Chapter 24
Chapter Twenty-Four
Scarlett
I've only ever heard of the Astoria from either Lucy or watching TV.
The Astoria is an invite-only association for the world's elite. All sorts of fascinating functions and events take place here that you read about in magazines.
The air itself feels different here, perfumed with old money and power that makes my skin prickle with awareness.
Much like Oheka Castle, it felt like walking into a dream from the moment I stepped in.
The black marble floor that looks like glass gleams beneath the crystal chandeliers, and the velvet drapes hanging against the walls whisper inspiration from the Renaissance era.
Lucy has been here over a hundred times but the tables have turned tonight, and she is my plus one.
We've been invited to a women's charity event Genevieve is hosting. It's an event to raise money for women who live in third world countries who need help to either take care of themselves or their families.
I’ve always admired people who run charity events like these, so I was ready to offer my support and donate to the cause regardless of how I feel.
My heart flutters with a mix of nerves and unease, the competing emotions making my fingers fidget with the beaded clutch in my hands.
It's supposed to be an exciting evening, and I should still be walking in the clouds after my movie deal news. But I'm worried about Micah. I'm worried about whatever is worrying him. The thought of his troubled expression sits like lead in my stomach, heavy and cold.
Three nights ago, he came home looking terrified, as if something awful had happened. The memory of his face makes my chest tight.
Seeing him that way freaked me out because he's always so composed and calm. The worst thing was he wouldn't tell me what was going on. The silence between us that night had been deafening, filled with unspoken fears that made the air thick and hard to breathe.
Micah couldn't even hide the fact that something had happened because I could tell. The tension radiated from him in waves, making my skin crawl with secondhand anxiety.
And I also swear I saw blood on his shirt; there were specks of it.
So, when he told me not to worry, I couldn't help myself. I've been on edge since, my nerves raw and exposed like livewires, and my gut is telling me that the only thing that could get him so worked up in that way is Anton. The name alone sends ice through my veins.
Whenever we've spoken about Anton, Micah always seemed so confident that he could handle him. But my worry is that maybe he has finally discovered how unhinged Anton can be.
Maybe Micah has realized that while he may be powerful, Anton is different to what he's used to. I don't know. And that's the thing that worries me. The unknown. It stretches before me like a dark abyss, threatening to swallow my newfound happiness.
When Lucy and I reach the Grand Hall, she loops her arm through mine and smiles at me. The guards Micah sent with us stay out in the foyer, their presence a reminder of the dangers that lurk beyond these gilded walls.
Micah is in the building for another meeting and will join me later. He wanted to cancel his meeting to be with me, but I assured him I'd be okay. I also pointed out that the event was mainly for women.
He didn't care about that, but I think he wanted to respect my space and need to socialize with other women in our circle. Also, the place is so heavily guarded. I doubt anything could happen here.
"I never get tired of this place," Lucy bubbles as we stop in the center of the hall to admire the room.
"It's absolutely beautiful." My gaze roams the artwork and intricate designs. "I can't believe I'm here." My whisper carries a hint of awe, still not quite believing this is my life now.
"You better believe it." Lucy tugs on my arm, her excitement vibrating through our linked elbows. "This is part of your new life. I'm so proud of you, Scarlett."
"Thank you for supporting me." The words catch in my throat, emotion making my voice rough.
"I wish I could have done more for you. I feel bad I couldn't get you something like the movie deal."
"Are you kidding? You kept me going all these years and made sure I never gave up.” The truth of it makes my heart swell. “Your inspiration helped me to get the role."
"Don't be silly. It was all your awesome talent."
"Lucy, you know what I mean. Thanks for being there. And being here ."
"Always."
I give her a quick hug. When we pull apart, I spot Genevieve at the same time she sees us. She's standing over by the buffet table with Belinda and Clarissa. The three of them wave at us and we wave back.
This is the second time I've seen them this week.
When they found out about my movie deal, they all came to see me the very next day with flowers and champagne galore. They made sure I was completely spoilt. It was nice.
Now they're wearing the same excited expressions. Lucy and I make our way over to them, where we're both given hugs and kisses on our cheeks.
"Look at my beautiful movie star daughter-in-law," Geneviève says, turning me around to admire my gown. The black silk whispers against my skin as I spin. "I've already picked out my outfit for the Oscars."
We all laugh, the sound bright and genuine in the opulent space.
