by J. J. McAvoy
The woman looked at me, waiting, and so I did as she said and sat on the couch.
“Yes, tell them we’re ready.” She directed the maid.
“Are you going to tell me your name or do I have to call you ma’am too?” I asked, reaching for the apple from the bowl of fruits on the table.
“Don’t be ridiculous.” She smiled, adjusting the ring on her finger. “We’re about to be family soon. You can call me Nari. I’m Ethan’s cousin.”
“Ethan?” I repeated. “Is that the grandson I’m supposed to be marrying or whatever?”
She stared at me as if I were crazy and then just shook her head. “One step at a time.”
And not a second later, the doorbell, which I didn’t even realize hotels had, rang. The maid walked to it and opened the door, allowing at least a dozen people to enter. They came like soldiers, standing in front of us for inspection.
“The first three will take care of your nails, waxing, and facials.” She pointed at the three women, who just nodded, and she went on directing them. “I want her nails an opaque cream color. You’ll need to add length but not much, oval-shaped. For the waxing and facial...”
She looked back at me, and I just stared at her, not sure what half of the words coming out of her mouth meant. So I bit into the apple…annoyed at how good it tasted and how much I enjoyed it. It was just a damn apple.
“Her eyebrows are full. Keep them that way with a slight arch. Nothing drastic or strong. Everything else removed. Luckily her skin isn’t the worst, thank Jesus. She’ll need a laser facial, though, and smoothing mask. Do you have bumps anywhere?”
“Huh?” I licked my lips, looking at her.
“Bumps? Acne? Zits? Anything on anywhere?” she asked again. “Don’t waste time and be embarrassed, just say it. They aren’t anyone.”
Jeez, they are standing right there. And yet when I looked at them they didn’t even look fazed, just waiting.
“Ugh, I have this ingrown hair under my chin—” I said. When I did, she grabbed my chin, lifting it up and nodding.
“Take care of it,” she told the women, who nodded. “Anything else?”
“Do bruises count?”
Her eyes widened. “Where?”
“My ribs and a few on my legs—”
“Make it a full body laser, and also add buttermilk to her bath,” she said to them. “I want it done every day she’s here and also send a message to the head maid at the mansion for the same treatment to be done once she arrives.”
“Yes, ma’am,” one of them spoke out, and when Nari nodded they took a step to the right and a slim, tall woman stood alone.
“Her teeth—”
“My teeth?” I put my hand over my mouth. “I hate dentists.”
“I can tell,” the bitch shot back and then looked at the woman.
“Whiten, and while I see nothing wrong with perfection, the Irish…well, they don’t need her to be perfect. Don’t cut her teeth to be seamlessly straight…but as close to it wouldn’t be bad.”
Did this woman just say cut? And teeth? What the hell?
Next up was one short man, who stood waiting for his orders.
“Drop your hoodie,” Nari said to me.
Doing what she asked, I watched as both of them grimaced.
“What?” I asked, running my hands through my blond hair.
“You can’t be serious.” Nari sighed deeply. “What have you been doing to your hair?”
“Wash, dry, repeat…again prison—”
“Isn’t an excuse for this one. I’m sure they have a comb at least.” She shook her head and looked at the small man. “Obviously, we’ll need to take care of the knots and length. If you must add, cut it and add extensions, but I’d prefer not. She’ll need whatever miracle you can pull but keep it long.”
He nodded and stepped to the side for the final four, two men and two women, to stand in front of her.
“Clothes,” Nari told me. “Stand.”
“You told me to sit.”
She stared, waiting, and I got up. When I did the two women came over.
“We’re going to measure you, ma’am,” they said to me. I made a face and just nodded, lifting my arms up and out, allowing them to do their thing.
“She’ll need shoes, heels nothing less than three and a half inches. Nothing more than five.”
“Five? I’m already tall for a girl!”
“Ethan’s six foot four.” She said it as if that was the only thing that mattered.
“And if I can’t walk in these shoes?”
“I’ll teach you. Can I continue now?” she asked but didn’t wait for me to reply before going on. “Also get her bedroom and bathroom slippers, monogrammed IC. For the clothes, enough for at least a month. I’m sure Grandmother will settle the rest. Have those sent directly to the mansion. She’ll need at least a week’s worth here. That includes nightgowns, underwear, and a few dresses. Our biggest priority now will be the gowns for Ethan’s party. I want those custom. Contact whomever and tell them we need them for Saturday. Any questions?”
No one spoke.
“Brilliant. Now please save her.” She smiled at me, leaning back in her chair.
“This way, ma’am.” The first three, in charge of the waxing and all that, said to me as they led me to the bathroom.
I couldn’t help but wonder.
What the hell had I signed myself up for?
And what in the hell would I look like after this was over?
NARI
“Well?”
Sighing, I poured myself a glass of scotch.
“Nari.”
“She’s not Callahan material,” I told him truthfully, looking out at the city lights. “That said, she’s not a pushover and has no problem speaking her mind even if she’s a little scared. And even though she’s scared she’s determined to do whatever she needs to do. Will she be loyal after she gets what she wants? I honestly don’t know. But she isn’t like other women, in that she’s blinded by the money. I could tell she was pretty, which is proof that she’ll look gorgeous when I’m done with her.”
