The Heiress

by Cassia Leo

  I felt like a dejected child who had just been given a very reasonable explanation for why they were too young to attend a sleepover. I didn’t want to believe my mom had a good reason for keeping me from my father. But the more she spoke, the more I realized that I probably would have done the same thing in her position.

  When I sat on the edge of her bed, she swiftly pulled me into her arms and held me so tightly it actually hurt. But I didn’t pull away. I couldn’t, because it was exactly what I needed.

  I wept into her shoulder-length graying hair that smelled distinctly like coconut, which managed to make me smile as I cried. “I’m sorry if I sounded ungrateful, Mom,” I said, releasing her and still wiping away tears as I looked her in the eye. “You worked your ass off to take care of me on your own. You resisted the temptation of money to make sure I would always feel loved. I hope I can be half as badass as you when I get my inheritance.”

  She smiled from ear to ear as she reached up and grabbed my face. “With or without that money, you were always destined to be more badass than me.”

  We laughed as she took me into her arms again, where I settled in for a long while.

  Priceless

  Daniel

  Ricky helped me pack up the get-well cards and gifts—mostly sports gear and gift cards—in my hospital room as the nurse helped me sign my discharge papers. I didn’t know how I was going to pay the hospital bill for this twenty-day stay. I didn’t know if Sabrina had taken the time to officially fire me and cancel my health benefits. I supposed I would find out soon enough. In the meantime, I tried not to worry about it, or the fact that I might never regain full use of my left shoulder.

  I had to focus on the positive things in my life. Like the fact that Ricky’s boss, when he found out I’d been fired and nearly killed by the same person in a span of two weeks, gave Ricky the promotion and raise he’d been pining after for almost a year. Or the fact that seeing me in the hospital, and hearing the story of how Kristin had to quit college to take care of her mom, made Geneva and Alisha swear to me that nothing would stop them from going to college and getting a degree.

  Of course, the most amazingly positive thing in my life was still Kristin.

  I knew she was strong when I found out she was taking care of her mother on her own. But I could not have foreseen how gracefully she would handle this whole experience—the deceit from me and her mother, the reconciliation with her best friend, the death of her absent father, and her new position as de facto CEO of Becker Holdings, as specified in her father’s will. I had no doubt she would answer the call of duty for Michael’s empire the way she had when her mother needed her.

  The nurse gave me the copies of the signed discharge papers and disappeared into the corridor. I sank into the visitor’s chair as Ricky finished collecting more cards and gifts from the small closet in the corner of the room. I closed my eyes and tried to think of people I could contact for leads on a job. Manhattan was chock-full of rich people. There had to be a rich woman out there looking for a devastatingly handsome crippled bodyguard.

  “Yo, Danny. You got a visitor,” Ricky said.

  I opened my eyes and the hairs on my neck prickled. Detective Jones stood in the doorway wearing a look so deadly serious, I was certain he was going to deliver some very bad news.

  Bracing myself for whatever it was, I stood gingerly and walked over to him, holding out my good hand to shake. “Detective.”

  He shook my hand and broke into a toothy grin as he eyed my left arm in its sling. “Looks like you could use some good news.”

  I turned to Ricky and nodded toward the corridor. He easily took the hint to leave us alone. Once Ricky was gone, I motioned for Jones to have a seat in one of the two visitors’ chairs. I grabbed the other one and pulled it a little farther away before I took a seat.

  “Shoot.”

  Jones laughed. “Interesting choice of words,” he said, glancing at my shoulder. “Well, I won’t beat around the bush. I’m here to tell you that, based on the department investigation and the coroner’s findings, Michael Becker’s death has officially been ruled an accident. The investigation into his death is now closed.”

  I let out a huge sigh of relief. “Thank God. And thank you for coming to tell me personally,” I said, shaking my head. “That’s a huge weight off my shoulders.”

  He glanced at my injured arm again. “Doesn’t look like you’ll be doing much heavy lifting with that shoulder anytime soon,” he said, with a grin that told me he was enjoying my injury a little too much.