"Genevieve, the movie hasn't even started filming yet." I smile back at her, feeling the knots in my stomach loosen from our laughter.
"Who cares about that? One needs to prepare for these things well in advance," she informs me in a matter-of-fact tone and a flick of her delicate wrist.
Belinda and Clarissa exchange amused smiles, although I know they secretly agree with Genevieve. Now that I know them a little better, I've realized they're not that different from her.
"Come, let's go sit. We’re right at the front in the VIP section." Genevieve takes my arm and ushers Lucy and me over to the tables near the chocolate fountain. The area has been decorated with pink and white roses lining the chairs.
Once we sit, I spot Eloise in the corner talking it up with a bunch of plastic-looking women who look similar to her. They see me, too, and give me the same filthy looks she does. I turn away, deciding to ignore them, though their stares burn between my shoulder blades.
Genevieve grabs the wine and pours us each a glass before she sits. Then she, Belinda, and Clarissa focus on me, like they did that first night I met them. I can tell they have more questions about the movie. The intensity of their attention makes my skin prickle.
"So, have you found out yet when rehearsals and filming begin?" Genevieve asks, leaning forward slightly, her pearls gleaming.
"We have rehearsals from next week but official filming begins in three months," I answer with pride.
Lucy clasps her hands together, sharing my excitement, her rings clicking softly.
"That's perfect," Belinda says. "You'll have some time to get settled in and prepare."
"We're all so excited for you," Clarissa joins in, her smile genuine and warm.
"You gave the performance of your life in that audition, Scarlett," Lucy says, squeezing my hand.
"Thank you. It was so much fun."
"We wish we could have been there." Genevieve stares back at me, wistfully.
"I'll see if I can get some passes when the filming starts. It'd be nice to have you guys there." The words come easily, naturally, as if I've always belonged in this world of privilege and possibility.
"That would be great."
They all look at each other with excitement, a silent conversation passing between them in glances and subtle smiles.
The speaker approaches the stage at the top of the room, and the chatter ceases.
Her name is Heather Fairchild. She’s an elegant woman like Genevieve, who speaks eloquently. Her voice carries easily through the perfect acoustics. She begins her speech by talking about all the support the charity has given women in third world countries. Then she talks heartily about all the work yet to be done for the rest of the year. It sounds great. Like something I'd like to get involved in. The thought of helping others warms my heart with purpose, pushing aside the earlier anxiety.
I always thought that whenever I reached a stage in my life where I had the chance to help others, I would. Maybe I have reached that stage.
Some of the tasks involve just going down to the centers and helping put care packages together. I could definitely do that and expand as I learn more, or more time frees itself up.
I am, however, mindful that I've just come out of a crazy situation and my mind needs some downtime before I can help anyone else. I just won't wait too long.
When Heather finishes her speech, everyone claps. Then I'm surprised when Eloise takes the stage, her heels clicking against the floor with predatory confidence.
I never thought she'd be a part of anything like this. But then again, many of the women here look like they're present for the social scene.
Eloise opens with a talk about her new jewelry brand which will provide a hundred women who live in the city with jobs. Then she says ten percent of her earnings for the rest of the year will be donated to the charity.
She almost has me believing she's a decent human being and that she was just bitter about her breakup with Micah.
I can't say much about the other stuff, like her cheating and the scandal, which I did read about, but maybe she does have a heart. She goes on to play a video that showcases some of the hands-on work her team has done with the charity in Rwanda.
And again, I'm impressed. I'm intrigued that she went out there herself for a week and I’m transfixed with all she and her team have done. I watch them plant trees, help take care of the kids, and cook for the people in the village. The images flow across the screen like a dream, until suddenly?—
I see myself on the screen and shock lances through me like an electric current.
I straighten as if a steel rod has been shoved up my back and experience a moment of temporary displacement where I'm not sure where I am. The room spins slightly, the chandeliers above becoming kaleidoscopes of light and shadow.
Then I realize I'm still here in this seat and what I'm actually seeing is footage of me.
Me in a hospital gown looking like I've had the life drained out of me and then some. The fabric hangs loose on my frame, paper-thin and institutional green against my pale skin.
Rehab.
That was rehab.
My heart pounds so hard I can feel it in my throat.
Why am I watching this?
My eyes glue to the screen with a realization that what I and everyone in the room are seeing is one of my consultation sessions.
A private consultation session at the hospital with one of my psychiatrists. The air feels too thick to breathe, my lungs struggling against the weight of exposure.