Written in 59 minutes.
Friday, October 19, 2000
Kelly’s: Courtyard
The first mistake was stopping at the diner for coffee — and the second was lingering long enough that she didn’t make it out of the parking lot before a familiar car pulled into the spot next to hers.
“Wait—” Nikolas practically leapt from his Jaguar, dashing to the back of Emily’s car, ostensibly to prevent her from getting in her car and backing out. “You’re not returning my phone calls—”
Emily sighed, closed her car door and turned to face Nikolas, her coffee still in hand. “I haven’t talked to anyone all week, okay? I’ve been making up all the work I missed, you know, when I was kidnapped. And there’s no reason for us to talk. I told you. I handed this off to my brother.”
Nikolas scowled, stepped closer to her. “Don’t you think I have right to weigh in?”
“We tried it your way this summer, Nikolas. Your way was to listen to Lucky and look where we are,” she hissed. “I’m not innocent either. I let you convince me to keep my brother out of this, but I’m not making that mistake again—”
“Jason has no reason to give a damn about me or Lucky. How do you know he won’t sacrifice us to save you and Elizabeth?” Nikolas demanded.
Emily rolled her eyes, shifted the strap of her bag higher on her shoulder. “Because you don’t know my brother at all. One false step, and we all go down. He knows we’re tied together. And I wouldn’t let him screw you or Lucky over. Bad ideas or not, we all agreed—”
“But I don’t have say now? This is my life on the line, too—”
“I don’t have time to argue about this again, Nikolas. I’m doing what I should have done in the beginning — making this Jason’s problem to solve. I suggest you do the same. Now, please, get out of my way or I’m going to be late for class and my coffee is going to get cold.”
Chloe Morgan Designs: Executive Offices
Elizabeth’s fingers were aching as she furiously scribbled notes, trying to absorb every beat the conversation between Chloe and one of her designers.
“We’ll show the Alana in Milan, I think,” Chloe said, flipping to another page in the portfolio. “I think the simple lines will do well there, but the Harriet is better for London — they still enjoy a bit of gaudiness, particularly the hats.”
She continued to make those decisions for another ten minutes, until Elizabeth’s hands were ready to fall apart, but then the designer left and Chloe left the portfolio in the office that Elizabeth was sharing with Lottie to take a call in her office.
The portfolio was left open to the design Chloe had called “Harriet” — a pair of trousers and a blouse. Chloe had made notes in the margin that Elizabeth had put into her own, suggesting a change in fabrics.
Elizabeth’s hands were aching, but she switched to a fresh page in her notepad, exchanged the pen for a pencil, and for the next five minutes, her fingers flew across the page, swapping the graphite pencil for some colored pencils that were on the desk.
Chloe emerged from her office, having changed for her afternoon meeting, still fastening a gold hoop to match the one dangling in her right ear. Elizabeth didn’t hear her at first until the shadow fell across her desk.
“Oh, that’s absolutely perfect! I should have thought about that—”
The sketch was plucked from Elizabeth’s grasp, even as Elizabeth made a hasty grab for it but Chloe was already comparing it to the portfolio sketch.
“I think chiffon in these deep jewel tones—and that pinstripe to the trousers—” Chloe looked at Elizabeth. “This is exactly the look I was trying to achieve.”
Elizabeth blinked, her hands falling to the desk. “What?”
“I’m relaunching Chloe Morgan this year, and I’m desperate for a new look, something to really set us apart. Everything in the last decade has been about minimalism, you know? And that’s great, but it can be really boring in the wrong hands. Do you mind if I give this to Mario? He’ll be able to mock up some examples so we can see what it looks like with the fabrics and colors—”
“Wait. You—” Elizabeth got to her feet. “I was just messing around, you know? Just seeing if I could still—you want to make this into clothes?”
“This is exactly why I wanted to bring you on board, Liz.” Chloe beamed at her. “You’ve got the artistic eye. Lottie’s amazing for details and she’s got a great sense of color theory which is essential, but she’s never been much interested in the design. You listened to Mario and I go back and forth, and twenty minutes later, you’ve taken our ideas and made them into something real. If this is your idea of messing around?” Chloe held up the note pad. “I can’t wait to see what you do when you’re trying.”
“Oh.” Elizabeth’s cheeks heated, and she wrapped her arms tightly across her chest. “Well, you can give it to him, I mean if it helps.”
“Excellent. Oh, just think of how amazing it’s going to be for you to be with us in London, and you get to see your ideas walk down the runaways. How’s the passport coming? You sent the request for your birth certificate, didn’t you?”
“Yeah, I did. They said it might be two or three weeks,” Elizabeth said. “But maybe I could call the offices, and see if I could get it faster. Like, if they have overnight delivery or something.”
“Whatever you have to do. I want to make sure you’re with us when the season’s on us. You know Fashion Week is more like Fashion Weeks, rights? London, Milan, Paris, LA, New York—we’re going to have the best time. I’m going to drop this with Mario on my way out. Amazing job this week, Liz. You’re exactly what we needed.”
Luke’s: Bar
Luke emerged from the kitchens, making a face when he saw a familiar figure sitting at the bar, a bottle of Rolling Rock already in front of him. “We’re not even open yet,” he said, stepping behind the bar. He poured himself a tumbler of whiskey. “Which means this isn’t a social call.”
“No, it’s not.” Jason pushed the beer to the side slightly. “I wanted to talk to you about this summer, and Sorel.”
“What about him?”
