Helix takes a long pull of his water and then swipes his mouth with the back of his hand. “What are you going to do now?”
My shoulders rise and fall. “I’m kind of at a dead end. If Antoniocan’t find her with all his resources…” I let the sentence hang before continuing. “At least I know she left of her own free will and wasn’t kidnapped or something.”
Which makes me feel like crap. I’m glad she seemed to be okay, but it hurts like hell to realize she felt none of the intense connection I felt.
“I have a slightly off-topic question,” Helix says, and we turn to look at him as he pushes his tortoiseshell frames up his nose. “Do you really think my glasses are slutty?”
Without hesitation, Phoenix and I chorus, “Yes.”
I’m seated at Houston Prime, a high-end steakhouse on the top floor of a hotel near Hale Cosmetics. The woman across from me is crying.
“And th-then they busted into the house and started taking things. All the art and furniture are just gone. Mum and I were allowed to get some of our clothes and toiletries, but those assholes were following us around like we were going to steal something.” She throws up her perfectly manicured hands. “In our own home.”
“Damn, Serena. I’m so sorry.”
Serena Greenfield has been my best friend since we were little kids. When I was eight and she was six, we were both playing at the same park when a bully grabbed my favorite toy car, a red 1975 Corvette Stingray, and took off, laughing like a hyena. I scrambled to my feet when I saw a blur of pink ruffles zip by and heard a squeaky voice yelling at the much bigger boy.
By the time I reached them, she had my toy car in her hand, and the bully was hopping up and down on one foot, having just received a black patent leather Mary Jane to the right knee. This tiny girl clad in the frilliest dress I’d ever seen was standing there with one fist on her hip, berating him.
“You don’t steal. Mummy says it’s tacky.”
I was about to deliver a kick to his other knee for good measure when our moms intervened. The bully’s mother was aghast thatanyone could treat herlittle darlingso abysmally, but my mom shut her down with a few well-placed sharp words.
Serena and I ended up playing together for the rest of the afternoon. She liked playing cars, so that was cool, but we had to sit on the bench instead of in the grass because she didn’t want to get her dress dirty. She’s still just as prissy to this day.
Eventually our families became friends, but recently my father distanced himself from Mr. Greenfield when news of his indictment for embezzlement made the news.
Serena dabs at her eyes with her napkin, and I reach across the table to pat her hand. “And this all happened yesterday?”
“Yes. Can you believe it? Even knowing today is my birthday. I’d think they’d have more decency than to ruin my birthday.”
I can’t help but burst into laughter. “Good god, Serena. Stop being so damn precious. I’m sure the Feds don’t have time to arrange their schedule around your birthday.”
Her thin eyebrows pinch together. “You are such a prick.”
“And you’re such a princess.”
She rolls her eyes, but she’s smiling. “I’m aware. I was simply saying it’s disrespectful to confiscate everything on my birthday week. Couldn’t they have waited till next week or something?”
I’m unable to formulate a response, so I note, “I’m glad your father put your apartment in your name, so they can’t take that.” Serena moved into the luxury apartment after college, though she alternates staying at that place and her parents’ mansion.
“Thank god,” she breathes. “And the beach house is in Mum’s name. But the house here in Houston and the chalet in Aspen are in Daddy’s name, so they seized them both.”
The waiter comes by, letting us know our dinners are almost ready while refilling our glasses from the bottles on the table, mine a rich red and Serena’s a crisp white. I take a sip and eye Serena over the rim. She still has the same haircut as the first time I met her, a blunt, raven bob that never seems to have a single strand out of place. It was a severe look for a six-year-old, but it suits her now.
“At least you’re not going to be homeless,” I console. “Have you thought about what you’re going to do now?”
“What do you mean?” she asked, her blue eyes wide and confused.
“Like for work, since your dad is most likely…”Going to jail. I almost said it, but I change course. “Not going to be working anymore.”
“Oh. I haven’t really thought about it.”
“You probably should,” I tell her gently. “They’re going to seize all the money in your father’s accounts.”
“I have plenty in my account,” she replies, smoothing down her hair.
This is the thing about Serena. She’s pretty much clueless on how the real world functions since she’s never had to work a day in her life. Yes, I’m rich as fuck, but my father had me and my siblings working at his office before we could even drive. And not cushy admin jobs. We had to start in the mail room and work our way up.
