“Besides he wouldn’t take it so giving it to him would be of no use at all, it’d just get us right back where we started.” Melissa gets up and squeezes on to the chair next to me. Her legs press up against mine and she lays her head on my shoulder.
“You know Missy…” I eye her suspiciously. “We could do a lot of things with ten thousand dollars. That’s almost like…a whole car!” I shake my head again.
“No! I need your support on this one Allie and you may as well support me because I’m not going to budge.” She huffs and brings the left side of her mouth up in a reluctant half smile.
“Fine, fine, whatever you want.” I lean my head over on to her shoulder, her long hair mingling with mine.
“Thanks Allie.” Registering her disappointment I add, “And I’m sorry about the money, I really do wish we could keep it but I just can’t. Remember that guy you dated who ended up being married and seeing you on the side? It’s sort of like that sort of thing, I think. You wouldn’t have taken money from him right?” Allison snorts with laughter.
“Honey, I would have taken everything from him, but only to make sure that I left him with nothing.” Her hand goes instinctively to her wrist. “Roger, his name was.”
Roger had been a complete dick, he’d met Allison at a club one night and convinced her that he was single and wanted to ‘get to know her.’ Well after a few sessions of really getting to know her, Roger told her that he had been married all along, that Allison was getting too clingy and that he needed to move on, dumping her. Not only had he dumped her though, but he had grabbed her by the wrists and threatened her life if she ever dared let on to his wife that he was cheating on her. Allison was the wrong type of person to threaten like that though and she had gone straight to the police. The situation had blown up quite quickly and Roger ended up getting much more than he had bargained for.
“Asshole” We both say this in unison before laughing.
“Seriously though, Allie. I don’t want his money, I don’t want his payoff. I know I’m just a barista but I’d rather spend my life making other people’s coffee than spend it on the arm of another woman’s husband.”
“Good for you.” Allie pats my thigh with a smile and a reassuring nod. “Besides, there’s more to life than money right? So…” she rolls her head back on to my shoulder, “what’s the plan?”
“I’ll call in the morning, get a gig at the estate like the first one and while I’m there I’ll dump the money.”
“Easy as that?” I nod, Allison’s hair tickling the side of my face.
“Yup. Easy as that and then I don’t want anything to do with that estate or that man ever again.”
Chapter Nineteen
Getting a place on the catering team at the next Lambert charity event had been as easy as I had thought it would be. It had simply been a matter of calling up the number that called me last time and offering my services. The woman on the other end of the phone was more than happy to accept my help and I couldn’t help but smile as my evil plan fell in to place. I’m fairly certain that it can’t be called an evil plan however, since it’s actually a plan to donate $10,000 to a charity I know nothing about rather than keeping it in my own pocket. Sure, Gideon Lambert would be pissed, but let him be pissed, he has plenty of money to spare and if the money is mine I will do with it as I see fit, including donating it to charity. I admit there is part of me that wants him to know that I have returned the money, I suppose it’s this part of me that decided to donate it at the next one of his events rather than over the phone to some PBS telethon or something. Leaving $10,000 cash in a donation bin at one of his events would hardly lead back to me though; there was no check to trace and it’s not like he’d be there to see me drop it in to the donations basket.
For the next few days leading up to the charity event I actually start to get butterflies in my stomach. Every time I think about how I’m going to pull off my “crime of the century” I get nervous. God help me if I’m nervous on the day, I’ll end up spilling drinks all over the place like I did the first time I helped at a Lambert charity event… of course that was when I found out I’d just had sex with a billionaire. No, there’s no more billionaire sex in my future. I have to admit I’ll miss that part of things. I wish I were more like Allison sometimes; more able to detach, able to fuck and run, if I were then Gideon would be the perfect match for me. I contemplate for a moment how well suited Allison and Gideon might be for each other before pushing the thought far out of my mind. The very idea of Gideon sleeping with someone else made me angry, wasn’t that what this was all about anyway? Who was I fooling pretending that I had more morals than he did, I still had sex with him even after I found out he was married didn’t I? No, this wasn’t about morals, this was about jealousy. It was about jealousy and bruised egos. Now it was my turn to bruise his ego a little by throwing his money back in his face but doing it in such a way that he didn’t know I’d done it. Sure, I’m disappointed that I won’t get to see his face when he realizes that I’ve thrown the money back at him, but this is the only way to do it without the money lying around as we battle back and forth about who should take it and why.
I decide to dress up a little for my last job at the Lambert estate, and the day before the event I drag Allison out shopping with me. Together we hit every bargain and clearance rack in town clearing out the best they had to offer as well as my measly checking account. Dress code for the wait-staff at the Lambert affairs was simple, classy, black and white and nothing overly ostentatious. I settled on a black tuxedo sheath dress that had a fitted upper bodice, a modest neckline that covered its plunging cut with a fabric inlay and a hemline that came just above the knee. Paired with a pair of plain black wedge heels to ensure that I could actually walk by the time my work was done, after all this was my grand finale and I sure as hell didn’t want to be remembered hobbling my way out. When I tried the dress on in the store Allison had squealed and jumped up and down and while the reaction wouldn’t be the same, I imagined that the effect the dress would have on Gideon would be similar. Even though I know he won’t be at the event, part of me hopes that he shows up just so he can see me in this perfect dress with these perfect heels. So he can see me being an independent woman without his money in my pocket, without someone else’s husband on my arm.
