Gold Shimmer

by P. T. Michelle

  Me: Your bodyguard is an ass.

  I type “And so is your father” but then delete it.

  Celeste: Yes, he is.

  Me: Would’ve been nice to know YOU’RE Carver Enterprises now.

  Celeste: Don’t let the title fool you.

  I start to ask what she means by that, but I gasp as I nearly run into a pretty girl in her early twenties with delicate features, light brown hair and big green eyes.

  “Sheesh, Celeste, I thought you’d given up social media.”

  Has she? Interesting. I quickly tuck the phone in my purse. “Hey, Lizzy. Are you looking forward to the cocktail?”

  Celeste’s younger sister blinks at me. “Beth! You know how much I hate Lizzy.” She corrects me, rolling her eyes. “And is that a trick question? You know I’d rather be flayed alive.”

  Celeste knows Beth hates the name Lizzy. She uses it constantly to annoy her sister. Snickering, I continue on toward Celeste’s room, calling back to her. “The torture begins in three hours. The bar’s open at five. Don’t be late.”

  “Don’t worry. I know how to put on a show.”

  When I glance back, she’s already gone from the hall. Ah, that’s right…her room was the door I passed a second ago.

  Celeste’s bedroom is at the end of the hall. I knew it was massive based on the house layout she went over with me, but seeing the plush sofa seating area next to a marble fireplace against the far wall, a desk/library combo space on one side of the room, a massive king-sized sleigh bed on the other, and a full sized bathroom off the far left corner of the huge space really drills her family’s wealth home. My entire apartment could fit in her bedroom. Correction—suite.

  Leaning against the door, I take several deep breaths, glad to be away from scrutinizing eyes.

  So far, so good.

  Unbelievable! I mentally fuss as I watch the pearl earring I tried to put in my ear bounce against the bed before disappearing into the cream-colored carpet. Getting down on my hands and knees in the fitted velvet dress is a feat in itself, but after a minute of running my hand across the carpet under the bed and in front of the nightstand, I’m about to give up when I decide to run my fingers just under the nightstand itself.

  “Gotcha,” I mutter in triumph. As I start to straighten with the earring in my hand, I glance up and see a quarter-inch wide red ribbon poking out the underside of the nightstand. Once I put the earring in, I quickly pull the drawer open and furrow my brow. Other than a couple of books, some nail polish and some pens, there’s nothing in the drawer with a ribbon on it.

  I slide the drawer closed and peer under the nightstand once more, this time pushing on the underside. I’m surprised when the wood gives, then tilts with the weight of something sliding right before a gold-paged book falls onto the floor. I stare at the black book, it’s red ribbon bookmark standing out against the light carpet.

  “Are you kidding me?” I whisper, lifting the book and staring at the gold lock holding the diary closed. As unbelievable as it seems for someone who used to share a large part of her personal life on social media, what better place to keep secrets than off-line where no one can get to them? So long as no one knows it exists, I think as I push on the button to see if the lock will release. When it doesn’t budge, I sigh. Maybe this is a reminder you’re not supposed to snoop.

  Then she shouldn’t have given me full access to her room, I rationalize as I move to her desk and sift through the drawer. Once I find a paperclip, I unbend it and try my best to unlock the diary without scratching the gold lock.

  After a few tries, I toss the paperclip in the trash and set the book down on the desk. Leaning on my hands, I stare at it, itching to know what someone like Celeste would write about. Who stole her fashion idea? Her latest boyfriend? Who she screwed over in payback?

  As I lean forward, the necklace swings back and forth, blocking my view of the lock. The second I wrap my fingers around it to stop its movement, my gaze zeroes on the key. It looks about the right size. What if…

  I quickly remove the necklace and slide the key into the lock, then let out a low triumphant laugh when the latch pops open.

  Once I hook the necklace back around my neck, a twinge of guilt hits me as I open the book. When I see she has dated her entries that go all the way back to 1998, my conscience won’t let me read it, but I can’t help flipping to the day she played that prank on me. Yeah, I know the date. I’ll never forget it. What was running through her head that day? Did she plan it? Did she feel any remorse? Did I even rate a mention?

