Ah well. She didn’t miss Edith Crow one bit.
Part of her wondered what life was like without her back home these days. Did her parents take down the Lord of The Rings posters pasted on her room walls and toss her collection of fossils and rocks back into the earth’s soil? Did they finally scrape off the glow and dark stars glued to her ceiling? Did they talk about her often or was she just an old memory printed on a flyer?
Another part of her didn’t care to know a single thing. It was her parents who gave her the ugly genetics that caused the black hole of depression and madness that led her to the witch’s home.
Leaving home and Tacoma was for the best. Her parents and sister would have never recognized her if she went home that night. It would had only made everything more complicated and frightening for them. Besides, it was the only way she could have had a fresh start as Adette Rose.
She ran a thumb over the piece of paper. It had been years since her disappearance so there was no reason to keep the search alive when Edith Crow was dead.
With a sigh, she finally looked up. Old brick walls, a muddy ground, and rusty dumpsters filled her vision. It was exactly as she remembered from all the years of taking shortcuts home after school. A strong odor of something dead stung her nose. The ally was no Four Seasons, but at least she was alone.
Everywhere she went, there were men idolizing her with slobber running down their chins and women with crazed expressions smoldering in their ember eyes.
She was beginning to question if it was worth it anymore? Fame, fans, fake friends?
Her eyes dipped back down and studied the image of the girl with frizzy hair, blemishes, and glasses.
Isn’t being beautiful a beautiful thing? The familiar voice met her ears like a kiss. One day the voice came to her and never left. Remember why you have been given this blessing.
Yes. Being beautiful was a beautiful thing and it gave her everything she desired.
Adette crumbled the piece of paper until her knuckles turned white, and dropped it into a murky puddle.
She had no time to think about her past decisions and reminiscing on memories that should be forgotten. There was only time to focus on herself and the next thing she would conquer.
Shaking out her full length designer dress, Adette hoped it wasn’t too scuffed. Not that it mattered. She could destroy the expensive dress to shreds and the designers wouldn’t bat an eye. All because of who she was. Running her hands down the black feathered skirt, she smoothed the frays and then adjusted the strapless bodice.
Straightening her posture and lifting her chin enough so that everything under her nose was shadowed, Adette peeked out from behind the alley wall, quickly looking around for any remaining fans.
Nothing.
She released a sigh of relief before stepping out of the alley, but her sigh of relief was exhaled too soon.
“Adette Rose!” came an eerie voice. Not eerie in a horror sense. Eerie in the sense that the voice belonged to a ghost from the past.
Chapter Four
Adette’s hands trembled as she instinctively shoved her arms outward, preventing the young woman from getting too close.
Standing in front of Adette was her younger sister, Amber Crow. It took a few seconds before she could truly grasp what her eyes perceived. She barely recognized Amber as the younger teen who used to trace her every step growing up.
Amber was beautiful—the female version of Dad. Her chocolate colored curls were messy, but not in a lazy way. It was more in a natural way. Doe-like eyes were much too large for her gentle and dainty features, but it gave her an innocent appearance.
Adette expected her heart to squeeze in her chest and feel the love she had for sister the way she used to, but instead, she felt nothing.
“Can I have your autograph?” Amber asked with those darling doe eyes, completely unaware that it was her older sister standing in front of her.
She detected the limo in the corner of her eye and hesitated. “An autograph from me?” Pathetic.
“You are my greatest inspiration for beauty and fashion. It would mean so much!” Amber squealed, “I want to be just like you, Adette Rose!”
Watching Amber get excited over her fame and beauty both flattered and disgusted her. “But you are beautiful.”
Ignoring her statement, Amber dug through her backpack and pulled out a marker and a piece of paper. “Please, just sign this. It would mean so much!”
How could someone’s name mean so much? “Pitiful.” Oops. The word practically jumped from her mouth before she had a chance to tame her lips.
“Please!” Amber insisted again. There were tears in her eyes now. “You’re my role model. I'm saving up to have a mole added above my lip just like you.”
“Didn’t you hear what I just said?” Adette grew frustrated. “I said you’re beautiful. You don’t need to look like me.”
Isn’t it a beautiful thing to be beautiful?
Adette allowed a witch to drown her in a bathtub and take away her ability to fall in love for beauty, so was it really an issue if her sister wanted the same thing?
No.
Adette snatched the marker and paper Amber was holding out. To her dismay, it was a flyer for Edith Crow!
“Who is this?” Adette tested, her voice sounding more demanding than curious.
“My sister,” Amber frowned briefly. “Please sign it!” The innocence in her eyes turned into eagerness and even hinted toward greediness.
“No,” Adette said through clenched teeth. This wasn’t the sister she used to know. She angrily ripped the flyer into dozens of meaningless flakes. “Don’t ever approach me again.” She quickly turned away before the salty tears had a chance to escape the rail of lush lashes.
