Entrapment

by Aleatha Romig

  “Yes, Miss House Manager.”

  With that, I shut the door, pulling my own key from my pocket and locking it again from the inside.

  Hurriedly, I splashed my face, added fresh mascara and lip gloss, and ran a brush through my hair. A few clips and it was styled. Slipping out of my jeans and light sweater, I pulled a blue dress over my head, and stepped into a pair of pumps.

  As I took one quick look in the mirror, the pearl necklace bobbed over the neckline. The illusion I’d created wasn’t too bad for a four-minute makeover. Just as I was about to head back downstairs, I remembered the lack of warmth at Montague Manor. Autumn was trying to break the lingering summer heat. Generally it was a futile effort as long as the sun shone, but with nightfall, autumn found victory. I turned back to my closet for a sweater when my doorknob began to turn.

  It could rattle all day and all night, but unless the person had that funny little gadget, it wouldn’t open. Taking a deep breath, I called, “I’m on my way.”

  “Alex?”

  The sweater slipped from my grip and fluttered to the floor.

  I stepped closer to the door. “Are you alone?”

  “Yes,” Chelsea replied.

  The calm Nox had given me slipped completely out of my reach as hurt, anger, and even jealousy bubbled to life inside of me. Turning the key and opening the door, I stood resolute in the frame. “If you’re coming to assure I make it to dinner, as you can see I’m on my way.”

  Chelsea nodded as a tear escaped her sad hazel eyes. “I-I see. That’s not why I’m here. I hoped I could slip away…”

  “And what? Spy on me? Tell Alton and Bryce more about me?” I gestured toward the suite. “You obviously filled them in on my favorite products. No one else would’ve known.”

  I blocked her forward motion, keeping her in the hallway.

  “Alex, I know what it looks like. I know what I’ve said, but I love you. You’re my friend. This wasn’t supposed to happen.”

  I shook my head. “You have a funny way of showing it. What is it with all my supposed friends who think the best way to get to me is to screw Bryce?”

  “I-I should go…” she said, turning away.

  The pain swirling in Chelsea’s eyes reminded me of what Nox had said, how he’d told me to take care of her. “Wait. What wasn’t supposed to happen? Why are you still here anyway? I mean, how does it look now that Bryce is engaged?”

  Swallowing her tears, she lifted her chin. “It looks like I’m a whore.” Her eyes closed as more tears escaped. “And I am.”

  I don’t know if it was the raw emotion in her voice, the honesty, or what Nox had said, but something in the way Chelsea held herself broke a piece of my heart, starting a crack that had the potential to shatter the anger and hurt I’d been harboring.

  I reached for her shoulders. “What happened to you? Where’s my Chelsea?”

  She shook her head, still not looking at me. “I can’t tell you. I can’t tell anyone. We don’t have time… I just couldn’t spend another meal with you… hating me.”

  As I wrapped her in my arms, four years of togetherness began to chip away at a few months of separation punctuated by a few days of disgust.

  Slowly she pulled back, mascara streaking down her cheeks.

  I reached for her hand. “Come in here. Clean up or they’ll know.”

  Chelsea nodded and followed me inside. As she did her eyes opened wider, taking in the suite.

  “Have you been in here before?”

  “No, I didn’t even know for sure where I was going. I saw you come in from the back of the house. I excused myself and followed you up the stairs. Then I waited until Jane left.”

  Chelsea followed me to the bathroom and reached for a tissue.

  “I almost chickened out,” she added.

  “Chelsea Moore doesn’t chicken out of anything.”

  Her cheeks fell. “She does now.”

  When she threw the tissue to the counter, I closed the bathroom door and reached for her hand. “Did they make you text me?”

  “Your stepfather did. Bryce knew, but Mr. Fitzgerald told me what to say.”

  “And you did it?” My chest ached.

  Chelsea turned away, only meeting my eyes in the mirror. “You’ve seen her. She needs you. Without you, she would’ve gotten worse. I know you’ve hated your mom, but I think there’s so much more.”