  September 23, 2006

  Does she realize that I helped her?

  I stare at the page, then flip to a couple entries before and after this one. In each of the other entries, she wrote long poetry type passages. Flipping back to the one entry on the twenty-third, I stare at the sentence. I know it’s not about me, because there’s no way what she did could ever be considered generous or helpful. Words like spiteful and cruel come to mind. Who was she talking about?

  A knock at the door makes me jump. “Come on, Celeste. Dad’s waiting on us,” Beth calls through the heavy wood.

  “Go on down. I’ll just be a minute,” I say as I quickly snap the lock closed and move to put the diary back where I found it.

  I’m halfway down the hall, when my clutch purse vibrates in my hand. Pulling Celeste’s phone out, I read her message.

  Celeste: Calder is supposed to arrive right around six. You’ll need to greet him at the entrance, since he doesn’t know anyone.

  She must’ve really kept their dating on the down-low if no one in her family has met Calder yet.

  Me: What time do you think you’ll make it back tonight? I’m willing to meet you somewhere, so long as you tell me how to shake Marco.

  Celeste: Not sure yet. I’ll let you know.

  Damn, I hate the uncertainty of not knowing exactly when this charade will end.

  I cross the huge entryway and enter the big room with a vaulted ceiling and glass doors across the entire curved wall on the other side of the room. I pause in the doorway when I catch sight of a thin, elegantly dressed dark-haired woman sitting in a chair and holding court with the few guests who have arrived early. The last thing I want to do is go near Nadine Carver.

  If anyone can spot an imposter, it’s the mother.

  I stand out of sight, staring at them talking politics and upcoming elections in the fall. Wealth rubbing shoulders with wealth, hoping even more wealth will rub off on them. What I want can’t be bought. I deserve it, but it’s not mine. Not yet, but soon.

  I scan the room, seeking Celeste. My heart thumps when my gaze lands on her. She’s talking to her younger sister. I study Elizabeth with an unbiased eye. She is pretty with the mischievous streak of someone who has never known suffering or sadness. She makes you smile and enjoy her company, but her eyes don’t hold the depth that Celeste’s do. She has more layers than I ever knew, making her even more interesting.

  She is beautiful. Her smile is genuine, her eyes alight with curiosity at everyone around her. When Ben walks up and she calls him Batman, I tense. What the hell is that about?

  I watch him touch her hand while he talks about his plans to set up his medical practice and my gaze slits. Fury clenches my insides. You don’t have permission to touch her. She’s not yours. She’ll never be yours. Celeste belongs to me. Only me.

  I skim my gaze over her face once more and shake off the anger at myself for not pushing my plans for Celeste forward before now.

  She will resist like she always has. And a part of me will enjoy hurting her for all the suffering she’s put me through. But the thought of making her bleed so that things will fall in line makes me smile.

  She’s held me off long enough. Soon, I’ll own her body and soul.

  I shake my head in bemusement as I watch Ben Hemming walk away to get a drink. He’s just a year younger than Jake, but it’s hard to believe he and Jake are related. It had been great to put a face with the nice
guy in the Batman costume I danced briefly with at the masked party.

  Even though I had to pretend I already knew who he was, Ben was easy to talk to. I remember him being on the thin side that night at the party, but in four years his hair had turned an even darker brown and he had filled out to a sleek, athletic build. Apparently he’s whip smart to already have his medical degree a whole year sooner than his peers.

  Unlike most of the types slowly filling up the Carver’s ballroom, Ben didn’t come across as the kind of person to dissect every word I uttered for its worth and credibility. Instead, he laughed at my quips about politics, saying, “You should be bluntly honest more often. It’s charming, Celeste. You’re making me reconsider.” Our conversation had been pleasant, like normal people chatting at a party.

  “Celeste, come and greet our guests.” Nadine’s green gaze spears past the businessmen in front of her and she waves, beckoning me forward.

  My stomach tenses into knots as I approach Celeste’s mother. How I manage a smile once I reach her side, I have no idea. She looks tired, but even with her illness she’s still a very attractive woman. “You look beautiful,” I say as I take her hand and admire her floor length black chiffon dress and the four-caret teardrop diamond pendant earrings that match her necklace.

