CHAPTER EIGHTEEN #2
Madeline stared at me. “Are you fucking with me, Nadine Walker? You have a billionaire’s no-limit credit card in that beat up discount store purse you’re still carrying around.
You need to spend his money while you can, sweetie, because you might never get a chance like this again.
Today, we’re doing more clothes, shoes, and purses. ”
I sighed. It wasn’t that I didn’t like to shop, it was just that this was more shopping in a couple of weeks than I’d done in my whole life. “I thought we already got clothes, shoes, and purses last week…”
She cut me off with a wave of her hand. “That was just to see what you naturally gravitate towards. This will all work better if we go with things you like and just tone them down a bit.” She stared at my purse.
“Plus, you’re still carrying that old thing.
I know we picked out some excellent ones for you already.
And didn’t Carmen get you a new purse when you first got here? ”
I clutched the purse I’d had for a while now. “I like it.”
“Well, you clearly liked the hell out of it. It should be dead and buried now.”
I made a face at her, but I wasn’t really angry. Plus, I felt she was having fun with this. It was almost like I was a grown-up paper doll for her to play dress up with.
“Tomorrow,” she said, still tossing clothes in a growing pile on a chair for me to take back to a dressing room, “we’re doing jewelry and specialty clothes.”
“Specialty clothes?”
“Event dresses, lingerie, ski clothes, swimsuits, coats, jackets, scarves, hats…”
“Okay, okay.” I held up my hands. “God. This is a lot.”
“And you’re starting etiquette lessons with Lonnie Maitland this week.”
She said that as if I was supposed to know who she was talking about. I looked at her blankly.
Madeline’s eyes widened. “How do you not know who Lonnie Maitland is? She has podcasts and books; she’s everywhere. She’s been talking about how young people today don’t know proper etiquette. She’s trying to bring it back.”
“Oh. Um, okay.” That sounded awful. So boring.
She frowned. “What?”
“Etiquette lessons?”
Madeline put her hands on her slim hips. “Yep. You can’t possibly think you don’t need them?”
“It’s not that. I know I need them, and Carmen told me I was getting them. It’s just…why now? Reynolds already picked me or whatever.”
“Girl, Carmen is helping you out with this shit. It’s not about Reynolds; it’s about you. Take advantage of all of this while it’s on someone else’s dime. Don’t ask questions. Just work hard as hell to improve yourself during your contract. Because when it’s over, you’re on your own.”
She must’ve seen the look on my face.
“Don’t get me wrong. You and I might be friends forever. But Carmen’s paying me extra to teach you about shopping and appearance, too. I mean, I would’ve done it for free, but she doesn’t need to know that. And believe me, you want me to do it. It was either me or her mom.”
“Her mom?”
“Carmen’s mom is a former beauty queen, she’s as proper as they come, and she’s tough as nails, too. If you think Carmen is a little scary, she’s got nothing on that mom of hers. She would chew you up and spit you out.”
“Carmen’s mom did pageants?” I didn’t realize my voice had gotten loud until the clerk gave me a look.
“She sure did. Former Miss Teen Georgia. She tried to make Carmen do them, too.” She snorted. “Can you imagine?”
“No.” I shook my head. “No, I really can’t. She’s beautiful, but she’d be so pissed at having to be in something like that.”
“Exactly. Anyway, you’re stuck with me for a while as your personal style consultant.
That cool?” I noticed a flicker of doubt in her eyes.
I knew Madeline, maybe more than all the other Cinnamon House girls, felt vulnerable around female friends.
We’d all discussed our relative lack of girlfriends throughout our lives, but I got the sense that Madeline had dealt with more drama in that department than the rest of us.
She wouldn’t talk about it, though. She was close-mouthed on any subject that steered towards personal information about herself.
“Oh, definitely. I love spending time with you. I just feel a little overwhelmed is all. It’s all happening so fast. I mean, a couple of months ago I was at my ex-boyfriend’s wedding in Puckins, crying into the cheese straws. Now look at me!”
