Chapter Six
Both my parents waited for me at the airport. As I stepped off the plane, Los Angeles seemed brighter than I remembered. Everything glittered in the new dew of morning. The Hollywood sign loomed big on the horizon. This was a place of new beginnings and broken dreams.
I shivered. The steel teeth of a trap were closing around me. Sun and breeze were a welcome relief from Chicago's freezing slush but inside I was still cold as winter's kiss.
The flight was surprisingly uncomfortable. Darius didn't bother springing for even business class so I crowded into coach, wedged in a middle seat.
An elderly woman had the window. She headed for Fresno, with a layover at LAX, on her way to visit the grandkids. Next to the aisle was a Wisconsin farm girl turned wannabe starlet.
The grandmother slept heavy with her breasts pressed against my upper arm like down pillows for the duration of the flight. Dairy Queen fidgeted in her seat, shoving grainy headshots in my face that were taken by her art major friend from Madison in his uncle's basement studio. My father would be unhappy if he knew I didn't slip her his business card. Girls like that were an easy mark.
I saw my mother first when I stepped out onto the tarmac. She wore cream slacks and a dark gold cashmere sweater. A delicate row of fresh-water pearls hung around her neck and matching bobs dangled gracefully from each earlobe.
Leonora Wayward was beautiful like a marble statue in a cold museum.
My mother opened her arms to give me a light embrace. It was impossible to breathe through the cloying floral of her designer perfume.
"Helena, dear." She released me and her critical gaze took in the ragged state of my clothes and greasy hair that hadn't seen anything more impressive than bar soap in weeks. "You've been gone too long."
Leonora played the game better than anyone. She could look death in the face and ask it in for afternoon tea. It wasn't possible to out-bluff her. "I've missed you, Mother."
My father stood silently behind her, stoic and placid as always. Ethan Wayward dipped his fingers into every moneymaking pot in town. He created Hollywood dynasties and profited off each rise and fall.
Ethan didn't speak now, but gestured to a black town car that waited a few hundred yards down the tarmac, tucked under the wing of a Gulfstream. Trust a Wayward to rate more than curbside service.
The driver held open the car door and I clambered in behind them. My father moved with the coiled strength of a striking cobra and my mother made the movement seem elegant and effortless, like water falling over rock. I felt like a dusty country cousin, visiting the big city from the family farm.
"Where are your bags, darling?" Leonora asked me.
"I don't have any," I responded with a sigh.
My mother gasped, her face contorting with such extreme shock that I almost smiled.
"That's ridiculous. Are you a vagrant, Helena?" She touched my father gently on the collar of his suit. "Ethan, have the driver take us to those shops I like. You can send the car for us later."
I'd been tortured before. Sharp blades cutting into my skin. Blood. Pain.
None of it compared to shopping with my mother.
According to her, Rodeo Drive was too commercial. When you can't get to your favorite shops, she said, without passing a busload of tourists posing for pictures underneath the street signs, then it's time for a change in venue.
She favored boutiques tucked into exclusive corners of the Hollywood Hills where every sales girl knew her by name. Leonora didn't so much shop as she did relax in a chaise lounge sipping tea while an underpaid shopgirl dangled delicate fabrics and expensive accessories underneath her nose.
A thin proprietor in navy dress pants and a silk shirt greeted my mother as we entered a small boutique.
"Madame Wayward. You come to see us again so soon." He kissed both of her hands. "Tell me, my love. How may I please you?"
My mother giggled like a schoolgirl. It was vaguely disturbing.
"Not for me today, Jean-Luc," Leonora replied airily. "My daughter has just returned from a year-long safari in Africa. Everything she owns is desperately out of fashion."
I gave my mother a sideways glance but she pointedly ignored me. Safari in Africa? Leonora had officially lost her fashion-loving mind. I prayed that wasn't the story she circulated among the families to explain my prolonged absence.
Jean-Luc eyed me with interest, as if he really believed I came straight off the savannah in a leather jacket and combat boots.
"The prodigal daughter has returned." Jean-Luc grabbed my hand and brought it to his lips, laying a small kiss on the knuckles. "It is a pleasure, mon cherie."
I pulled away and scrubbed my hand on my jeans. "Pleased to meet you," I replied as politely as I could manage with his spit smeared across the back of my fingers.
Jean-Luc turned back to my mother. "A whole new wardrobe?" At Leonora's nod, he clapped his hands together. "How wonderful." He hustled my unwilling body towards the dressing room. "We shall transform the mademoiselle into the most beautiful of swans."
