Annihilate Me 2: Omnibus (Complete Vols. 1-3, Annihilate Me 2) Page 14

  “I hope that they do.”

  “You look exhausted,” she said when her gaze swept over me.

  “I am.”

  She motioned toward the chair in front of me. “Sit there,” she said. “I should have noticed it the moment you entered my office. I’m so sorry for what happened to all of you last night. Would you like coffee? Margaret would be happy to get you a fresh cup.”

  “I appreciate that, but I’ve already thrown up once this morning. A solid dose of caffeine on an empty stomach would probably only make me sick again.”

  “Are you all right now?”

  “Still a bit queasy.”

  “It will pass soon. The anger won’t, but the nausea will. You’ll see.”

  The truth was that I felt miserable, but I was trying my best to not let it show. Nobody needed to be concerned about my stomach issues now, so I just pushed through them because they were meaningless in the face of what had happened.

  “I assume the press were waiting for Alex and you when you left your apartment this morning?” Blackwell said.

  “They were.”

  “Of course they were. Like bees to a hive. What happened?”

  I took the seat opposite her, waited for her to sit down, and then told her what Alex had said to the crowd when we left our apartment.

  Blackwell waved her hand. “Another reason I love that boy.”

  “Agreed.”

  “That tribute to Audric came from your husband’s heart. So did the fury he unleashed on the sonofabitch who took the photos. Are you concerned about what he said to him?”

  “Not at all. That coward deserved it. Alex tried to save Audric. So did I, but neither of us could make it in time. People witnessed it. The city will take his side.”

  “Alex knew exactly what he was doing this morning. From the sounds of it, he properly celebrated his friend, and then he called out the enemy. While I wish it was Audric the press was focusing on in today’s blogs, tonight’s broadcasts, and tomorrow’s papers, I’m afraid, that after what Alex said to the press this morning, Audric will get only a passing mention. Not that that’s a bad thing. For the most part, that scrawny reporter from the Post will be vilified, as will the paper itself. In a sense, that will actually honor Audric.”

  “I wish you could have seen Alex, Barbara. He spoke so eloquently. What he had to say about Audric was beautiful and touching. When he was finished talking about Audric’s impact on his own life, he said that he hoped that others would come forward with their own stories, and spread them to anyone who would listen. I think that they will. As we come closer to the day that Audric is buried, the stories about his philanthropy will only increase. After what Alex said, I believe in that, especially because so much of what Audric did for this city was done anonymously.” I paused. “I never knew Audric until last night. I had no idea how close he and Alex were.”

  “They were extremely close. Audric was a lovely man. Back in the day, when he could still walk, I had the pleasure of dancing with him a few times. He was nothing if not elegant on the dance floor. And a gentleman at heart. I’m devastated by his passing—and especially by the way that he died, which was beyond horrible. Since this morning, when I first heard of it, I’ve been angry, and I’ve been depressed—but most of all, I’ve been thinking of how kind he was, and how much I’ll miss him. I only wish you’d known him as well as we did. Alex spoke well of him for a reason. Audric meant more to Alex than many realize—but now they’ll know. The man was that special. That giving. And I do believe that people will come out with their own stories, likely before his burial, which would be wonderful, if only for Henri’s sake. I have to believe that he will have a beautiful, meaningful send off. Because that’s what he deserves. And then there’s that fool Epifania Zapopa, who got in his lap when she should have known better. She’s the one who killed him.”

  “No, she isn’t. I was there. Epifania didn’t want to get in that chair with him—she resisted several times, but Audric was insistent. He kept pressing for her to do so. I think there came a point when she couldn’t say no to him anymore without looking rude. Yes, she got in the chair with him, but his death is not her fault. It was nothing more than a chain of events that led to the chair malfunctioning before the inevitable happened. Epifania is not to blame for this, but she’ll unfairly take a great deal of the heat for it. I plan on calling her later today, and sending her flowers. Audric pressured her into sitting in his lap—I witnessed it. She resisted until she couldn’t decline any longer. You need to reassess how you feel about her. She’s not a bad person, and none of this is on her.”

  “Fair enough. You were there, and I wasn’t, so naturally I trust your judgment. But tell me—why in the hell was she wearing that white dress?”

  “Immaculata convinced her to buy it.”

  “And we paid for it?”

  “You know that we did.”

  “Unbelievable.”

  “Actually, the whole night was unbelievable. It didn’t begin and end with Audric, you know? For me, it began with Stephen Rowe.”

  She furrowed her brow at me. “What does that mean?”

  I told her what I learned about Rowe, the dance I coerced him into having with me, and how I threatened him on the dance floor.

  “Close the door,” she said. I shut it behind me. “Rowe has a mistress?”

  “I understand her name is Janice Jones.”

  “How fitting—the name of a true tramp. Who told you this?”

