by Liz Madrid
“C’mon, Alicia, I’m sure you hear more than you let on from every person who comes in here to spend thousands of dollars on a purse or a wardrobe. I’m a small fish in this big pond and I need to know more,” I say, keeping my gaze on her face, reminding myself not to look away. “You already know what I am to Heath — his personal wind-up doll — ready to be dressed and molded the way he thinks I should look in his world. Would a fellow woman just stand there and watch that happen? As if we women don’t have it bad enough for other women to-“
“I know what I said so you don’t have to repeat it,” Alicia says, glancing around the empty shop as her voice lowers. “All I know is that the brothers are fighting for control of the company. But then that’s old news after Heath took over Ethan’s position as president of the company almost a year ago, shortly after their father died. But that’s all I’m going to say, Miss Delphine-”
“Call me Billie.”
“Right now, Mr. Kheiron is paying for my time, and I am not about to say anything negative about him.”
“Why not? Would you say negative things about him if you weren’t on his time?”
“Of course not,” she replies angrily. “But then, we’re not here to gossip, Bil-lie. We’re here to get you ready so you can travel the world with him. Many women would give anything to be in your place right now-”
“But I’m not just any woman, and I’m not asking you to say anything negative about him,” I say. “I’m just asking you to tell me what else you’ve heard. Please, Alicia, I’m not Blythe, and I need to know what kind of world I’m going into. I know that you know I’m not exactly here willingly.”
Alicia takes a deep breath and exhales, her countenance relaxing. “Like I told you earlier, there are rumors going around about how one brother – and I’m not mentioning names — almost bled the company dry with terrible investments just like their father did before he died, while the other brother was forced to step in to save the company from a hostile takeover. So it wasn’t a premeditated decision on Heath’s part to take over the company.”
I am so naming names, and I don’t care, not when the assistants are busy hiding, peering at us from the back room. “So Heath was forced to save the company by taking the presidency from Ethan?”
“Didn’t endear him to many people, I’m sure, not when he had to restructure even management to turn it around,” Alicia replies. “But I understand he did what he had to do. Otherwise the company would have imploded from the inside — not that it’s making a difference in the long run.”
“What do you mean?”
“There are rumors going around that it’s about to happen again.”
I think for a few moments, not caring if some of the assistants are peeking from behind the wall that separates the show room from the back room, probably waiting to see if they can come back out with more dresses and accessories. But my mind is racing with more important thoughts than worry about what they’re thinking. I need to find out how Blythe and her alleged embezzlement fits into the whole picture, though that’s one bit of information I’m not willing to add to Alicia’s rumor mill.
Still, something doesn’t sit right with Blythe’s alleged embezzlement. Even if it were true — that Blythe is embezzling money from the company — surely it’s not enough to make a company like Kheiron Industries implode from the inside. And even then, it would only work if Blythe were Heath’s girlfriend and not Ethan’s, for Ethan is not the president of the company, Heath is.
But then I also remember Heath’s first words to me yesterday, when he mistook me for Blythe. Ethan had stolen something from Heath and he wanted it back. He was willing to take everything away from Ethan to get it. And then there’s Jackson and the smug way he told Heath that he was fraud.
“Would a scandal do it?” I ask.
“Maybe,” Alicia says, shrugging. “All I know is, the longer they fight with each other, the more they’re going to be distracted from what’s really happen.”
“A hostile takeover,” I murmur, remembering Heath’s words just minutes earlier.
“Hostile takeovers, leveraged buyouts, even blackmail — who knows? Worse things have happened for the pursuit of power and money, even murder. But then, that’s just me and the mystery shows I love to watch on cable TV,” Alicia says as one of the assistants appears behind her, clearing her throat. “Anyway, I’ve said enough, so now it’s your turn to work with me. Let me work on your wardrobe and your overall appearance and I promise that you will belong anywhere Heath Kheiron decides to take you, though there is one thing I can’t help you with.”
