"One time," she said, in a voice he barely recognized.
He could handle that. He didn't think he'd get another chance. And he was ready, finally. His hotel was just around the corner. And he had protection in his wallet, made sure he did, since that day. In his wallet, in his pocket, in his gym bag, checked and replaced at the first indication of any fraying or damage to the integrity of the foil packet.
Later, when he finally got to use it, and she was moving astride him, he caught a hint of a small but genuine smile. He kissed it as if it would make it his, and not just slip back under the skin of whatever she was hiding as. This surprised her, and him, the timing of it, and she shuddered with release, against his lips, his body, prolonging that truth for a few moments longer.
FROM THE SAUCY SOCIALS BLOG
Anonymous (4 hours ago)
i met elizabeth madrid in a cousin's wedding.
Saucy_Social1 (4 hours ago)
Pic or you're a liar.
Anonymous (4 hours ago)
what's the point we know she's going to be dropped by christmas anyway
Anonymous (3.5 hours ago)
no one else thinks it's fishy that c-bitch loses her engagement ring and then makes a jewelry heiress her bff?
Anonymous (3.5 hours ago)
oh my god i just came back from a trip and i'm not updated—c lost her ring? my tita told me someone was selling it to her a few months ago! before or after?
Anonymous (3.5 hours ago)
if i know c, she's the one selling it. she has expensive habits.
Anonymous (3.5 hours ago)
then that explains new bff jewelry heiress nyahahahahaha
Anonymous (3.5 hours ago)
You people are so mean to C. What did she do to you? It's so sad that her priceless Sandoval ring got stolen. And she can't sell it anyway, wouldn't the Sandovals just want it back?
Saucy_Social1 (3.5 hours ago)
Is that you, Chrysalis? Get out of my blog.
Anonymous (3.5 hours ago)
maybe the sandovals were the ones buying it back. confirm?
Anonymous (3 hours ago)
why would they buy it back? they own it. they have lawyers in the family right? they should just sue her to give it back.
Anonymous (3 hours ago)
It was a gift. Sandoval family is classy, they won't buy back a gift.
Anonymous (3 hours ago)
are you in mars? stephen is family black sheep. family not as classy as before.
Anonymous (3 hours ago)
I can confirm that Chrysalis is trying to sell the ring. It was never stolen. She met Elizabeth "by chance" at a party in Singapore. And now they're best friends and last night at AR she gave C a ring that looks exactly like the Sandoval ring.
Anonymous (3 hours ago)
gad! is c returning a fake to the sandoval family? she's so cheeeeap!
Anonymous (3 hours ago)
No one said she was returning anything to the Sandovals. C-bitch probably selling 2 of the same ring! Double the drugs!
Saucy_Social1 (3 hours ago)
My sources say that C and E were at AR just a few hours ago. How do you know about the lookalike ring? PM me!
JANE
For a good, long minute, Jane forgot a lot of things.
She forgot where she was. She had drifted off into a nap for a second and woke up wondering if she was still in Queens, on her aunt's couch. No—Vancouver at her cousin's? No. Manila. Right. This was happening.
And then she took a deep breath and with it more sense memories came back, specifically last night, and this guy, who was obviously not a student of whatever that degree was, couldn't have accomplished half the things he said he had. But it didn't seem to matter to him, specifics, and she appreciated that. She wasn't going to be particular about things she couldn't provide herself.
Everyone fell in love while on the job, she knew that, but she had never actually lied all the way through. Much less with someone who seemed to enjoy it, or at the very least tolerated it. But what kind of future could they have together though, if they actually had to drop the act? Jane wasn't all that interesting, and she suspected neither was he.
Then she realized why she shouldn't be doing this. It was a shame to have someone learn exactly how to make her pant, and tingle, and scream, and in turn discover how to make him insane with a touch, a squeeze, a scratch—and then never have it happen again. What a waste of precious knowledge.
Her clutch was on top of the bedside table and it inched slightly away from her, phone buzzing. There was a message from Margaux.
Balyena wants to meet tonight. I've told C.
Jane almost giggled. The code for the buyer was accurate and yet rude, because it was never proper to refer to someone as a whale, in any language. Not that they were doing strictly proper things. In any case, this could all end tonight, if she played shrewdly, and then she could go back to being normal again.
She slipped out of bed, put her clothes back on, and prepared for a stealthy exit, not unlike Gabriel's from six weeks ago. She pressed a kiss against his earlobe, knowing that the level breathing was a ruse, and let herself out.
--O--
A shower, a cup of coffee, and a donut later, and Jane was feeling more in the zone. There was a problem but she was thinking through it, and the solution was starting to fall into place.
Margaux sought her out because Jane was talented at one particular thing, and she was going to give the woman her money's worth.
Acting rich was a crude way of putting it. What Jane was good at was playing into certain stereotypes. Blending into certain groups. And gaining the trust of certain people.
It served her well when she was younger, and in school, or in one of the many schools she went to. It became handy when she got a little older, and wanted to finance a certain lifestyle. It became essential when her mother checked out completely and expected Jane to keep up that lifestyle for the two of them.
