Entrapment

by Aleatha Romig

  I looked at Jane as the male nurse begrudgingly released the Velcro restraints. Immediately, we both rushed to her sides and massaged her wrists. “Is there anything else you need to do to help her?” I asked indignantly.

  “No, I’m just being sure…”

  “We have it covered.”

  “Ma’am?”

  “Go. Tell Dr. Miller I want to speak to him and let my future mother-in-law in the courtyard know that plans have changed. I need to stay here until Dr. Miller arrives.”

  “Ma’am, the doctor isn’t scheduled to be here until later this afternoon.”

  I pulled a chair beside Momma’s bed. “Not a problem. I’ll wait.”

  Once we were alone, Jane leaned close. “Child, I can stay.”

  “We can both stay.”

  “What about the party?”

  “The guests don’t arrive until six. I’ll be back by then.”

  “I thought you said Mr. Spencer wasn’t going to let you come here today?”

  “I’m here. He wants me over at Carmichael Hall.”

  Jane grinned. “But you’re staying here?”

  “Yes, Jane. I am.”

  Her smile broadened.

  The news didn’t go over as well with Suzanna.

  As she entered the room, it was obvious that it was her first visit. Her hand flew to her lips as she took in my momma, the bed, and the monitors. “Oh…”

  Her feigned show of sensitivity didn’t move me, nor did her list of reasons that I needed to return to Carmichael Hall. Though I knew my decision would come back to haunt me, I stood my ground.

  “Something significant happened. I can’t play nice at the party without knowing the doctor’s thoughts.”

  Even while on phone calls with Bryce and Alton, I didn’t falter.

  “Jane, I do have one favor.”

  “Anything.”

  “Can you do anything to get Chelsea away from Montague Manor until closer to the party?”

  Her gaze narrowed, but she didn’t question. Jane had been at Montague too long. A moment later I heard her make a call. I wasn’t sure to whom she spoke, but once she was done, she turned to me.

  “Miss Moore will be busy today. She’s going to help organize the deliveries. We’ve got a mighty big party happening and we need everyone’s help.”

  “Will she still be at the manor?”

  “No, Miss Alex. Miss Moore will be all over Savannah confirming the suppliers. It would’ve been me, but I’m busy.”

  I took a deep breath. “Thank you.”

  Once I’d upset everyone, I settled next to Momma on one side of her bed and Jane on the other. Even with the steady beeps of the monitors, cold room, and blind-covered window, it was the most relaxed I’d been since I arrived. I was with the only two people who cared for me—and whom I cared for—at Montague Manor.

  “Was she really coherent?” I asked, keeping my voice low.

  “She was,” Jane whispered. “The other day, while I was out working with suppliers for the party, I stopped by Dr. Beck’s office.”

  “You did?”

  She nodded. “I don’t know if it good or bad. The test… it didn’t show any poisonous metals. He thought with the old house, maybe lead, but no. Everything show that the medicine in her… it was what he prescribed her.”

  My heart sank. “So she did overdose?”

  “I don’t think it’s that simple. I told Dr. Beck, just like I told you: she didn’t have the pills. I did. I still have them. Dr. Beck didn’t give her more. The medicine they found in her with those tests was the same as what he’d prescribed. I just don’t think it was hers.”

  “What about her preventive medication? They say she stopped taking it.”

  Jane shook her head. “She took it every day. I know what they say, but many mornings I watched her take it, even after she start having problems. I made sure she took it. I don’t understand why…”

  I took a deep breath, letting Jane’s words penetrate my thoughts. Alton was a fucking genius. It was the perfect overdose: slip Momma more of the medicine she already took—a lot more.

  After he and I had met with Dr. Miller, the minute I had my school-approved tablet, I’d looked up the side effects of opioids: headaches, dizziness, vomiting. Essentially, too much Vicodin and Momma would think she was having a migraine. Increase the dosage and get the added benefits of anxiety, shakiness, and erratic behavior. Combine that with alcohol, another depressant… memory and sleeping issues. Take away her preventive headache medicine. It was the perfect storm.

