champagne, there was more privacy.
“Oh, and no need to be shy, my dear, since it’s just you and the staff for the rest of the day. There’s a tailor onsite and we’ll need all your measurements to make sure everything fits perfectly. So you might as well get used to being in your undies for the next few hours,” she says. “And just so you know, he’s never done this before.”
“Do what?”
“Close a store down for five hours so you can shop in private.”
7
Small Fish, Big Pond
While I have the next five hours to be transformed into Heath’s personal doll, it’s also five hours that I can use to face my current predicament. As far as I can see, with the option of going back home completely off the table, I have two options.
There’s Heath’s way, where he’s supposedly helping me find Blythe first before having to inform the rest of the board about her embezzlement. And then there’s my way, whereas much as I will allow him to transform me just to blend into his social circles, I’m doing it so I can get to Blythe before he or anyone else can.
So Blythe embezzled money from his company — but, in four months? And not only that, but she was able to embezzle millions of dollars? Just how crazy was that?
Mick and Norah can’t even steal a thousand dollars from my own shop without me noticing — how much more for a huge company like Kheiron Industries not notice that millions of dollars are being funneled to an account of a brand new employee? How could an embezzlement scheme as big as that not have raised major red flags with anyone?
Suddenly I don’t care that Blythe is angry at me, so angry that she has to send me passive aggressive messages on social media while she’s enjoying the view of the Pitons over papaya and OJ, or accuse me of sleeping with the enemy. If anyone is sleeping with the enemy, it’s her — and that enemy is setting her up for a major fall, one that could get her dozens of years in federal prison.
I’m now so worried for her that just as Heath said, I’m willing to do anything I can to prove her innocence, only my own plan is to find her before Heath does. I’m not about to let her get involved deeper into this feud between brothers over money or whatever it is Heath has accused Ethan of stealing, and her love for Ethan preventing her from seeing what’s really happening. I don’t have to be a genius to know that when Heath does catch up with them, with or without me, he’ll throw her to the wolves with no second thoughts — while surely, his own brother will emerge unscathed.
Feud or no, family always comes first, while people like me and Blythe will simply be collateral damage.
“What is going on here, Alicia? Are you honestly telling me that I can’t even stop by to pick up that purse I ordered from Paris all because some idiot closed the store down?” demands a blonde woman as she strides into the shop, her hands on her hips. She looks about thirty or so, and she looks amazing in a loose sleeveless white top and lavender skirt, complete with diamond earrings, a platinum necklace and bracelets along her slim wrists. Behind her, the assistants stand by the door, mute and their eyes wide.
“Miss Kheiron, very nice to see you again,” Alicia says calmly, smiling her ever-wide but fake smile. “You just missed your brother.”
The blonde woman stops in her tracks, and peers at me. “Blythe, are you buying out the whole collection already? God, why am I not surprised?”
“I’m not Blythe,” I say, guessing that this blonde woman must be Jessica, unless there’s another Kheiron I don’t know about. “I’m Billie, her sister.”
She looks at me incredulously before her gaze settles on all the clothes and shoes arranged around me. “Since when did your family get enough money to buy all this stuff you’re trying on? Assuming you are buying some of this, right and not Ethan?”
Alicia speaks before I can retort, and in a manner that’s a lot calmer than I would have been able to manage. “Miss Kheiron, Miss Delphine is a guest of your brother-“
“You mean Ethan? I figured as much,” Jessica says.
“She’s a guest of your other brother — Heath,” Alicia continues without missing a beat just as an assistant arrives with a large shopping bag which she hands to Jessica.
Jessica takes it with barely a word of thanks, her gaze directed at me. Behind her the door opens and short stocky man with a weak chin concealed by his dark beard hurries towards her.
“Jess, the limo is double-parked, and the recital starts in less than an hour. Abbie was supposed to be there ten minutes ago now,” he says, stopping when he sees me, surprised. “Blythe? What are you doing here? I thought you were in Saint Lucia.”
“I’m Billie, her sister,” I say.
“She did say she had a sister, Daniel,” she says before turning to face Alicia. “Heath closed the shop for her? Are you sure about that? He’s never closed any shop for anyone but Mother. Not even Natasha-”
“Well, this time, he did,” Alicia says, glancing at her watch, “and it’s hers for four more hours. So, please, if you’ll excuse us, Miss Delphine has a lot more shopping to do.”
Cars honking outside force them to make their exit, but not before Jessica looks back at me, her gaze more judgmental than the last, though this time, I make sure to bring my shoulders back and push out my breasts, the way Blythe taught me.
I wait till the doors are locked behind them before turning to Alicia. “Are they really all that rude? Between Heath and Jessica, is Ethan this bad
, too? Where the hell did they learn to be such primadonnas? I’m sure their mother-”
“-is an amazing woman,” Alicia’s words cut through whatever I am about to say. “And before you say anything about their mother, don’t ever assume the children’s bad behavior is entirely their mother’s fault, dear. As if we women didn’t already have it bad enough with other women thinking the worse of us without knowing anything about the lives we lead behind closed doors.”
I watch Alicia’s eyes, cold eyes that almost turn warm as she speaks. From her gray hair that’s styled in a neat bun to the carefully applied make-up that emphasizes her hazel eyes and high cheekbones, I can guess she’s maybe in her sixties though she looks ten years younger.
“And what kind of life does she lead behind closed doors?” I ask.
She shrugs as her assistants bustle around us with more clothes and shoes for us to go through.. “One that’s none of our business. Anyway, let’s get you ready to fit into Heath’s world.”
“What do you know about his world?”
“I know enough to stay out of it,” she replies tersely though her brow furrows into a frown as she eyes me. “Surely you know since you’re with him, Miss Delphine, not me, though I have to admit you’re quite wet behind the ears if you have to ask.”
“Is that a bad thing, being naive?”
She shakes her head. “Not necessarily, but neither is it a good thing, not if rumors going around about the family are true.”
“What rumors? What have you heard — besides my conversation with Heath earlier? Because I know you heard everything.”
Her eyes narrow as she gazes at me but I hold my ground, pushing back any of the panic that’s rising from the pit of my belly. There’s no more Blythe to calm me down now, and the last thing I want to remain, at least while alone in New York, is ignorant and naive.