“What’s that?”
“You feeling like a little fish in a big pond,” she replies. “You either learn to make it work to your advantage, or you might as well get the hell out of it while you still can because that big pond is about to get bigger. And you do know what big ponds have, right?”
“Big fish?”
Alicia smiles at me, and this time, I can almost swear it’s genuine. “Exactly.”
8
Concessions
By the time Heath arrives to pick me up five hours later, I’m ready. My wardrobe, make-up kit, skin and hair care products have all been packed neatly in two Valestra suitcases next to me as I stand by the couch. The area is now devoid of all the clothes racks, shoes and accessories that had surrounded me earlier. I’m now dressed in a white dress with a V-neckline and flowing skirt with a slit that goes up to my thigh. But Heath barely gives me a glance as he takes care of the bill at the counter, signing his name on the credit card receipt and handing it back to Alicia.
That I can’t pay him back without having to take out a loan from my local bank is something that I’ve learned to accept. Any more worrying about it and I’ll be on my way to a full meltdown. My powers of persuasion may have worked wonders with Alicia earlier that morning, but along with the twirling, the walking about in high heels, boots and even sneakers with a price tag I could have purchased twenty other pairs of shoes from a discount store, the effort exhausted me. That, and the three glasses of champagne I’ve had so far — and a Xanax one of the assistants offers me to calm my nerves.
But courage abandons me as Heath approaches me slowly, his gaze appraising me from head to foot. I don’t know why, but I’m actually waiting for him to compliment me for all the hard work Alicia and the assistants have done to get me up to his standards — whatever those standards are. But if I’m waiting for Heath to offer me a compliment, it doesn’t come, not at the store. He merely arches an eyebrow, offers me a slight smile and tells me we have to leave.
Shame fills me as we walk to the car where Conrad is holding the door open for me. I’ve just been bought and it’s a terrible feeling, like I’m just merchandise. I want to feel angry even though it’s my choice to be here, all because I want to do all I can to get Blythe out of the mess she’s in. But there’s another feeling, too, one that is slowly overtaking everything else, even the shame.
I feel beautiful, more beautiful than I’ve ever felt before. I’m wearing brand new lingerie underneath my dress, silk ones that feel decadent against my skin. Who knew that certain lingerie exist to highlight every asset, even caressing me at the right places with each move I make. Alicia even tied the laces of my teddy herself, saying that if I played my cards right, I’d have Heath drooling in no time. By the time she’d said that I’d been on my third glass of champagne and the laughter among us had long been flowing by then, along with the dirty jokes.
Despite Heath’s lack of praise at my appearance, I think the women did a great job. They’ve managed to turn this ugly duckling into something of a swan and as Heath finally turns to look at me in the limo, his blue-gray eyes studying me, I know that I’m not just someone who’s always wanted to be as gorgeous as Blythe. I am just as gorgeous as Blythe.
I’m also undeniably stupidly drunk.
* * *
The flight to Castiers, Saint Lucia takes seven hours — or so I remember being t
old. That’s because my last memories before passing out include raving about the beautiful burl on the eucalyptus panels that line the walls of the jet interior, and the divan berthed to turn into a comfortable bed by two flight attendants as quickly as they could before I literally jumped into it. All this barely an hour into the flight before Heath suspiciously asks me what else I’ve have besides the champagne and the lunch that he had brought in.
“A Xanax, silly!” is all I remember saying to him just before someone switched all the lights off.
By the time I wake up hours later and feeling quite rested, the rear cabin is in semi-darkness. The muffled sounds of the jet engine almost lull me back to sleep when I realize that I’m alone in the rear cabin. As I turn to look towards the front of the plane, I see Heath lying on a reclined seat, asleep.
