“I mean it. You’re thoughtful and smart. You care about your friends, and always do right by people. Luyu, you’re a good person. I don’t know why you don’t see what I see in you.” He reached up and wiped my face. His words suggested to me that I need to start loving myself.
It hadn’t really occurred to me before. Sure, ‘love yourself’ sounds a bit cliché. But when you don’t even like yourself, it’s hard to one day truly love yourself. Honestly, I’d be okay with just liking me a little bit more, and hating me a little bit less.
“It’s getting late. We better get to sleep.” I climbed off him. Lying beside him, I put a goose-down pillow between us. The feathers prickled through the cotton casing.
Removing it, he pulled me against him. My body tingled all over again from his contact. His intensity scared the shit out of me. He saw me for me. Not for what the tabloids wrote. Not for what the students in school said behind my back.
The last thing I remembered before falling asleep was him whispering in my ear, “I like it when it’s just the two of us.”
Seneca left early the next morning to study.
With Hedda Hopper on my lap, we sat at Joe’s Coffee Shop near campus in Morningside Heights.
Blake was to my left, Taddy and Lex to my right. Up at the espresso machine, flirting with the new barista, was Thor in all his pride and glory.
“Must you have that gun pointed at me?” I asked Taddy.
Her handgun, concealed in her Fendi handbag, sat dead-center in the middle of the café table, pointing in my direction.
“Darling, it’s for our protection,” she smiled. “Lex and I had fun yesterday at the rifle range learning how to shoot. You two should’ve gone with us.”
“No fucking way.” I glanced over at Blake for confirmation my besties had lost their minds. Shaking his head, he sighed.
Overnight, the rumors had started circulating, stating I had something to do with Poppy’s disappearance. It felt as if we were at Avon Porter all over again.
“Maybe we shouldn’t have left the apartment today.” Wearing her Chanel sunglasses and an Yves Saint Laurent sequined baseball cap, Lex sipped her double Dutch chocolate chip latte, with a generous dollop of whipped cream.
“Gurl, you can say that again.” Blake uncrossed his legs, pulling himself closer to the table. He motioned for all of us to lean in. “I have an idea…”
“We leave New York City and finally go to college in Malibu?” Taddy asked.
She’d been begging for California long before we’d arrived at Columbia University.
He shook his head. “Let’s hire a private investigator to find Poppy White.”
“Mmm.” I finished the sip of my coffee and replied, “I love that idea.”
The NYPD had filed the missing persons paperwork, but was a search party (other than the one we’d done) out looking for her? No. Not exactly. Although, Poppy’s headshot was plastered all over the news.
“Why is everyone staring at us?” Taddy’s face, usually a shade of porcelain with a splatter of freckles across the bridge of her model-perfect nose, turned a deep shade of red.
I hated this feeling of being under some microscopic lens.
“Because they think we did something to her,” Blake muttered without making eye contact with me. “Come on. Let’s get out of here.”
Just as we were getting our things together, two people approached with judgment in their narrow eyes: Brez Duncan, a fellow student who’d interned at Poppy’s TV show, and her boyfriend, Marshall. Great. So close to escaping. “Morning, Brez,” I greeted, acting as if it was just another day.
“You four have a lot of nerve showing your guilty faces this morning.”
Her words caused us all to tense up as Thor quirked his brow, glancing over at us from the espresso bar.
“And just what is that supposed to mean?” Lex rolled up her sleeves, ready for a fight.
Out of all of us, Lex was the one who could easily throw a few punches.
“Cut the shit, Alexandra. We all know you Manhattanites have had it in for Poppy ever since she did that story on you last semester.”
“That’s not true,” I countered.
Brez leaned across the table, over the Fendi handbag with the loaded gun in it, pointing her long, unkempt finger in my face. “Admit it. You did something to her.”
Under normal circumstances, I’d defend myself. But the gravity of the situation had paralyzed me enough to make talking impossible. With nothing to say, I simply sat there, gawking.
Quick on her feet, Lex strutted around the table and got right up in Brez’s face.
