“Goddamn it. Work with me, Gold.” Marshall's typically dreamy and aloof tone had sharpened. “Wilson Woodworks are going to pull out if you don’t get your ass down to their offices ASAP and start licking boots.”
“Any chance you can go?” I said tugged my iPad out of the stand.
“They want you, Judas.” Penn pointed his finger at the screen. “This could set the Goldryn Mall back if we don’t get this fixed ASAP. You're in bed with the enemy here, Gold.”
“I’m really not. I need you to get the legal team on standby and I need to release a public statement saying that I am not and have never been engaged to Sarah Mallory.”
“But you did knock her up?”
“Don’t even talk to me about that.” I bit back. My voice was dark with malice. I rolled my shoulders to try and alleviate some of the tension that had quickly built there.
“There’s paparazzi camping out of the front of the building.” Penn leant over and I could see that he was squinting down to the street below. “You want me to go out and make your statement?”
“Do it.” I commanded.
“Don’t be tempted to phone the Mallory Heiress.” Penn advised.
“Legal team already told me not to proceed with that.”
Penn nodded to himself before his gaze was jerked to something out of frame. “I’ve booked the helicopter. Be here for eight and we'll go to Tsuki on Fifth for Sushi.” Penn didn’t bother saying goodbye as he shut down the conversation.
Not only was it all lies but the article was a very real risk to my business. One of my clients, Wilson's Woodworks and Lumber were threatening to pull their services. If Wilson's pulled out, the Shopping Mall on the 603 would be set back months.
I wanted to phone Sarah and scream obscenities down the line but my team of lawyers had advised against it.
I texted Harry, feeling like a piece of shit that I wouldn’t be there when she came home that evening. I had meant what I had said the previous night, even if she was too tired to hear it.
I love you.
My phone vibrated to signal that I only had ten minutes before I had to leave.
I threw some shirts in my duffle bag when she didn’t answer;then, I wrote a note and taped it to the fridge.
I'm in NYC till Tuesday. It couldn’t be avoided. Call me. Please.
22
Markus was known around town as the Gold's personal chauffeur. Sometimes I’d see a black limo with tinted windows, but more often than not he would circle the bayou that looped around the edge of Goldryn Bois and split away from the town. Markus drove a hover boat and despite his baseball cap with the local high school team mascot on the front. Go Gators, yeah!
His eyes were creased with laughter lines and white where the sun couldn’t reach them. I had seen him sail past the back of Judy's so often that seeing him behind the wheel was jarring.
I asked about his grandkids and I knew his daughter was having problems at work. She wanted to be an accountant, but was having trouble juggling the college courses and her toddler twins.
Markus dropped me off out the front of the hospital, right by the smoking area, and told me he'd park up until I was ready to go. Which was sweet.
Mama was still unconscious when I got to the ICU. Which wasn’t surprising considering the damage to her liver (self-inflicted or otherwise). I waited for the doctors to make rounds and took out my phone to distract from the constant beep of the machines and the whir of the dialysis machine.
The room stank of disinfectant and stale sweat. I couldn’t help but study my Mama’s prone form as she laid on the bed. I lifted the thin sheet to look at her leg, but was greeted by a thick blue cast. I guessed that even with pins, she needed it for her leg.
I was bored by the time one of the consultants was able to see me. I felt guilty about the fact that I was bored. I didn’t care that my mother laid on a bed, helpless, whilst machines filtered out all of the crap in her body. I wrapped my arms around myself, cold.
“Ms. Thompson?” A gentle voice directed me to the family room. I was pleased that it was empty. “My name is Doctor Rumta.”
I nodded but said nothing.
“Do you want some water? A coffee?” she pointed to the dated image of a cappuccino on the coffee machine in the corner. I shook my head.
“Okay. Well, the bad news is that your mother is the same as yesterday. Not better and not worse. But the chances of organ failure get higher the longer we go without finding a viable liver donor for her.”