“I know there was a rave scene,” Jason told him. “It was mobile, right? Every weekend, it was somewhere else.”
Luke tipped his head. “Sorel’s boys were working it?”
“They were in charge of it. At least that’s what I’ve got. Every location was owned by Sorel or one of his people.”
Luke considered this information. “Makes sense. They were running drugs. That’s where Lucky and all them were at when Emily got grabbed. The last one before it got shut down. The guy who snatched her — he was the dealer, right?”
“That’s what we think, but the cops can’t prove it. No product in his car, nothing but the cop.” Jason met Luke’s eyes, lifted his brows. “And he’s telling his his lawyer and the DA that he didn’t put it there.”
Luke exhaled carefully. “Lucky came in the other day. Told me about their summer shenanigans. He mentioned Emily was talking to you.” He shook his head, sipped the whiskey. “I raised a moron. It brings me no joy to tell you that, but you already know. Admitted he stopped Emily from going higher up for help. No you, no Sonny, no me—morons. He knows better than to handle a dead body on his own. And a cop! Practically playing Whack-a-mole with him.” He set his drink down. “You don’t have to bring me up to speed. What’s the plan?”
“I…don’t know,” Jason admitted. “There’s not much we can do to stop Zander Smith from telling the truth in open court. His lawyer hasn’t gone to the media yet, but it’s only a matter of time.”
“Quartermaines sell papers, plus the connection to you, to me—yeah. So we gotta shut Zander up. He’s a drug dealer, right? We think he’s the real killer?”
“Yeah.” Jason hesitated. “I have a few connections in lock up,” he admitted. “I could get it done. But—”
“But whacking him puts everyone under the spotlight, and whoever you hire could flip to get out of jail or get reassigned. Your best bet is for him to be out on the loose to do the job personally, but then—”
“Then I’m the suspect,” Jason admitted. “Yeah. Either way—”
“You’re screwed. But both options get Emily and Liz off the hook. And my kid, which I know isn’t high on your list. We could work it so you got an alibi. You know a lot of people who’d lie for you.”
“I’m not putting anyone, even you, in that position.” Jason took another long sip of the beer. “I don’t know how we get Zander out of jail without getting the charges dismissed. They’re not giving him bail.”
“No. No, that’s for sure.” Luke sighed, stroked his jaw. “How long do you think before this gets worse?”
“Preliminary hearing is in two weeks,” Jason said. “It’s not a closed court, so if it doesn’t leak before then—”
“The media will get the story then. Okay. Let me—let me see who I know on the inside. I might have some connections of my own. And I got some friends I can call,” Luke told him.
“Let me know.”
Hardy House: Living Room
Elizabeth sat back in the desk chair, her fingers still clutched around the phone. “I don’t understand. Do you need more time to look?”
“Not a matter of looking, ma’am. I told you. It’s not in the computer.”
“Yeah, but—” Elizabeth got to her feet at the sound of knocking. She went to the door, flipped the locks and pulled it open, gesturing at the phone to let Emily know she was still occupied. “That doesn’t make sense. Could it be under a different date? I was born really late, maybe it’s on November 2.”
“Wouldn’t change anything. I looked by name and parents. Maybe you weren’t born in Colorado. Nothing else I can do for you.”
“Okay. Okay. Thank you.” Elizabeth hung up, scowled. “That doesn’t make any sense.”
“What’s wrong?” Emily closed the door behind herself. “Was that about your birth certificate? I thought it was going to be a few weeks.”
“I called the vital records office, and asked her to look it up, to see if my order was processed yet. She did — and apparently they got it yesterday, and were planning to process next week—I’m getting a letter saying my request can’t be fulfilled.” Elizabeth put the phone back on its base. “They don’t have a birth certificate on file.”
“Well…that’s not possible.” Emily dropped her purse on the armchair, shed her coat. “You were obviously born. And you grew up there. There’s got to be some mistake. Maybe a spelling error or something. Maybe they put dad under G, you know, like G-E-O-F-F Geoffrey.”
“She looked under the last name. And my mother’s maiden name.” Elizabeth bit her lower lip. “The last time anyone saw my birth certificate, it was when I moved here. Dad was back in the country for a few days or something, and he handled it. Maybe I could call the high school. They’ve got to have it on file, right? I didn’t even graduate that long ago. And if I can see the copy—”
“You can see what Colorado should look for. It’s got to be some kind of weird mistake. Like it got digitized wrong, you know? All of that was on paper back then, and maybe they just did it wrong.”
“I’ll go into the high school on Monday. I just—” Elizabeth sighed, sat in the desk chair. “I just want to get this over with, so I can have my passport. Chloe’s talking about using my ideas in a design, Em! I want to be part of it, and I can’t do that if I can’t travel.”
“Oh, well, then we’ll get it done. Let’s not wait for Monday. Can’t you call your parents?”
“Not really. I haven’t talked to them in—” Elizabeth furrowed her brow. “It’s been a while. I have to call their contact at the Doctors Without Borders.”
“Well, do that. And you should call Steven or Sarah. They’re older, right? Especially Steven. Maybe he knows where your dad kept the certificates. If they’re in storage or something, we could get them. You obviously have a birth certificate. No one gets to your age without one.”
“No, definitely not.” Elizabeth looked at Emily. “I’m sorry, I didn’t even ask you—what’s up? I thought you were planning to spend the weekend on that paper.”
“I am—but I wanted to talk to you first.” Emily twisted her fingers. “About what happened when Zander kidnapped me. And how I screwed everything up for all of us.”
Comments
No comments yet