“Are you a person or a robot?”
“Does it matter?”
“No! Yes! I just—”
“I’m very busy right now. Walk up the drive, someone will get you water and some sunscreen, then you can leave.” The speaker box clicked off.
I stared at the box. How rude!
The box clicked on. “I’m going to close the gate now. You’d better come inside. I’m not opening it again.” Despite his generosity, something about his tone was extremely irritating.
I wanted to shout, YOU AND YOUR WATER CAN FUCK THE FUCK OFF!!
Instead, I rushed through the gate. It trundled closed behind me as I walked up the drive, which was really a full-fledged road covered in stone pavers. It curved up through the trees and emerged on a huge circular parking area. A tall fountain sat in the center. Life sized winged stone cherubs floated around a bunch of life sized naked stone maidens. The cherubs spat streams of water into the surrounding pool and the maidens poured it from vases. The fountain looked like the kind you’d see in a huge town square somewhere in Europe, not a Brentwood mansion.
Didn’t the asshole owner know we were having a drought?
I considered climbing into the fountain and dunking my head in the water and drinking like a wild animal, but I could smell the chlorine and I didn’t want to get any sicker. I could splash through the stupid fountain on my way out. If the jerk who owned this place acted any jerkier, I would squat and pee in it.
The parking area held about ten cars and had room for more. BMWs, Mercedes, and Bentleys, or whatever rich people drove when they weren’t driving their Ferraris. There was also a Ferrari. And a brand new blue Lamborghini. I had to walk around the back of it to read the logo on the trunk, but it was the real deal. It looked like a blue spaceship.
The huge two story house was old and unkempt. It reminded me of one of those decrepit rundown mansions you saw in movies like Sunset Boulevard or The House on Haunted Hill. Or maybe that hotel from The Shining. I shuddered at the thought. I’m sure whoever lived here was equally creepy.
“Did you want your water or not?” The voice was an irritating baritone that would’ve been sexy if it didn’t sound so impatient with me. The owner of it stood in front of the elaborate wood and leaded glass double front doors. Based on our speaker box conversation, I had expected him to look like a real life version of mean old Mr. Burns from The Simpsons and be wearing a velvet smoking jacket. Instead, he wore a dark sleek three piece suit with a conservative tie and matching pocket handkerchief. The suit looked as expensive as the Lamborghini and way too hot for this weather. Unlike Mr. Burns, this guy was movie star handsome. Early 30s at the oldest. Clean shaven with thick chestnut brown hair swept back in an elegant wave over his flawless features. The suit hugged his broad shoulders and narrow-waisted body. Not a body builder, but clearly a fine physique underneath.
He frowned at me, “I don’t have all day.”
“Sorry for being dehydrated in your neighborhood. The next time I’m dying of thirst, I’ll make sure it’s in a poor neighborhood where the people are nicer.”
He looked amused. In an angry way. “There’s plenty of water in the fountain. You can always drink that.”
I scowled, “I considered going for a swim, but I don’t want to endorse your wasting of water. We are having a drought, you know.”
“Then I guess you don’t want my water.”
“I knew you were an asshole!”
I wasn’t normally like this, but I was extra irritable because of the heat and the dehydration and the way Zack had treated me earlier. And that jerk Blaze, my new neighbor. And this handsome jerk. And that jerk Mike. And my blood sugar was probably low because I’d been walking for hours on an empty stomach.
Rich Guy slid his hands in the pockets of his slacks and glared at me. “Shut up. Get inside. Have a bottle of water. Then you can go. I have business to attend to.” He turned and went through the open door, leaving it wide open.
I’m sure he had the air conditioning running full blast in this heat and had no concern for the energy he was wasting by letting all the cool air leak out. Unlike him, I made energy conservation a priority. So I ran up the stone steps and shut the door behind me, but only because I was dehydrated and needed water and wanted to conserve energy.
Not because Rich Guy was impeccably gorgeous.
I didn’t care about him.