“I’m looking.” She threw some clothes at me. “Try these on. You still need some help in the clothes department, missy.”
Madeline dragged me from store to store until her pretty, light blue convertible was completely filled with bags and packages.
I was thankful for the wind whipping around us on the way home.
I didn’t feel like talking. I had too much to process.
I was surprised when she pulled into the parking garage under my building.
The trip home had passed quickly.
Madeline parked and immediately looked at herself in the rearview mirror. She re-applied her lipstick, even though it was just the two of us. It was like she was pre-programmed to do it.
“I’m coming with you to your spa appointment on Friday. I want to oversee your hair and makeup lesson this time.”
“Okay… but they taught me how last week. And the week before that. Am I still not doing it right?”
“Mmm, not quite. I’ll help you, don’t worry.
And enjoy the hell out of the spa days, Nadine.
Get massages in addition to all the required things.
You have to stay waxed, primped, and polished for Reynolds, honey.
He didn’t pay three million dollars for a girlfriend.
You know, someone who gets comfortable around him?
You’re not to be putting your hair in a messy bun or wearing goddamn yoga pants. ”
I blinked at her.
“He paid for a mistress. Somebody to fuck. That’s it. Carmen’s doing these other lessons for you because she likes you. She doesn’t do this for anyone. She wants to see you succeed after Reynolds is done with you.”
I knew all this from what Carmen had already said to me. But somehow hearing it from Madeline made it hit home a little harder. I was lucky to be getting this extra help.
She turned to me after she finished checking herself out in the mirror.
“When you’re done with this contract, Nadine, you need to be set up in the best way possible for your future.
You need to use all this time you have during the day while Reynolds is working to your advantage.
Work out, shop, go to the spa, study for your real estate career, learn etiquette, let me teach you how to shop…
and more.” She patted my leg. “That’s all I’m saying.
Some girls with these contracts just lie around and watch trash TV all day.
Some of that is fine. But you mainly want to get on it, girl.
Because you’ll be walking away from this contract alone. You need to be ready.”
Damn. What had made her so wise? “Have you done a contract before, Madeline?”
“We don’t want to talk about me,” she said. “I don’t go there.” She looked around. “How do you call the doorman when you need help?”
I looked at her like she was crazy. “Do you think I actually know the answer to that? I can’t even drive. I’ve never been down here. Reynolds has some sort of fancy driver to take him wherever he wants to go.”
She laughed. “I’ll figure it out. Come on, let’s go.
Oh, and just so you know, Reynolds’ ‘driver’ is his hot as fuck friend and security guard.
I think he looks like Michael B. Jordan.
” She gave a little shiver. “I’d love it if he came to Sugar and visited me in the VIP rooms. But I’ve heard he has a girlfriend.
” She put her hand over her heart. “And he’s faithful to her—that’s saying a lot since he’s besties with Reynolds and Nico.
Neither of them have ever, to my knowledge, been a fan of sticking to just one woman. ”
Good to know. I had no idea he was more than Reynolds’ driver. “How do you know they’re friends?”
“His name is Byron, and he went to boarding school with them. He’s from a rich family, too.
His father is the head of some ultra-exclusive security firm.
Byron’s only in West Bay because the city wasn’t too pleased to have their billionaire mayor just walking around without a security detail.
They wanted to hire some local firm, but Reynolds only wanted Byron with him if he had to have someone all the time.
“But they’ve all stayed close friends. Bryon works out with Reynolds and Nico pretty often in the boxing ring at Saffron.” She shot a look my way, and I knew she was about to spill some tea. “Rumor has it that he’s had a thing for Carmen for a while.”
“Really?” I thought about the handsome driver. I’d only glimpsed him so far, and that had been the night he’d brought Reynolds and me to the condo after the auction. My face burned at all he’d probably heard coming from the backseat that night.
I loved the thought of him and Carmen together. “But you said he has a girlfriend.”
