Jewels and Panties (Book, Seven): Dark Diary

by Brooke Kinsley

  "Harold! Buddy!"

  I wasn't the type to hug a guy but it was great to see him. After everything we'd been through it felt good to see a friendly face.

  "You okay?" he asked. "I heard something happened."

  "That's one way of putting it. One day I'll get you a beer and I'll tell you everything. Right now we're in a bit of a hurry."

  His eyes moved over to Etta.

  "Not going to introduce us?" he asked and raised an eyebrow.

  "Etta, this is Harold. Worked with him for years."

  "Yeah, I've seen you around," she said and shook his hand.

  He gave me a look of pure jealousy and I'd be lying if I said I wasn't filled with a little swell of pride.

  "You're a lucky man, Bosworth."

  "Absolutely. I'm still pinching myself."

  Etta gave us both a shy smile and lowered her head. She never was good at taking compliments.

  "When are you back in theater?" Harold asked, changing the subject. "I've sure missed you."

  "Soon," I said. "Once we're back from Venice."

  "Venice? As in Venice, Italy?"

  "Yup."

  He shook his head and thrust his hands into his pocket.

  "You sure are a man of mystery. Wish I was getting away on a vacation. Guess I better get working on my best selling patents so I can get as rich as you, right?"

  He laughed awkwardly, his giant Adam's apple bobbing up and down.

  "Anyway, catch you later. Was awesome to see you. And it was a pleasure to meet you Etta."

  He jogged away toward the back entrance, waving as he ran.

  "Nice guy," said Etta.

  "Oh yeah, Harold wouldn't hurt a fly."

  Chapter Five

  ETTA

  "You know you should really start acting like a billionaire."

  "And what exactly does a billionaire act like?"

  He laughed and gave me awink as we halted at the stop light.

  "Like, I dunno, flashy and stuff."

  "Not my style," he replied.

  "But why not?"

  He frowned and checked his reflection in the rear view mirror.

  "I'm just not the type of guy who likes to sun my ass on a luxury yacht with a troop of supermodels. I'd rather stay in and read a book, enjoy a nice dinner with great company..."

  He reached over and squeezed my thigh.

  "Is there a problem with that?" he asked.

  "Of course not."

  "I can't help but sense there's something wrong."

  The light turned green and we edged our way through the slow rush hour traffic. In the trunk of the car, our suitcases lay packed, mine almost overflowing. I couldn't believe we were finally leaving this damn place and going to have some fun for once like a normal couple.

  "There's nothing wrong," I said, looking out the window as the dense city streets leaned in on me.

  "Are you sure? Something tells me I’m not living up to your expectations of the perfect billionaire boyfriend. Next you'll be telling me you want a pet tiger or a solid gold Rolls Royce."

  I touched the tulip between my breasts. It was extravagant in its own way but modest too, just like Lincoln was.

  "I'm sorry. I'm not explaining myself very well."

  I struggled to find the right words and found that my throat was tightening up.

  "It's just that other people like you have security teams!" I finally blurted out.

  He tensed up beside me, his brow pulling itself into a line of fierce concentration as he rounded a bend with a touch too much speed.

  "Security teams?" he asked. "Like meatheads talking into earpieces watching every move I make?"

  "Yes!"

  "Why the fuck would I want that?"

  "Because you need it!"

  He slowed down once again as the traffic piled up and let out a long exhale as he touched his hand to his forehead.

  "Need it?"

  "Yeah! You think you could have been captured if you had proper security like all the other billionaires in existence? Living on a mountain may be peaceful and secluded and it may stop some people getting in but it's made you vulnerable. If no one can find you then no one can help you!"

  He remained silent, watching exasperated as the traffic reached a stand still. At this rate we weren't going to make it to the airport for another hour and I was starting to fidget in my seat like a kid on their way to Disneyland.

  "You understand why I'm worried, don't you?"

  He nodded and pursed his lips.

