by Mia Taylor
“Fallon Rusholm! I can’t believe it!”
Her mouth parted slightly as she tried to place the tall redhead with sparkling emerald eyes.
Where have I seen her before?
“It’s me—Beatrice Wexley. From Pierpont High. Go Stingrays, right?”
Fallon still could not find words, possibly because they were lodged in the depth of her throat or maybe because she couldn’t understand how Bea Wexley was standing on a sodden sidewalk in downtown Ashbridge, striking up a conversation with someone that anyone could plainly see was homeless. They had nothing in common, not anymore. It was hard to reconcile they had ever shared a lunch table, let alone a conversation.
She did remember Bea, of course. The girl had been one of her only friends in their high school days.
Go Stingrays, indeed, Fallon thought with some bitterness.
It seemed an unlikely match: Bea, stately, rich and fire-haired with a brilliant white smile and outgoing personality while Fallon was shy, reserved and barely five feet tall, her mother a drug addict.
“You don’t remember me, do you?” There was hurt in her voice but Fallon quickly shook her head in denial.
“Yes, yes, I remember you,” she replied quickly, her voice gravelly for it seemed it had been days since she’d last used it. Fallon worried that the woman would leave her there, offended by her poor manners, and for reasons she could not understand, she wanted Bea to remain, if only to share another few words.
Beatrice seemed relieved as she chuckled, those ivory fangs gleaming against the gloomy sky, almost as if she was wearing a set of false dentures, but of course that was ridiculous; they were the same age. The only difference was Beatrice Wexley oozed of money and charm while Fallon had been subjected to years of hard living under terrible conditions.
“It’s great to see you, Fallon. I can’t tell you how many times I’ve told Daniel that I missed you,” Beatrice offered softly. An unexpected pang of emotion flooded through Fallon although whether it was due to being missed or the mention of Bea’s older brother, she couldn’t be sure. It had been seven years since she’d last seen either of the Wexley siblings. Surely they had forsaken her just as everyone else had managed to do. It had never occurred to Fallon that anyone had given her a second thought.
Yet Beatrice’s face emanated kindness and sincerity and Fallon found herself lowering her guard as she stared into the woman’s piercing green eyes.
“D-do you see Daniel often?” Fallon asked, her words sounding garbled to her own ears.
Beatrice laughed merrily.
“Well, we are brother and sister,” she replied nonchalantly. “Unfortunately, we don’t have much of a choice, especially not when there’s a business to be run.”
Another jolt of confused emotion slithered through Fallon and the ginger-headed woman peered at her, concern coloring her face.
“Come inside,” Bea urged. “You’re soaked to the core and I could use a coffee.”
She didn’t wait for Fallon’s response, turning her short bob away and hurrying toward the door, her matte Louboutins clicking and splashing against the sidewalk. It was only at that moment that Fallon realized Bea had been shielding her with an umbrella. As Beatrice moved, the rain found its way back against her skin, causing another round of chills to surface on Fallon’s body.
Nervousness flickered in her gut as she remained rooted outside the hipster coffee house, unsure of what to do. If she followed Bea inside and the mean blonde was behind the counter, a scene was sure to ensue but Fallon didn’t want to offend her old friend.
If I see the blonde, I can always make a run for it…
“Fallon! Come on!”
Bea’s white teeth blinded her once more as she waved a manicured hand in gesture.
It was all the motivation Fallon needed and before she could change her mind, she walked after her long-lost friend into the bustling store, blinking at the change of atmosphere.
The lights were surprisingly bright considering the darkness rolling in from outside and they hurt Fallon’s eyes somewhat, but she dared not complain. It was a relief to escape the weather, if even for a minute or two.
Everywhere she looked, students and businesspeople lounged in chairs, glued to electronics, whether a computer or cell phone. No one seemed to notice the presence of a woman who clearly had no business being among them. For that matter, no one bothered to check out the exquisite redhead either. They were just far too absorbed in their own worlds to notice anything but the screens before them.
Bea didn’t seem to care that she did not command the attention of everyone in the room even though Fallon thought she should.
“I’m feeling soup today. And a ham and Swiss. Have you ever had the ham and Swiss here, Fallon? It’s to die for.”
Beatrice’s voice refocused her attention and Fallon gaped at her slightly, unsure of how to respond. The mere thought of eating meat, even processed, made her mouth water. It had been two days since she had managed to find a scrap of food to eat and she had forgotten how to be hungry, her tiny stomach having shrunk so dramatically.
She shifted her dark eyes away from Beatrice who stared at her expectantly, but Fallon could not bring herself to explain that she couldn’t afford a cup of water in the joint, never mind a two-course meal.