When he stirs, I turn away from the middle cabin and stare at the ceiling for a few minutes, collecting my thoughts. I try to remember as much as I can about what happened the moment I walked into the plane but come up with only hazy visions, one of them asking someone to undo the snaps of my bra because I couldn’t quite get to them myself — at least sober. At that thought, I lift the covers to see what I’m wearing and realize that the only thing I have on are my lace panties and nothing more. Even the bra and the teddy are gone and as I look around me, I see them at the foot of the bed, thankfully within easy reach. So is my dress.
I struggle to remember who I’d asked to undo the snaps of my lingerie but come up empty. Oh, please don’t let it be Heath, I groan as I sit up and move as quietly as I can, reaching for the bra first, then the white V-neck dress with its thigh-high slit. I have no need for the teddy.
Hastily I dress, and barefoot, I tiptoe towards the far end of the rear cabin, grateful to find the lavatory on my first try. It’s three times bigger than the usual airplane bathroom, with portholes with view of the clouds against a moonlit sky. It’s so beautiful all I do is stare for a few minutes till I remember why I need to go to the bathroom in the first place. After finishing my toilette, I go through the drawers and find a brand new toothbrush still in its plastic bag, a tube of toothpaste and floss. Perfect.
My make-up, however, is a mess, but at least even as I awoke with my face smushed against my pillow, I don’t think I’ve lost any more lash extensions. I do what I can fix my make-up, wiping the smudged eye liner from my skin before fixing my hair. I wish I hadn’t taken the Xanax but it’s done. Whatever it is I’ve done or said in addition to whatever little I remember, I have to take responsibility for my actions. Besides, I have to have an honest talk with Heath and if I don’t step out of the bathroom right now, I’m afraid one of the flight attendants might suspect I fell in.
I could have remained in the rear cabin and choose from over fifty movies stored in the inflight library to entertain myself, but I’m too nervous. As the flight attendants efficiently convert the bed back into a divan and put away the down comforters and pillows, I make my way to the middle cabin and sit across from Heath as he sleeps, rehearsing what I need to say to him.
But it’s difficult to rehearse lines when an angel sleeps across from me. Hard to believe it’s the same man, but it is, and I lean back against my seat to watch him before he wakes up. Asleep, the muscles on his face are relaxed, and a face that always seemed hard and cold when glaring at me seems completely angelic now. Even his mouth, slightly open as he breathes softly, are kind. There’s a lock of hair that lies across his forehead, and I almost walk over to his seat and brush it away from his face. He seems so vulnerable.
Until he wakes up, and the scowl returns for he’s caught me watching him.
He yawns, covering his mouth with the back of his hand as his other hand presses a button and the seat back moves upright.
“How long have you been awake?” Heath asks as one of the flight attendants inquires if we need anything.
“Coffee,” he says, turning to me. “Would you like one?”
I nod. “Coffee sounds great.”
“I hope you slept well.”
“You should have taken the bed,” I say. “These seats aren’t as comfortable as the bed back there.”
“Actually they are,” he says, smiling faintly. “Besides, you claimed the bed first.”
I groan. “I was drunk and I’m so sorry if I did anything stupid.”
“No, you didn’t do anything too stupid, or at least not so stupid that the pilot would have requested you off my plane,” he says, pulling aside the blanket and I see that he’s wearing a dark shirt over a pair of sweatpants. It makes him seem more youthful, as if outside of all the business dealings he has to attend to, there’s actually a man who knows how to laugh and have fun, and look darn good while doing it.
“You kept saying you had something to tell me over and over again earlier, just before you conked out,” he continues as a flight attendant gathers his blanket and stores it in the rear cabin.” Do you remember what it was?”
I don’t speak right away for our coffee is ready and I need the caffeine to really wake up. Something tells me I need to be on my guard when dealing with the likes of Heath Kheiron. And considering I’ve never dealt with the likes of him before, I know I’m on uncharted territory. I wait till the flight attendant leaves before I answer him, taking a deep breath and steeling myself to remember every word.
“I don’t care what you say, but I will not take charity from you, and I definitely will not be accepting everything you paid for this afternoon like it were some present to a girlfriend of yours — because I’m not your girlfriend. I’m only here because I want to get to my sister and help her.”