  I pursed my lips and widened my eyes.

  In barely a whisper, I said, “Unless this is part of their plan, stop. I’ve looked everywhere, but I can’t shake the feeling this room is bugged. We might be safe here in the bathroom.”

  Swallowing she stood taller. “Oh God…”

  Fear, confusion, even terror… the emotions leaped from her hazel eyes. “I-I…”

  My heart told me that everything I saw was honest. My Chelsea wasn’t a good actor: she never had been. She’d always been the one to say what she thought, the fresh air that had inflated my life raft when I’d moved west. I looked down at my watch and back to her reflection. “We need to go. Let me try to handle this. Can you go along with me?”

  Maintaining our whisper, she met me face to face. “Honestly, I don’t know. I’ll try.”

  “Please, Chels. We can do much more together than apart. We’ve already proven that.”

  “Fucking jail break?” she asked with a hint of her old self.

  “I’ve been told you’re kick-ass.”

  She shrugged. “Maybe I can remember how, as long as I have my best friend by my side.”

  CHELSEA SLIPPED DOWN the back stairs while I waited and descended the front. We were both late, not by normal standards, but this wasn’t normal. This was Montague Manor.

  “Where the hell have you…” Bryce’s growl rumbled from the dining room as I approached through another entrance. The damn room had doors in all directions. It was designed for large parties. Guests could even enter from the terrace, if the French doors were open. Tonight they weren’t, yet the drapes were open, giving a view of the lawns and lake.

  The idea to see if the tennis courts were visible from the sitting room was a fleeting thought. Bryce’s tenor zeroed my attention past Alton and Suzanna, who were already seated, to him. His question wasn’t meant for me, though I recognized the tone. It was the same one I’d heard earlier in the day, but that wasn’t what held my attention. It was the way he gripped Chelsea’s arm that sent the small hairs on my arms to attention.

  What the fuck was his problem?

  Before she could answer, I entered. “It seems that tardiness is rampant tonight,” I volunteered, taking some of the heat off Chelsea.

  Ignoring her, I bravely walked to Bryce, meeting his agitated gaze with one of calm. “I’m sorry, I couldn’t decide on which dress looked best.” I turned a small circle. As our stare connected for the second time, I noticed his mellowing a bit.

  He released Chelsea’s arm as I took another step closer. “You were right,” I cooed.

  “I was?”

  I lifted one brow and slowed my cadence. “You’re back.”

  While Chelsea hurried to her seat, Bryce leaned forward to offer me a kiss. Our lips barely touched, when Alton’s bellow saved the day.

  “You’re late. Dinner is being served.”

  My smile wasn’t fake: it was ironic. Never could I remember welcoming my stepfather’s intrusion as I did at that moment. Thankfully, Bryce appeared to misconstrue its meaning as he met my expression with a smile equally as large.

  “Nice dress,” he whispered as we turned to our assigned seats.

  Silence and glances prevailed throughout the first two courses as Alton and Suzanna spoke about our wedding dress excursion. Why Alton was interested was beyond me. It wasn’t as if he’d have carried on a long conversation with my mother had she been the one to shop.

  After the main course was placed before us, I turned to Alton. “I was told you were looking for me?”

  “Where were you?”

  “
Surely you know. Don’t you see all?”

  As his beady eyes narrowed, I continued, hoping to minimize my sarcasm. “On a walk. Other than Magnolia Woods and shopping, I haven’t been outside. You’re the one who told me to get used to being here. The part of here that I adore is the land.

  “The fields look bare and sad. When was the harvest?”

  “Really, Alexandria, do you think I worry myself with the planting and harvesting schedule?”

  I shrugged. “Honestly, yes.”

  “Don’t be late for dinner again.”

  “I wouldn’t have been, if I hadn’t been ambushed.”

  “Really, dear, you’re so dramatic,” Suzanna said. “Who ambushed you? Not Bryce. He was with us.”

  “No, not Bryce. Chelsea.”

  Chelsea’s hand stopped mid-lift, the fork dangling in the air precariously above the fine china as all eyes turned toward her.