  "Sure. I get it. You don't want a repeat performance of the other night."

  "I sure as shit do not."

  I leaned my head onto his shoulder and hugged him tight, felt the warmth of his cheek against mine and the smell of his cologne on his neck. I kissed the sensitive spot behind his ear that always softened him up. As expected, he couldn't refrain from smiling.

  "I'll look into it," he said at last. "As soon as we get back."

  "That's all I'm asking."

  We pulled away and I realized we were driving through Broadwood. Neither of us said a word but we didn't need to. We pretended we didn't notice a thing and that the neighborhood we were passing through was just like any other. But we couldn't deny there was a smell in the air as though things had changed. The place was in mourning, the people looking sadder and lonelier than they usually did.

  We passed a street corner where a group of teenage girls perched against a phone booth in clothes that would have been inappropriate for women twice their age. I wondered where they would be sleeping tonight.If they would be sleeping at all. I wondered where all the lost girls would be going now without Phaedra to give them a bed. I turned back to Lincoln and shook the thought from my mind.

  "Why did you never want people looking after you?" I asked.

  "People?"

  "Like a team? Bodyguards?Minders? I thought rich guys liked all that stuff."

  "Correction, somerich guys like all that stuff. I'd rather have my privacy. Couldn't stand the idea of having someone looking over my shoulder every second of the day making sure I'm not going to get kidnapped."

  "But you were kidnapped."

  He sighed and gripped the steering wheel tighter.

  "I was. You're right. You've proved your point. Like I said, I'll look into it when we get back."

  I could tell that if I didn't change the subject soon he was going to grow irate. Touching the tulip again, I reminded myself of how much we loved each other and how blissful we were earlier. Now we just had weeks of lying in bed, caressing each other beneath the Venetian stars.

  "I'm just so worried about you," I said. "Men think their indestructible at the best of times and rich men think they're invincible, but you're not. You're a human and you're vulnerable like the rest of us. Look, I’ve said my piece and I won't mention it again. Just... Get some freakin' security."

  He slinked his hand over my shoulder and kissed me.

  "Yes, mom!" he rolled his eyes and laughed. "I'll do it, but what am I supposed to do? Have a bodyguard beside me when I'm operating on someone?"

  He laughed again, his voice light and airy. In the distance, I could just about make out the shape of the highway and only a few minutes beyond that, the jet was waiting to take us away. I closed my eyes and felt as though I was going to explode with joy.

  Lying back, I thought about all the things we would do in Italy. All the places we could see, the sun we could feel on our faces and the luxurious wine we could get brought up to our decadent suite at the Centurion Palace, a hotel Lincoln had assured me I would love.

  "Hey! Shit. The house is foreclosed."

  My eyes flashed open.

  “What house?”

  Beside the car, the Waters House loomed up, empty and hollow. In the front yard, a sign was in the middle of being hammered into the ground by a sweaty bald guy in a suit that was two sizes too small for him.

  "Don't," I said, but Lincoln was already parking up. "Don't!"

 
Chapter Six

  LINCOLN

  "Seriously? This place is for sale?"

  The chubby guy looked up and wiped the back of his hand across his brow. There was a flicker of recognition in his eyes as they flashed up with dollar signs.

  "Lincoln motherfucking Bosworth!" he declared and struck out a hand for me to shake. "What in the Devil's name are you doing in this neck of the woods?"

  Etta was leaping out the car to tug on my arm.

  "We're just on our way to the airport," she said. "Going to Italy."

  "Italy!" the guy beamed. "The land where my good old grandma hailed from. Anyway, since you asked. Yes, the house is for sale. Gone into foreclosure. Seems no one will touch the place and the Waters Foundation is eager to, erm, distance themselves from the place."

  I looked up and saw the small golden name plaque above the front door had been removed.

  Etta tugged on my arm again and glared at me, begging with her eyes.