“Is there a problem?” Thor approached with his coffee and confusion written over his sweet face.
“Listen here.” Lex put her left hand on Marshall’s chest, signaling to him that it was just between the girls. “You can think whatever your small brain likes, but we had nothing to do with Poppy White’s disappearance. For all we know, it could’ve been you who snatched her.”
“Me?” The size of Brez’s beady eyes nearly doubled.
“Lord knows, Brez, you’d certainly like to be Poppy in your next life.”
“That’s not true.”
“You dress just like her.” Lex flicked her short, purple fingernail against Brez’s blouse. “It’s no secret you wanted to co-host her talk show, but Poppy told you there was only room for one star and it wasn’t y-o-u.”
“Why, I never…”
Thor, Taddy, and Blake started to laugh as Brez’s cheeks began to fill with air then blow out, similar to a blowfish.
“Don’t you dare point your boney finger at us ever again or so help me God, I will break it off your hand and shove it up your boyfriend’s hairy ass.”
Everyone, except Brez and Marshall, started to laugh. Taddy cackled, and then came the infamous snort.
“Marshall would probably love your finger up his butt. Wouldn’t you, sexy?” Blake winked in his direction, causing him to become all the more irritated.
“He sure would.” Thor licked his lips sarcastically, blowing him a kiss.
“Brez. Leave ‘em be. We shouldn’t be associating with students like this. After all, we have a reputation to uphold.” Marshall grabbed his girlfriend by the elbow as they turned and walked away from us.
I rolled my eyes and sunk back down in my chair as my cell phone chimed from my purse, causing Hedda to yap.
Blake’s phone in his pocket, Lex’s on the table, and Taddy’s in her purse all beeped at the same time.
“Group text. Probably some party alert.” I reached in my Chanel handbag to see whom it was from.
The screen read: Poppy White.
Feeling the color drain from my face, I glanced up at my besties and asked, “Poppy?”
Each staring at their phone, they nodded.
I clicked on the ‘open’ button and read the message.
Hey, Manhattanites! Sorry I’ve been MIA. My book research took longer than expected. It’s finished and ready for your viewing. Come over to Jay Austin’s tonight for drinks. 8pm. I’ll have copies printed out for you. Let’s celebrate.
Get The Fuck Outta Here!
“I can’t say I ever 100% agreed with Lex, Taddy and Vive when they’d claimed someone was out to kill us. Or that Birdie’s penthouse explosion, the plane crash, and us all getting roofied were somehow linked together. That was until I had been tied up next to Poppy White’s dead body!”—Blake Morgan III, New Englander, boyfriend to Diego, crusher on Miguel.
Kinship Revenge
Later that night
Upper West Side
I left Hedda at home that night and took the Farnworth limo with my best friends over to Jay Austin’s apartment. He and I had talked earlier in the day. He’d said he’d received the same message from Poppy and would be there, waiting for us.
When I stepped out of the car, I received a text from Seneca. Good luck, Luyu. Text me when you’re done. Let’s go see a movie tonight. Just us.
Will do. This shouldn’t take long, I texted back, a warm feeling coming over me. The night before, in bed with Seneca, had brought us closer together.
Maybe letting my walls down with these boys hadn’t been such a bad idea. In a way, I felt stronger and better about myself. I slipped the cell phone into the front pocket of my skirt and glanced down at my heels.
A pair of five and a quarter inch stilettos, gold-dyed metallic, python-skinned, pointed toe with leather lining adorned each of my feet. Made in Italy by some designer I’d never heard of before, I l-o-v-e-d those shoes.
The previous week in journalism class, Dr. Henry had said if you dressed your best for a media interview with a journalist, you’d feel your best, thus do your best. Honey, nothing felt better than those shoes. I was almost as tall as Taddy when I wore them. Poppy White can suck it!
As we came off the elevator, Taddy motioned for us to huddle and spoke in her usual bossy tone. “Listen, darlings. We’ve been down this tabloid-trash road before with reporters such as Poppy. There’s nothing new here she can dig up on us. So, let’s keep our calm. Try not to react and just play nice.”