I nodded, in confusion. “I was tested yesterday...”
Doctor Rumta cleared her throat and looked to the chart. “Unfortunately, you weren’t a match.”
My heart stuttered. My eyes widened. My blood was molasses.
“What does that mean?” I asked.
Rumta chewed her lip and her gaze darted over me; and then, in the direction of Mama's room.
“You aren’t biologically related to Gilly Ann Thompson.” The doctor told me. “I've sent your blood away for some tests. It triggered something on the system. I'll let you know when we know more.”
I didn’t know whether to laugh, cry or celebrate. And that made me a disgusting excuse for a human being.
I was grateful that I didn’t have to drive back to Goldryn Bois, because my tears were so thick that I could barely see.
I'd left my phone at Elliot’s, so I had to wait on the sidewalk until Markus looped back an hour later. The driver had seen my face and hadn’t tried to engage me in conversation. My cheeks stung where my tears had dried. My mascara marred my face like two black stripes. I was a whirling cyclone of confusion and anger.
Gilly Thompson wasn’t my mother.
I was lost. Confused. Dazed.
“Where do you want to go, Ms. Thompson?” Markus spoke through the clear divider.
“Can you take me to Elliot's, please?”
He nodded and continued to drive without another word. It was dark when we pulled up outside of the front of the Mini Gold Manor in which Elliot lived. A few of the lights were on and I went straight around the back, to the kitchen.
I typed in the key code and walked in, placing my handbag on the counter. I pulled out a chair and put my head in my hands with a sigh.
I heard someone approach and hover in the doorway. I looked up, ready to fling myself into Elliot’s arms and divulge what a shitty day that I’d had.
Instead, I was greeted by the sight of Sarah Mallory, in a silk kimono and little else. Barefoot with the robe undone so that the outline of her breast was visible. Her hair was fluffed and she looked like she’s just been fucked.
Sarah walked forward without a word and took a glass from the cabinet. Surprisingly, she moved around the kitchen with the ease of someone who’d spent a lot of time there.
“You need to leave.” Sarah sneered as she poured herself a glass of water. “Didn’t you see the Goldryn Post? Our engagement announcement was printed today.”
My brow furrowed, confused by her words. “Why are you here?” I asked slowly. My mind was unable to piece together what was happening. “Elliot invited me.”
“Funny.” Sarah drained the glass of water and put it down with a thunk. “He didn’t mention that ten minutes ago. In the bedroom.”
I shook my head. Anger flushed through me. “He’s upstairs, is he?” I snarled.
Sarah waved her hand as if inviting me to check. She stepped aside and I caught a glimpse of discarded clothes, leading the way up the staircase in the entrance hall.
Elliot’s clothes. On the floor. Thrown about in a fit of passion, mingled with a sea green thong and bra.
Bile rose up in my throat. “You can fucking keep him.” I jabbed my finger in her direction. “You deserve each other.”
23
When I was a teenager, and my belly felt like it was going to devour itself in hunger, I’d daydream about chocolate.
Not the Hershey’s kind or butterfingers. The standard American candies. I'd walk past Mada
m Wise's Tea Emporium on Main, where there was a display of British chocolates, arranged in the window like shiny gifts. The purple bars, boxes and parcels were nestled in between the tea sets and random herbs of which I’d never known.
I think about my sixteenth birthday when I think about chocolate. Smoking a joint under the bleachers with Rina and doing impressions of the cheer squad that turned out more like Betty Boop. Rina got all shy on the way home before her driver picked her up. She thrust a rucksack in my hand. It was full of every type of British candy bar that I could imagine. Cadbury's. Galaxy. Smarties. She’d seen me checking out the window, even though I’d played it off like I didn’t care.
I took such care with my gift. I'd take out a bar on special occasions and ration it like gold. When I was hungry, starving. Weak and alone. I'd take out a bar of that candy and I’d pop a square in my mouth and let it dissolve.