“Fine, I’ll order for you,” she announced, spinning on a heel to look at the cashier who watched Fallon with cold eyes. “Two chicken vegetable soups and two ham and Swiss on a Kaiser.”
“She can’t be in here.”
Fallon lifted her head, her eyes resting on the barista for the first time. It was the dreaded blonde.
It was unsurprising; finding food was never as easy as that. There had to be some obstacle blocking her from obtaining nourishment.
“What?” Bea asked, smiling slightly as if she didn’t understand the punchline of the joke.
“She’s not allowed in here,” the girl insisted, her already annoying voice raising. “Jake! This one’s back!”
Fallon’s face flushed with humiliation and she turned to leave before another employee appeared to escort her from the store. She didn’t bother to explain her abrupt departure to Beatrice; it should have been self-explanatory anyway.
“How many times have we told you to stop harassing the customers?” The nasal pitch followed her as Fallon bolted toward the door. “And don’t come back!”
“FALLON!”
Beatrice’s voice stopped her as if it was a gunshot ricocheting through the walls. The entire establishment seemed to quiet, all eyes turning toward them, realizing for the first time that the real show was at the counter.
Slowly, Fallon turned, her face crimson with shame.
“I—I shouldn’t be here,” she explained to Bea whose face had twisted into a vastly unfamiliar expression. She seemed… enraged.
“Come back here, please.” Despite the politeness of the sentence, it was delivered through clenched teeth, Bea’s bright green eyes fixated on the barista.
“Ma’am, I don’t know what sob story she gave you, but this woman is a menace—”
“What is your name?”
The man who was presumably Jake appeared before Fallon, his obese body seeming giant next to her tiny frame. Fallon felt her insides clench as she tried to make herself scarce. She hoped Jake wouldn’t touch her; last time he had left bruises on her that didn’t heal for weeks.
“Britta.”
“Britta, did you hear my order?” Bea asked, her tone conversational but there was a layer of ice which prickled Fallon’s flesh.
“Ma’am, I’m sorry but—”
“No, I’m sorry but,” Bea mimicked. “Do you know who I am?”
“Please, Bea,” Fallon mumbled, but the ginger only held up her hand.
“Ma’am don’t force me to call the police,” Britta chirped, her pale face as red as Fallon’s. “Don’t cause a scene.”
“What did they do?” a teenager called out and Fallon realized that half th
e café had their cameras rolling as the drama unfolded. She dropped her head behind tangled chestnut strands, wishing to disappear. The last thing she wanted was to be the subject of a YouTube viral clip, even if she’d done nothing wrong.
At least this time I didn’t do anything wrong.
“I implore you to call the police,” Bea replied haughtily. “I’ll wait right here.”
The girl and the woman had a staring contest for what felt like an eternity to Fallon, but it was clear to see the blonde was losing her nerve against the super-composed Beatrice.
“You can tell them that Beatrice Wexley is standing in a store she owns, being threatened by a clueless millennial,” Beatrice continued. Fallon’s chin jerked upward to read the look on the barista’s face and realized that Beatrice was speaking the truth.
“Oh my God!” Britta squeaked. “I—I am so sorry, Ms. Wexley! I had no idea—”
“Obviously,” Beatrice sighed. “Now, will you stop being a brat and ring up our order?”
“Yes, ma’am! I’m sorry!” she blubbered. “If I had known—it’s just that woman—”
“That woman,” Bea spat, “happens to be a very dear friend of mine. Apologize to her at once!”
Britta’s face turned waxen, her jaw gaping slightly as she realized that disobeying the CEO would result in her dismissal.
“I’m sorry,” she breathed, her tone barely audible.
“I didn’t hear you. Fallon, did you hear her?”
“Yes,” Fallon said quickly, averting her eyes. It wasn’t her way to stick it to the blonde, no matter how much she might deserve it.
Beatrice eyed her high school friend worriedly.
“Fine. Ring it up.”
Britta swallowed visibly, miserably adhering to Bea’s instructions as Fallon reluctantly shuffled forward to rejoin her.
“I didn’t realize you owned this chain,” Fallon murmured as they took their number and wandered toward a table near the back of the shop. She idly wondered if that was the reason that she always returned to the café, as if some sixth sense was guiding her toward a lost sense of community with one of the only people who had ever shown her kindness.
Bea chuckled dryly.
“How would you? I haven’t seen you in years.”
They sat, facing one another for a silent moment, Fallon searching for something to say to her benefactor.
“I’m sorry,” they blurted out in unison. Fallon looked at Bea in surprise.
“Why are you sorry?” Fallon asked in disbelief. “You just stuck up for me against Britta!”
Bea grimaced at the mention of the girl’s name but she shook her short hair.