“Agreed.” Lex blew a watermelon-scented bubble from her neon pink gum.
“Yeah. Let’s be quick with this. I have to meet Diego after.” Blake nodded and crossed his arms.
“Vive?” Taddy elbowed me as Lex’s bubble popped.
“Fine.” I huffed in sarcasm, minutely shaking my head. “But seriously, how long is this nightmare going to shadow our lives? I want to put a stop to it today. Right now! I cannot believe she’s equating our misfortunes to karma, simply because we’re born into money.” Rolling my eyes, I didn’t want to be in some book with the Kennedys. I knocked on Jay Austin’s door.
Gathering me in his arms for a hug, he planted a kiss firmly on my lips, then greeted the gang and let us into his apartment.
During the semester, I’d been to his co-operative (one his late mother had left him a year or so before) at the legendary Beresford, a white-glove-service, luxury-doorman building, a few times.
He’d told me the apartment had originally been built as a four-bedroom home and was later converted into a one-bedroom, thus providing an over-the-top walk-in closet, gourmet kitchen, and library. The Central Park-facing living room with fireplace was connected to the dining room.
Filled with old world charm, the place felt a bit museum-like to me. As if Jay Austin didn’t really live there, but rather used it more as a mausoleum to remember his mother, whose cremated ashes were on the nearby fireplace.
“Poppy isn’t here yet. Can I make you some drinks?” he asked.
“The usual, please,” I replied, mentally taking note of how clean and pristine everything appeared.
“I’ll have the same.” Taddy agreed. “Anything to take the edge off.”
“Lex. Blake. That good for you, too?”
They nodded as we each took a seat on the lush velvet blue sectional sofa. Jay Austin headed into the kitchen to make our drinks.
“This place is fancy,” Blake commented.
“Next to the El Dorado and San Remo, the Beresford is one of the most prestigious residential buildings in town,” Taddy informed us.
She should know. When she was a kid, before her parents had dropped her off at boarding school (and never picked her back up), she and Lex had lived at the San Remo a few blocks away with their families.
“Thank my stars Mom moved to SoHo. I just hate this part of town. It’s too uppity for me.” Lex sighed, chewing on her gum.
“Certainly brings back some painful memories,” Taddy added with somberness in her eyes.
I smiled at my besties, hoping for the best outcome, and muttered, “Who knows? Maybe Poppy can be bought out of her book deal and the rubbish will never see the light of day.”
I’d certainly brought my checkbook.
“Your mama would love that,” Blake admitted, and I agreed.
A few minutes later, Jay Austin returned with a tray of drinks and some nuts, olives and other snacks.
“Thanks, babe.” I took a sip, stuck a finger in the glass to stir the ice, then took a big-ass calm-yourself gulp, and then another.
A half an hour or so must’ve passed with no sign of Poppy. Damn her. We were on our second or third round of drinks, the olives and nuts were all eaten, and so were the chips.
“I’m already tipsy.” The cocktail had gone straight to my head. Foolish me. “Guess I should’ve eaten dinner before I came.” I’d been so focused on what the girl had to say about us in her damn book, I couldn’t do anything except get dressed and be there.
“Do you think she’s going to stand us up?” Blake asked, unbuttoning a notch on his shirt. “It’s warm in here.”
“I don’t feel so good,” Lex said, tucking her blonde hair behind her ears as perspiration beaded her forehead.
“Me, either.” I stood, hoping this would stop the rush of heaviness going to my head. I made my way over to the artwork, photos of what must’ve been family members hanging on the walls.
Everything became unusually quiet as I tapped one of my heels.
Hardwood floors with crown molding decorated the room, along with a baby grand piano in the corner. Sterling silver frames, black and white photos, candid pics along with family portraits. “Who’s that?” I asked, clearing my throat, pointing to a woman with two boys on her lap as my mouth suddenly felt dry.
