Beautiful Little Fool

by K. K. Hendin

  “Are you sure?”

  “Positive. I’ll be in touch.”

  “Will do.”

  Cedar hung up the phone and sighed.

  She had just gotten a manicure. She didn’t want to have to ruin it already.

  Ellis’s phone wasn’t working. It was almost fully charged, battery working and all. But none of the apps worked. He couldn’t email anyone, and couldn’t call anyone.

  It was a coincidence, he told himself nervously.

  Everything would be okay.

  Idiot boy. He didn’t know anything.

  I waited for him in his bedroom.

  Yes, I’m back to I.

  It’s so much more fun to tell the rest of this story in first-person. Third-person doesn’t have quite the same ring.

  I waited in the bedroom. Because that’s where the best fights happen. And this one was going to be the best one yet.

  The security cameras were all off, in case I had to take matters into my own hands. I really didn’t want to. There were only so many times I was going to have to completely make up a crime scene and an alibi for myself. It would be done if it needed to be, but I didn’t really have the patience for it today.

  The door flung open and Ellis stood on the other side, panting.

  “Honey, I’ve been worried about you,” I said, climbing out of his bed and walking toward him.

  He backed up a few steps. “Babe. We need to talk.”

  I widened my eyes. “Sure, hon. What happened?”

  “Why don’t you want to talk to me about your parents?” he asked.

  I let my eyes well up. “It’s very upsetting for me, Ellis. I can’t believe you would bring it up.”

  He ignored my tears and kept the questions coming. “Why didn’t you tell me you had siblings? Why are there so many questions around the cases? Why do people think you did it? And what the hell do you have to do with Kain Security?”

  Goddammit. He knew a hell of a lot more than I thought he did. And definitely more than he needed to know.

  “Why are you accusing me of all these things?” I shrieked, starting to cry. “Why do you have to bring up my family? Wasn’t it enough to have to deal with that once? Why do I have to relive it now?”

  “Why were you never questioned, Cedar?” he asked, pacing. Not sure whether to walk closer to me or to back up. “Why did nobody ever ask you where you were?”

  “Because I didn’t want to talk about it!” I yelled.

  “That’s not an answer!” he yelled back. “What are you hiding from me, Cedar? What are you hiding from me?”

  “I’m not hiding anything from you!” I shrieked back. “I’ve never hidden anything from you!”

  “DON’T LIE TO ME!” he bellowed.

  “I’M NOT!”

  Oh, I so was. But this was fun. Watching him disintegrate.

  “You’re not? What a crock of bullshit. You probably wouldn’t know the truth if it bit you on your ass.” He shook his head, disgusted. “Jesus. I knew I should have second-guessed you.”

  “Excuse me?” I hissed. “What did you just say?”

  “You’re a fucking psychopath. No wonder you chased after me. A money-hungry psychopath.”

  And that was when I knew he was going to have to be dealt with. Because calling me a money hungry psychopath was a step too far.

  I brushed past him, and started running down the hallway toward one of the guest bedrooms. “I’m done with you until you apologize!” I yelled, slamming the door shut behind me and locking it.

  “Dammit, Cedar!” Ellis banged on the door desperately. “What are you doing?”

  I laughed. “Wouldn’t you like to know.”

  “Cedar! Open the fucking door!”

  “Nope,” I said. “Go somewhere else to cool down. I don’t want to see you until you apologize.”

  “Fuck you!” he yelled, and a few minutes later, I heard his footsteps back down the hallway.

  I opened my phone again, and dialed a number I memorized sixteen years ago. “He’s on his way out. Deal with it. And don’t call me back until it’s dealt with.”

  “We’re on it.”

  “Good.” I headed to the bathroom to take a bath while I waited for the news. Fighting was never good for my wrinkles.

  How could she? Ellis steamed as he drove away. He did, this time. Kicked his driver out of the car, told him to find his way home without the car. He needed to get away from everything for a little bit. Had to clear his head before figuring out what the fuck he was going to do next.

  Jesus. What a disaster everything was. Cedar in near hysterics, hiding behind a locked door after the two of them had nearly shouted down the neighborhood. He was surprised nobody had called the cops on them.

  His hands tightened on the wheel, and he shot down an empty Manhattan side street. He had to get out of here. He had to calm down.

  He had to see Cedar again.

  Had to just figure out what was going on. He’d apologize if he really had to. He would. He could grovel.

  He took a deep breath, and slowly let it out. And again. Again. Again.

  It was probably some sort of misunderstanding, he thought, slowing the car down at a stop sign. He’d buy her flowers, a diamond, a building, a city, whatever she wanted. He’d calm her down and they’d discuss this all.

  It was all a mistake, he told himself, easing down on the gas pedal.

  He’d go back, they’d talk, and they’d figure it out.

  Everything would be fine.

  And everything would have been fine, if Ellis had been paying just a little bit more attention to where he was going.

  The semi came out of nowhere.

  An hour-and-a-half later, there was a knock on the front door.

  I was dressed casually, like I was spending a night at home waiting on my darling husband.

  It was two policemen.

  I widened my eyes. “Can I help you, officers?”