  “That’s where you were?” Bryce asked, obviously questioning Chelsea.

  “Yes,” I volunteered. “It seems she wants…” I lifted my glass of wine and took a sip, allowing the anticipation to build.

  “What? What does she want?” Bryce asked.

  “For us not to hate one another. For me to forgive her for her lies and conniving ways, for four years of deception, cunning, and betrayal.”

  “Alex?” Emotion choked Chelsea’s one word.

  “What?” I asked dramatically. “Isn’t this what we’re all about now… openness?”

  “Yes,” Alton answered.

  “Excuse me?” I turned his way.

  “Chelsea isn’t going anywhere. It would be best for the two of you to… get along.”

  I furrowed my brow. “That doesn’t work for me.”

  I avoided looking at my friend, knowing my words were inflicting pain, yet confident I was on the right path.

  “I’m proud of you, Chelsea,” Suzanna said. “I know what a difficult position you’re in. Alexandria, this really would be the best. It would be perfect if you could show a united front on Saturday.”

  “Hmm?” I asked. “Maybe me on one side of Bryce and Chelsea on the other?”

  “That would—”

  “Not exactly,” Alton said, interrupting Bryce.

  “Then what… exactly?”

  “Chelsea resumes her role as your friend and roommate.”

  “And stops sleeping with my fiancé?”

  There were comments from both Bryce and Chelsea, but I wasn’t listening to them. I was back to negotiating. For that to be successful, it had to be with Alton.

  He lifted his napkin and dabbed his thin lips. “In public.”

  This time I turned the direction of Bryce and Chelsea. “You had sex in public?”

  “No, Alexandria!” Suzanna interjected. “That’s not what your father meant. He meant that what happens in private is… private. In public, Chelsea resigns herself to being your friend and Bryce’s ex. She’s part of your crowd now. The others will take their cues from you. If you don’t show any animosity, the other girls will follow suit.”

  What was this, a fucking sorority? The Chi Omega of Savannah’s upper echelon.

  “What do you expect us to do?” I asked. “Have a sleepover and make up?”

  It was Suzanna who answered. “I think that’s a perfect idea. Maybe you could think about the maid-of-honor role too?” Her nose scrunched dramatically. “It’s a much better solution than the one you proposed.”

  “Have you spoken to Alton…”

  “No,” she answered. “I was hoping…”

  “That’s enough,” Alton proclaimed. “I don’t care about the details. Chelsea is moving in here tonight.”

  “Wait a minute…” Bryce’s words stalled as we all turned his direction.

  Asshole. If I wasn’t able to screw Nox, he didn’t need to be screwing anyone either. Still, that consequence was merely the icing on the cake. My first goal had been to talk to Chelsea. If I gained her a reprieve from Bryce, all the better.

  “Fine.” Bryce threw his hands in the air. “Fine. If this is what you want, Alexandria… fine.”

  I couldn’t give in too quickly. “I never said it was.”

  “I did,” Alton proclaimed. “Now eat. When we’re done, Chelsea can go get a few things from Carmichael Hall while I fill you in on your mother.”

  “My mother? I was there…”

  “Her DTs are getting worse,” Suzanna said shaking her head.

  “What? She was sleeping comfortably when I left?”

  Alton lifted his hand. “You were the one absent when I tried to speak to you. This will wait. I’m not letting the subject upset our dinner.”

  “The subject? My mother?”

  “Alexandria.”

  “I need a phone.”

  Alton didn’t answer, no one did. As if a switch had been flipped… heavy silence fell over the room, interrupted only by the occasional sound of forks upon china and food being consumed.

  THE VICTORIAN DISTRICT. That’s what they called this area of Savannah. I’d been here before, to this exact house. In many ways, it reminded me of the brownstones in Brooklyn, but made of wood and with more color. In the darkness the colors were muted, but during the day, they were like a rainbow, blues and greens, even shades of pink. The houses were semi-detached, giving each a side yard, yet their floor plans were similar to what I had known. The structure was narrow, deep, and tall. Without the woodwork and architectural bric-a-brac, they would resemble the old shotgun style seen more frequently in New Orleans.