  "Linx? Come on. Didn't you say we were gonna be in the air by dinner time."

  I looked down at her then back up at the house.

  "Okay if I take a look inside?" I asked.

  "Absolutely!" the guy grinned, unable to hide his pleasure. "Let me give you the grand tour."

  "Linx! No!"

  "I'll just be two minutes," I told her. "Promise."

  Her face looked as though it would catch fire. She let go of me and threw up her hands.

  "Fine, whatever."

  Inside the house, the guy smoothed down his mustache and gestured for me to enter the lounge which was in a state of disarray. It looked as though a tornado had passed through it, tore up the carpet, taken the furniture but for some reason left every single book behind.

  "What happened in here?"

  "Looted," said the guy.

  "Shit."

  I walked over to the bookcase and leaned against the wall, imagining Roberta sat in the seat by the television. Now, all that remained was a dusty floor scattered in garbage. As I turned, my foot grazed the overturned trash can. Inside,lay the biography of Charles Manson.

  "Can I see the kitchen?" I asked.

  Etta was still lingering in the hall with her arms folded.

  "Just two minutes," I assured her again but she took a step back.

  "I'll wait in the car," she huffed.

  "Don't be like that. Come on, let's look around."

  "Why? I'm no stranger to this place."

  The guy looked over his shoulder and sensing the oncoming argument, tried to lighten the mood.

  "As you can tell, the place needs a little cosmetic upgrade."

  "I can see that," I said.

  "You know much about the house?" he asked.

  "Not really."

  He grinned again and rubbed his hands together.

  "Excellent. I mean, that's cool. There's not much to know really. Old lady lived here. Was a home for runaways.That kinda thing."

  The three of us stood in the kitchen looking at the opened cupboards with the doors hanging off the hinges.

  "I'll take it," I said.

  Etta let out a scream.

  "Lincoln no! I mean, why!"

  "Fantastic!" said the chubby guy and once again he stuck his hand out for me to shake.

  His fingers felt like sausages in mine as he couldn't stop the smile that twitched up the edges of his mustache, a single gold tooth glinting in the corner of his mouth.

  "Terrific! Just fantastic! You're doing a really good thing taking this place."

  I could feel theheat coming from Etta beside me. Turning my head, I saw her just in time as she stormed out.

  "Sorry. I'll just be a moment," I said.

  "No worries. I'll get on the phone and arrange for the paperwork to be drawn up."

  I dashed out and caught up with her at the front door.

  "Etta, wait up."

  Catching the back of her coat, I pulled her into the lounge and closed the door.

  "What the hell are you doing?" she cried.

  "I'm... I'm doing a good thing."

  "What? How exactly is buying this hell house a good thing? We're supposed to be getting away from it!"

  She had a point but I had an idea, one I was hoping she'd get on board with.

  "What if we turned it into something really good, a children's home where we could oversee everything and put all the terrible things to right."

  She cradled her head in her hands.

  "No. No. No."

  "Think about it. There's been so much suffering but we could turn it around, turn the house into what it was always supposed to be. A safe haven."

  She looked through her fingers. Anger always made her cuter and right now I wanted to bake her into a cake and eat her up.

  "I suppose that could work," she said. "Maybe. But can we get going now? We can sort all this out when we're back."

  Down the hall, the realtor was talking on the phone a hundred words a second. No doubt gibbering about how he'd lucked out on the billionaire who just walked in off the street and offloaded his biggest problem.

  "Just imagine it!"

  I stretched my arms out. The room looked grim right now but in my head it was a wonderland, a children's paradise filled with fun and laughter.

  "Out there we could have a sensory garden where the children could learn about plants and nature and in here we could have an art room."

  "An art room," she said, her voice flat and dismayed.

  "Yeah! And this time we'll have a strict no-smoking policy. Just clean living, clean air and pure fun."

  I took her hand and pulled her back into the kitchen.