  Nadine’s gaze holds mine long enough to make me squirm. When she finally squeezes my hand and smiles, her gaze sliding over the off-the-shoulder bodice and long, fitted sleeves, to the tea-length pencil-style skirt, I slowly exhale my pent up breath. Paired with Celeste’s red-bottomed black patent pumps, the dress manages to be both elegant and subtly sexy. I’m just so glad the back forms a deep-vee to my waist. It might’ve made wearing the bra Celeste bought for it impossible to wear, but at least then I won’t get overheated. Apparently fitted velvet is quite warm.

  “That wine color is exquisite on you, dear,” Nadine says before turning to the two men she’d been speaking to. “Gentlemen, my oldest daughter, Celeste.” Looking at me, she indicates the thin-faced, middle-aged man with rosy cheeks. “You remember Governor Marlin.”

  As the Governor shakes my hand, the blond-haired man to his right smiles at me. “I’m Alan Warren, Celeste.”

  I welcome the Governor, then turn to Mr. Warren. “It’s nice to meet you, Mayor Warren.”

  Clearly pleased to be recognized, Alan takes my hand once the Governor releases it. “It’s wonderful to meet you. I hope you’ll come as our special guest at the upcoming city-council meeting next week?”

  A moment of panic grips me, seizing my throat. I manage to smile and make a mhmm sound. The mayor is in his early forties with honest brown eyes and the firm handshake of someone who stands by what he says. I hope politics doesn’t ruin that about him.

  I release his hand and realize too late that the way he’s grinning at me means I must’ve just agreed. Well crap. So much for no one asking me tough questions.

  “I’m sure, Celeste will make every effort to be there, Alan, but her schedule is pretty full with family business duties.”

  As the mayor nods his understanding, I slide an appreciative look Nadine’s way. I have no clue what Celeste really does if her title in the family business is just that, but I can’t help but be a bit in awe of Celeste’s mother. This whole way of life is so alien to me, yet despite her illness Nadine maneuvers through the murkiness like an elegant swan gliding across a pond. Watching Alan take it in stride, clearly enthralled by her charms makes me realize just how one-dimensional photography can be. I can’t possibly capture all the nuances that go on underneath the glitz and glamour.

  A tall, well-built man in his early-fifties walks up to our group. “Good evening, gentlemen. You look as lovely as ever, Nadine,” he says as he offers her his hand.

  Nadine folds his between hers and gives him a warm smile. “Thank you for coming, Phillip. You know how much Gregory appreciates all the support you give our family.”

  Laying his free hand over hers, his smile is magnetic. “Your husband is going places and I plan to be right there with him.”

  Phillip Hemming.

  I quickly glance around the crowded room and blow out a thankful breath. Jake doesn’t appear to be here. Until Celeste briefed me, I had no idea that she knew Jake outside of school. Jake’s father has been Carver Enterprises legal counsel for well over a decade. Phillip has also been Gregory’s close friend and confidant for almost twenty years. I got the impression their families had gone on some vacations together when the kids were younger, so Celeste must see Jake and Ben like quasi-brothers. Maybe that’s why she refused to date Jake. Then again, it could be she just didn’t have any interest in him.

  I glance around and finally spot Phillip’s dark-haired, tan, and perfectly botox-ed wife, Lana, chatting up a storm with the wives near the bar.

  I try not to look too closely at Phillip as he talks to Celeste’s mother, but with his blond hair turning a bit lighter at his temples, I can definitely see where Jake got his striking good looks. Ben is pleasant looking, and he favors his mother’s coloring, but Jake got his father’s light hair, hazel eyes, and raw appeal. Unfortunately, I know how deceiving a handsome face can be. It might be unfair of me to make the father guilty by handsome-association, but I really don’t want to be around him. As I look for an opportunity to gracefully slip away, I start to step back, but Phillip turns to me, his forehead pinched. “You look a little flushed, Celeste. Maybe you should get some water.”

