Chapter 6
6
I spend the rest of the afternoon mired in the zone of the powerless, pissed-off parent. I send Josh a bunch of texts, but I keep it light and vague, so nothing incriminating can be found on either of our phones. In case they get seized or something.
He ignores every message. I get one text that confirms he made it to Florida, he’s alive, and he’s going to be busy partying, so he might not be able reply to my messages right away. He tells me to “chill.”
The little fucker.
I should be enjoying my alone time. God knows I don’t get much of it.
I open a few of the mountain of boxes that have been sent to me by companies wanting me to advertise their products. We keep them stacked along the wall by the door and they’ve become part of the furniture.
There’s a forest green sports bra and matching bike shorts, wrapped with tissue paper. A note reads:
Ivy, we love your Insta! We hope you enjoy this breathable fully-organic yoga outfit, made with 100% sustainable fabrics. We’d love to work with you!
And a sweater.
Hi Ivy! We’re so excited to present you with this luxurious and one-of-a-kind cashmere crew-neck, weaved from the wool of free-range, hand-reared Kashmir goats here in the gorgeous Catskills region of Upstate New York! We hope you might consider working with us on some product advertising. We’re in awe of your platform! We’d love to meet with you via Zoom. Please get in touch xx
I’ve got a reputation as working mainly with ethical companies who do their best not to destroy the planet.
My phone rings.
I pick it up, thinking it might be my walking cybercrime of a brother. But when I see the name on the screen, I do a double-take.
Roy.
There’s only one Roy on my contacts list. I changed his title from Dad to Roy in a fit of rage years ago.
I answer the call before I can second-guess it. “Dad?”
“Ivy?”
Who else does he think it would be? “Yeah, it’s me.”
“Hi, honey. How are you?”
Hi, honey? How am I? How dare he? “I’m…fine.” My voice sounds cold, and it is. “I was sorry I missed you last weekend. Did you get my note?”
“Yes. Yes, I did. That’s…part of the reason I’m calling.”
“Oh. What’s the other reason?” I want to make him squirm. Because I know what his other reason is, and it’s not to chitchat about the weather.
“There’s something I need to discuss with you.”
“Josh’s graduation?” Just to twist the knife a little.
“Uh, no. I don’t think Josh would want me there.”
“True. He doesn’t. Which is too bad, considering it wouldn’t have been hard to reach out to him once or twice during his lifetime. What did you want to discuss?”
“You were…in my house. In my office.” He sounds very unhappy about this discovery and his unhappiness has the effect of a very red flag waving in front of an extremely ornery bull.
My reply is sassy and unremorseful. “I knocked. The door was unlocked and no one was home. I called out to you. I wanted to let you know I showed up, even if you didn’t. I wrote the note to you, then I left.”
“You don’t have the right to let yourself into our home, Ivy.”
Okay, I’ll admit it: this makes my blood boil. Our home. But not your home. No, never that. “I told you I was coming. I thought maybe you’d left your door unlocked on purpose.” Not true, but it might sound reasonable in a court of law. I am, after all, his daughter. Even if he’s forgotten that detail.
“Ivy, there’s…” He’s not sure how to explain it to me. It’s a tricky one, I’ll give him that much. “Something has gone missing.”
“What’s gone missing?” I realize I’m already considering my words, in case the police come after us. Maybe this phone call is being recorded. I wouldn’t put it past my neglectful excuse for a father. And I’ve already lumped myself into this crime with Josh because I’m hardly going to let him take the fall alone. It was me who provided him with his own red flag, even if I never meant to. “Something in your house?”
“No. Not exactly. What…what did you see when you were here?”
“What did I see?” Besides a Bahamas bank account statement? “Well, I saw a lot of sterile white walls and ugly decorating choices. I saw a pen and a piece of paper. I saw a table to set the note on. And then I saw a pristinely manicured front lawn as I was leaving.” Asshole. “What’s gone missing?” I ask again. Ten million dollars, by any chance?
Does my father remember the hacking incident when Josh was twelve? Probably. “Something very valuable.”
“Well, I didn’t take anything, if that’s what you’re implying. But let me know if you find it.”
I’m about to hang up when he says, “I’m going to have to contact the police, Ivy. Unless you’d prefer to return what you stole without involving the authorities.”