  Through the years and with the renovations, the value of homes in this area of Savannah had increased significantly. And while being a secretary at the esteemed law firm of Hamilton and Porter in this historic city was a noble job, it wasn’t what one considered lucrative. Not lucrative enough to be able to afford one of these townhomes. That took extra income, the kind not found on a tax return.

  I peered up and down the quiet street. Nighttime had fallen hours ago, taking the residents inside and allowing quaint, old-fashioned streetlights to be the only source of illumination. The black iron fence separating the small front yard from the street wasn’t locked. I’d already checked that. It seemed like she’d learn. It hadn’t been locked the last time I was here either.

  That little stretch of green helped the residents of this area believe they were better than the brownstones and many of the shotgun houses. These fine dwellers had a front yard.

  I couldn’t help but shake my head. Through the years it had become obvious that the things people considered important became trivial as the life they lived slipped away. The item on the grocery list with the star was no longer significant. The appointment at the beauty parlor was no longer paramount. The new car or green patch of earth no longer mattered.

  Death had a way of refocusing both men and women.

  The sad observation was that the clarity given to these misguided souls came too late for action. Perhaps there was solace in the knowledge or could it be remorse? If only the realization had come when there was time to rectify goals. That was seldom the case.

  The gate creaked as I lifted the lever and pushed it inward. The slam as it shut behind me echoed on the empty street, awakening a dog a few doors down. Thankfully, after a few halfhearted barks to do his job, the canine forgot its interruption and quieted.

  Historically accurate, the porch was as it had been a hundred years earlier. Revisions included new boards and paint, but not surveillance. There were no visual doorbells or cameras. My image would not be captured or saved.

  With a handkerchief covering my finger, I pushed the round button. A chime played within, its tune barely audible at my distance. The unlit porch light should probably have been an indication that Miss Natalie Banks wasn’t expecting visitors, but this was the South. Hospitality, even at a late hour, was inbred.

  Keeping my face away from the side window, I waited as the interior entry filled with light. Seconds later, the door opened.

 
“May I…” Miss Banks’s welcome stopped as our eyes met.

  Recognition and terror were easily misconstrued. Perhaps it was that I’d witnessed them both, often in conjunction, one right after the other. Her gaze darted around me.

  “M-Mr. Demetri?”

  “No one has seen me, which is neither an advantage nor a disadvantage. It’s rude to entertain on your porch, Miss Banks.”

  She hesitated for only a moment before taking a step back. “Please, come in.”

  Nodding, I stepped over the threshold. Neat and clean, the foyer was narrow with the staircase to my left and a formal sitting room to my right. The solid oak floors glistened with the artificial light as Natalie Banks took another step backward on a narrow hallway that led past the stairs toward the kitchen.

  “I’d forgotten what a very nice home you have.”

  Bobbing her head quickly she tugged at the hem of her shirt. “Thank you. Would you like something to drink? The kitchen is—”

  My cheeks rose. “No, I’d like something else.”

  I hadn’t been the only contributor to her unreported income, but I had made a significant donation after she helped to point Alexandria toward the resort in Del Mar, a far larger donation than the task was worth. That made us family.

  Family watched over one another. They helped one another out. They repaid debts. Hers had just come due.

  SEIZURES.

  Alton had delivered the news as if he were giving me Montague’s stock report, assuring me that I could visit again in the morning. Thankfully, I’d convinced Bryce to stay with me as I heard the news. I honestly had no idea what Alton had been about to tell me, only that I was trying to give Chelsea space to get her own things without his help.

  She got Suzanna and I took Bryce.

  Now, an hour or more later after more of a battle than I’d waged in five days, I was racing through the hallways of Magnolia Woods. When we arrived, I didn’t stop to sign a registry or even speak to the woman at the front desk. This was after visiting hours and the woman was too busy painting her nails or reading some smut to notice as we passed by.