  “Ah, this is nothing,” I said, pretending to brush some dirt off my shoulder. “It’s just what happens when you’re out there putting your life on the line every day.”

  He laughed. “Really,” he said, nodding his head. “So how does that work? Does getting shot make you a good bodyguard or a bad bodyguard?”

  I laughed as I shook my head. “Probably a stupid bodyguard.”

  We both stood up at the same time, but he spoke first. “You’re a good guy, Meyers. Keep up that bravery and you might become a great one someday.”

  “Thanks,” I replied. “So…before you leave, you mind updating me on Sabrina Sokolov? Should I be looking over my shoulder as soon as I walk out that door?”

  This new line of questioning tempered his smile a bit. “They’re working on gathering evidence for the indictment right now. The photos and voice recordings you provided will help with that…. Hearing is in two days. But, from what I hear, they left a paper trail a mile long. So my advice to you is… Get a lawyer, because when the shit hits the fan, they’re gonna start pointing fingers at the first mention of a plea deal.” He nodded once before he headed for the door. “But you didn’t hear that from me. Take care, Meyers.”

  I smiled as he stepped into the corridor and the sound of his footsteps faded away. “Take care, chief.”

  Ricky backed his pickup truck into a parking space a couple blocks from our building. “Oh, shit! I almost forgot!” he said, reaching into the backseat and coming up with a large sealed manila envelope. “A messenger dropped this off for you this morning. I haven’t opened it.”

  I took the envelope and turned it over in my lap a couple of times, looking at both sides. There was no return address, and only my first name was written on the outside in nondescript black marker.

  “Did the messenger say who it’s from?” I asked, hesitant to open it.

  Ricky shrugged. “He didn’t say shit. But he also left a big-ass package at the apartment.”

  I looked at Ricky to see if maybe he was trying to trick me. “Am I gonna open this up and find pics of myself high on morphine getting my bedpan changed or something?”

  He laughed. “How the fuck do I know? I swear, I had nothing to do with that. For all I know, that envelope contains anthrax.”

  I glared at him. “Thanks for easing my mind,” I said, shaking my head as I broke the seal on the envelope and reached inside.

  I pulled out a packet of what looked like a dozen or so pages stapled together, with a check paper-clipped to the front of the packet. The top of the check indicated it was a severance check. The bottom portion of the check was made out to me from Becker Holdings in the amount of $1.00. It had to be a bad joke orchestrated by Sabrina to rub my nose in my unemployment.

  I ripped the check out of the paper clip and began to crumple it up when I noticed the packet of paper behind the check. It looked like some type of letter. Then, I read the name typed beneath the signature at the bottom of the page: Kristin Owens, CEO.

  My eyes scanned the letter, and I nearly vomited with relief when I realized it was an offer of employment. Attached to the back of the letter was a nondisclosure agreement and an employment agreement to work as Kristin’s bodyguard earning double what Michael had paid me.

  “Fucking hell,” I said, shaking my head. “I thought this was going to be from Sabrina and we were going to have to evacuate the whole fucking building.”

  “So…is thi
s a good thing?” Ricky asked, looking confused.

  I nodded as I reached for the door handle. “It’s a very fucking good thing, bro. Now, come show me this package.”

  Ricky helped open the wooden box that looked like it contained a flat-screen TV. But I highly doubted Kristin would send me a television. If she did, I would question her judgment. I didn’t need to be wasting away on the couch. I had to get back into the gym as soon as possible so I could be in top shape to protect her.

  Inside the wooden box was a cardboard box. Inside the cardboard box were Styrofoam corners, encasing something that was wrapped in thick white canvas fabric. On every container, the words DO NOT USE SHARP INSTRUMENTS TO OPEN were printed very large and clear. I helped Ricky remove the foam corners and unwrap the fabric to reveal something completely unexpected and totally outrageous.

  It was the Picasso that had hung in the upstairs corridor of Michael’s beach house.

  “Is this…” Ricky said, tilting his head. “Is this a fucking Picasso?”