“Stole? I have no idea what you’re talking about.” My heart seizes with the kind of terror you can only experience when you and your little brother are about to get arrested and thrown into Rikers Island for the rest of your natural born lives. But I keep my cool, even though my fury is burning me. “As I said, I didn’t remove anything from your house, Dad.” I say the word ironically. “I didn’t even lift your pen.”
“Ivy. I mean it.” So now he chooses to be a disciplinarian.
“And so do I.” I’m not sure I’ve ever experienced this kind of cortisol spike before, but it’s intense in the worst kind of way. “I didn’t take anything.”
“Then I guess you’ll be hearing from my lawyer and the detective assigned to this case.”
“I’ll look forward to it. And you’re welcome, for raising your son, into the best version of himself, without any help from you whatsoever. Have a nice day, Dad.” You deserve to have your money stolen, you unfeeling prick.
I end the call, walking into my bedroom and putting my phone down on my bed. My hands are shaking. My eyes fill with tears but I impatiently wipe them away.
Damn it.
Deep breaths. Stay calm. Josh said he would put the money back. He said he covered his tracks. He can do it with both transactions.
Can’t he?
Fuck.
Glancing through the windows to the balcony, I try to center myself. I’m grateful for the twilit sky and for the air I get to breathe, even if it is heavily scented with exhaust fumes. I’m grateful for all my goddamn plants because they sure as hell won’t have balcony herb gardens at Rikers Island or wherever they send us.
When my phone rings again, I half expect it to be the cops telling me they’re about to bang down my door and drag me away in handcuffs.
But Cleo’s name lights up the screen.
I answer it, relieved. “Hey, Clee.”
“I’m around the corner, heading toward JJ’s, and I demand you come down and have a drink with me. I haven’t seen you in two weeks and we’ve hardly talked.”
The familiarity of her bossiness is comforting. “Sure. I’d love that. What time is it?”
“It’s almost six. I have a proposition for you and I think you’re going to want to hear this.”
“A proposition? What kind of proposition?”
“I need to talk to you about it in person or you’ll never agree to it. Plus I haven’t seen you since you went out to your dad’s last weekend. I want to hear about how it went.”
“There’s nothing to talk about.”
“Let me guess. He wasn’t there.”
“Good guess.”
“I’m sorry, honey. The man is and always will be a shithead. Meet you at JJ’s in twenty?”
“Sounds perfect.”
I throw on a cute dress that one of my clients sent me. Pulling my hair up into a messy bun, I put on some mascara and lip gloss. I pull on some tall boots and wrap a pink silk scarf around my neck. Most of my clients know by now that I only wear natural fabrics and that I have a sort of bohemian-meets-Ralph-Lauren style with a wild-child-musician twist. I take a photo of myself in my full-length mirror and post it to Instagram, tagging the designer and adding a link to the dress on her website. How cute is this organic cotton mini dress?? Shop my outfit!
Another three grand into the Josh Goes to Columbia fund (if he doesn’t get thrown into jail first).
I force that last thought out of my head. I absolutely cannot mention this to anyone, and most of all Cleo. So I lock it into its own little compartment in my brain, next to the Move On From Asshole Father one, labeled Worry About Later.
Spring is definitely in the air and the streets are busy with people enjoying the city.
JJ’s is one of our favorite places to meet. It’s right around the corner from my building and it’s a funky little rooftop bar and restaurant with some of the best food in the neighborhood, which is saying something, since Soho is full of good restaurants and bars designed specifically to be Instagram-worthy and to generate the best reviews possible.
By the time I get to JJ’s, Cleo is already at our usual table. I can see that she’s ordered us a bottle of champagne that’s sitting in an ice bucket. Two glasses have already been poured.
“A whole bottle?” I lean in to give her a kiss on each cheek before sliding into the booth seat across from her. She knows I’m not much of a drinker.
“The occasion calls for it.”
“What occasion would that be?”
“Sam and I set a date.” She’s absolutely beaming.
“You did? When?
“We’re going to have a fall wedding. September in Vermont.”
“Cleo, that’s amazing! That will be so beautiful. Congrats!”
If I didn’t know better, I’d say my bestie has a tear in her eye. “I haven’t officially asked you this yet, but will you be my maid of honor? I need you right next to me the whole time.”
I lean across the table to give her a hug. “Of course I will. I’m so excited for you.”
She picks up her glass and clinks it against mine. “To true love. For both of us.”