Once I drank as many bottles of his water as I wanted, I would tell him where to shove the rest of them. And to set his A/C no cooler than 78 degrees because you know an icy asshead like him set it at 70.
Total butt clump with no respect for the environment.
Chapter 6
The grand entrance inside the house was breathtaking.
A patterned marble floor stretched from wall to wall. Twin arched staircases curved around the circular walls. Overhead, an enormous crystal chandelier hung from a cathedral ceiling. I felt bad for whoever had to set up scaffolding so they could dust this place. Centered below the chandelier was an ornate rococo table with a huge flower arrangement of what appeared to be two hundred or more fresh cut roses. I stepped up and sniffed. Yup, they were real.
Apparently, the rich butt clump owner of this place was richer than he was annoying, which I had thought impossible. I shook my head. People with too much money were ridiculous.
Best get my water and get out of here. But I didn’t see a butler with a platter and a water glass, or the ridiculously hot owner.
To my right, a twelve foot tall arched mirror was set into the wall. Who needed a mirror that big? A giant? More like a giant ass. Or giant asshead. Make that Mr. Giant Asshead.
Where was he?
And where was my promised water bottle?
There it was.
Behind me on a small folding table stood an opened pack of water bottles. A few had already been removed. I grabbed one and twisted off the cap and guzzled it. I felt better already.
Where was Mr. Giant Asshead?
He sure wasn’t hospitable beyond the bare minimum.
Now that I had my water, was it time for me to go?
Well, he had mentioned sunscreen, but I didn’t see any on the table. What I did see was a guest book of some sort. Beside it was a glass fishbowl with a few business cards inside. I read several of them. Antique dealers, art collectors, jewelers. Sounded like an estate sale to me.
I’d been to estate sales before. Not at an estate like this. Just regular homes. But they were all the same, right? You walked around, picked out what you liked, then paid for it on your way out.
I probably couldn’t afford anything the giant asshead was selling, but he did owe me some sunscreen.
Time to go look for it.
I wandered from room to extravagant room. This place reminded me of those old mansions from the 1930s and 40s you saw in black and white movies, but in full faded color. I doubted the decor had been changed since this place was built. What had probably once been the height of high fashion now seemed worn out and dreary, giving this place an abandoned quality, a pervasive loneliness that seeped from the walls. Whatever grandeur it had had was now long gone.
It was sad, really.
After leaving the drawing room, I found myself in a humongous kitchen. Dusty copper pots hung above an enormous butcher block island. Two gas ranges with eight burners apiece sat side by side against one wall. Ten cooks could work this kitchen. Through the windows, I saw a huge pool surrounded by slate tiles and the backyard garden. They had probably thrown huge parties here back in the day, filling this place with life and laughter, but those days were a distant memory.
In the far corner, a narrow staircase angled upstairs.
Since Asshead was nowhere to be found and I still didn’t have my sunscreen, I decided to continue my search. At the top of the stairs, I opened a narrow door and found myself at the end of a long hallway.
The sudden sound of voices startled me.
I dove through the first set of d
oors I found and listened to the voices. The one doing all the talking was definitely Mr. G.A., but I couldn’t make out what he was saying. When the voices faded, I relaxed and looked around.
This gloomy room was obviously the master bedroom. The opulent four poster bed was a dead giveaway. But what really snagged my attention was the mammoth vanity with Hollywood style light bulbs framing the big mirror. I didn’t normally like looking at myself more than necessary, but something about that vanity gave me a sense of that old Hollywood magic, the kind where anyone could be glamorous with the right lighting and the right makeup. I sat down on the vanity chair and found the light switch. The bulbs popped on blinding bright.
I pushed my glasses up my nose.
For once, I sort of liked the way I looked.
It had to be the lighting. It washed out my features or something.