The problem, Margaux explained, when they "accidentally" met at that breakfast café in New York City, was that "the bitch got greedy." Chrysalis and the Magnolia family weren't clean, and they knew Margaux from previous shady transactions. Chrysalis needed money, her parents no longer wanted to give her any, and she had (on her own) tried to make a claim for insurance money on her engagement ring from Stephen Sandoval, after reporting it stolen.
There was some fanfare behind it and it must have seemed easy at the time. Two of Chrysalis' closest socialite friends had gotten "bling ringed" by another friend, someone they had let in the group and started picking up things from their houses. C's ring was never actually stolen, but she on a whim announced that it had been, and tried to get the insurance money for it.
It didn't work out, Margaux said, because the child was an amateur. There was a police report later, bought and paid for, but the only response it got from the insurance company was a denial and that while the Sandoval family had been preferred clients for generations, Stephen Sandoval himself had not insured this particular gift. And that they would not have approved it, knowing that the precious item was going to be in the care of the notoriously flighty Ms. Magnolia.
Was there even a policy? Margaux asked. No, apparently, Chrysalis had only assumed it was insured because Stephen said so. Still screwing her months after the breakup.
Margaux suggested that she would be able to find a buyer for the ring anyway, even a famously "stolen" one.
Chrysalis warmed up to that idea. A meeting was set up, a buyer ("Dolphin") was met, but when Chrysalis found out how much someone was willing to pay for it she decided she wanted to keep it. And sell a copy instead.
At no point did Margaux think it was beyond her control though. Margaux was used to greed, and flakes, and people who appeared as one thing but were really another. But her ways didn't work as well with Chrysalis and her ilk now. She needed a younger face.
Jane cleared her throat. Her "Elizabeth" voice was drawn for somewhere near th
e back, a lower register, and she gave it slight lilts, vaguely reminiscent of a childhood in California. Then she took out her phone.
"C?" she said, when the person answered.
"Oh god I was going to call you. I haven't slept at all trying to get—"
"C, my mom wants us to go to Tokyo again. We're leaving at three. I can pick up the cash on the way to the airport."
"At three?"
"Well no. I have to be at the airport by one. Twelve-thirty?"
"Elizabeth, I haven't even showered—"
"Fine, I'll just take the ring with me to Tokyo."
"Fuck. How long will you be in Tokyo?"
"I don't know. It's a shopping trip."
"Can't you just leave the ring with me? I'll keep it safe, I promise."
"But it'll go so well with my outfits."
"Fuck. Can I call you back?"
"No problem. Am just packing."
Jane set the phone down.
A text came in five minutes later: All right. Pick up money at 12:30.
She sent messages to Margaux, Wendy, and Alexander, then ordered another donut. The Tokyo thing was a lie, but she was definitely going to start packing. This thing looked like it was very nearly over.
GABRIEL
There were times, and certain angles, when Caridad Pasensyosa reminded Gabriel of an aunt. His dad's sister, in particular, the one who always made the potato salad during Thanksgiving, the same salad that none of the family members touched and he had to eat for days after until it tasted funny.
They were both round, but sturdy and firm. When they smiled, their cheeks tensed up like unripe tomatoes. And they might be using the same shade of hair dye, which under the sun streaked gold.
But, he liked to remind himself, the worst thing his aunt ever did (that he was aware of) was make food that no one wanted to eat.
Caridad Pasensyosa embezzled from business partners, harassed family members of someone who dared lend her money, married off her youngest daughter to a sixty-year-old landowner up north. But what brought her to the attention of Gabriel in his line of work: she became extraordinarily wealthy during her two terms as a local official, wealth she continued to enjoy despite being denied another term.
It was a good reminder, always served like a kick to the shin. Any warmth from the aunt association always immediately left him.
Caridad liked taking him out to coffee, or dinner, or any meal in public he would agree to. He understood why, of course. In this city he was considered "somewhat good looking," handsome but always because he "looked like [an ever changing roster of people]." She wanted to be seen with him, but when people approached her in these public places she never actually introduced him to them. It would of course call into question why she was always out with a jewelry appraiser, because she knew him to be an appraiser, and he guessed she would rather the people speculate about her marital situation than her financial one.
This dinner seemed different, and he was glad to see that it might be one where actual business would take place. He was ready to take a break from Caridad Pasensyosa.
She asked to meet him at a Chinese restaurant in a five-star hotel. At a corner table set for two, amidst round tables set for ten, he found her and another woman. Between them, a duck that was missing two legs and most of one breast, and a plate of stray broccoli florets. He showed up for the dinner at the time she told him to arrive, and then realized that she had intended for him to join an hour into it.
"Raphael," Caridad said, brightening up, "This is Margaux."
He knew of her, of course, and searched Margaux's face for traces of mutual recognition. She smiled, like she would to any stranger, but she was also a bit taken aback.
"You didn't tell me you were expecting someone else, Caridad," she said.
"Raphael" took his seat, and Margaux unconsciously slid slightly away from him. He found that interesting.
"Nonsense. Raphael is my appraiser. I won't buy anything without Raphael seeing it."