“Yep. I don’t know much except that they’ve dated for years and she lives in DC, which is close to Virginia. That’s where Byron’s originally from.”
“Interesting.”
“It is. I wonder how long that relationship can last long distance.”
I felt bad for whoever his girlfriend was. If Byron still had feelings for Carmen Salazar, I got the feeling the girlfriend wouldn’t be in the picture much longer. Carmen wasn’t the type of woman to come second to anyone. If Byron had loved her before, I bet he still did.
But, of course, Madeline hadn’t mentioned whether Carmen felt anything for Byron.
Two doormen brought everything up to my condo when Madeline called for them from a special video monitor by the elevators. I paid careful attention to everything she did so I could repeat it if I needed to.
“Is Reynolds coming over tonight?” She asked after we’d put away a few of the new things in my closet and she was on her way out.
“No. He’s got a benefit…”
“He has a benefit.”
I rolled my eyes. “Fine. He has a benefit. He’s taking Whitney Masters as his date.”
It was Madeline’s turn to roll her eyes. “He’s not going to end up with her. Or if he does, then he’s just asking to be unhappy.”
I didn’t know enough about Whitney to have an opinion other than it felt weird to think that he was going to be sleeping with her instead of me tonight. I decided to ignore the pinch of jealousy I felt. I had no real claim to him, and I knew it.
“Well, whatever. I’ll just enjoy my night to myself.”
Madeline looked at me. “Okay, then. You know, whenever he’s not around, just call me. I can come get you and take you back to Cinnamon House to hang out and drink wine.”
I got a big smile on my face. “Thanks, Madeline. I’ll take you up on that one of these days. Tonight, though? I’m exhausted. Your mad shopping skills are wearing me out.”
She laughed. “Okay. Well, I’ll see you bright and early tomorrow. Be ready and wear something nice. We’ll start etiquette lessons with Lonnie Maitland at lunch. Carmen’s taking us for high tea.”
I forced a smile. “Wow. That sounds… great.” It sounded awful. And scary.
She waved at me, and I closed the door after her. Then I ran and flopped down onto the plush couch. I was so damn tired. I knew I needed to put away all the things we’d bought today, but I just needed a minute to rest.
It was later, as I was eating dinner by myself and watching TV, that I started to feel lonely. As busy as I’d been during the days, my nights had all belonged to Reynolds. It had only been a few weeks, but I’d gotten used to it. Now that he wasn’t here, I felt adrift.
Maybe I should have taken Madeline up on her offer to spend time at Cinnamon House.
I lost myself in a romance novel for a while but couldn’t stay focused.
I decided to watch one of the late-night talk shows, then wished I hadn’t.
When I turned the TV on, it was tuned to the local news.
My mouth dropped open as an image of Reynolds outside Salazar Nights with a beautiful, thin, blonde woman popped up on the screen.
He looked so handsome in his tux as he waved to the camera.
The reporter stopped him. “Mr. Mayor, do you have any comments about the rise in crime during your administration?”
Reynolds looked appropriately somber. “Yes, I’m working closely with the local law enforcement to get my new crime fighting initiatives off the ground.”
“That sounds great. I see you’re with Ms. Masters again tonight. Will we be hearing wedding bells anytime soon?”
Whitney looked perfect next to him as she smiled up at him.
“Not yet,” he said, as he smiled and rubbed his chin. He offered Whitney his arm as they turned and went into the exclusive nightclub together.
Nico Salazar walked by, and the reporter moved on to asking him a question as I turned off the TV.
I stood up and walked to my floor-length mirror.
I stared at myself as I turned around slowly.
I was the anti-Whitney. I was curvy where she was willowy.
I was brunette where she was blonde. My eyes were brown, hers had appeared to be light—blue or green.
She was very tall, and I was only a little over medium height.
And then there was the obvious. She had looked every inch the perfect society lady.
And I… did not.
What did he see in me?