Dawn of Revelation

by A N Sandra

  Rodney’s staff meeting ended with everyone being sent back to finish their day at work, although they all gathered at the bar for a drink at the end of the shift, before they dispersed back to their homes and lives. There was no idle chatter, there were no jokes, there was a visible tension through the group, distinctly different from the hum of adrenaline that usually kept Crackhouse going. As everyone filed out the back door before Rodney locked up, they looked at each other differently. They weren’t coworkers, they were competitors, in an unnamed game that none of them wanted to play.

  “I’m not giving up my whole career so that maniacal witch can make me look bad for her own jollies,” Sadie said as she, Maddy, and Tilly nursed large glasses of red wine back at Tilly’s flat. Both Sadie and Maddy sat on a loveseat sized futon covered in fuchsia denim. “I’ve been acting since I was three!”

  “I saw you in those diaper commercials,” Tilly joked. She leaned back against a wing chair she had upholstered herself from an old mink coat that had belonged to her grandmother. Tilly always managed to find a way to use every scrap of material she could get her hands on.

  “Do you have any family connections who can help?” Maddy asked. “Or connections in the business?”

  “Not who could stand up to the Hollisters,” Sadie said. “If I had good connections I’d be working on Broadway instead of waiting tables right now. But if the three of us work together maybe we can stop her from making total fools out of us.”

  “I’m in,” Maddy said. “Everyone who tangles with the Hollisters seem to lose. If we’re going down, we’re not going to look worse than we have to.”

  “She’s going to start that stuff where she plays people against each other right away,” Tilly said. “I know that kind of girl. And she is the richest and the best at her game.”

  The three of them leaned back into their seats and sipped their drinks in silence for a moment. Tilly’s two hundred and eighty square foot flat was a legacy from her grandfather whose friend owned the building. Every inch of the flat was covered with something. TIlly’s dressmaking dummy was by the one window next to her sewing machine wearing a flowing wedding dress. Bright yellow pots were hanging on her wall over the small hot plate and sink she called her kitchen, and a vintage chrome rack sat beside the sink full of her grandmother’s Fiestaware.

  “We’ll get some ideas from The Art of War,” Maddy suggested. “I haven’t read it for a year—”

  Tilly’s phone buzzed. Molly Hollister was on the caller ID. Tilly showed Sadie and Maddy her phone screen. All three of them looked at the phone as if it were a spider that might jump if they didn’t squash it correctly.

  “Take it!” Maddy urged. “Listen to what she has to say!”

  Tilly answered in an artificial tone of voice, trying to sound confident and cheery. Fortunately, Molly didn’t want to chat on the phone. Unfortunately, she wanted to send a car to bring Tilly to her house for drinks that night.

  “Shit,” Maddy grumbled. “She knows you’ll have been drinking already. She wants to catch you off guard.”

  “She’s not going to,” Tilly promised, already looking for her lip-gloss amidst the jumble of makeup on her dressing table. Once she had lip-gloss she began to fling shoes in an attempt to find a match to the one in her left hand. “This will be a spy mission.”

  Molly’s driver met Tilly at the curb and helped her in the car without a word. Tilly looked out the window at the summer night enveloping the city streets as the car eased its way toward Hollister Towers.

  The Hollister Penthouse was designed to be imposing, and it was. In fact, as Tilly entered the foyer, she had not known so much wasted space existed in Manhattan at all. The foyer itself seemed to take up a whole acre and was painted a dreamy blue with a hint of clouds, evoking a lovely sunny day, while sparkling gold and crystal accents reminded visitors that the Hollisters had more money than anyone else.

  “I’m so glad you could come on such short notice!” Molly entered the foyer in perfectly tailored sweatpants and a tank top that showed that she did work out. Her blonde hair was pulled into a ponytail at the base of her neck and she wore only the slightest trace of makeup.

  Tilly reflected that probably no one refused an invitation from Molly, even if they were in the very middle of intercourse. Not that Tilly had a boyfriend or had been in danger of such an event that evening.

