Star Promise

by G. J. Walker-Smith

  “And not crazy,” he proudly added. “Unlike my little brother, I found a normal girl. We’re going to have normal children who play normally with normal dolls.”

  I was still giggling when some prospective customers walked in. The middle-aged pair seemed to object to laughing in public. The woman looked at me as if I was something she’d scraped off her shoe. The man nudged her to keep moving forward. Ryan stared at me through the mirror. When I rolled my eyes at him, he winked.

  Some of the best mischief I’d ever undertaken involved Ryan. Adam didn’t have wicked tendencies. He was good and law abiding; his brother, however, could be as crooked as a bent stick.

  “Remember a few weeks ago when we stole that bloke’s wallet?” I spoke as if it was the most casual question on earth.

  The woman spun around so quickly the oversized string of pearls on her neck rattled.

  “Yes.” Ryan chuckled. “Good times.”

  “And that time we conned a hundred bucks out of that shady waitress?”

  His laugh grew louder. “Of course.”

  From the corner of my eye, I saw the woman clutch her handbag a little tighter. Her husband seemed to be covertly surveying the exits. The only one who didn’t look concerned was the tailor, who’d probably heard enough nonsense in the past half hour to last him a lifetime. He kept pinning away as if nothing out of the ordinary had been said.

  “Those are the things I’ll miss most about you when I’m gone.”

  His smile through the mirror was minuscule, but it was there.

  “When are you leaving?” asked the tailor, speaking for the first time.

  I couldn’t answer. Nothing had been decided. Adam and I had barely discussed it. Ryan answered instead, with words designed purely to rattle the shoppers on my left.

  “Her lawyer thinks it could be as early as next week,” he loudly announced. “Not going to get off with probation this time around are you, princess?”

  The woman gasped, which was all the encouragement Ryan needed to continue. “A long stretch,” he drawled, putting the weirdest spin on his accent I’d ever heard. “At least I’ve got a nice suit to wear to court. Wait ‘til the judge sees. He’s bound to go easy.” He brushed his shoulder as if dusting it off. The tailor tapped his leg, signalling for him to step off the podium. “Now we’ve just got to figure out how we’re going to pay for it.”

  The appalled couple were hanging on every word. When Ryan slowly turned to face them, the man grabbed his wife by the elbow and rushed her out the door.

  It was the tailor who spoke first. We were too busy laughing. “I think you just lost me a sale,” he said dryly.

  “I suspect you might be right,” replied Ryan.

  48. VULNERABILITY

  Adam

  Olivia wasn’t big on small talk unless she was trying to win Charli and Bridget over before brutally turning on them. She sat on the chair opposite my desk and got down to business. Her posture was rigid and straight, just like her words. “Charli is hell-bent on making this work out. She has an idealistic view that we’ll eventually build a relationship befitting a mother and daughter.”

  Unfortunately, she wasn’t too far off the mark. Charli wasn’t prepared to accept that running into her mother was nothing more than dumb luck. She was convinced there was an element of magic in it.

  “It’s never going to happen,” I said bluntly. “You know nothing about being a mother.”

  “Nor do I have any desire to,” she replied. “Playing happy families was never my forte.”

  “No one says you have to love her, Olivia,” I snapped. “But you don’t need to hurt her. What do you get out of doing that?”

  The corner of her mouth lifted, and at that moment, I’d never felt more hatred for anyone in my life.

  “I enjoy the game,” she said simply. “She’ll forgive anything I do because she’s desperate to make it work. I’ve proven that.”

  After weeks of trying to figure it out, the big ugly picture was suddenly crystal clear. Olivia’s games were nothing more than research – testing just how far she could push before Charli called it quits. Clearly she’d moved onto to phase two, safe in the knowledge that Charlotte was no quitter.

  “I could drag this out indefinitely, you know,” she threatened.

  “Over my dead body,” I told her. “This ends today.”

  “I was hoping you’d see it that way,” she replied. “I have a proposition for you.”

