Chapter 11 #2
Her smile brightened, becoming somewhat genuine.
“I know, right? So, Murial wants to meet you. You’ll go meet her, then you can go downstairs and leave, if you want.
It’s like nothing even happened. If you don’t go, things go badly for you and the Lents, so you satisfy her curiosity or you face her wrath. You decide, elevator or not?
She spoke the last two words slowly, like I was a bug getting squashed beneath her spiky black shoe. I resisted snarling back at her, because she couldn’t even tell which twin she fucked.
Jeremy really was a man-whore for a long time, so dating him meant I would constantly end up facing off with his former hookups. Did I honestly want to fight every single one of them?
Besides, Murial wasn’t something the Lents could get me out of, so why not just face it? I said simply, “Sure.”
I couldn’t think of a way out of the meeting, other than faking my own spontaneous combustion.
I followed her into the posh elevator. I remembered the cameras in most buildings, and figured Murial might be watching me even as we rode the elevator.
The Lents would find a way to get me out of it, though.
They always did, their success track record perfect so far.
I swallowed hard, the movement making my stomach flip. We only traveled up one floor, which seemed a waste for an elevator. “Couldn’t we just have taken the stairs?”
“They’re closed for the party. No one comes up or down without invitation.” She side-eyed me, glancing at her feet. “Besides, these shoes don’t really scream stairs.”
I bit my lip, because I guessed her feet had to be killing her. Nailed it.
A small crowd filled the space of what I could best describe as an upstairs historic parlor, the gilt and style likely from when they first built the house however many ages ago.
About a dozen teenagers in various states of intoxication milled around the room, seeming wildly out of place in the elegant space. I spotted at least three more outside on the balcony, where sound flowed in from the city through the opened doors.
Scanning the walls, I noticed a painting and froze. I know that man. Downstairs, they had a Warhol, but upstairs hid a Rembrandt. For a second, I forgot how to breathe, drifting toward the canvas.
“It’s beautiful, right?” a girl said who I’d never met before. I glanced around to realize Greer had vanished while I stared enrapt at the art.
I blinked at the stranger, still a little jarred by the art. My brain still cycled through a symphony of holy shits.
“Are you Murial?” I asked in response, saying the first thing that came to mind.
She nodded. “Yup, nice to meet you, Alatheia Winder. I know everyone at the upper school at Pullman, so I did my homework when you enrolled. Companion to the Lents’ granny, you live with your aunt Tricia in the same building.
As you know, I’m Murial, so this is my house, and Pullman is my school.
This is my city.” She folded her hands together, glancing around the room as if considering her kingdom.
“Since we’ve finished with introductions, would you rather discuss the art? ”
I swallowed hard, because she was so far out of my league on so many levels.
Beautiful, she managed to be one of those people who didn’t even seem to be real.
Jet black hair, sleeked back into a single ponytail without a single bump, more proof of her unreality since not even a strand dared stray out of order.
At five foot nothing she wore a men’s button-up white shirt with the sleeves rolled to her elbows and the top three buttons undone.
She paired it with a pair of nondescript black pants.
I stared at her manicured toenails, surprised at her bare feet and not sure what it said about her.
I couldn’t tell if she bothered with cosmetics, either, if I was honest. Although her face framed perfect high cheekbones, it all struck me as naturally flawless.
I might have spent every day since I turned eleven with the wealthy and elite, but I never met anyone like her. As I gazed at her, I believed her—it was her school, her house, and her city, not mine.
I turned my gaze back at the painting—a far safer subject than class. “It’s beautiful, so beautiful. I’ve never seen one outside of a museum before.”
She nodded. “You recognize it. I think we’re the only ones in the room who even know it’s here.
” She motioned toward the room, and I couldn’t debate her guess despite knowing a few of the people.
Davis—from one of my classes, and someone Phoenix warned me to steer away from if I could—and Greer as well as, unfortunately, Maggie.
The shower bitch.
“I’m glad to show it to you. Would you believe it was less expensive than the Warhol?