  “I wouldn’t have missed it,” Tilly said, truthfully.

  Molly pulled Tilly through the penthouse and Tilly tried not to stare at the opulent surroundings like a back-country hick. They entered a small tea room that was set up with a martini shaker and tall martini glasses on peacock napkins.

  “Can I pour you a drink?” Molly offered.

  “Of course,” Tilly replied, sure that the world was upside down. Twelve hours before she had been terrified of serving Molly, and now Molly was serving her. The cocktail was superb, and Tilly reminded herself it probably was much more potent than it tasted. She would have one and switch to tea or water if it wasn’t offered although there was a teapot clearly steeping something beside the cocktail shaker.

  “I’m so thrilled to have you on my reality show!” Molly gushed, and Tilly found herself warming to Molly in spite of her better instincts. “I’ve been following Crackhouse since it opened last year, and I had a couple of other places in mind for my show, but when I saw the staff profiles Rodney put up on his website I knew I had to have it!”

  Tilly damned Rodney for putting up the profiles, a silly piece of outdated social media if she ever heard of one. Of course it had been Molly’s junior high fantasy to crush people like Tilly, Maddy, and Sadie. This is what came of putting up more information about your business than necessary on the web. Rodney sucked.

  “How is the show going to work?” Tilly asked as casually as she could. As if her future didn’t depend on it.

  “Oh, I can’t tell you yet,” Molly said. “I’ll tell you when we start filming and then you’ll be in love with the concept! I can tell you the grand prize, though…” She looked at Tilly like a cat about to pounce and all the warm feelings Tilly had faded in that moment.

  Look interested, Tilly told herself. Look like you care more than anything!”

  “Ten million dollars!” Molly said.

  “That’s more than any other show offers—” Tilly was flabbergasted at the amount.

  “Exactly. We’ll compete for six weeks, starting next week, and at the end of that time the viewers will choose the final winner! But I’ll weed out some people and the staff will weed out other people too.”

  Of course, she’s going to turn best friends against each other, and treat us all like puppets.

  “It probably didn’t need to be ten million,” Tilly said, wondering why she was trying to save Molly money. Wasting money on that level seemed immoral. But it would be life changing. Tilly would be able to fund her own design house right in Manhattan.

  “I want this to be the most watched reality show this year, and it will be,” Molly said confidently. “It’s not just the prize money that will be a big draw. I’m going to bring on lots of celebrity guests. Lots. I have a lot of famous friends!”

  Tilly wondered about that, though. Where were Molly’s friends? She hadn’t brought one to witness the purchase of Crackhouse that afternoon, and she didn’t have any over now. Did Molly have friends? And if she did… what on earth would they be like?

  “I can see you care about fashion, Rodney put up on his website about the great internship you had with Marla last year. I know Marla…”

  Tilly knew that Molly did know Marla. Marla’s haute couture house had almost not survived Molly’s mother’s refusal to pay an outstanding six figure bill after she wasn’t happy with one dress two years before. Marla was running her shop with a bunch of unpaid interns and living off cheap street tacos trying to keep her business going because Melissa Hollister wouldn’t pay up. Furthermore, Melissa Hollister was often photographed wearing the clothes that were
not paid for. Don’t show fear, Tilly coached herself, allowing another sip of the perfect cocktail past her lips. Deep interest is all I should be showing now.

  “I’m going to have my own favorite designers make all the clothes for everyone-”

  “Could I wear clothes I designed myself?” Tilly asked.

  “Yes, of course, but you need to get pictures to my wardrobe person ASAP.” Molly ploughed through her cocktail, and suddenly the burst of energy she had been directing at Tilly seemed to evaporate.

  Tilly wanted to ask to go home but knew that the whole evening was Molly’s game.

  “It’s pretty hot out there still,” Molly said. “You can stay in my guest room if you like, or I can get my driver to take you home.”