  I leaned back in my chair and listened as she spelled out what she wanted. Not a word of it took me by surprise.

  “You said you were prepared to pay me to go away,” she reminded me. “I’m open to that idea.”

  Given her penchant for head games, I felt it necessary to ask for clarification. “Are you telling me that I could cut you a cheque right now and you’d walk away?”

  She didn’t pause. “Yes.”

  “And if I don’t?”

  Her shoulders lifted. “Then I’m going to enjoy getting to know my daughter, and the benefits associated with that.”

  The thought of Olivia being a permanent fixture in our lives made me feel sick. There was no way I’d subject Charli to that kind of damage.

  “Life as a washed-up ballerina must be tough,” I mused. “I guess you’ve got to do what you can to get ahead.”

  Her blue eyes flashed with anger, but she kept herself in check. “Don’t pretend to know me, Adam.”

  “But I do know you.” I grabbed her prospectus from my top drawer. “Remember this?”

  The only hint that her demeanour was slipping was the way she wrung her hands in her lap. Her expression remained flat, even after I spent the next few minutes calling her out on her fake credentials.

  “Not one thing is true,” I concluded. “You started as a fraud, and you’re still a fraud. I could expose you and you’d be finished.” I dropped the folder down in front of her. Olivia didn’t even look at it. Her glare was reserved entirely for me.

  “You could,” she agreed. “But in turn, I could finish you.”

  “My qualifications are good.” I laughed. “They gave me a certificate and everything.”

  “Everything you think you have could disappear in a flash, Adam.” Her monotone voice was completely void of any emotion. “Poor Charli’s very vulnerable.”

  I wasn’t the least bit intimidated. I knew what I had – I’d spent seven years building it. “Give it your best shot.” I leaned forward and lowered my tone. “I dare you.”

  “I’m not talking about you, specifically. It’s evident that the silly girl’s more than content to live the life of a wealthy society wife.”

  That comment alone proved how little she knew Charli. It was almost heartening that she had her pegged so wrong.

  Olivia stood up and stalked back to the window, staring at the view for a long time before speaking again. “I could never turn her against you.” She glanced back at me. “Believe me, I tried.”

  Leading Charli to believe that I’d refused to let her make contact with her mother had been a hard blow to deflect, but we got through it because we were absolutely tight.

  “You’re not that powerful, Olivia,” I said strongly. “And Charli’s not the least bit vulnerable.”

  When she slowly turned to face me, I was hit with the sinking feeling that my upper hand was gone.

  “She’s very insecure when it comes to dealing with Bridget, isn’t she?” she asked. “That’s natural considering she had no mother of her own – no experience to draw on.” I could think of a hundred ways of describing Olivia, but stupid wasn’t one of them. Charli’s confidence wasn’t always high where Bridget was concerned, and she’d picked up on it. “Bridget doesn’t enjoy being let down by her mother,” she added. “It seems to happen a lot in my presence. Poor Charli doesn’t do well when faced with parental challenges.”

  “You’re twisted,” I spat. “You need help.”

  “No, what I need is financial incentive to leave,” s
he replied calmly. “If I don’t get it, little Bridget’s relationship with her mother might take a turn for the worse.”

  I didn’t doubt for a second that she could do it. She’d already backed us into a corner where Bridget was concerned, which is why she was still attending her stupid dance studio.

  “You were hoping Charli would pull her out of class, weren’t you?” I asked.

  Her laugh was as cold as the rest of her. “It would’ve broken Bridget’s heart,” she said. “And it would’ve all been Charli’s fault.”

  I shook my head, trying to shake free of the bigger picture coming to mind. “This is about more than money,” I realised. “You’re going out of your way to hurt Charli. What did she do to you?”

  Olivia turned back to the window. “Plenty,” she said sourly. “I’ll enjoy returning the favour.”

  My first inclination was to pay the hateful woman off and get her the hell out of our lives. My second was to dig a little deeper. “What could she possibly have taken from you?” I demanded. “You gave her up at birth and got on with your life. She never sought you out – neither did Alex.”