I play the scenario over in my head a million times over. I imagine Gideon walking in after fate drags him to the door. I imagine the look of awe on his face when he sees me in my tight but perfectly fitted dress. I wonder if he’ll beg me to stay with him, apologize for the way he’s acted. I wonder if he’ll spill his guts to me, telling me just why he needed someone like me, someone who looked just like his wife, to hang on to his arm at every function he went to. I know that the chances of any of this actually happening are slim to none; in fact I have no hope at all of it happening and even if it did I don’t know that I’d accept his apology. How could I trust a man who has been so secretive, who has kept so much from me? How could I trust a man who thought it was perfectly acceptable to slip a $10,000 in to my purse as payment rendered for my services? I wonder if I’d have guts enough to tell him this if he walked in the door tonight. I wonder if he would even listen or if he’d drag me off to the bedroom once again, tearing off my clothes and making love to me. No, I won’t allow it to continue, I can’t allow it to continue, not like this.
Chapter Twenty
When Allison drops me off at the Lambert Estate for the final hurrah she gives me a smile that I’ve seen before. It’s the same smile she wears when she slips on her ass kicking boots for a night of fun at the club.
“Are you sure I can’t come, Missy?”
“No, besides, you’d only wind up in a broom closet with one of the rich old guys.” She feigns hurt, pouting her full pink lips at me.
“Missy! You think so little of me! I’d at least pick a young one.” We both laugh and flipping the visor mirror down I check my ruby red lipstick one more time, running my ton
gue over my front teeth.
“Just in case” I tell Allison and she nods in approval. Flipping the visor back up I check my purse for the millionth time for the wad of hundred dollar bills still bound tightly in the paper band and tucked in to a paper envelope. “I hope no one decides tonight is the night to steal my purse!”
“Can’t you stuff it in your bra or something?” always practical Allison.
“That would be a great idea if I was actually wearing a bra… besides I’m pretty sure they would disapprove of me fishing around in my bra for money to donate.”
“Well you don’t have to do it in front of everyone… anyway you don’t have one on so that idea’s out the window. I guess you’ll just have to hide your purse or something?”
“I’m sure it’ll be fine, really. I’ll just shove my purse in the pantry or something.”
“Right, now go! You’re going to be late.” I hop out of the car, reminding Allison that unless something goes terribly wrong I’ll need her to pick me up at midnight. She waves me off and takes off around the driveway and back down the gravel path. I walk around to the back entrance, after all, tonight I am not Mrs. Lambert and I hope that no one who knows me as her will be around tonight. The butterflies in my stomach turn in to what I can only describe as dragons and a sudden wave of nausea hits me as I step up to the back door. Here goes nothing.
“Hey!” A familiar voice calls out from across the kitchen as I walk in and looking up I catch site of Marcus; one of the regulars on the wait-staff crew.
“Hey! How is it tonight?” He shrugs.
“Same old, but damn girl, you look hawwwwt!” I can’t stand the pronunciation but his compliment makes me smile and I give him my thanks as I set about finding somewhere to squirrel away my purse. I settle on the back of one of the cupboards that seems less likely to be used during the night. With a quick look around I shove my purse in, kick the door closed carefully and present myself for tray duty. A middle aged woman whose face I can’t seem to place but certainly recognize, places a full tray of half filled champagne flutes on my hand.
“Be careful and don’t drop any this time!” She must have been at the first ever Lambert event, the one where I launched a tray of drinks all over the floor.
“Don’t worry, I won’t!” I head out of the kitchen doors and make my way in to the crowded hallways keeping my eyes peeled for anyone who might recognize me as the elusive Mrs. Lambert. So far so good and it’s not until I get to the main hall that I spot Mrs. Dubois, the overly curious, over imposing benefactor of the last estate function I attended with Gideon. She knows me as Mrs. Lambert and tonight I sure as hell don’t look like Mrs. Lambert. I don’t chance it and spin around, heading back in to the hallways and through to the second smaller ballroom.
I walk by one couple with my tray of drinks balanced carefully on my hand, and I imagine that is what I looked like on Gideon's arm as I played the role of Mrs. Lambert. I watch the young wife give a smile and giggle, the way that young women sometimes do, and then she buried her face into his shoulder. Her arm was hooked into his and he laughed and leaned his head on top of hers as he did. I felt my heart sink and for a tiny moment I missed Gideon. I missed playing the role of Mrs. Lambert. I missed the feeling of being someone’s wife, treasured, loved and cared for in a way that only the privileged man could. Call me shallow but there is something nice in being the one who is waited on, rather than being the one doing the waiting. I recall Gideon’s words on the night we met, his words when I knew him as just ‘Ricky.’ ‘Pretty girl like you shouldn’t be serving other people,’ that’s what he’d said to me and I’d bought it, hook, line and sinker. I’d believed that I had the potential to be something more than a barista, that I could one day have a life of being treated like a princess… perhaps not Princess Leia but a princess all the same. Then ‘Ricky’ had turned out to be Gideon and for just a moment I found myself thrilled, titillated that someone so high profile had any interest in someone like me. I wish I could have that first night back. I wish I could be with Ricky, that there never had been a Gideon, just the friendly bartender who knew how to treat me like a lady but give me a run for my money between the sheets.