Jean-Luc snapped his fingers once and two girls materialized on either side of him. "Judith. Olga. Fetch the new line of spring prints. We shall begin."
The assistants wrapped and tucked me into an endless string of flowered patterns and pastel solids. There was no room for modesty as Jean-Luc circled me like a hungry shark scenting blood.
He threw on a scarf that matches perfectly the golden underlay of this fabulous cocktail dress and tossed away a frilly thing that does nothing for your skin, petite mademoiselle.
Leonora sat with her legs crossed properly at the ankle in the corner of the dressing room on a rose-patterned chair. She sipped espresso from a porcelain cup that Judith/Olga had presented on a silver tray.
If she noticed the fresh bruises painting my skin, my mother chose not ask any questions.
When an item of clothing didn't meet with her approval, Leonora gave a little sigh and let her eyes wander around the room as if the Eiffel Tower print on the wall suddenly became intensely fascinating.
Occasionally, she waved her hand idly, indicating that an item should be wrapped and taken to the counter.
I stood half-naked on a raised dais in the center of the fitting room while Jean-Luc hovered behind me. He held a tuxedo shirt refashioned into a dress tight against my body to show my mother how the piece could be taken in to properly accentuate my waist.
The bell above the door dinged. Another customer had entered the shop. Pity for them.
Jean-Luc disappeared quickly to greet his new victim and my mother followed behind him, murmuring something about how shades of pink really brought out the color in my eyes.
I began frantically searching for my old clothes. Enough was enough. I had found my shirt and one shoe when I heard a voice that I recognized.
"Leonora, how nice to see you?"
It couldn't be—fate wasn't that cruel. I tiptoed to the wall and peered around the corner. Clothing racks blocked most of the view but my mother's dark chignon was unmistakable as it moved among the racks. Next to it was an elegant bob the color of liquid metal. Turn around, I silently begged.
The woman could be anyone. Los Angeles was home to millions of people. The chance that I would run into someone I knew on my first day in town was laughable.
My mother turned toward a tray of silk scarves and the silver bob moved with her. A profile came into view, hard and angled like hawk, and then the woman faced me completely. I knew that face.
I looked frantically to the front of the store and there it was: a flash of blonde hair and the low laugh of a predator. Cynthie and her mother, Dina.
My shirt lay in a ball under the chair. I scooped it off the floor and pulled it over my head, so quickly that both my arms ended up through the same hole. I twisted in a frantic circle to right myself.
The justice would be just poetic if they walked in on me now, still in my underwear with a t-shirt wrapped around my body like a straightjacket.
Where were my pants? Discarded clothing draped every available surface, but no sign of a pair of faded jeans. The only piece of denim in the whole store should have stood out a little better.
It would be just like my mother to order Jean-Luc to have them burned. Acid wash offended her more than bare feet at a dinner party.
The voices moved closer and I pressed my back against the wall of the dressing room. I could already hear Dina Abell's grating voice in my head.
Leonora, why in the goddess' name is your daughter half-naked on the floor like a street urchin? Is she having a fit?
I peeked around the corner and immediately spotted my jeans. Not in the fitting area where I'd almost certainly taken them off, but tossed over the back of an armchair next to a table of $200 bracelets. Less than ten feet from Dina and my mother.
My fists balled in the hem of the t-shirt, pressing it hard to my thighs. If I bent over far enough it was almost like wearing actual clothing. I hugged the wall and tiptoed out of the fitting room alcove, crouching low so I stayed hidden behind a circular clothing rack.
A display table was all that stood between me and a few scraps of dignity. I darted out into the open and lunged for my jeans, the soft denim a lifeline. Having them in my hands made me sigh in relief. I huddled behind the armchair and struggled into them. After waiting a long moment, I peeked around the chair.
Dina stared right at me.
I froze, but she merely curled her lip slightly as if smelling something disagreeable. She turned back to my mother and murmured softly about a darling skirt she'd bought the other day that would go wonderfully with this Hermés scarf.
Surprise kept me frozen in place as Dina pointedly turned her back. I rose from behind the chair, my fingers gripping the upholstery for balance. Dina's neck was ramrod straight and I stared at the back of her head. The hair in her silver bob was thin and bright like Christmas tree tinsel.
My mother wore a stiff smile. She caught my eye as I approached. Her eyebrow quirked slightly and we shared a moment of perfect understanding. She didn't think much more of Dina than I did.
I moved up behind my mother and plastered the brightest grin I could muster on my face. "Hello, Mrs. Abell."
"Helena." She cast me an unfriendly look. "When did you get back in town?"