  “This morning, was she really that out of control? Did they need to subdue her?”

  “I’ve seen your momma more upset, a lot more. If they let me, I would have talked to her. She just wanted you.”

  Her words gripped my chest, squeezing my heart. “I-I…”

  Jane reached for my hand. “She needs us.”

  “I’m trying.”

  “Is it wrong,” Jane asked, “that I’m worried about her, more worried about her here?”

  I swallowed. “No. I am too.”

  I wasn’t sure how Nox’s people planned to help my mother and get her out of here, but with each passing minute, I was thankful they were. I was also worried that they wouldn’t succeed. Looking at my momma, I feared that if they failed, she was out of options.

  JANE AND I slipped into the back of the manor, forgoing the front door. Just before making my way up to my room, I remembered Chelsea.

  I worked my way to her room, avoiding the first floor. After all, it was a madhouse. There were people everywhere, arranging flowers, setting up buffets, and stocking various bars. I’d forgotten to ask Jane how many people were invited. Maybe it wasn’t forgetfulness as much as apathy. I didn’t give a shit.

  Gently I knocked on Chelsea’s door and waited.

  “Hello?”

  “Chels, it’s me.”

  The door opened. I hadn’t seen her since last night. She was wearing slacks and a blouse with her hair in a ponytail. Though her cheek was covered with makeup, the purple showed through.

  “God. I’m sorry that I arranged for you to go out like that.”

  She shrugged as she opened the door further, walked to a table, and picked up a pair of sunglasses. “The advantage of Georgia, even in November, is it’s usually sunny.” She slipped on the glasses, covering the bruise. “Besides, I was happy to get out of here.”

  “Have you seen him?” I asked, not having time to dance around the elephant in the room.

  She shook her head. “No, but he called. He was pissed that I wasn’t waiting here. He said you stood him up, so it was my job…”

  She didn’t finish. She didn’t need to.

  I took her hand and pulled her to the bathroom. Once the door was shut and she took off the sunglasses, shame and sadness shone in her hazel eyes, but there were no tears. It made me proud of my friend. Hopefully, she was done shedding them over bad choices and assholes.

  “I’m afraid we screwed up,” I confessed.

  “Why?”

  “Your room. I’ve assumed mine was bugged, but yesterday when we spoke…” The thoughts increased my pulse. “…I’m afraid they may now know about my connection to Infidelity.”

  Chelsea sighed. “Yeah, I’d hate for me to be the only whore.”

  I took a step back.

  “No,” she quickly replied. “I’m sorry. I’m mad. I’m scared. I’m lashing out at you… because I can. I didn’t mean it.”

  Though I’d felt the impact, I understood. “I’m getting you out tonight. I told you my plan. It’ll work. The downstairs is buzzing. By later, it will be total chaos and confusion.”

  “Did you know that there were thirty-two floral arrangements delivered?” Chelsea asked. “Thirty-two big ones! Helping to coordinate all of that was part of my job today. There’s a kitchen with cooks and yet the caterers brought more cooks and over twenty servers.” She shook her head. “I can’t imagine your wedding.”

 
; “Well, don’t. I’m getting out before that happens. He scares me, too.”

  “Alex, what will happen to your mom?”

  I let out a long breath. “Hopefully Nox can help.” I couldn’t say more. What if the bathroom was bugged? What if Bryce got ahold of Chelsea and forced her to confess?

  As he’d said about our day’s plans… there were too many variables.

  “You haven’t been summoned to the party, have you?”

  Chelsea shook her head. “The opposite.”

  I stood taller, tilting my head. “What does that mean?”

  “When he called, he told me to stay here in this room. He said if things didn’t go well at the party, he wanted to know he had an option…” She expelled a deep breath as her hands fell to her sides. “If you don’t behave—that was the word he used—I’ll be punished. He wants to know his ‘whore’ is available.”

  I reached for her shoulders. “No one, no one,” I repeated, “deserves to be treated like he’s treating you. I don’t give a shit what the agreement says. Deloris will get you out of it.” I touched her cheek. “Abuse is an out—I believe one that may even come with compensation. They should fucking screen their clients better.”