  I shook my head in utter disbelief. “If it is, we have to keep our voices down,” I said, suddenly feeling as if the walls separating our apartment from the one next door were way too thin.

  Ricky tilted his head some more to get a better look at the back side of the painting. “There’s something on the back.”

  I walked carefully around to the other side and found a Post-it note affixed to the back of the canvas, which I took as proof that this was a real fucking Picasso. In black marker, written in neat cursive, were the words: Because you’re priceless.

  Catching Rays

  Kristin

  My mom opened and closed one kitchen drawer after another in obvious frustration. “How many sets of silverware does a person need? Jesus criminy, where are the chopping knives?”

  I smiled as I opened the drawer below the chopping block next to the range and pulled a Japanese chef’s knife out of the built-in knife block in the drawer. “Here,” I said, passing it to her.

  “This house has been renovated a lot since the last time I was here,” she said, looking around the enormous kitchen at the beach house. “It’s going to take some getting used to.”

  Today was the first day my mom would spend the night in the beach house. Leslie had stayed in the apartment with her for the past eleven days, while Petra, Trey, and I scoured the house for anything we would not be keeping. But before I even stepped foot in the house again, Petra and Trey removed everything from the bedroom my father had created for me.

  I didn’t want to see any of it. I didn’t want to see the frilly fabrics and princess decor. I didn’t want to be reminded of the kind of daughter he had wanted. Most of all, I didn’t want to be poisoned by the belief that somewhere deep down, he loved me.

  Petra insisted that whether I wanted her to or not, she would take lots of video and plenty of pictures of the room. And everything they removed would be saved, in case I had a change of heart later on.

  We brought surprisingly few boxes of my belongings from my apartment. I moved my things into the guest room, where I’d slept with Daniel almost two months ago. I put my mom’s things in the guest bedroom downstairs. Neither of us were keen on sleeping in the master bedroom.

  “Where’s the mint?” Petra asked, peering into the enormous refrigerator.

  “It’s in a glass of water by the sink,” I replied.

  We had been preparing tonight’s dinner for almost two hours and I still felt as if we were forgetting something. Despite the fact that Daniel and I had reversed our roles, I couldn’t help but think of him as a sophisticated gentleman I needed to impress. After all, he was the one who got lessons in how to be a fancy rich guy from Sabrina.

  Daniel was the number-one reason I was certain money couldn’t buy class, because he was the essence of class from the moment we met, and every day since.

  I finished cubing the watermelon and tossing it with the feta and mint leaves Petra had retrieved for me. The doorbell rang as I placed the salad on the large twelve-seat dining table that overlooked the veranda and the ocean.

  Petra wiggled her eyebrows. “Is that Kevin Costner?” she said, calling Daniel by her new nickname for him, which referred to Kevin Costner’s role in the movie The Bodyguard. “And Iiiiiiiiiiiiii-ee-Iiiiiiiiiii will always love youuuuuu…” she sang as I left the room to answer the door.

  As I walked through the kitchen and down the corridor toward the foyer, I couldn’t help but recognize how strange it felt to walk such a long distance just to answer the door. In our old apartment, when the doorbell rang, my mom would sometimes stretch her arm out to open the door from her hospital bed. It almost made me feel guilty.

  Arriving at the front door, I pulled it open and was not prepared for how happy I would be to see Daniel, or how devilishly handsome he would look, after not seeing him for almost two weeks. Unable to control myself, I threw my arms around his neck. He grunted from the force of my hug, and I quickly remembered his shoulder injury.

  “Oh, my God. I’m so sorry,” I apologized as I let him go, and immediately reached for his left shoulder, stopping just short of touching him.

  He laughed. “I’m fine. It’s been more than a month,” he said, reaching up to grasp my hand and place it on his shoulder. “I’ve been working with the physical therapist, and she thinks I should be able to start lifting again in a couple weeks. And with the titanium plate in there, I may end up even stronger than before.” He flexed his muscles for me to feel.