If I wanted to go full glamour girl, I needed makeup at the very least. I opened vanity drawers at random. They were filled with old makeup bottles, makeup brushes, antique brass and sterling silver lipstick tubes, bottles of cold cream, perfume, tortoise shell compacts, hairbrushes, and everything else a Hollywood starlet needed to make herself beautiful. I opened some of the bottles and jars. Everything was so old I was afraid to touch it. It probably all had lead in it. Or asbestos. Or talcum powder at the very least.
In other drawers I found plenty of jewelry. Most of it costume but some of it looked really expensive. The pearl necklaces looked real to me, but I wouldn’t really know. I felt guilty going through all of it. Makeup was one thing, but I was starting to feel like a thief.
That didn’t stop me from trying on some of the elaborate costume necklaces and bracelets. Just for fun. I also dangled a few earrings up to my earlobes.
“You look fabulous, darling,” I muttered to myself, shaking my head so the earrings sparkled in the Hollywood lights. I put them back in the drawer with the others. It was probably time for me to go.
But I still needed sunscreen for the walk home.
I opened one more drawer.
Inside was a white jewelry box that was covered in Asian-themed carvings. Very exotic. Dozens of tiny people covered every square inch of the box. If the box had been new, I would’ve said it was made of plastic. But it looked old and had the creamy look of real ivory.
I’m sure the box alone was worth a fortune.
But what was inside?
I had to find out.
I reached down to pick it up but I hesitated.
Oddly, I had the strange premonition that opening this box was a bad idea.
That was crazy. It was just a jewelry box. I wasn’t going to steal anything. I wasn’t that kind of person. So what was I worried about? I mean, it wasn’t like this was Pandora’s box. It didn’t look that old. I was fairly confident that all the world’s evils were not trapped inside. So if I opened it, I wouldn’t obliterate all of humanity.
That was just a folk tale.
So I took the box out of the drawer and laid it on my lap.
Then I lifted the lid.
I gasped when I saw what was inside.
Chapter 7
Wow.
The ivory jewelry box was filled with rings.
Diamond rings.
And emerald and ruby and sapphire, and every color of precious stone you could imagine, all set in gold or platinum rings that appeared equally priceless. They were arranged in neat rows on black velvet.
I slapped the lid shut.
I knew what costume jewelry looked like.
This was not costume jewelry.
All the stones were huge. I didn’t know much about karats, but I knew there were more karats in this jewelry box than Bugs Bunny could eat in a lifetime.
I opened the lid again.
Why were sparkly things so hypnotic?
Who cared.
I stared.
Despite having a decent paying job at the 95 Cent Store, I wasn’t exactly stashing away bundles of cash every month. After paying $1,500 for my one bedroom apartment, more on my car payment, more on insurance, groceries, gas, and every other over-priced LA thing, I hardly had any money left over at the end of the month. I wasn’t making much forward progress in my life. Not with men and not with my career. But I could make a lot of forward progress with one of these rings…
Or two.
Or three.
I slammed the lid shut.
No. I wasn’t that girl.
It wasn’t like I was on the verge of being homeless. I didn’t need to stoop to stealing from someone who’d been nice enough to invite me inside his house and give me water, even if he had been 70% rude and only 30% polite.
One more look didn’t make me a thief.
I opened the lid.
Wow, wow, wow.
So incredibly sparkly…
Sometimes you could only get a good look with your fingers.
I started picking up rings and examined each one closely, watching them shimmer in the vanity lights. I’d always loved blue sapphires, and one of the rings had a huge blue oval stone. I held it near my ring finger and tried to imagine I was wearing it. It occurred to me it would look better if I actually slipped it on. Just to see it the way it was meant to be seen. I wasn’t going to steal it.
I held the ring just above the tip of my ring finger, ready to put it on.
One pressing thought gave me pause.
It was highly unlikely that I’d slide this ring on my finger and it would get stuck, right?
No, that never happened in situations like this.
A lump formed in my throat and I was suddenly convinced Mr. G.A. was standing right behind me, boring a hole on my back with his hateful glare while watching my every move. Shaking with guilt, I slowly twisted around in the vanity chair to look.