  She turned to face me again, looking far less smug than before. “Charli told me she has little to do with her father,” she said curiously. “I don’t believe her.”

  If that was the line Charli had gone with, I wasn’t about to enlighten her.

  “What do you care?”

  She almost smiled. “I’ve always cared for Alex,” she replied.

  My mind kept rejecting the picture I was trying to build of the two of them together. It was impossible to imagine. Alex was the most decent person I’d ever known. Olivia was the most twisted.

  “He chose Charli over you, didn’t he?” I guessed. “You lost the lot because he fell in love with his daughter.”

  “Just write me the cheque, Adam,” she instructed, sounding totally bored and disinterested. “And then we’re done.”

  Perhaps I wasn’t feeling charitable, or maybe I knew that no amount of money was going to stop her coming back for more. I walked to the door and held it open. “I’m not giving you a cent. We’re done here.”

  Olivia picked up her bag. “I’m sorry you feel that way,” she said.

  “Just get out.”

  The smile she gave me as she passed was every shade of vile. As soon as she was clear of the door, I slammed it shut.

  49. LULU

  Charli

  Ryan wasn’t the only one being measured up for wedding attire that day. Bridget had an appointment with Ivy late that afternoon at their apartment, which meant Adam and I were free and easy for a few hours. I expected him to take advantage by suggesting a quiet few hours at home, but he had different plans.

  He met me at the gallery at exactly five, which meant he’d skipped out of work hours earlier than he should have. If he was worried about being dragged over the coals for it, he wasn’t letting on. “Ready to go?”

  “I’ve just got to lock up first.” I set the alarm, followed him outside and pulled the door shut. Turning the key in the door was a process that took too long for Adam. He ended up taking them from me and locking it himself.

  “All done?” he asked, giving the handle a rattle.

  My eyes narrowed with suspicion. “What’s your hurry, Boy Wonder?”

  “No hurry.” He handed me the keys. “I’m just excited to have you to myself for a while.”

  “Where are we going?”

  Adam led me toward the waiting cab. “A special place,” he replied.

  I didn’t ask any more questions. I opted to spend the cab ride thinking about the possibilities instead. Adam seemed preoccupied too. His hand never left my knee, and his eyes never left the window. He finally turned to me and began fussing with the frill on the hem of my skirt. “This is pretty.”

  I smiled. “Thank you.”

  He lightly kissed me. “Thank you,” he said quietly. “For being gorgeous.”

  I dropped my head to his shoulder and breathed him in. “You know all the lovely words.”

  He replied with a gentle squeeze of my knee, his gaze returned to the window, and not another word was said.

  ***

  The special place he wanted to show me was a decrepit old building on West 52nd – the club he and Ryan had bought.

  I stood on the sidewalk, gazing up at the peeling window frames, half expecting to see something otherworldly staring back. “Is it abandoned?”

  “Not quite.” Adam grabbed my hand and pulled me toward the steps. “I told you about Tiger, right?”

  The vague narrative he’d given when describing his new business partner didn’t do him justice. The old man met us at the door, grumbling. “You said six, kid.”

  Adam glanced at his watch. “We’re half an hour early.”

  Tiger grunted, but moved on. “Who’s the broad?”

  Adam didn’t bat an eyelid at his crass question. I could only assume he was used to it. “This is my wife, Charlotte,” he replied.

  Tiger took a fat cigar out of his pocket and sniffed it. “I knew Baby Bardot’s mother would be a looker.”

  Adam interpreted. “Tiger and Bridget are friends.”

  “She’s a little French princess,” Tiger declared.

  Bridget had mentioned visiting the club with Ryan a few times. The most information she’d given me about Tiger was that he was funny and could take his teeth out. The only thing comical about him was his loud Hawaiian print shirt, and I had no intention of asking if the teeth trick was true.

  “I brought Charli here to have a look around,” said Adam, moving up a step.