  “I don’t even care anymore about the money. I did. I’ve saved most of it. But what good is putting my sister through school if I’m not alive to see her graduate?”

  She paced a small circle. “But… are you sure? I don’t want to leave you, and I don’t want to stay.”

  “It won’t be for long. I can’t do this either. I’ve accomplished some of what I set out to do. I know things. I’ve seen things. If I wouldn’t have come here… well, I did. Now I need to do what someone has asked me to do more times than I can count. I need to trust in him.”

  “You’re not talking about Bryce?”

  “Hell no!” I looked down at my watch. “I need to go get ready. I’ll be back. When I do, it won’t be for long. I know what Bryce said, but hang out in my room until it’s time. I’ll behave.” The word tasted sour. “He won’t have any reason to come up here. Keep the door locked. It’ll make me feel better.”

  Chelsea nodded. “I love you.”

  “Like a sister,” I said, kissing her unmarred cheek.

  FRESHLY SHOWERED, MY hair dried but not yet styled, with a robe wrapped around me, I decided to assess the dress I’d be wearing. All I’d been told was that it would cover my breasts. I hadn’t really been told that, but that’s what Bryce implied as he pinched my nipple to elicit my attention. It was the area the dress would cover… where he could bruise.

  I pushed those thoughts to the back of my mind. I couldn’t revive the fright of last night, the inevitability of his threat… I couldn’t do that and stand beside him playing the perfect fiancée role.

  Instead, I worked to conjure thoughts of my childhood friend, the one afraid of Nessie—the monster our mothers had concocted to keep us from the lake. Ironic that they’d made up a beast to keep us safe when my living with one was their goal.

  Even the childhood memories were tarnished. Had anything been real?

  Of course not, this was the world of smoke and mirrors.

  As I lifted the new garment bag from the rack in my closet, the sound of knocking warned me of another intrusion.

  Fuck!

  Please don’t be Bryce.

  “Hello?” I asked through the locked door.

  “Alexandria?”

  After releasing the wedged key, I pulled it open. Peering modestly around the edge, I eyed Suzanna up and down. Her dress was pristine, a sapphire blue with a scooped neckline and her hair was styled in some throwback beehive from the sixties. Okay, it was more of a bouffant, but it still looked ridiculous. Her eye makeup was overdone and lips were too red. If the intent had been to make her look younger, she’d missed the mark.

  “Suzanna,” I cooed. “Don’t you look lovely? What can I do for you?”

  Her lips pursed. “Open the door. I was going to tell you this morning, but… well, plans changed.”

  “What? I’m so sorry I wasn’t able to spend the afternoon with you and Bryce. But yes, my mother is resting comfortably. Thank you for asking.”

  Clearing her throat, she stepped to the side, allowing her entourage to come into view.

  “Open the door. Your team of stylists hasn’t much time.”

  “Stylists? I don’t need…” My protests fell on deaf ears as Suzanna and three other women bulldozed their way into my suite. Within minutes my bathroom was transformed into a salon. Straighteners and curling irons of all widths lined the marble counter while palettes of foundation, blush, and eye shadow littered any available spaces.

  A chair was brought in, and I was encouraged to sit and obey.

  Though I repeated my objection, soon I was doing as I’d been bid while Suzanna was filling me in on the upcoming festivities.

  Looking at her watch, she laid out the schedule. “Though it’s supposed to begin at six, guests may arrive sooner. The staff is ready to greet them. The bars and hors d’oeuvres will be ready. Your father and I will welcome everyone as they first arrive.” She leaned toward the mirror and ran her finger through the creases of her open mouth, as if it could help the garish color. “Of course,” she went on, “he doesn’t plan to do that for long. He’s expecting a list of distinguished VIP guests, many of whom he’ll be entertaining privately in his den.”

  Did my stepfather sing and dance and I’d been blissfully unaware for over twenty years? I would’ve asked but the brush tugging my hair from one direction, sponges applying layers of foundation to my face from another, while at the same time my nails were receiving a glistening coat of gel, kept my rebukes to a minimum.