“There she is!” a voice called out among the sea of people searching for her.
Wasting no more time, Adette fled toward the limo waiting for her across the street. Once she crawled back into the vehicle, she released the wail of sorrow quivering on her plump lips. Her sister was just like everyone else—obsessed with her.
Deep down, she thought nothing would change with her family. The long conversations with Mom at 2 a.m. in the kitchen, going on spontaneous trips to the movie theatre with Dad, sipping pumpkin spice lattes with Amber. She always envisioned those keepsake moments would be safe in Tacoma, but there was nothing safe about home anymore. It was corrupted because of who she had become.
She regretted ever coming back to Washington. When her managers found out she grew up inTacoma, they insisted a photoshoot taken in the backyard of the town would make a captivating exhibit for the gala. She was positive the photos turned out stunning, but now she had a feeling stirring inside of her that should have been drained down the bathtub with the rest of Edith Crow.
It’s worth it. It’s worth it. She repeated to herself, remembering why she sold her soul to begin with. Isn’t being beautiful a beautiful thing?
Fumbling with the corner of her dress, she rubbed the silk fabric between her fingers. Ugly people don’t get opportunities to wear these expensive garments. Ugly people don’t get their faces on billboards. Ugly people don’t get invited to the Emerald Art and Fashion Gala. Ugly people aren’t worshiped and loved.
Adette finally nodded in agreement to the words she spoke over herself. Yes. Being beautiful was a beautiful thing and she needed to remember that.
It was worth much more than any feeling of love.
It was worth more than family.
Chapter Five
The moon hung low on New York City’s horizon, its glow barely visible to the flashing cameras around Adette. She stepped on the red carpet laced with rose petals and soaked up the attention the paparazzi bathed her with.
Tonight was the Emerald Art and Fashion Gala held for the most influential beauty and fashion gurus around the world. Of course, none of them held a candle to Adette’s burning sun, but she still attended the event because it was expected of her. After all, the gala did ha
ve an entire exhibit dedicated to her and she was dying to see it.
“Tell us about your stunning outfit.” A reporter shoved a microphone to her painted gold lips.
Adette glanced down at her goddess inspired dress. The handmade gold garment hugged her tiny torso and fanned out into a full shirt of sheer fabric. The train flowed down the red carpet like a river of gold. Crystal beads and tiny lights were sewn throughout the dress giving her an illuminating radiance. A chandelier diamond necklace graced her neck and spread over her bare shoulders. Her ebony hair was pinned with crystals in a low bun while a gold crown rested on her head and loose curls framed her face. It was if she stepped out of a lake of liquid gold and into the sunlight.
“This outfit was inspired after one of the temples built for me,” Adette said with a wink.
She was labeled the most beautiful woman in every country of the world, gaining a status so high in society that she was treated like a goddess. In six foreign countries, there were temples dedicated to her. In America, she had a television show about her life, the highest following on all social media platforms, and her own clothing and makeup line. People worshiped her everyday when they double tap her images and wear her brand. This was her empire.
People everywhere recognized and worshiped her beauty—craved it for their own. Women spent thousands of dollars to look like her and never succeeded. Of course, they would never. There was only one Adette Rose and no one could steal her seat on the ivory pedestal. She was the only woman on the planet who had the rare species of beauty that people were envious of.
Exactly how it was supposed to be.
As Adette continued up the rose petaled path to the entryway of the building, dozens of reporters tried to stick more microphones to her mouth but she shrugged them away with a bare shoulder. They were like flies drawn to a rotting apple, but she liked it that way.
Pausing at the start of the staircase leading to the art museum, Adette stood in awe. She was enamored by the luxurious and romantic building. She’d been here several times, but it never ceased to leave her lips parted and eyes dilated.
The iconic three-story building was mounted on a hill, appearing like a castle for gods. A lengthy path of glass steps led up to the entrance, where six large columns, carved of white marble supported the structure. Fog machines were placed around the museum, resembling clouds from where she stood. It was truly a place for the gods and goddesses of this world, and she was their ruler.
She carefully made her way up the steps and entered the museum where the Fashion and Art Gala was hosted. She was instantly greeted with bright flashes and sugar coated words from all directions. From reporters, beauty gurus, to notable guests, everyone was panting over her—as usual. The fragrance in the building smelled like Oscar de le Renta dresses, Almas Caviar appetizers, and a 1992 bottle of Screaming Eagle Cabernet Sauvignon. The night was filled with everything expensive, and she was the priciest.
“Move,” Adette hissed as she made her way to her art exhibit. She couldn’t wait to inspect the images from the photoshoot.