  Tilly felt sorry for Molly’s driver, who probably just wanted to go to bed, but she wanted to go home. She wanted to tell Sadie and Maddy about the prize money and the celebrity guests. They would both be asleep on her couch since they didn’t have to work in the morning.

  “Could you send me home?” TIlly asked. She wondered if the invitation were some sort of test. If it was she didn’t have the wits or energy to navigate a maze of emotion after working all day and several cocktails that evening.

  Molly leaned back in her wing chair with a contented look on her face. She really did remind Tilly of a cat, one of the female lions at the zoo, perhaps, and she reached for her phone to call her driver. The two young women wandered back through the penthouse to the foyer, when a mysterious man brought Tilly her hat and handbag.

  “I’m so looking forward to getting to know you better!” Molly enthused as Tilly struggled to know what to say. With easy grace Molly reached out and hugged Tilly, who hugged her back awkwardly.

  All the way down the elevator Tilly resisted the urge to call Sadie or Maddy. She also resisted the urge to call from the lobby of Molly’s building, Hollister Tower, or from Molly’s car.

  “Thank you for taking me home so late,” Tilly said graciously to the driver, who didn’t answer except with a very brief nod. He was probably exhausted, since he had been driving Molly earlier in the day and it was extremely hot out still, even so late. Tilly made a mental note to use that in the reality show. Molly worked people too much. Her own people would probably make mistakes when they were tired. Tilly was well aware that she was really competing against Molly, no matter what the game was.

  She started to text Sadie, when she realized her phone was not exactly how she had left it in her purse. Tilly had a special pocket she always put her phone in, and it was not in that pocket, although her phone was right next to that pocket Had Molly instructed someone to mess with her phone? It seemed unlikely, but Tilly had a bad feeling. She checked it before putting it back in her purse. Her brother Dan was an electronics guru. He would look it over for her the next day before she used it again.

  Just as she had suspected, Tilly found Sadie and Maddy asleep on her overstuffed couch with the television on. To avoid paranoia over her possibly bugged phone, Tilly took her whole purse and put it in her underwear drawer in her dresser before she woke them up to tell them about the meeting.

  “It feels weird not to have to work today,” Sadie mumbled as she stirred cream into her coffee at Tilly’s kitchen table.

  “It’s going to feel weirder if our bills don’t get paid,” Tilly said.

  “Aw, your gramps pays for your whole flat,” Sadie said. “He’s not going to turn you out on the street.”

  The thought of Tilly’s gramps made her smile. Of course, he never would turn her out, because he was proud of her efforts in the fashion industry. He was proud of the clothes she made, the internship with Marla, costumes she made for Halloween parties that paid for all her dressmaking supplies since high school. Tilly kept her hostessing job at Crackhouse so that she didn’t take advantage of her Gramps more than she already did. The thought of Gramps seeing Tilly look foolish on television strengthened her resolve to stand up to Molly.

  “I’m moving back to my mom’s today,” Maddy said suddenly. “I decided last night. That way I can hide in Connecticut without much fuss if things go wrong. I’m going to rent a van and just move my stuff home today. If I can stay with you when we start filming this show.”

  “You can, but if she turns us against each other it won’t be nice,” Tilly said. The thought of living in her tiny flat with enemies turned her stomach a little.

  “We’re not going to let that happen,” Maddy insisted. “We have to promise.”

  “I promise,” Sadie said. “I’ve had fun working with you both. I love you two. I’m going to need you. We will put our lives back together again when this is over, with each other’s help.”

  Maddy noticed that no one said, maybe it won’t be that bad. None of them was that naive at all.

  Sadie went with Maddy to help her rent a van to move to Connecticut and Tilly took her purse from her underwear drawer and took it to the Village to see her brother Dan. When she got to his apartment he opened the door in sweats, fluffy green slippers and no shirt. He also did not appear to have combed his hair for a month. Dan wrote code for a living from the trendy apartment he shared with his roommate, Nick. He had no girlfriend, although Tilly believed that girls were missing out on a great guy despite Dan’s lack of care for his appearance.