Then again, everyone recognizes the Warhol.
This went for so much less at auction; it was comical.
” She shook her head, gaze reminiscent. “Things tend to come around, if you just wait. Trends. People. By this time next year, Rembrandt could be the thing again.”
I shook my head and blurted, “I think…” Then abruptly I shut my mouth. I could guess she didn’t care about my thoughts on the matter.
Murial placed her hand on my arm, her fingertips cool and surprising. “No, please. Tell me what you think, Alatheia?”
“Well, honestly, I think Rembrandts are always and forever. Few things are, but you know them when you see them. They’re priceless. That’s why we usually only find them in museums. And—” I caught my breath, my bravery running out.
She lifted an eyebrow. “Go on.”
I bunched my fists and closed my eyes. “I think you know that, too, which is why you keep it upstairs but have the Warhol downstairs where everyone can see it. You don’t want anything to happen to the Warhol, sure, but you trust the cameras and your security system.
This one is upstairs, because you care about this one specifically.
Due to that, you keep it where you and your parents can keep an eye on it. ”
Murial didn’t say anything for a few long moments, then her lips spread in a slow Cheshire grin.
“Oh, you are smart. I assumed you would be asleep, like everyone else. You’re not.
You’re smarter. Well, it makes this part easier.
I do care about that painting more, and actually I love it.
I treasure it, because my daddy bought it for me on my thirteenth birthday.
It’s the best thing he ever gave me.” She took a step away, her gaze distant again.
“Except my cheekbones. Those are better.” She waved her hand carelessly. “Come along, Alatheia.”
I followed her quickly because I didn’t think I had options. When we faced off with Maggie, my stomach tightened. I knew things would go badly, but maybe I expected more time.
“Maggie did a very gross thing.” She folded her arms and sternly considered Maggie.
“You did, and you know it. We don’t rip open the shower curtain on people.
It’s classless and ridiculous.” Maggie stared at the floor, her expression properly chastised.
“She’s been in love with Jeremy Lent for years.
Last year, he showed her a little bit of interest. He showed some to Greer, too, but she said he confused her.
” She leaned over to whisper conspiratorially, although she spoke at a volume anyone could hear.
“It’s easy to confuse Greer, if we’re honest, but Maggie actually thinks she’s in love.
” Murial shook her head sadly. “Jeremy was never in love with her, but in any case, she owes you an apology. A sincere one this time. Maggie?”
The other girl swallowed. “I’m sorry.”
“There. She’s sorry. Do you forgive her?”
All eyes in the room swiveled to focus on me. Luckily, I knew my line. “Yes.”
“Good.” Murial sighed. “I can’t have the Lents feuding with our people.
It’s too messy, because I like the Lents.
They know how to have a good time and how to behave, which honestly is a rare combination in our generation.
Not to mention, they’re handsome and funny and rich.
One of us, if you get my meaning. We can’t have things falling apart during my senior year.
I’m going to be honest, Alatheia…Your name means truth, right?
” She didn’t wait for me to answer, barreling onward without pause.
“I don’t know quite what to do with you.
Are you dating one of them? If yes, which one? ”
If I outright lied to her, I felt like she would know it. Instead, I went for a half truth. “I’m not dating any one of them.”
Since it wasn’t a lie, she nodded, her gaze almost sensing my honesty.
I almost let out the breath I was holding in relief.
“Okay, well Maggie apologized, and I got to have a look at you. We’ll look at art together again sometime soon.
I heard about your art friend. Tiffany’s talented, but I can show you treasures the likes of which no one else can show you.
I am so glad I didn’t have to threaten you to stay away from my people, since it makes things so much more pleasant.
You surprised me, which is a rarity.” Her teeth flashed in what I supposed was a smile, though it felt like a baring of teeth in aggression.
“Before I let you leave, did you have any questions?”
Davis joined her, sipping a drink as she considered me. “Hi, Alatheia.”
“Hi,” I responded but I didn’t bother to look at him. “Since I ran into you, why did Julian get invited instead of Jeremy?”