  “I’ve told Bryce to join you up here—”

  “Why?” I managed to interrupt.

  I’d avoided him all day, minus a few calls. I didn’t want to see him until we were surrounded by tens or hundreds of guests. The more the merrier.

  “So… the two of you can make a grand entrance.” She said it like it was as obvious as the too-low scoop of her neckline.

  “And what time should we enter?”

  “Not until after 6:30.”

  My stomach sank. “Is Bryce here?”

  “Not yet. It’s nearly 5:20. I expect him soon. Can you believe it? The cars have already begun to line up at the gate.” She was almost giddy. “This is truly the social event. Your wedding… oh, it will be spectacular! I’ve told Bryce to come in another entrance.”

  I could barely form the words. “Y-you did? Which one?”

  “The one near the curing barns is the closest.”

  I let out a breath. Thank God it wasn’t the old road.

  “The guards would never allow guests to enter there,” she went on. “It’s only for field workers, but on this occasion, I believe it will help Bryce avoid the traffic jam.”

  Suzanna reached for my shoulder as my hands were occupied. My nails were busy drying under little purple lights. “Isn’t this the most exciting?” Her voice screeched with delight. “I bet Mildred Ashmore is green, just positively green!”

  Mildred was Millie’s mother. No doubt they’d been working day and night on Millie and Ian’s wedding. After all, that was the reason Millie couldn’t go on to graduate school.

  As soon as the small contraption dinged, Suzanna pulled my hand from the light and stared at my engagement ring “And wait until they all see this! It’ll be the talk of the town—no, of the nation. Who cares about the Kardashians? Quick-rich trash if you ask me. The Carmichaels and Fitzgeralds and the Montagues… this is what real American royalty is made of.”

  I began to remind her that the Fitzgeralds weren’t part of the equation when the woman with a palette, one that looked like an artist’s board, told me to close my eyes and open them wide.

  “How do I…?” I began to ask.

  She demonstrated. Her eyes closed, brow lengthened, and lips set to an oblong ‘O.’

  While I did as sh
e said, Suzanna continued her monologue.

  THE CLOCK SAID a little past six as two of the women secured an ivory lace dress over my head and fastened the row of buttons. It landed just above my knees; nevertheless, for some this could be a wedding dress. I suspected it cost as much as most. I’d seen the tag. The name alone added ten thousand dollars to the price tag, probably more.

  Priorities at Montague Manor seemed to be awry. Alton called my law school education a frivolous waste of money. He threatened to stop all funding of my mother’s private care, and yet he authorized a Gucci cocktail dress and a catered party for only God knew how many.

  “Wait until you see these shoes!” Suzanna exclaimed as she opened a box. Inside was a sparkling pair of strappy crystal sandals. The narrow heel had to be at least four inches. “They’re Jimmy Choo.”

  “Yes, I recognize the name inside the shoe.”

  “Oh, Alexandria, don’t you see? Once you marry Bryce, nothing is outside your budget.”

  What the hell? The woman was living in a fantasy world.

  “You do realize that it’s all mine, right?”

  “What, dear?” she asked as she lifted a shoe, watching the colored reflections of light bounce off the embedded crystals.

  “The money,” I explained, “the name… it’s mine. I don’t need to marry Bryce for that.”

  My words sullied her joyous expression. “But you do. If you don’t, you lose it all. You read the will. Consider your coming of age in this house simply a preview of the life you can have.”

  “Miss,” one of the women said, “let me help you with the shoes. We don’t want to risk the nail polish.”

  I sat, slipping my feet into each shoe while biting back my response. It wouldn’t be productive, and it could alert her, if not to my plan, at least to my intentions. None of which included marrying her psychotic son.

  Instead, I feigned a smile, perfectly maneuvering my painted lips. “You’re right, and more than that, it secures your spot. Queen Regent?”

  Suzanna’s microexpression faltered, but not for long. She was the queen of illusion. With a dutiful grin, she replied, “Dear, I’m just here to help Bryce and fill in wherever your mother is unable to do so. Once she’s back, it’ll be as it always has been.”