  “My bro!” Tilly hugged him fiercely. She hoped to survive Molly’s reality show, but she still felt emotional over the threat of not knowing what might unfold. “Is Nick here?”

  “No, he went for a run. Want some Chai tea?”

  “Love some!” When Dan wasn’t writing code, he was a vagabond who traveled the world. He had hiked India and Nepal extensively and loved the exotic teas found in that part of Asia. He also had richly colored hand-woven rugs from those places scattered about and the scent of incense pervaded the apartment.

  Once they were in the kitchen and Dan was carefully heating black tea and milk on the stove with all sorts of spices mixed in, Tilly handed him a note.

  Sorry for the cloak and dagger stuff, but I need you to check my phone to see if it’s been bugged.

  Dan’s eyebrows lifted into his messy hair, but to his credit he simply took the phone from her hands, set it by the sink while he poured her tea, and then took it into his study, leaving her in his tiny kitchen with steamy rich milky tea. He was gone a long time. There was a clock on the wall that Tilly watched because the stack of trekking magazines by the table didn’t interest her at all.

  “Holy cow!” Dan said when he came back in the room. “Your phone was hella bugged. I’m not even sure I got it all off. It’s wrapped in a towel in my bathroom.”

  “That’s what I was afraid of,” Tilly bit her lip.

  “Who would do something like that to you?”

  “Molly Hollister. I was at her penthouse last night.” Tilly was tired. She’d had a big day previously and little sleep.

  “Did she commission you to make her some clothes?” Dan guessed while Tilly found words.

  “No, but that wouldn’t be better. She came in for lunch yesterday and bought Crackhouse for a new reality show she’s going to be on. She wants all the staff to be on her show and it starts soon, like next week, because she wants it to run over the summer. She’s been planning this a while.”

  Dan might smoke a lot of pot when he wasn’t writing code, but he wasn’t a druggie. He was smart as hell and he instantly grasped the problem.

  “All the Hollisters are famous for their vindictive, life ruining shit!” Dan was indignant. “They never answer for anything.”

  “Yeah, yesterday I was just worried about getting fired. Today I know she’s going to make my life hell on national television. I may never have a career, or—”

  “Oh, God, I’m sorry…” Dan brightened up just a little. “We’ll get you a new phone and I’ll nail it down. Her tech people are going to be sorry if they pull anything like that again. We’ll go right now.”

  Tilly looked at the fuzzy green slippers and uncombed
hair. She thought about asking him to clean up at a little… but it was the Village, after all. She picked up her coat.

  I don’t know why she isn’t using her phone.” Barry, the tech guru for the Hollister empire, sighed. “Everyone has times when they don’t use their phone.”

  “Not twenty-three-year-old women,” Molly snapped. She wanted to order Barry to make Tilly make phone calls. From previous experience she knew it wouldn’t work that way. Barry probably had not placed the telephone back in Tilly’s purse correctly or had left some telltale sign that the phone was bugged.

  Now Tilly would be on her guard and she would warn the other members of the crew about the bugging. Not that it would do much good. Molly had been spying on people since preschool and she was fabulous at it. Besides, Molly had already learned that most people don’t take warnings seriously, even for an obvious threat, and any other phones she wanted bugged would probably stay bugged. Except for Sadie, Maddy and Tilly. They were all real adversaries. Although with no wealth or real connections they were not adversaries in the true sense of the word. But the people who might be were wealthy enough to insulate themselves from the Hollister family. Not that it would do them much good soon. The Hollisters and their few close allies would be the only people left on Earth. The health, wealth, or intelligence of others would not save them.

  Before buying the restaurant, she had bugged the alley behind Crackhouse where employees took smoke breaks. She had more information about all of them than they could guess, even though only a few of the kitchen staff and Annalise smoked. Becky had given her transcripts of all the recorded conversations to go over. They would help Molly choose celebrity guests and know whose buttons to push when.