Leonora touched me gently on the shoulder. "Just this morning. I was so excited that we came here straight from the airport." Her voice was faintly chiding.
I glanced quickly from my mother's impassive smile to the tense set of Dina's jaw. I was missing something.
Dina cleared her throat. "How nice to have you back."
Barely a day had passed since Cynthie ground my face into the pavement. Her mother's cold disdain was not the greeting I'd been expecting. Death threats, maybe, but definitely not casual conversation.
As if she knew I was thinking of her, Cynthie appeared at Dina's shoulder. "I want all of these for sure, but Judith said there's some new stuff in the back that isn't even on the floor yet."
"What's the occasion?" My mother asked with a small smile.
Dina colored. "There doesn't need to be an occasion for me to do something nice for my daughter." She hefted the pile of clothing Cynthie dumped in her arms onto the sales counter. "School starts back on Monday. This is simply last-minute shopping."
"Of course," Leonora replied with laughter in her voice.
"Will Helena be back in school this term? I hadn't thought she'd graduated before going—" Dina paused and eyed me coldly. "—on safari in Africa, was it?"
Cynthie seemed to notice me for the first time and her eyes narrowed to angry slits. "African safari, huh." She looked me up and down, her gaze taking in my scruffy clothes and the grime of a cross-country flight. "Jungle sweat is a good look for you."
Dina pinched her daughter sharply on the arm. Cynthie made a small sound of pain and rubbed the sore spot on her skin, but kept silent.
"Helena will be there bright and early on Monday morning," my mother interjected smoothly. "You'll have to make sure that Cynthie takes care of her. Helena has some catching up to do."
Cynthie's smile was feral. "No problem."
My mother stared at Dina. "Why don't you come around for brunch this week, Dina? We've missed you."
Dina sucked in a harsh breath. "Certainly." She grabbed Cynthie's arm and pulled her towards the door. "We're running late, Cynthie. Jean-Luc will have your new clothes sent to the suite."
"Wait." Cynthie fought her mother's hold. "I still wanted to look—"
"Now!"
Cynthie allowed herself to be dragged away but she glared at me as she went. She spoke with saccharine sweetness. "See you at school."
I let out a sigh as the bell on the door jingled merrily against the wooden frame. My heart beat too fast as adrenaline rushed through my system. I wasn't sure what I'd been expecting, but this certainly wasn't it.
Leonora stared after them with a pensive look on her face.
"What was that about?" I asked.
"Oh, nothing." She signaled to Jean-Luc, who had been standing eagerly on the edges of our conversation for several minutes. When Leonora nodded at the neat stack of garment bags resting on the counter, he moved to the register and hastily punched buttons with a euphoric grin stretched across his face.
"Dina has a very big mouth," my mother sighed. "It seems as if her daughter has inherited the same unfortunate flaw."
Jean-Luc laid down a slip of paper and clicked open a ballpoint pen on the glass countertop. My mother signed the receipt without bothering to read it. I glanced over her shoulder at the total and my eyes bugged.
The amount of money my mother just laid down for useless bits of fabric and Jean-Luc's valuable time was enough to support the Sisters for at least a calendar year.
"Come along, Helena. Your father must have sent a car around by now." She walked out of the store without a backwards glance.
Judith and Olga materialized beside us and took the bags. They trotted dutifully out to the curb, like Labrador Retrievers that had just been taught to fetch and carry.
I slipped into the backseat next to my mother as they loaded the bags into the trunk. Leonora stared silently out of the window, idly twisting her wedding ring round and round on her finger.
For a moment, it was as if I never left. I submissively followed her on endless shopping trips and tedious social visits for years. I had always been the most obedient of her offspring. The only one over which she ever really had any control.
The moment was gone. Everything had changed.
"Are you going to tell me what was going on back there?"
She spared me a glance. "I have no idea what you are talking about."
"Cynthie tried to kill me yesterday. Did you know that?"
"I can imagine." Her gaze returned to the window.
"You're not surprised?"
"Should I be?" She raised a delicately shaped eyebrow. "A bargain has been struck and a price has been paid. Put it from your mind."
My heart shuddered to a stop before resuming its beat. "What do you know about a bargain?"
Leonora sniffed and turned away. "I leave the business end of things to your father. He understands numbers much better than I do."
I stifled my laugh when she gave me a sharp look. Leonora almost sounding like she believed that nonsense. My mother was infamous among the families for her skills at the bargaining table. She could charm the skin from a serpent.
Scenery rolled by as I stared out the window. I leaned back in the leather seat and forced myself to relax. My mother could lock her lips tight and throw away the key. I would find out what she knew.
Wayward Page 10