  “Ma’am, do you have somewhere you can sit down?”

  “What do you mean?” I asked. “What happened?”

  “Ma’am…”

  I let the tears start to trickle. “Is it Ellis? Is it?”

  “Why would you say that, ma’am?”

  Could they stop fucking calling me ma’am? It was a pain in the ass. “I…we had a bit of a fight. He didn’t come home last night, he was at work, and I was so worried about him, and then he left again. I can’t get in touch with him.” I sniffed. “He’s okay, right?”

  “I’m so sorry, ma’am,” the other one said.

  “About what?” I asked.

  “Are you sure there’s nowhere we can sit?” he asked.

  Not after you keep on calling me ma’am, no. “What happened?” I asked, letting my voice catch. “Where’s Ellis?”

  “There was an accident, ma’am,” the taller one began. “A traffic accident.”

  “No, no, no…” I moaned.

  “Unfortunately, he didn’t survive.”

  “You’re lying!” I screamed. “It’s not funny!”

  “I’m so sorry, ma’am.”

  “No!” I shrieked, crumpling. “No, no, no, no!”

  “Is there anyone we can call for you?” the shorter one asked, trying to help me up. Oh, hell no. He was not going to get in the way of one of my greatest performances. So there were only the two of them. But this was going to be Oscar-worthy, and nobody was going to mess up my part.

  I had been waiting for this moment for years.

  Nobody was going to take it away from me.

  I woke up in the hospital.

  As I expected.

  Three doctors hovered over me.

  Game on.

  “It’s not true,” I rasped, clutching the shitty hospital sheet. “Tell me it’s not true.”

  “I’m so sorry, Cedar.” It was Morris.

  I burst into lovely fake tears. “M-M-Morris,” I sobbed. “Tell me it’s not true.”

  “They told me he didn’t f
eel anything.”

  Dammit. What was the point in having someone die and it’s painless?

  It was a traffic accident. There’s only so much you can do with one of those. I wondered who was in the semi that he had sent to finish the job for me. Someone who had it coming to him, I assumed. He knew it was going to end like that. We had orchestrated plenty of these to know the risks.

  I closed my eyes and began to wail. “Ellis! Ellis! Ellis!”

  One of the doctors came toward me with what looked like a needle. Excellent. I started to scream. “No! No! I want my husband! I want my husband!”

  And then everything went black.

  Curtains down.

  The next few days were a blur of a hell of a lot of crying, which did nothing for my skin. I was going to have to spend a shit ton of money to fix all the damage caused by pretending to mourn over my husband.

  I did it happily, though.

  I was untouchable now.

  It was a traffic accident. His will was clear. I had watched him sign it a week before the honeymoon. Everything at Kain was running smoothly.

  I could pretend to cry over a husband I didn’t care about for a few days, and then play the grieving widow.

  Hell, I had played the grieving sister and grieving daughter perfectly. Everyone bought it, hook, line, and sinker. I could play grieving widow. Nobody would be the wiser.

  Except for whoever tipped him off.

  We were working on plugging that leak, but that was a little more complicated than we thought it would be.

  The funeral was in three days.

  All loose ends had to be tied up by then. I was getting on a plane the next day to “mourn” on the island that Ellis had bought me as an wedding gift.

  I did not want to be bothered by any sort of bullshit while I was vacationing there.

  The funeral was held in the same church as Harold’s funeral. I planned this one, too, but not with as heavy of a hand as I did Harold’s. I was supposed to be grieving. There was only so much organization I could get away with.

  Cecil didn’t really say much to me when he came over to help me organize everything. The gallery was closed for the next month and a half, so I had proper time to grieve.

  I’m not sure how much Cecil knew. He never let anything on.

  I thought about passing his information over to Kain. He might be helpful to have a piece of.

  I had already notified the staff on the island that I would be on my way over. I just had to make sure I wore sunscreen. It wouldn’t look right for the grieving widow to come back with a tan.

  “Are you ready?” Cecil asked me. He was wearing the same suit he wore to Harold’s funeral, which was more than okay. It wasn’t like anyone was really looking at him, anyway.

  I had taken my wedding dress and dyed it black.

  Was that melodramatic and a bit much?

  Of course it was.

  Which was exactly what I was going for. This Cedar was one who was absolutely devastated over losing her husband just over a month or so after they had gotten married.

  This Cedar was the one that the nation would cry over, and this Cedar would be the one who, in a few months, would make her triumphant return, being the brave widow marching on. Taking over her poor, late husband’s businesses after his tragic, early death.

  That Cedar dyed her wedding dress black and wore it to her husband’s funeral. That was the Cedar everyone needed to see now.

  My phone buzzed.

  “Give me a minute,” I told Cecil, and waited until he walked out of the room before picking up the phone. “Yes?”

  “Job done.”

  “Excellent.”

  “I hope your handkerchief is black,” he said.

  I smiled. “Of course it is.”

  “Nothing in half-measures with you, huh.”

  “Never.” I ended the call and tucked the phone away. I straightened the veil I had covering my face, and called to Cecil.

  I was ready to bury my husband.