  "Imagine the smell of pancakes coming out of here in the morning, cookies baking in the afternoon and all the counters smeared in jelly."

  Her face was softening but she was still edging her way over to the door, desperate to leave.

  "What do you say?"

  "Sounds great," she said. "We can draw up some plans while we're floating along the Grand Canal. Now, let's go. Didn't you say your jet would be waiting?"

  "Hang on," I said, pulling out my phone. "I'll need to speak to my lawyer and then-"

  "Linx!"

  "And I'll need to run by my accountant."

  "Lincoln!"

  Her face fell.

  "Honey, we can leave in a couple days."

  "I don't believe this!"

  Before I could run to hug her, she'd burst into tears and stormed out.

  "Etta!”

  She heard me alright, I could tell from the way her neck stiffened as she walked.

  "Hey!"

  "I'll be in the car," she called without turning round, her heels crackling in the gravel as she did her unbearably sexy strut she only performed when she was in the worst of moods.

  I watched the swing of her hips and the curve of her ass, then the perfect profile of her face as she sunk into the passenger seat.

  "She's a real firecracker," came a voice from beside me.

  "Yeah. I'm gonna have a lot of making up to do tonight."

  Chapter Seven

  ETTA

  "I don't wanna say that I hate you but I do kinda hate you a little bit."

  "Please, don't be mad."

  "I can't help it. Our bags are packed and sat in the car and we're still in this house. This house!"

  I wanted to tear it to pieces. Shove my hands through the walls and pull them down myself.

  "What are we doing here? We should be in Venice by now, sleeping in a palace! But, no, we're sat in this craphole surrounded by flaking wallpaper. It smells like a toilet in here, Linx. Please, can't we go and just get the place cleaned out while we're away."

  "But I want to be here to make sure everything goes smoothly. The cleaners are going to be here first thing in the morning and the decorators are on their way to size up the place. We're seriously going to gut the place out, start again, make it a sparkling new establishment filled with fun and laughter."

  "You said that earlier but forgi
ve me if I don't see it."

  I walked away, needing to get away from his constant chipper attitude. What had got into him? This was the craziest plan. Just insane!

  As I reached a red door at the end of the hallway, I realized I was standing in front of my old bedroom, the one I'd slept in when Lincoln had sat beside my bed and made everything okay. Pushing the door open, I expected to see it had been ransacked like all the others but was surprised to see it was almost like how I'd left it.

  The bedsheets had changed and a thick layer of dust had settled across the surfaces but the old threadbare carpet was the same and the wallpaper was still as dull as ever. Heaving the window open, the wood creaked and groaned before gaping open like a glass mouth in a silent scream.

  Leaning on the window ledge, I looked down at the fire escape to where I'd seen Roberta smoke her last cigarette. I could almost hear the girls still out there, gossiping beneath a cloud of smoke. Now it was all empty, a ghost house, just a husk filled with nothing but dust and memories.

  "Oh, here you are. I wondered where you'd run off to."

  Lincoln stood in the doorway, his immaculate, black suit a stark contrast to the faded floral wallpaper. He scratched the stubble along his sturdy jaw and laughed.

  "Hey, remember your first night here?"

  "How could I forget?"

  "We made love on this bed," he said and sat down on the edge.

  "If that's what you'd call it," I laughed.

  "Hey, I know you're mad at me but be nice."

  "Mad? That would be an understatement."

  He took my hand and pulled me onto his lap.

  "I'm sorry okay. It's really blown me sideways too."

  "I think you drove that way on purpose. You wanted to see the house."

  Desperately hoping he would deny it, I waited for him to shake his head and tell me it was all an accident. But he didn't.

  "Okay, maybe I did drive this way to see the house one last time."

  "You bastard!"

  I pretended to hit him in the chest and he caught my hands in his.

  "But I swear I didn't know it was going to be foreclosed and I definitely didn't realize the guy would be standing right there outside waiting to sell it to the first person who came along."