Margaux eyed him. "He looks too young to be an appraiser."
"He studied gemology abroad and has worked in the industry for years. And I trust him," Caridad said.
There was a velvet box on the table, previously obscured by Caridad's hand. She popped it open and handed it gently to him. "What do you think, Raph?"
It was a beautiful ring, was what he first thought, but Caridad needed more than that.
"Are you planning to buy this?" he asked. He could feel Margaux tense up, in that her smile remained unnaturally there for longer than it should.
"I'm thinking about it," Caridad answered. "I hear it's one of a kind."
He took the piece by the band and lifted it out of its box, turning it over, peering into the inside of the band. "I'm guessing you don't have a GIA certificate for this."
Margaux shook her head. "No, I don't. It was a gift."
"Do you own it?" he asked.
"No," Margaux answered. "A friend does. I'm here on her behalf."
"Would your friend happen to be Chrysalis Magnolia?" That was said stage-whisper style, an attempt to create privacy in a large room. But the surrounding tables were full, and noisy, in their own worlds of birthday celebrations and reunions, and it seemed like no one else was paying attention to the corner table.
Caridad leaned back against her chair, impressed. When she spoke, she dropped her voice to nearly a whisper too. "So this is really hers? The same one from the Sandoval family?"
He cleared his throat. "There are ways to check. I can have this diagrammed and check it against a recorded plot diagram of the stone, if someone has it. I'll need a week and the right tools."
"Absolutely not," Margaux protested. "My friend won't agree to that. Any appraisal you do happens now, in front of me."
Gabriel turned it over, so the stone was facing him. He lowered it discreetly. "I didn't exactly think I would be working tonight, Caridad."
Caridad frowned, and pouted. "We're always working, Raphael. I'm sad that we can't come to an agreement on this."
Margaux made a show of sighing. "Look. There are other people interested in this. I came to you first, Caridad, because you've always been a good friend. But if you're going on the word of this guy—I'm sorry but I don't know you—then my friend will want me to talk to the others."
While she said this, Gabriel raised a hand and let the other fish something out of his pants pocket. He pulled out a loupe, a small magnification device. "I can do something," he said. He found the right light and angled the ring under the lens.
Gabriel wasn't really a gemologist. Nor was he an appraiser, even though he spent a lot of time and effort to get Caridad Pasensyosa to believe he was. But he did his homework, and he knew enough from this quick look to see that he wasn't looking at the Sandoval ring. Same mount, different quality of stone. He tilted the lens and ring slightly and hoped for the best.
Then he handed both to Caridad and told her to peer in.
"What am I looking at?" she said.
"The stone in the Sandoval ring has a natural flaw," he said. "When you look at it in a certain light, it might look like an S."
"I don't see…"
Gabriel took her wrist and shifted it toward him and then slightly inward. "This better?"
"I see an S! Maybe." Caridad's voice was tight, still trying to keep it down.
Margaux relaxed, uncrossing her legs. "That's interesting."
"So what does this mean?"
Gabriel took the loupe and ring from Caridad. The lens he put in his pocket, the ring went back in the box. "I don't have a professional response for you."
Caridad tapped his arm and shook him slightly. "What does this mean? I want to know now."
"It means that I didn't have the right tools to give you a professional appraisal, but I do know that the Sandoval ring's stone has a very distinctive natural flaw. You will be able to find someone who can verify that. And this ring's stone has a similar distinctive flaw."
"So y
ou can say that they're the same ring," Margaux said.
"I'm not saying that, professionally," Gabriel said. "I'm just saying that it's mounted the same way, and the stone I've looked at here has a similar flaw."
Margaux smiled, and looked at Caridad. "Is that good enough for you, Caridad? What are the odds of another one with the same design and flaw existing?"
"What is this worth, Raph?" Caridad was asking.
He shrugged. "I don't have enough information."
"It's worth whatever my friend says it is," Margaux jumped in. "Since there is nothing else like it out there. And there will be nothing else like it, because of the circumstances."
Gabriel didn't get it, honestly. Why someone would want to pay extravagantly to own something she couldn't ever wear, or even brag about possessing, because it was already famously "stolen." He knew, because he studied it, that people like Caridad saw this as an aspirational purchase, a misplaced connection to a status they wanted to achieve. As if owning a piece of it made one become it. It was often not the case, so this was all a waste of money. But it wasn't his job to understand it.
By now, Caridad's face had changed. It had taken on a look that meant she was about to engage in her kind of business. "Have you eaten, Raphael? I'm sorry we went and ate already. There's still some duck if you want."
He shook his head. "No, no, thank you, Caridad. I've already had dinner. Do you want me to give you some privacy? You probably have things to discuss."
"Yes, thank you, Raph," she said, but Caridad's thoughts were somewhere else already.
Margaux shook his hand as he stood up. "It was nice to meet you, Raphael."
He nodded, and stepped back from the table. On the way out of the restaurant he weaved through a different path from the one he took when he came in, making sure he passed by the bar, and the three people sitting there, specifically the one person who had deliberately turned away from him.
Young and Scambitious (A short story) Page 3