Rina gave me something warm and sweet, like her, and it was one of the only kindnesses that I experienced as a child.
Our friendship started with a candy bar. And she'd save my sanity with a bag of them.
I was alight with anger as I left Elliot's house. I couldn’t even focus properly as I walked to the edge of the gated community and marched towards the centre of town. It took over an hour to get back to my apartment, and I stopped off at a convenience store that was tucked away on the corner. Its offensive chain brand was hidden away from the quaint family businesses on Main Street.
I bought standard candy bars, a box of wine and a burner phone so I could call Rina. I wasn’t going to step over the threshold of the Mini-Gold Manor if I could help it.
I was torn between two soul-shattering issues.
Mama had tortured me, beat me and subjected me to hatred and abuse. That woman wasn’t my biological mother. Who was? Did I have a family out there that had given me up? Mama wasn’t awake for me to ask. I had no clue.
The second problem was Elliot Gold and I cursed myself for feeling as broken as I did. The second I’d seen Sarah in that robe in his kitchen, something inside of me had burned bright and destructive. I had tried to keep a mental distance from Elliot. Maintaining the knowledge that when he was done with slumming with a stripper that he'd go back to his life in New York. Then, I'd wave him off with dignity. I told myself that he'd be a happy memory. A video reel of fuck-hot sex that I’d play in my mind when the night got lonely and cold.
Somehow, even though I’d known that Elliot and I were friends. Casual. In a faux relationship without the commitment. My heart hadn’t gotten the memo.
I'd taken a mental beating for Elliot Gold and my heart was too bruised to know whether it was coming or going.
He'd taken me to dinner with his family.
He gave me gifts all the time.
He never failed to watch me dance, booking out my Thursdays so he could have me to himself.
Elliot would watch me sleep.
He listened to every word I said and didn’t just wait for his turn to speak.
Just being near him was enough to make me want to tear off his clothes and declare my love for him with his cock buried so deep inside me that we became one person.
I didn’t want to admit to myself, but I had pinned my hopes on Elliot.
I had always thought that I was unlovable. Turns out I had been right.
My Pop had killed himself and I blamed myself for that. If I had been a better daughter. If I had behaved better. Maybe he wouldn’t have swallowed the barrel of a shotgun.
Woulda shoulda coulda.
Deep down, I had believed that I had earned Mama's strikes. It wasn’t until I had gotten much older that I started to think differently.
That knowledge didn’t affect the tiny voice squirrelled away at the back of my mind that told me I’d earned Mama's wrath.
I was such a fool.
The writing had been on the wall.
Sarah Mallory was pregnant with his child. They'd slept together.
My thoughts began to unravel. My head pounded.
I curled up in bed with my chocolate bars and ate them all until my stomach bloated and I felt like I’d vomit if I moved.
I fell straight to sleep. My wine and new phone left untouched on my coffee table.
I woke up to the smell of a TeaSpoon salted caramel cappuccino. The only frou-frou drink on the menu that I could tolerate. Said to-go cup hovered in front of my face with Rina's hand attached.
“From the chocolate wrappers in your bed, I’m guessing your Mama's not doing so well.”
I raised my hand to push my rat's nest of hair out of my face and noticed that a Reese’s wrapper was stuck to the back of my hand.
“No talk. Coffee. Now.” I grappled the cardboard cup and downed half of it, knowing that it would have cooled slightly on Rina’s journey over. The bed bounced when Rina settled by my side.
“You weren’t answering your phone.” Rina said. “Plus there was no new photos on your Instagram.”
“If I don’t post on Instagram then you assume I’m dead?” I crooked an eyebrow.
“Pretty much.”
“Do you want me to rant about the shit-tastic few days I've had?” I asked. “Because you'll need to go into the living room and get my box of wine.”
“It's only eleven.” Rina's expression was amused as she crossed her arms over her chest.
“I need wine to be able to talk about this.” I explained with my fingers rubbing circles on my temple. “I really do.”