  I rolled my eyes. “Did she say when you’d be ready to graduate from Superhero Academy?”

  He smiled. “God, I fucking love you. Come here,” he said, pulling me into a bear hug.

  I buried my face in his smooth neck, breathing in the clean scent of his skin and wishing we could just spend the rest of the day right here in this position. Unable to control myself, I licked his neck, savoring the sound of his laughter.

  “Settle down, Picasso,” he said, releasing me and turning around to grab a silver gift bag off the front step. “This is for your mom.”

  I smiled as I took the bag and tried to peek inside.

  “Watch it, young lady. That’s not yours,” he said, grabbing my free hand and leading me across the foyer toward the corridor.

  “Is it weird that you probably know this house better than I do?” I asked, as he led us through the swinging door into the kitchen.

  “Everything is weird to you,” he said, as I allowed him to lead me through the kitchen and into the dining area.

  Petra gasped when she saw him. “Holy shit!”

  Daniel looked back and forth between Petra and me, clearly confused. “What? What’s going on?”

  I shook my head, then whispered in his ear, “Be prepared for Petra to say something very inappropriate about how handsome you are.”

  Daniel chuckled as he turned back toward the table. “You must be the famous Petra.”

  Petra glanced at Trey, who was sitting next to her at the dining table. “You must be…very, very, ridiculously good looking.”

  Daniel smiled, unable to hide the slight blush in his cheeks. “Uh…thanks?”

  Daniel helped me serve dinner, after which my mother wanted to open her gift from Daniel, but he insisted she open it in private. When he said this, he and Petra exchanged a look that made me wonder if she knew what was in the silver bag.

  My mom was all too eager to have a secret she could keep from me. She gladly hid the gift under the table and out of my reach.

  After Daniel and I cleared the table, Trey and Petra insisted on doing the dishes, while I took Daniel upstairs to show him something.

  “No funny business while you two are up there,” my mom said as Daniel and I began to leave. “No one wants to hear that. We just ate.”

  Petra and Trey laughed as they loaded the dishwasher. “You tell her, Mom,” Petra agreed, pumping her fist in the air.

  I shook my head as I dragged Daniel out of the kitchen to avoid any more embarrassment. “Y
ou’d think they’ve known you all their lives the way they act,” I said, leading him up the stairs.

  “They’re real. I love that.”

  We entered the guest room and suddenly the atmosphere changed. It was as if someone had flipped a switch and all the memories of the things we’d done in this bedroom were projected onto every surface. When I looked at Daniel to see if he felt the same shift in the mood, the hungry look in his eyes made me feel naked.

  As if there were a magnet in his hand, he automatically placed his hand on the small of my back as he looked down at me. “Maybe we should give them a little concert,” he said, flashing me a seductive smile.

  I smiled as I reached up and placed my hand on the scruff of his jaw. “First, I have something you need to see.”

  He lay his hand over mine, then he turned his head slowly and placed a tender kiss on the palm of my hand. “The stage is yours.”

  “Before I show you, I want you to know that I spoke to my old academic advisor at NYU.”

  His eyes widened with excitement. “Go on…”

  “He said I could probably still return on my scholarship if I returned by next fall. But I told him I don’t need the scholarship. I just need to know I can come back. So, once I get all this probate stuff worked out, I’m going back to school.”

  He clenched his jaw as he seemed to be having some type of emotional reaction I couldn’t read, then he shook his head and planted a hard kiss on my forehead. “You make me proud to know you.”

  I chuckled uncomfortably. “Well, I hope I don’t let you down.”

  “You could never,” he replied, with complete conviction. “But, before you show me whatever it is you brought me here for, I forgot I also have a gift for you.”

  I feigned surprise. “Oh, you mean this is a gift I can actually open?”

  He smiled. “Actually, Miss Smartypants, this gift isn’t even wrapped.” He pulled a silver USB drive out of his jeans pocket and handed it to me. “This is a collection of my favorite elevator music,” he began, ignoring my laughter. “You can see the gift I gave your mom once you’ve memorized every song on this USB drive.”