Chapter Six
Adette stood eye to eye with one of the vast pictures hanging on the wall of the room. It was unlike any she’d seen before.
In the photo, Adette was perched on an old, rustic bench in a dark forest with an old street lamp illuminating a halo yellow over her voluptuous body. She was wearing the same dress the day she took off running down the street after trying to grab a latte from The Old Cat’s Tin. It was almost identical to the dress she wore now, but instead of gold it was black and instead of ruffles it was feathers. Her hair was coiled into tight curls with autumn leaves placed strategically throughout the style, giving her an untamed and rather familiar appearance.
Her lips parted with surprise.
The photo resembled Edith Crow more than Adette Rose.
None of this should come as a shock to her. She knew the look the artists and managers were going for—Tacoma. They wanted to incorporate her home town into the exhibit, but seeing the finished product was not what she expected.
Disgusting, she thought to herself.
Turning around, she quickly scanned the rest of the exhibit. A number of her dresses were on display, including the black feathered one, and her most iconic pieces of jewelry she was known for wearing. Among the dozens of portraits of herself, there were images of familiar places taken around Tacoma. Her old school building, the park, boutiques, the local movie theatre—all places she remembered visiting as a teen. But she never told anyone that. Not the photographers or her managers. Finally, she spotted one picture that punctured and deflated her lungs.
It was a shot taken inside The Old Cat’s Tin. She wasn’t sure when the photographers grabbed that picture, but they managed to capture a beautiful dark haired girl in the back drinking a latte. It was Amber. And no one knew it. No one knew the fond memories she had at the coffee shop or how much she wanted to harbor love for her sister again.
Love didn’t get you here. Beauty got you here. The voice in her head corrected.
Of course beauty got her here. She knew that. These pictures were only trying to play with her head. Right?
“We love your exhibit, Adette.” A voice shattered the whispering voice over her thoughts.
Adette blinked, reality coming back into focus. There were a number of people encircling her.
“Isn’t she stunning? A true beauty!” came another voice.
Adette flashed a smile toward her admirers.
Isn’t being beautiful a beautiful thing?
Yes. Without beauty she wouldn’t be standing in the most beautiful building in the heart of New York surrounded by the most important and famous people on this earth. This was her temple. She was a goddess. Her fans were her worshipers. Their compliments were gifts on her alter.
Another man bit his lip. “I’d do anything for one night with her.”
So many terms of admiration and attention arrowed toward her, and she caught them all.
Except one.
There, across from her, was the most strikingly handsome man she’d ever set her sights on. He was the grown up version of Mason Hart—the one who stood her up for prom that night. His cinnamon colored hair was smoothed back, honey glazed eyes sparkled under the lights, skin like a strongly brewed cup of tea, and she could almost taste him on her lips.
But like her high school crush, he was ignoring her.
How could this be?
The stranger had yet to mutter anything of praise and his eyes had yet to dash her way. While everyone was engaged with their own agenda concerning her, he was focused on something entirely different and insignificant. He was kneeling at eye level to a little boy standing in front of him, who had a blotchy pink face and watery eyes. What could possibly be worth listening to from the mouth of a small child?
There were dozens of stunning women, of course not to her degree of beauty, but still, they were prancing around him with long legs and revealing dresses and he didn’t dare a glance. It was as if he didn’t even notice them. There were blown up images of Adette all over the room, but the man was disinterested. Even with Adette standing within his range of vision, he didn’t even offer as much as a sideways glance. Out of all the people in the room, he was the only one not paying attention to her beauty.
Heat pumped through her veins, reddening her cheeks. If it weren’t for the layers of makeup caked on her face, she would surely look like the city of Pompeii sweltering in lava. Why was he not captivated by her? Everything she had been through was so she could be desired by everyone. That included him. Her hands balled into fists, knuckles turning white, as a wildfire of aggravation smoked inside her chest. The witch said everyone would fall under her spell, but there was obviously a glitch in the system.
Look at me! She screamed inside of her head.
Suddenly a woman in a yellow dress, who was less than average in appearance, kneeled down by the child and joined their conversation. She rubbed the child’s back an
d said something to him that seemed to lift his frown.
And then it happened.
The man shifted his attention on the dull woman and offered her a smile that Adette had never witnessed before. Was that happiness she detected? All three were suddenly bewitched with giggles that excluded everyone else. It was like an inside joke and Adette couldn’t understand what was more engaging than the pictures of her hanging on the walls. Seriously, it was encircling them! How were they not enchanted by her?
After a few moments of observing the scene, it was obvious the three insurgents were a family. It didn’t make sense. The man was captivatingly handsome like a superhero ripping through the pages of a comic book and making an appearance in the flesh while the woman was more like the dorky friend in movies that was never the leading lady.
The Crow Ate The Rose (Quiet Lies Book 1) Page 2