I sank with relief.
I was all alone.
I carefully set the ring in the box and put everything away.
I sagged back in the chair and shut my eyes, taking a deep calming breath. My heart was still racing.
“Find anything you like?” Mr. G.A. asked in his imposing baritone.
“Oh!” I nearly jumped through the twelve foot ceiling. “You just scared the crap out of me!” Now my heart was hammering.
He chuckled, flashing his disarmingly adorable dimples. “What are you doing in here?”
“Looking for sunscreen!”
“Are you sure?”
You mean, did I steal your priceless jewelry?
I blurted, “No! I mean yes! Sunscreen! I thought maybe there was some in here!”
He gave me a strange look before walking into the room.
My fear spiked as he approached because I suddenly realized I was clutching something hard and round in my hands. Something that felt suspiciously like a ring.
Shit! How did that get there? I’d put them all away! At least, I thought I had.
I clamped my fingers tightly around it.
If he caught me clutching one of his priceless rings, he’d have me thrown in jail. What was the cutoff between petty theft and grand larceny? I think it was something like $500. Every ring I saw in that box had to be worth a hundred times that. Or a thousand. I cringed and squeezed the ring in my hand as hard as I could and shoved my fists into my crotch. There was no way I would let him see it.
I was not a thief!
It was an accident!
Mr. G.A. pulled up his slacks and sat down on top of the vanity, calling attention to his crotch, which was now inches from my face. Sure, he wore a suit and slacks, but it was RIGHT there and made me forget all about the ring in my hands. For a second. I had to stare. At his crotch. But only for a second. What was I going to do about this ring? I had no idea. My eyes flicked up and met his. I gave him the guiltiest grin ever.
He smirked a dimple at me. His eyes flickered like chocolate diamonds as priceless as the gemstones in the jewelry box. “Something catch your eye?”
“Ha! Ha! Ha!” Did you mean your crotch or the ring I stol
e or your eyes or all three? I tore my eyes away from his. If I looked at them much longer I was going to spill my guts, hand him the ring, and beg his forgiveness.
“Are you okay?” He placed gentle fingers beneath my chin and lifted it an inch so he could examine my face. “I’m starting to worry you have heat stroke like you said.”
His touch made my entire face tingle. The only truly handsome man (other than my dad) who’d ever touched me with this much tenderness was my childhood dentist, hot Dr. Becker. Chelz and I used to swoon about him when we were kids. But Dr. Becker’s touch never tingled like Mr. G.A.’s touch. I was so nervous I blurted, “Yes! Heat stroke! My brains are addled! From all the heat!”
“Addled? You don’t look addled.”
“Oh no, I totally am! Addled to the max!” I shook my head and said, “Rattle, rattle, rattle!” I couldn’t help but giggle. My glasses slid down my nose, so I pushed them up with a smile. “See? Totally addled.” Somehow, his glimmering chocolate gaze made me feel relaxed.
He leaned back on the vanity and planted his hands behind him on the table top, breaking contact with my chin, much to my disappointment. But his face lit up with a friendly smile. “You’re too funny.” He was genuinely amused.
Why did I suddenly feel incredibly bashful? Oh, because the male runway model in the slick suit was… Was he actually flirting with me? If he was, it was just out of politeness. But I was still flattered.
“Is there a reason you’re squeezing your hands in your lap?”
“Um, I really have to pee?”
“My bad. I’m being completely rude. You can use the bathroom in here.” He nodded toward the door in the corner.
I glanced at it. A sense of hope seized me and I shot to my feet. I could easily leave the ring in the bathroom in a medicine cabinet or wherever, and he wouldn’t find it until after I was long gone. “Great!”
“One thing before you go.”
“Yeah?”
He held out his hand to shake mine. “I don’t think I ever caught your name.” But he was about to catch me red handed.
I clutched the ring as hard as I could. “Oh, uhh… Jane. I really have to pee. Can we talk after?”
If I Were Beautiful (If I Were... #1) Page 5