I take a sip. “For you, at least. I’ll bask in your glow. I haven’t been on a single date for over a year, can you believe that? It’s depressing.”
“That’s what happens when you feel compelled to babysit your brother 24/7. You tend to miss out on a lot of action.”
She’s right, of course. “As soon as Josh is all set for Columbia, I’ll be able to start thinking about my love life, which at this point has tumbleweeds rolling through it. I just want so badly for him to be okay.”
“Ivy, he’s fine. He is all set for Columbia. I thought you said he’s enrolled now and he’s chosen his classes for the fall.”
“He is. And he has. And right now he’s in Florida for Spring Break, partying it up in Fort Lauderdale.”
She makes a face, like she can’t think of anything worse. “Good for him. So that means your free this weekend. No gigs?”
“No gigs. I had one last night. My next one’s not for a few weeks.”
“Good.” The look on Cleo’s face is mischievous and borderline guilty, if I’m not mistaken. “Because I sort of set you up with someone.”
I stare at her. “You what?”
“Hear me out. Please, just listen to the details. This is way too good.”
“What details? What are you talking about?”
“It’s more of a business proposition than a date. I just talked to Noah again and they’re willing to pay two hundred thousand for the weekend.”
“Wait, what?”
“They’ll pay you two hundred thousand for two days.”
“Who will?
“Noah and his brothers.”
“Two hundred thousand dollars?”
“All you have to do is pretend to be Alexander Maddox’s date at some swanky wedding in the Hamptons—purely for show. He’s the best man and his ex is the wedding planner. He needs a front so she’ll keep her distance. Apparently she’s, like, crazy and won’t take no for an answer.”
“What?” My brain can’t keep up.
“They’re willing to pay so much because they want you to…you know, lay it on.”
“Lay what on?”
“You know, make it convincing.”
I blink at her. “Alexander Maddox?” Of course I’ve heard of him. “Isn’t he, like, a billionaire?”
“Many times over,” Cleo confirms. “He’s also hot, even if he is an absolute grump. I don’t know if I’ve ever seen the guy in a good mood. But I do think there’s a diamond under all that rough if he were to have a little fun for a change. He’s what you’d call…uptight. He’s under a lot of pressure with the company he’s in charge of. But the way I see it, what’s the point of having so much money if you can’t enjoy it once in a while? Alexander doesn’t seem familiar with that concept.”
I shake my head. “There’s no way I’m going on a fake date with Alexander Maddox.”
Cleo has worked for Noah Maddox for a couple of years now and loves her job. She fills me in on the office gossip and has mentioned Alexander every now and then. According to her, he runs the old money family empire but is also a shareholder at Invested Enterprises, the company set up by his three brothers.
She holds up her phone, completely ignoring what I said. “This is him. See? Admit it. Extremely hot.”
I glance warily at the photo. He’s tall with thick dark hair, wearing an obviously-expensive suit. He could be a rugged male model, complete with the aloof frown. “As I said, I’m not going on a fake date with Alexander Maddox.”
“Did you forget about the tiny detail of the two hundred thousand dollars I just mentioned?”
“As if he’d pay that much for one weekend.”
“He would. Trust me, it’s nothing to him.”
“Well, you’re going to have to find someone else. I’m busy.”
“Doing what?”
“Working.”
“Your work would benefit from a weekend in a very lively, scenic environment in which to show off your clothes and bikinis and whatnot.”
“Paying someone to go on a date is just…weird.”
“He’s desperate to keep his distance from the insane wedding planner, according to Noah.”
“Can’t he just get a regular date?”
“He doesn’t want complications. Which many women seem to give billionaires, who knows. And, as I mentioned, he’s grumpy so he couldn’t get one.”
“Which is another reason to not do this. Forget it. Count me out. Who’s next on your list of people crazy enough to consider doing something like this?”
Cleo sets her phone down, waiting for the waitress to top up our glasses and walk away.
She takes my hands across the table. “Ivy. I love you like a sister. I admire you, respect the hell out of you and I’m in awe of your beauty, talent and the way you’ve managed to hoist yourself from a difficult situation into a to-die-for Soho apartment and an amazing lifestyle. I’ve also supported you through your near obsession with getting your little brother into an Ivy League school. Which you’ve now done. Achievement unlocked. But I’m going to be honest with you. It’s time for you to stop fixating on Josh and start thinking about yourself. Okay? You’ve put in the time and you’ve gotten the results you wanted. Now it’s time for you to live a little.”