  A few miles away, another body was being buried. Cement shoe and all, because sometimes we had a twisted sense of humor.

  No more leaked secrets.

  Morris gave a eulogy.

  The mayor gave a eulogy.

  Board members, an old college professor, the damn President.

  And then I did.

  I let my voice tremble. I let myself cry.

  I gave a performance of a lifetime, and I had a fucking headache at the end of the day.

  I refused visitors, because of my “grief.”

  The day after the funeral was the reading of the will.

  Even though I knew what it said, I went.

  I made sure to cry when Morris read the will out loud. The same one Ellis had written in his office. Not a word had changed.

  I, Ellis James Carrington, being of sound mind and body, to bequeath all my Earthly possessions to my wife, Mrs. Cedar Elizabeth Reynolds-Carrington, with love and affection.

  Signed,

  Ellis James Carrington

  I cried as I signed all the paperwork. I sniffed as I told Morris I would be going to the island alone for a little bit, to grieve alone.

  I sat in grim silence on the plane ride to the island.

  On the boat.

  There was someone waiting in the bedroom when I got there.

  “You’ve been giving quite the performance,” Lee said, watching me as I stripped out of the traveling clothing I had been wearing. His ridiculous pornstache was gone. Thank God.

  “Of course I have,” I said, heading to the bathroom. He could wait. Planes were filthy.

  “So who was it?” I asked, leaving the bathroom door open as I turned on the shower.

  “Gregor.”

  “Fuck,” I muttered. Gregor had been one of ours. One of mine. “I hope you dealt with him.”

  “Personally,” he said, wandering over to the shower. “We’re keeping a better eye on everyone now.”

  “Nothing like that is going to happen again,” I said, enjoying the rush of water I was standing under. “We have things we need to get done without having to worry about people like him.”

  “We definitely have things to do without worrying about people like him,” he said, reaching over to me and running a hand down my stomach.

  I leaned into him, because it was okay for now. It wasn’t like he was going to last forever.

  “We have plenty to do. But I’m taking a few days off first,” I said, watching his fingers trail down. “I need a vacation.”

  “Just call me your personal pool boy,” he said.

  I laughed. “You are.”

  “I hope you tip well,” he murmured.

  I have eighty-seven billion dollars now. I can afford to tip well every once in a while now.

  “Maybe,” I said.

  He was only temporary, this one. A nice little distraction. An amusing one.

  But he wasn’t going to last forever.

  I didn’t need him to.

  And so he wouldn’t.

  But a brain and a dick and a six pack were nice to have for now.

  I was on vacation now, wasn’t I?

  I could have whatever I wanted.

  There was nobody who would try to stop me.

  Everyone wanted Cedar Reynolds. Everyone wished they were her. There was not a person alive who knew about Cedar and didn’t wish somewhere deep inside, maybe when nobody was looking, that they could one day be even a quarter as cool as Cedar was. To have her confidence, her fearlessness, her style. Goddamn, that girl was so ahead of the game that Anna Wintour would base the season’s trends on Cedar.

  I was the perfect combination of open and mysterious, of fun and serious, of silly and sexy. I ruled Manhattan wearing a smile and six-inch heels.

  I was everything you wanted. I was a fireball of success. But like fire, if you got too close, you would burn.

  Nobody is fireproof.

  Nobody is fireproof.

  Nobody, except
for me.

  Whatever my name is.

  This book was a drastic departure from anything else I had ever written. This book was a lot more of a solitary process than any of my other books have, because of the characters and subject matter. I hermitted while writing this book, partially concerned that I was a terrible person for writing it.

  (Realization: My brain is a really weird place. But I knew that already.)

  To all those people I love and didn’t talk to for the past bazillion months: Thank you all for your patience and love. I know the best people, and I am so lucky.

  Special thanks/blame to Taylor Swift for both the song and video Blank Space, which I listened to on repeat from the day the song came out until the day I finished editing this book.

  To those who helped me get through writing this book and making sure it did not kill me:

  Jessica Estep, for not killing me when I changed everything again and again, for your enthusiasm and absolute belief in this crazy book. New York won’t know what hit it when you finally come and visit.

  Sarah Benwell, for shameless encouragement and listening to me whine.

  Jessica Sinsheimer, for unknowingly giving me the best kind of promo ever.

  Hafsah, for making a cover that *actually* blew my mind.

  Younger Brother, for the two hour conversation about Cedar and music, and for every texting conversation that makes me laugh.

  Aunt D, who suggested The Great Gatsby to me in high school, and who let me gush about how much I absolutely adored it.

  My little punkins, who were a perfect balance of sunshine while I wrote a book without any (and will hopefully never ever read this book).

  Cait Greer, for being the first to read it and reassuring me I knew what I was doing, for formatting, for everything.

  Sarah Henning, for the quotation marks and em dashes and babyspam.

  Forevnos and Fast Drafters: for the accountability and camaraderie (and occasional stickers).

  My Twitter and Facebook pals, who continue to be the best people on the internet.

  To those of you who haven’t read my other books: thank you for taking a chance on this book. The other ones are a less terrible, I promise.