“I hardly care about that.”
“You’re lying,” I muttered, sipping the liquid slowly. “Whether you realize it or not. There is no man who doesn’t want a beautiful woman on their arm. Especially the one who will be theirs permanently.”
“Anything else worth noting?”
I glanced back at the room. “She’s…”
“Are you going to finish your sentence or should I wait with bated breath?”
I faced the city again, replying, “She has no idea who you are. She knows the Callahan name. I’m sure she has some idea about the family, but other than that, she doesn’t understand the severity of it all.”
“Then explain it to her. I don’t have time to baby her.”
“No, you don’t…but you’re going to have to find time for a lot of things because she’ll be your wife, and that means for the rest of her life people will be after her. We all know how lonely the mansion can be.”
“So nothing else worth noting. Good night.” He hung up.
Putting the phone down, I finished off my drink and put the glass down.
“Ma’am?”
I turned around to see the hairstylist. “You’re done?”
“As much as I could do for the night. She demanded to sleep. She’s in pain,” he said.
“Fine. Leave.”
Nodding, he called the rest of them out of the room.
I waited for them all to leave before walking into her room. She lay on the bed, curled up in a ball, dressed in only her robe.
“Not bad,” I said as her legs were now smooth, along with her toes and fingernails. The mask on her face made it hard for me to see how her skin was there, but I was sure it would be better. Her hair was up in rollers.
“I was waxed in places I didn’t know needed to be waxed,” she whispered, staring up at the ceiling.
“You’re welcome,” I said back to he
r, taking a seat on the edge of the bed.
Tilting her head, her blue eyes, which looked so much more striking without her cat hair on her face, focused on me.
“So if I went to this Ethan the way I came here he’d think I was ugly.”
“He wouldn’t think of you at all,” I replied honestly. “For some reason women these days want men to love them the way they are naturally…while the thought is nice, in reality it means love me even if I put in no effort. Why? If you put no effort into taking care of yourself, even your own body rejects you and breaks down, so why demand that on another human being? Getting dolled up, as you put it, is only seen as negative by people who for whatever reason are unable to do so themselves. We judge books by covers. We judge restaurants and hotels by the décor. We judge. Accept it and make sure you are judged by the worth you believe you are.”
Sighing, she sat up, crossing her legs. “And by marrying him I’m worth a lot.”
“Today we spent almost a million on you.”
“What?” Her eyes went wide.
I nodded. “That million is like a penny dropped in the family vault…I only told you so you’d know that yes, you’re worth a lot.”
“I’ve hated your family for a long time.” She hung her head down. “I cursed you all every day of my life. I grew up with people who cursed you all. The Callahans, the Irish thieves, murderers…”
“Mobsters.” I finished for her.
“So it’s true.” She shook her head. “So you guys really sell drugs?”
“I own hotels,” I repeated back instantly.
And she rolled her eyes. “Yea. Yea.”
I smiled. “You’re just like my daughter.”
“You have a daughter?”
I lifted my finger for her to see the ring on my hand.
“But your name is—”
“Ms. Callahan?” I answered, nodding. “Yes. I’m Nari Callahan, the adopted daughter of Neal Callahan, Ethan’s uncle. My mother married him when I was young. He legally made me his daughter. My mother, who was once so poor she and her brother fought over food, rose to be the wife of a Callahan, a position she was often scorned for, and I was often harassed, of course only behind our backs. None of them dared say it to our faces. I knew the moment I got old enough I was never giving up my name. It was the only link I had to this family. Of course, my grandmother and cousins would always love me. However, the moment I changed my name I’d be no one again. My husband understands.”
“Ugh…” She groaned. “You know you’re the third person today who’s tried to make it seem like I was marrying into royalty or something.”
“Look around, Ivy,” I said, rising to my feet. “You are. If you struggle trying to merge the Callahan family you’ve always heard about and the one you’re seeing now, then just think of it that way. The Callahan family is American royalty. You are marrying the king. And in order to be a queen, you’ll need to get waxed in places you’ve never heard of, and get poked and prodded up and down and twice over. You’ll be expected to smile even though you want to scream and say everything is fine even when the sky is on fire…because that’s what queens do. They make beauty look effortless and fear pointless.”
As I walked toward the door, she asked, “When do I get the Callahan handbook to profound speeches? So far everyone has outspoken me, and my dad used to say I’m sharp-tongued.”
“It’ll be my wedding gift.”
Closing the door behind me before she could talk again, I glanced down at the ring on my finger and reminded myself that…
I loved my husband.
But I’d never let go of the name Nari Callahan.
Exiting the penthouse, both of the guards nodded at me. I entered the elevator, taking out my phone. It only had to ring once before he answered.
“And here I thought someone forgot about me.”
“I did not. Not all of us have free time to just lounge around all day.”
“Excuse you. First of all, after the stressful life I’ve lived, there is nothing wrong with resting a lot. Secondly, I don’t even get to rest now that I’m a bar and grill owner—ouch!” he hollered. “We own a bar and grill!”