I give her a look. “And you think fake dating Noah’s grumpy brother is going to help me do that?”
She tilts her head, like she’s studying me. “I think it would help you get a little bit of perspective. You’d wow the entire Hamptons. I want you to get out of the little cocoon you reside in for one weekend, to witness first-hand the effect you have on people. Plus, it’ll be crazily luxurious. It might be fun.”
“Fun?”
“Yes, that thing you don’t get enough of? It’s called fun, and even though Alexander is a grouch of epic proportions, he’s seriously gorgeous, fabulously loaded and, if he does prove to be completely awful, at least there will be other hot, eligible bachelors galore at the wedding. You might meet someone else.”
“Cleo—”
“You’ll also make two hundred grand in two days. More than enough to make sure that Josh can live on campus or in his own apartment near campus and get the full university experience.” Sometimes I regret telling her every tiny detail of my life. “In a single weekend, you can take all the worry about that part of his expenses completely out of the equation. It’s totally worth it.”
Damn it.
“I think it would be good for Alexander too,” Cleo continues. “I’ve gotten to know him through Noah over the past two years and somewhere under all that moodiness—deeply buried, but I’ve detected it from time to time—is the inkling of a sense of humor. I almost feel like the two of you might actually hit it off.”
“Are you saying I’m moody?”
“No. I’m saying you’re so beautiful and smart and cool that you could thaw out even the most frozen, uptight billionaire into something that might resemble a decent human being.”
“It’s a ridiculous idea.”
She takes a sip of her champagne. “Let me say it again. Two. Hundred. Thousand. Dollars. For two days, girlfriend. All you have to do is show up at his building on Park Avenue at five o’clock sharp on Friday afternoon. You’ll be taking the helicopter. He’s got one that takes off from his rooftop helipad.”
“Holy shit.”
“Yeah, we’re talking serious money. He’s the wealthiest of all the Maddox brothers because he took over Maddox Enterprises while the other three basically jumped ship to start their own company.”
“I’ve never been to the Hamptons.” Am I actually considering doing this?
“See? You’re not living your best life, Ive. You’ve been too mired in self-preservation and parenting that precocious little nerd. Who, by the way, is now fully realized and ready to go off and live his own life.”
“Hanging out with a total stranger and pretending to be his fake date sounds like it would be awkward as hell.”
Cleo smiles at me, sensing that I’m starting to cave. “You’re a born performer, darling. Just think of the money. You’ll be able to play the part like a freaking Oscar nominee. Enjoy the pool, drink your body weight in Mo?t and rub shoulders with the Hamptons elite for a weekend. It’ll be interesting at the very least. Oh, and you’ll be sleeping in the same bed.”
“What?” I huff a laugh. “Absolutely not.”
“No sex, of course. It’ll probably be a ridiculously big king-sized bed. Just keep to your side and it’ll be fine.”
“Cleo, I’m not?—”
“As I said, your performance needs to be really convincing, down to the tiniest detail. The ex is cunning. If she gets a whiff that this is anything but true love, I’ll have to get Noah his coffee every morning for a whole year. Which would be a nightmare. He’d milk it for all it was worth.”
“Ah,” I say, leaning back in my chair, fully resolved to definitely refuse to do this. “So this is a bet.”
“Not a bet, Ive. A plan. To stop Alexander’s nightmarish ex from hounding him all weekend. Noah and Colton have actually been really worried about him. He hasn’t been himself lately because he hates the thought of spending the weekend with her. He’s been miserable and even more grouchy than usual. Noah said he’s just…really sad.”
I fold my arms. She knows how to get to me, I’ll give her that much. I’m much more likely to agree to this now that she’s told me Alexander is in emotional turmoil. She’s appealing to my empathic side. But something occurs to me. “You’re Noah’s assistant. Don’t you get him coffee every morning anyway?”
Cleo rolls her eyes. “I’m an administrative and organizational genius, not a coffee girl.” Like I’ve insulted her.
I smile, despite myself. “And if the evil ex is convinced, then what?”
“Noah has to get me coffee for a year. Please, for the sake of my self-respect, you have to really lay it on, Ive.”
I ask her warily, “And how would I do that?”