  Tiger leaned out and looked up and down the street. “When is he getting here?” he asked. “I’m busy.”

  Adam lifted his hand, raising mine with it. “This is Charli.”

  With his fat cigar clamped between his teeth, the old man smiled at me. “That’s what they call you?” he asked. “Did your mother not like you?”

  “No, as it happens.” I grinned. “But my father took a shine to me.”

  Tiger threw his head back and roared with laughter. Adam didn’t wait for him to compose himself. With a firm hold on my hand, he led me into the lobby of the most neglected building in Manhattan.

  Tiger didn’t follow us when we headed into the large main room at the back. I heard his feet clomping on the wooden steps as he trudged upstairs.

  “He lives up there,” explained Adam.

  “Have you ever been up there?”

  He shook his head. “Never.”

  I hadn’t decided whether Tiger’s story was a sad one or not. While I conceded that living alone in a run down old club was a depressing notion, there was clearly magic about the place.

  I walked to the centre of the room and took a long look around. Paint peeled from every wall, and the flecks that had fallen to the floor looked like they’d been there for years. Using the toe of my shoe, I cleared a line along the dusty floor. The decorative parquetry underneath was intricate, badly worn, and in need of a lot of TLC, just like the rest of the place.

  Adam didn’t look the least bit daunted by the mammoth task. I could tell by his expression that his mind was spinning with ideas. Enthusiasm was a good look for him.

  “This is wonderful,” I declared, turning a full circle.

  “Imagine how amazing this place would’ve been in its heyday.”

  I walked to the bar on the far side of the room, drawing a long line in the dust on the wooden counter. “I can almost hear it,” I told him. “A band playing on the stage, the chinking glasses, the hopeful young lovers getting to know each other over a few drinks.”

  I moved to the business side of the bar. Glasses still lined the shelves, but most of the bottles on display were empty. Everything was where it should’ve been, which was eerie. For whatever reason, one night long ago, the club just stopped dead.

  “Do you think we would’ve come here?” he asked.

  “No, not your scene at all, monsieur,” I pu
rred.

  Adam folded his arms. “How about you, Charlotte?” he asked. “Would it have been your scene?”

  I picked up a silver drinks tray from beneath the counter and set two glasses down on it. “Totally my scene. I reckon I would’ve been Lulu the cocktail waitress in a past life.”

  His laugh was just dark enough to get my heart racing. “I’m sure I would’ve frequented this place just to hang out with Lulu.”

  “You might’ve tried,” I replied. “But she would’ve been way out of your league.”

  “You think so?”

  “Oh, I know so,” I drawled. “She was no floozy.”

  As I continued looking around, I spotted something so out of place under the counter that I couldn’t possibly help touching it. It was as if Lulu the cocktail waitress had planted the gold sequined headband there herself. I dusted off the long white feather at the top and placed it on my head. “What do you think?”

  His stare was more thoughtful now. Perhaps I looked more ridiculous than I thought. “I think you’ve no idea how lovely you truly are,” he said finally.

  I felt a flash of heat in my cheeks. “Why, thank you, kind sir,” I teased, dipping my head. “But I’m not done yet.”

  He groaned out my name, which was Adam-speak for stop what you’re doing and behave. I ignored him and continued my transformation from art gallery curator to Lulu.

  In a move I hadn’t made since high school, I rolled the waistband of my skirt, shortening it just enough to make the height of my heels an obscene match.

  “What are you doing, Charlotte?”

  “Lulu would’ve shown some leg,” I replied.

  As hard as he might’ve tried fighting against it, the dimpled smile won out. “I can’t see your legs from here.”

  I straightened my headband, picked up my tray and stepped out from behind the bar. I hadn’t carried a tray since my waitressing days at Nellie’s. My skills were non-existent then, and nothing had changed. My sexy-fifties-cocktail-waitress walk needed work too, but it had the desired effect. Adam met me half way, and took the tray. “You’re dangerous, Charli.” His eyes flitted from my eyes to my lips.