Smiling, I shook my head. They never changed. “Dad, you and Mom might want to hold off on the opening. Ethan’s getting married soon.”
“When did you all get so old? Just yesterday you were all kids fighting over who got to get on the back of my motorcycle.”
“You let them on the back of your motorcycle?” My mom snapped at him.
“You can’t be angry about that now! It was ages ago.”
“Oh really, and not just yesterday?”
I could listen to them like this forever.
SIX
“Whoever believes that great advancement and new benefits make men forget old injuries is mistaken.”
~ Niccolò Machiavelli
IVY
“Holy shit!” I yelled, clasping my hands over my mouth, turning around to face the team behind me, and all I could say was, “Holy fucking shit!”
“Miracles do exist,” Nari replied, looking me up and down, then reaching into her purse to pull out debt cards and handing them to one of the people. “They go by the names Visa and Express.”
“The swelling really went down.” I leaned into the mirror, kind of scared of myself. It took three days for every single bump and blemish to be lasered away. All the bruises were gone too. I looked…I looked, well, like Nari, not physically but effortlessly beautiful like she said. “My hair bounces!”
“Okay, now you’re being embarrassing,” Nari said, signing the receipts as I ran my hand through my golden hair. I’d never used the word gold for my hair. But after they’d done their magic that was what it looked like, streams of gold sprouting out of my head. I was beautiful…really beautiful.
“Come on, let’s go.”
“Go?” I looked at her, everyone else already leaving.
She nodded, handing me a yellow clutch, which matched the yellow heels I was wearing perfectly. Both were “pops” of colors, added to the long-sleeved gray Carmen Marc Valvo Pleated Scallop Dress I wore. Words I still didn’t understand, but whatever.
“I’m glad you like it. However, right now I’d like to see how everyone else reacts. Come on,” she said, walking to the door.
“Everyone else?”
“People in the hotel. Think of it like a road test while we get brunch,” she said. When I stepped into the hall, the two men who stood guard behind me moved for the first time in three days, or at least I saw them move for the first time, to stand beside us…me…while Nari called for the elevator. It arrived quickly, and the same bellboy stood waiting.
“Good afternoon.” He nodded at us and his eyebrows came together when he looked at me. He stared even as I walked to stand behind him, his gaze meeting mine in the reflection of the elevator doors. Finally, when we neared the ground floor of the elevator he shook his head as if he’d ridded himself of whatever he was thinking.
“Have a good day,” he said when we got off.
“That was good,” Nari replied, standing beside me. “He came to the conclusion there was no possible way you could be the same woman who was brought up three days ago.”
“He was the test?”
“Part one.” She nodded and then looked down the lobby. “This is part two.”
I didn’t know what she meant and followed her toward the hotel restaurant. I was so busy doing my best to match her pace and not twist my ankle that I didn’t pick up on the looks I was getting until she pointed it out.
“When you first came here people stared at you because you didn’t look like you belonged,” she said, and I nodded. “Now the men are staring at you because they’re attracted to you and the women are annoyed you’re stealing their spotlight.”
I glanced around and caught more of those stupid leers guys did when they thought you were interested in them. I didn’t notice the girls because they weren’t looking or looking out of
the corner of their eyes. It wasn’t like everyone stopped to stare at me, but there were people who did. Some were even looking at her.
“Welcome, ladies,” the hostess said at the restaurant entrance. “Table for—”
“Two,” Nari replied, and the woman nodded, leading us back through the restaurant until we sat by a glass waterfall.
“Your server will be right with you,” the woman said to us before leaving as we sat.
“Do people not know you own this hotel?” I asked.
She lifted the glass, inspecting it, which should have been a dead giveaway, but then again she could just come off uppity. “We opened this hotel last year. I’m sure they don’t know and it’s better for me to inspect when…”
“What?” I asked when she stopped speaking.
She shook her head. “We aren’t here to talk about me. Congrats, you now look good enough to be seen out with me in public. Now we need to work on your education.”
Oh no. “Please don’t tell me you’re going to have to teach me about salad forks or something.”
“Hardly. Whatever you want to eat your salad with is your choice. This is far more important,” she replied, lifting her hand out, and one of the guards, who were surprisingly easy to forget about, handed her a tablet and me one as well.
“The family,” she said and a family tree appeared on the screen. The first photo of… “My grandmother, Evelyn Callahan.”
Beside the picture was a photo of a handsome young man, maybe in his mid-forties.
“Sedric. My grandfather. He was murdered when Ethan was a baby. None of us knew him, but Evelyn visits his grave every week,” she said with ease.
“She really loved him,” I whispered, seeing all the photos of them together.
“Yea,” she said as if it was nothing and clicked to the next picture of three men. “Sedric and Evelyn had three children. Neal, my father, their first son. I, as I told you, was adopted. And my parents later had a son, whom they named after my grandfather, Sedric. He is currently the starting pitcher for the Chicago Cubs, something my father will brag about to anyone who will listen.”
“He’s so—”