“I’m sorry I didn’t find you sooner, Fallon. It wasn’t for lack of trying, I assure you.”
A mirthless smile touched Fallon’s lips.
“What good what that have done?”
“Well, I suppose I would have been able offer you a job that much sooner then.”
Fallon gaped in shock.
“What?” she mumbled. “Why? I’m not qualified to do anything at all.”
Bea’s smile widened and for the first time ever, Fallon noticed a gleaming set of eyeteeth which seemed more fang than tooth.
“You sell yourself short. I remember how smart you were in high school. You can put your mind to anything.”
Fallon wasn’t sure she shared Bea’s confidence, but she didn’t want to seem petulant, lest the offer was genuine.
“Why would you do that for me?” she murmured, uncomprehendingly.
“Because that’s what friends are for,” Bea replied and for some reason, Fallon was filled with a great sense of unease.
Chapter Two
Life Before Daniel
It was surreal to Fallon but as the days passed, she slowly became aware of the fact that she was not, in fact, hallucinating. It had happened before, after all, when she had been so malnourished, the hours would blur into a haze of nothingness until she finally managed to sustain herself in some way.
How many times have I gotten through life by the skin of my teeth? Fallon thought. Could that struggle actually be behind me?
The week following Beatrice’s unexpected arrival in her life was unlike anything Fallon had known. For all the terrible experiences she had endured in her twenty-four years, she had never known kindness like that which Beatrice had bestowed upon her.
It felt too good to be true, but Fallon desperately tried not to look a gift horse in the mouth. She had known Bea for years, even if they had fallen out of touch. She had no reason to think warily of her old friend, but as she stood in her new apartment, scared to touch the stainless-steel appliances, her gut instinct told her that the gift horse was one of a Trojan variety.
From the depth of her handbag, a cell phone rang and Fallon started, still not used to the foreign sound of the electronics which belonged to her. For five years she had lived minute to minute in the same clothes. She could barely remember how to answer the phone, let alone understand the apps and gadgets which came with it.
I really am like a primitive animal, she thought, slightly disgusted with herself as she reached into the purse. There was only one person with the number but Fallon found herself staring at the screen in fascination as Bea’s face illuminated the screen.
“How’s it going?” Bea chirped. “Hungry?”
As soon as the words left Bea’s lips, Fallon’s stomach growled. She chuckled slightly.
“I guess I am,” she replied.
“Good. I’m sending a car for you. You’ll come to my place. I’m having a shindig.”
“A shindig?” Fallon mumbled, the two syllables rolling around in her ears like a foreign language.
“A party, a get-together,” Bea replied, her smile overtaking the screen. “You know.”
“Oh…” Fallon sighed. “I don’t think that’s a good idea, Bea…”
“Why not? Did Maurice not get you everything you need? I am going to kill that man—”
“No, no!” Fallon protested. “My wardrobe is overflowing.”
And it was. There were pants, shirts, skirts, blouses, suits and dresses until kingdom come. Accessories lined the huge dresser top and Fallon was sure if she lived to be a hundred, she would never wear everything that filled the walk-in closet of the two-bedroom condo in which Bea had set her up.
“Then what’s the problem?” the CEO demanded, her brow furrowing in genuine confusion. “There are some people I want you to meet.”
There was the problem—meeting other people. Even if her hair was clean and freshly styled into a flattering layered cut around her high cheekbones, Fallon was still a socially inept homeless girl in her own mind. What could she possibly have in common with a bunch of socialites and businessmen? She was having a hard enough time working in the quiet back offices at Ambrosia Inc. where Bea had her filing and learning data entry.
“When you get your bearings among the paperwork,” Bea promised her, “we’ll get you something in a higher paygrade. Think of this as starting in the mailroom.”
Fallon did not understand why Bea was going out of her way to help her, but she dared not bring it up again. She got the feeling that her gratitude was annoying her new/old friend.
“I—of course I’ll come,” Fallon offered breathlessly, determined not to offend Bea. “What time?”
“The car will be in the lobby at eight. It’s not too formal, don’t worry.”
Bea was gone before Fallon could speak again and the brunette stared at the phone blankly after the call disconnected.
Reluctantly, she set the device on the table and turned back to stare at the apartment, again wondering what she had done to be in the right place at precisely the right time.
Did Bea simply take pity on me or was she truly looking for me? I imagine my face must have been on the surveillance cameras at the coffeehouse and if she was truly searching for me, she might have seen me there. But that seems so farfetched, especially for a simple act of kindness
.
For her part, Bea never mentioned Fallon’s situation, not once. She didn’t seem to acknowledge that her school chum was homeless or that anything about their relationship had changed despite not having seen one another in years.
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Table of Contents