  I lift my glass of soda. “I’ve got a drink, thanks.”

  Phillip starts to say something else, but then Beth’s voice sounds behind me. “Look who I found, Celeste?”

  When I turn, I’m unprepared to see Calder standing next to Celeste’s sister.

  Wearing a black suit and a slight smile, he looks like he could easily be one of the fashion models I book for my shoots. His hair is a bit longer than the last time I saw him, but still short by most guy’s standards. And damn if I hadn’t been right about his bone structure. The past several years have bulked out his broad shoulders and honed his striking features. I can’t believe how devastatingly handsome he’s become. With high cheekbones and an angular jaw, he’s absolutely breathtaking. But his eyes hold a wariness I don’t remember seeing before. It makes him both beautiful and even more unattainable at the same time.

  “Well then.” Beth’s gaze pinging between us makes me realize I haven’t said a single word. “I’m heading to the bar. Anyone want a drink?”

  While Nadine asks Beth to bring her a glass of wine, I’m so mesmerized by the fact Calder’s green eyes are a couple shades darker than I remember, all I can do is blurt out, “You’re here.”

  He nods, a smirk teasing his lips. “I am.”

  I want so badly to throw my arms around his neck and beg his forgiveness. No, first I want to kiss his sexy mouth and make him feel as loopy as I do while staring at him, and then beg his forgiveness.

  I tilt my head and smile. “And you’re early.”

  His smile fades. “I see you’re astute as always.”

  I’m so stunned by the sudden shift in his demeanor, that it takes me a second to realize Nadine is speaking. “Celeste, don’t be rude. Introduce your guest.”

  “Oh, sorry.” I hook my hand on Calder’s forearm and turn him toward the group. As introductions are made and he pulls free of my hold to shake hands, I watch him. He chats with the men and Nadine about local politics so easily you’d think he was born to it. No wonder he and Celeste hit it off. The realization that Celeste wasn’t exaggerating about their ability to connect hits me hard, churning my stomach.

  After Beth hands her mother a glass of wine, she pulls me back from the group and whispers, “How have you kept your hands off that handsome specimen? There’s no way Scrappy knows about him or I’d have heard about it. Speaking of which…” Trailing off, she looks around. “Where is he?”

  Who the heck is Scrappy? I shrug and hate that I can’t think of a way to ask without making Beth suspicious. “Have yo
u seen Father anywhere?”

  Beth nods toward the French doors. “He stepped out there to answer a call.”

  “At his own party? Are you kidding me? I’ll go get him. Tell Calder I’ll be right back.”

  She gives me a funny look. “Brave girl. You’re acting so odd.”

  Damn, apparently I’m being too me right now. May as well own it. I shrug. “Sometimes rocking the boat doesn’t do the trick; you have to turn the dang thing over.”

  “Ooh, I like this feisty side of you,” Beth calls after me, chuckling.

  Cigar smoke is the only thing that greets me when I walk outside. Celeste mentioned that her father likes to occasionally smoke cigars, so I follow the scent across the patio and down the lantern-lit stairs.

  The smell fades once I reach the garden, a seven-foot hedge maze with ground lights spearing up from under the tall bushes every few feet. Though it’s not fully dark yet, the lights add a nice touch. A fountain gurgles in the center of the maze, and farther out, the scent of pine blows in the light wind from the evergreens lining the back of the property. As I make my way through the maze, I notice a few patches of white and yellow daffodils trying to pop through.

  Knowing the future of my father’s business is riding on my success tonight is weighing down every move I take in there. It feels good to take a breather away from the crowd. Celeste asked me to make sure that Calder is introduced to her dad, so I keep moving toward the center of the maze. The open space in the middle of the maze is empty except for a tall stone fountain and four wrought iron benches facing each other along the edge of the hedges.

  I’m frustrated that I didn’t find Gregory, but before I head back inside, I look up at the full moon already visible in the dusky sky. Purple and pink streak the quickly darkening skyline as the sun sets. I inhale the soothing scent of fresh outdoors and welcome the cool nip in the spring air, hoping both will reinforce my confidence that I can pull the rest of this evening off.