“Excuse me…” A middle aged man with a large and somewhat embarrassing stain on his shirt stood in front of me. “Do you think you could help me here?” He gestures down to his shirt with half a smile on his face in excuse of his clumsiness.
“Sure, head straight back through the main hallway and you’ll run in to two large doors. Through the doors you’ll end up in the kitchen and there’s a middle aged woman in there that can help you with some soda water. That should get it right out and she might even be able to help you to find a replacement shirt or jacket or something?” I say this last part hopefully and he bursts in to laughter, the kind of laughter that makes bellies jiggle and reminds me of Santa Claus.
“Well that’s quite ironic.” I look at him unsure of why this is ironic and once he calms himself down he explains.
“I own one of the largest clothing retailers in the country, we’re here tonight raising money to send clothing down to Texas for everyone that got hit by that hurricane…and here I am, in need of another shirt.” I crack a smile, still not sure that it’s all that funny but not wanting him to feel that I was being rude.
“Well, hopefully we can get you sorted out and you won’t have to go looking for clothing donations of your own.” His laughter booms again as he walks off towards the kitchen.
Still holding my tray on my hand, I linger close to the young couple who are still regaling their company with stories of their weekend in the Hamptons, something I certainly would know nothing about. They chatter excitedly, finishing each other’s sentences and while I don’t want to stare I just can’t help it. They look so happy and once again I feel my heart sinking and my stomach dropping heavily towards my feet. Why had things had to be this way? Why couldn’t Gideon have been a decent guy without a wife? More to the point, why couldn’t he have avoided playing bachelor bartender that night? If he’d never been down in that stupid bar I never would have found him, and things never would have come this far. Now here I am, my heart caught in this trap and the more I struggle to free myself the tighter the trap pulls. I can’t set myself free but I also can’t just sit and wait for the hunter to come back and retrieve me once again.
“Oh, darling he is incorrigible! I told him after the honeymoon that I’d like to settle somewhere on the beach, you know, enjoy our weekends on the sand, fall asleep listening to the sound of the waves crashing on the shore. Do you know what he did?” The woman the young lady of the couple is talking to is shaking her head, her eyes shining brightly. “He only went and bought us a home out on the outer banks! It’s a gorgeous place but of course, far too many rooms for us to fill out.”
“Well, you have to think ahead Marcy, dear. The pitter patter of little feet and all that…” Marcy dismisses her with a wave and leans in to her new husband’s arm once again.
“Oh, darling, I can’t begin to think of that yet; I can barely decide what I want cook to make for dinner let alone take care of children!” Marcy’s friend leans in and in a loud whisper mentions the benefits of having a live in nanny.
Is this really what the life of a billionaire is all about? Perhaps I’m not missing out on all that much after all? Letting Gideon go is hard but letting go of everything else, not so much. Sure, Gideon had said the rich lifestyle wasn’t his scene but he’d also gone and slipped a check for $10,000 in to my purse and if that wasn’t evidence of the rich lifestyle then I don’t know what is. Maybe one day he can decide what he wants, maybe he can find a happy medium with a woman who doesn’t mind being his ‘bit on the side,’ a poor unsuspecting girl who thinks so little of herself that she’ll give her life to a man who can’t give all of his to her. I can’t be that woman though, even if he did ditch the wealthy life, I can’t live my life in the closet only being pulled out and shown off for special occasions. My mind s
tarts to wander as I let my eyes survey the room, how many of these women are actually wives, how many are mink coats that have been pulled from storage, brushed off for appearances and are being paraded around for good impressions?
Hands reach out swiping glasses from my tray and I catch bits and pieces of conversations as I continue to look around the room at the variety of mismatched couples. I decide that once this tray is empty I’m going to grab the cash and drop it in the donor’s basket and just get it over with. I don’t like the idea of leaving it stuffed in a cupboard where anyone could find it – even though the chances are slim and besides that, once the money is dropped off, there’s nothing tying me here and right now all I really want is to go home. At least this way if Mrs. Dubois does catch sight of me I can tell her that I just came by to drop off a small donation; I just hope she doesn’t notice how small of a donation it is because she’d have to know that $10,000 is a drop in the bucket for Gideon Lambert, and then I’ll almost certainly get tied up as she roots around in my business with her over-powdered nose.
It feels like it takes forever for my tray to empty this time, but when a hand reaches out and finally swipes that last glass of champagne I head back to the kitchen. As I’m about to be handed a second tray, once again packed full of half full glasses, I excuse myself to the bathroom, grab my purse from the cupboard and head back out to the main hall. No one questions why I am heading in to the main hall rather than the bathrooms that are tucked in the back for use by the “help.” To be honest I doubt anyone cares, it’s only me who feels like I’m on a mission, a secret agent dropping off a top secret package and hoping not to get caught in the act.
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