Rina poured us both a glass and I explained everything.
How Elliot and I had slept together at the masquerade and he had found me at the Pink Sleeve. How we'd agreed to become friends... but not friends at the same time. We were in casual fling flux.
She knew about Sarah Mallory's pregnancy and was just as confused as I was.
“I walked in on her doing a line of coke at the Thanksgiving Eve dinner party. She didn’t care. She'd gone into one of the guest rooms, drunk. She just went crazy after you and Elliot left.”
“Does Elliot know?” I asked.
Rina shook her head. “I don’t think so.”
“I want to say that it doesn’t matter and that he chose her, but no baby should have a mother that’s willing to put them in danger like that. Someone needs to speak to her.” I said adamantly.
“I saw the announcement in the Post. Are you okay?”
“Rina...” It physically hurt to speak about what I’d seen. “I walked in on Elliot and Sarah at his house last night. He told me that it was a one-time thing. That I was the only one.”
Rina's expression took on a funny twist. “Yesterday? Elliot's been in New York since yesterday morning.”
My heart crashed into my chest with the speed of a runaway train. “What?”
“Sarah released a public statement about Elliot and the baby and it put one of Elliot's contracts at risk. He told me to keep an eye on you. He had to leave but he really didn’t want to.”
I rubbed my hand over my face and put my wine glass on the bedside table. I felt sick all over again. My face flushed with heat when I realised what an idiot I was. “Sarah got me.” I spoke slowly, like my mouth was full of cotton wool.
“What do you mean?”
“I went to Elliot's last night. She was there. There was a trail of clothes leading to the bedroom.” I fiddled the edge of my comforter. “She told me they'd had sex. I even heard the shower running.”
Rina swore under her breath. “Oh damn. She’s good.”
“I should have had faith in Elliot. I shouldn’t have believed her.” I said, sadly.
“That’s right. In theory. But it's pretty damn hard when a naked woman is in your boyfriend's house.” Rina put her hand over mine. Stopping me from pulling any more threads from the purple material.
“It doesn’t matter. Maybe I should just get the memo, huh?” My laughter was laced with my tears. “Elliot and Sarah belong together.”
Rina opened her mouth to argue with her but I shook my head,
as tears threatened to spill.
“It’s true. I've got nothing to offer.”
“That’s a damn lie.” Rina snarled. “You’re the best person I know.”
“I’m really not, Rina.” My voice was soft, but sure. “I didn’t want to give Mama a piece of my liver. She's dying, Rina, and I didn't want to.”
“Harry. I know you. You'd give her a slice of your liver if she needs it. You may hesitate. You may run to the airport terminal, but you wouldn’t get on the plane.” Rina said.
“I don’t think I’m strong enough for this.” I whispered.
“Do you love him?” Rina asked.
“Y-Yes.”
“And he loves you.” She said it as a statement. Not a question. “You gotta trust him. Julian told me some things. They're not my place to say. But you gotta believe him. He does not want Sarah Mallory.”
I nodded. “I've seen her smug and lying face. It's hard, y'know? When Sarah was there. Naked. For a second, I forgot all the good things about Elliot and I was just so darn a-angry at him.”
24
“Do you want to get a restraining order?”
“Do you want to sue her for libel?”
“Do you want to demand paternity?”
“Do you want to sue the newspaper for printing these statements?”
My lawyers have been asking the same questions for the past five hours and I have been trying to navigate the fog.
I didn't need to be in NYC for the law advice. My legal team could have just as easily flown out to New Orleans and I could have met them at our offices there.
I was in New York to smooze and somewhat beg George Wilson to remain our key supplier for the southern states and the projects that Gold and Penn had there.
By the end of the meeting, I wasn’t convinced that he wouldn’t pull out.
I was forming a plan of how to sue Sarah for loss of earnings, thirty million down the drain (potentially) all because of her lies.
Heart of Gold Page 15