“You know, sit on his lap, play with his hair, kiss him, that kind of thing.”
I laugh, biting my lip. “Would you listen to yourself? You can’t really expect me to do this, Clee.”
“Why not? It’s better than slouching around worrying about Josh all weekend. Which is exactly what you’ll end up doing.”
She doesn’t know the half of it.
At least a weekend away would distract me. If the cops show up, pounding on my door and wanting to question me, I won’t be there. I’ll be at a weekend-long party. Which actually sounds like more fun than sitting around, waiting to get busted.
“Just think about that cool two hundred big ones,” she reminds me.
I let it sink in. Josh could get the full college experience. He could live on campus and make a bunch of new friends and I could finally have some time to myself. I could start to relax after all these years of worrying about him. I could concentrate more on writing my music, without distractions. I could start dating. I might actually get a life.
For Josh, it’s worth it. And for me.
I inwardly cringe. I know I’m going to wildly regret this, but two hundred grand is two hundred grand. I’m sure I can put up with 48 hours of living hell for the rewards this windfall will offer me. “Okay.”
“Okay?”
“I’ll do it.”
Cleo’s eyes light up. “You will?”
“It’s only two days. I’m sure I can handle that. I hope. But I want the money in my bank account before four-thirty on Friday. I’ll put on a good act—if you make it crystal clear that I’m not doing anything…real. No sex or anything like that.”
Cleo nods earnestly. “Absolutely no sex. He said the same thing.”
“He did?”
“Yes.”
“Okay. Good. This is a fake date and nothing more.”
Cleo clasps her hands with glee. “God, I wish I could be a fly on the wall and watch how this all plays out. It’s going to be absolutely delicious.”
“Either that or a disaster in slow motion.”
Cleo takes my hand. “Don’t worry about anything, okay? Alexander’s a reclusive CEO who gets out even less than you do, but he’s not a bad person. Noah’s always saying that he’s a grump with a heart of gold. He just doesn’t get an opportunity to express that side of his personality very often. And you’ll be putting his brothers’ minds at ease about his well-being.”
“If you say so.”
“Let’s talk outfits,” Cleo says. “The skimpier the better. What bikinis do you have?”
“One of my clients just sent me a white one that’s not a thong but might as well be, and an animal print one that’s basically a tiny few shreds of strategically placed fabric.”
“Perfect. What dresses? The more skin, the better. Your body is insane, you might as well show it off.”
I give her an exasperated look.
“What?” She asks innocently. “If we’re doing this, we might as well do it correctly.”
“We?”
“Okay, you. But I’m going to be cheering you on from Hell’s Kitchen like a banshee. You’ll be able to feel my supportive energy all the way out there in Southampton. What’ve you got for the wedding day?”
I think about it. “I’ve got a cute gold sleeveless dress I haven’t worn yet. It might be perfect for a wedding.”
“That sounds fabulous. What about Friday night? There’s the rehearsal dinner. You know that little pink dress you tried on when I was visiting you a few weeks ago?”
“The short one with the lace?”
“Yes! That dress is stunning.”
“I guess I could wear that one on Friday.”
“I can come over and help you pack if you want.”
“Okay.”
She contemplates me for a few seconds. “Ive?”
“Yeah?”
“I just thought the money might come in handy, and he’s a Maddox. I’ve preemptively made him promise to be nice to you. But I don’t want you to do it if you feel unsure.”
“It would be nice to have the money. For Josh. Just don’t tell Noah my last name. Maybe I can fly under the radar and blend in for the weekend.”
She tilts her head, smiling. “That’s extremely unlikely, but okay, I won’t tell them your last name. I’m sure Alexander will figure it out though. People will probably recognize you at the wedding.”
“They don’t always. Maybe the Hamptons crowd doesn’t know me.”
“Please,” Cleo says. “You have, like, a billion followers. But I won’t tell. They might want to see a photo of you though. Is that okay? I’ve got this cute one on my phone I took the last time you came to dinner. Can I send Noah this one?”
She pulls up a random photo. “I guess it’s not bad.”
“Are you kidding?” Cleo squeals. “You’re a freaking supermodel, girlfriend.”
“Why do I get the feeling I’m totally going to regret this?” I mutter, as our waitress appears with our food.
Cleo’s grinning at me. “Why do I get the feeling you’re not?”