“Mother,” Jay Austin replied, walking slowly in my direction. He took the drink from my hands and set it on a nearby ledge. Pushing himself gently against the hollow of my back, he massaged my neck. “Feel good, babe?”
Yesss. “I have a knot…yes…right there. That feels…so good.” I smiled girlishly while his thumbs worked their magic over my tense shoulders. Suddenly, I felt a sense of exhaustion.
I glanced at my besties who remained on the sofa. Blake’s eyes appeared sleepy. Poor guy was probably up late the night before with his lover, Diego. Taddy and Lex were growing quiet, Taddy rubbing at her temples, while Lex had stopped chomping on her gum.
“Who’s the boy in the pic with you?” I asked. Something about him—maybe his blond hair, or his expressive eyes—looked familiar to me.
“That’s my brother. We were babies then.”
“You never told me you had a brother…”
“Half-brother. We have different fathers and last names.”
“Does he ever come to New York? I’d love to meet him.” About to yawn, I covered my mouth quickly. I don’t know what’s come over me.
“Not anymore.”
“Where’s he live?”
“He passed away a few years ago.”
“Oh, Jay Austin, I’m so sorry to hear that.” I whipped around to face him.
His handsome features, usually warm and welcoming, seemed stoically smooth and expressionless with an extreme coldness I’d never seen on him before. Glancing over his shoulder, I noticed my besties passed out on the sofa.
“Looks like Poppy isn’t gonna show. We should probably get going.” I grabbed his hand. It felt cold against mine.
“You—killed—him.” His voice stammered in my ear.
A sudden ringing in my head prevented me from hearing him correctly. I seriously need to lay off the gin. For a second, I thought he’d said I’d killed him. “What…did you say?” Everything seemed to go in slow motion.
“My brother’s name was…Sanderloo.”
“No!” I shouted, gasping for air, pushing him to the side while trying to side-step around him. My left heel caught on the Oriental area rug and I tripped, falling flat on my face.
As I lay there, unable to move my legs and hands, it felt as if I’d been roofied all over again. Then Charmaine’s words came back to me.
Trust no one!
That was the last thing I remembered.
Next thing I knew, I was in some type of a playroom with Baby Rose.
Wide-open spaces surrounded us. A place for children to learn and so
cialize. There was a mural of an elephant and a spaceship on the wall. On the opposite side of the room were billiards and foosball.
I was dreaming…
“Mommy!” she cried out as I approached.
With blue eyes identical to my own, her blonde hair, almost white, matched mine, too.
“My little girl. So beautiful. Look how you’ve grown.” I picked her up, spinning in a wild circle, and hugged her, noticing a tingle of happiness running through my veins. Inhaling that toddler smell. Her soft skin felt as pure as silk. “The last time I held you in my arms, you weighed eight pounds, five ounces. My heavens, I’ve missed you, Baby Rose.”
“Rose,” she repeated her name and pointed to a potted flower sitting on a nearby table.
I nodded, bouncing on my feet with glee to have finally found her again. “That’s you, petal. My flower. My girl.” Tears streaked my cheeks as she squirmed in my arms. “I’m sorry I gave you up. I wasn’t ready to be a mother. I thought I was doing what was right. I’ve never gotten over having to give you away. How could I?”
All that depression, which had consumed me over the years, the pain, and my addictions, all of it, seemed like such a horrific price to pay.
She cooed at me.
“I wasn’t given a fair shot when you were born. I want a second chance. Please, Baby Rose, will you give me one more chance?
Her eyes started to fill with tears. Maybe she sensed how nervous I was to be with her. I was totally terrified. At the hospital, back when she was born, they’d said giving my baby up for adoption was a wise, self-sacrificing, and wonderful thing to do.
I realized I’d sacrificed myself for her. A large part of me had died the day I gave away my parental rights.
Just then, a woman, must have been in her mid-thirties, appeared at the doorway.
Baby Rose turned and cried out to her, “Mama.”
My heart sank as she reached for the woman, kicking me to break free of our embrace. My jaw clenched, throat constricted.