He listens as he sips his coffee, black. “Is that all?”
“Also there’s a question of my name-”
“Your name?” Heath asks, his left eyebrow arching as his blue eyes narrow. “What about your name? Are you telling me you’re not who you say you are?”
“No! I mean, my name is not Not-Blythe,” I reply. “It’s Billie. Billie Rose Delphine. I was named for my grandfather, William, but everyone called him Bill, so I’d like you to respect that — if you can. He was a good man.”
He cocks his head slightly. “William is a good strong name, and so is Bill. Billie Rose it is then.”
“Billie,” I say.
“I like the sound of Billie Rose,” he says.
“Whatever. Just…no more Not-Blythe, because I’m not…” I pause, exhaling. “I do keep saying that, don’t I?”
He nods.
“And two more things-”
“Yes?”
While I want to tell Heath about the switched ID’s, I plan to do that after I make another point first, one that’s already making my face turn red. I need to set boundaries with him, that way there’ll be no misunderstanding between us, especially if that hazy memory of me asking someone to unhook my bra wasn’t a dream. “I know you said I’m your personal wind-up doll, and while I don’t mind whatever it is you plan to do to get me presentable to whoever we’re meeting, there will be no…no sex between us.”
He tilts his head to the side. “I’m sorry, I didn’t hear you.”
“No sex.”
He looks amused. “Now why would I assume there’d be sex between us?”
“Well, just in case, you know, you’d think that just because you bought me everything — this dress, and everything else, the make-up, the skin and hair care products, you might assume that I’d, you know…” I stammer, not knowing how to say it without my face turning any redder, not when Heath is eyeing me like I’m suddenly on the menu, his eyes narrowing as he watches me.
“Enlighten me, Billie.”
”That’s why I’m going to pay you back,” I continue. “As far I’m concerned, you’re after one thing — whatever it is Ethan took from you — while I just want to get my sister out of trouble. So what we have, with the shopping sprees and the private jet and all, is just an arrangement. But no sex.”
It takes Heath a few minutes to answer, and th
e entire time he’s just watching me as squirm in my seat across from him.
“And what would it take for us to have it?” he asks slowly, his voice edged with an anger I hadn’t expected at all.
“Excuse me?”
Heath pushes his coffee to the center of the table and leans forward, crossing his forearms on the table between us. Gone is the angel’s face and in its place is the cold and hard mask he’s worn since I met him.
“You said it yourself back at the shop – that you’re my personal wind-up doll,” he says. “So, I’ll ask again, Billie, what will it take for me to have sex with you?”
“Are you out of your mind? Who do you think you are to say such a thing?” I sputter as I get up.
“Sit down, Blythe,” Heath says sternly and like an idiot, I do as he says. The flight attendants have disappeared, probably retreating to the front of the plane where the crew normally sit.
“I thought we agreed about who I am. I am not Blythe. I’m Billie.”
“Really?” he asks, chuckling mirthlessly. “Is this just another one of your games, Blythe? Even that whole act about being drunk? Xanax with your champagne? The charade of playing the innocent coy virgin and telling me about how it’s been three years, blah, blah blah, since you’ve been fucked, while at the same time trying to seduce me, getting me to undress you because you somehow couldn’t get to the snaps of your bra and the laces of your teddy?”
“I’m not going to say I didn’t enjoy it,” he continues, “but is this just another game to distract me while your sister is playing my brother for a fool while she robs him blind and ruins whatever’s left of his reputation with the company? Did you prompt her to post that thing about Saint Lucia — OJ and papaya with a view of the Pitons?”
“What the hell are you talking about?”
“Was it some message to you — some code to tell you it’s A-Ok on her end?” he continues. “Or was it a recycled picture from one of your earlier trips with Ethan and they’re really somewhere else, perhaps alerting the rest of the board that I’m this so-called fraud?”