  “Tank.”

  “How did Tank know any of this?”

  “He didn’t know that he did. But when he told me that he was friends with the head of Rowe’s security, I asked him to ask the man if he had anything on Rowe. That question was a long shot—I knew it was when I asked it. But it paid off. Tank came through yet again. Apparently, Rowe’s security chief hates his boss, or he never would have spilled what he knew.”

  “I can’t believe this,” Blackwell said. “Rowe must be quivering at this point. Well played, my dear. Nothing short of a pro.”

  “Nobody fucks with my husband,” I said. “At least not as long as I can help it.”

  “Apparently,” she said as she eased back in her seat. She steepled her fingers and looked at me over them with a clear sense of pride. “And that’s just another reason your marriage will last.”

  She was about to say something more when a knock came at her door.

  “I’m sorry,” I said. “Do you have a meeting?”

  She looked at her watch, took a breath, and fingered her bob away from her face. “Not exactly. My daughters have obviously just returned from university. That will be Daniella and Alexa. Would you like me to put them off so we can talk a bit more?”

  “I think I’ve said enough.”

  “Then I hope your stomach is feeling better, my dear, because you know exactly how those two can be—utter tyrants.” She stood and smoothed her hands down the length of her chic black suit. “So, gird your loins, girl—and let me apologize now for all that’s about to come your way. It won’t be pretty. In fact, knowing them, it will be pretty ugly.”

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  “Yes, Margaret?” Blackwell called.

  The door opened, and a pretty, thirty-something woman with blonde hair in a stylish navy blue suit peered into the room. “Your daughters are here, Ms. Blackwell.”

  “Do we really need to be announced?” I heard one of the girls say. It sounded like Daniella. In fact, it had to be Daniella—only she would say something like that. “I mean, who are we seeing—the goddamned queen? Since when do we need to be announced to mother?”

  “Shut up, Daniella.”

  So it is Daniella….

  “Oh, you only wish you could make me shut up, Alexa.”

  “You know, Daniella, there’s an herb readily available on the market that would make your tongue grow to the size of a tire. I know of it. In fact, whenever I see it on shelves, I think of you. So, be careful when you drink your cof
fee tomorrow morning. Or the next morning. Or when you have something with dinner tonight. All I’d need to do to shut you up would be to slip that herb into a drink like a roofie, and you’d be silent for at least twenty-four hours. If not longer. Don’t tempt me.”

  “Seriously? You’d slip me a roofie?”

  “I’d slip you cyanide if I had the chance.”

  “Try it, you eco-friendly tree hugger, and I’ll bust your boobs—or I would if you had a pair.”

  “This from the slut in the push-up bra because she’s sporting nothing but a pair of flapjacks.”

  “And this from the girl who still hasn’t gotten laid yet.”

  “My choice.”

  “Is it, Alexa? Really? Is it? Why don’t you just finally come clean with yourself, and finally go down to lesbo town?”

  “I’m not a lesbian.”

  “Then why do all of your girlfriends look more like Jack than Jill?”

  “Please. My friends eschew your archaic idea of femininity. They’re socially conscious—something you’d know nothing about.”

  “Oh, sweetie, when I’m social—you know, as in when I’m down-on-my-knees social—you can believe that this one is conscious.”

  “You’re grotesque.”

  “And you’d prefer to back your ass up and give up your V-card to a twig, rather than a man.”

  “Seriously? A twig?”

  “Fine. A stump. You know—for the girth.”

  “God, you make me sick.”

  “After spending ten hours with you, I’m ready to hurl.”

  “I apologize, Margaret,” Blackwell said. “If you dare, please show them in.”

  “Please show them in,” Daniella repeated in a sugary sweet voice. “And please ask them to kiss my ring in the process, Margaret.”

  “Oh, dear,” I said looking at Blackwell.

  She rolled her eyes at me as if none of it fazed her. “Girls, come inside. Jennifer is here. It’s been since Christmas since you’ve seen each other.”

  I turned around in my chair as Margaret stepped aside so the girls could file in. When they did and Margaret left, I was struck again by how much they looked alike, probably because their personalities were so radically different. Even though they dressed differently—Alexa in jeans and a T-shirt, Daniella in a cute white skirt and pale blue top—physically, they could have been fraternal twins. Each was young and lovely, with long black hair that shimmered in the light streaming through the windows at Blackwell’s back. They were fit, they had their own style, and they had the sort of dark brown eyes laced with thick brown lashes that I’d kill for. Alexa was twenty-one, and Daniella was twenty-two.

  At least in physical years.

  “What’s up, boo?” Daniella said when she pecked me on the cheek.

  “Hi, sweetie,” I said. “You look terrific.”

  “I’m totes twerking it today.”

  “Hi, Jennifer,” Alexa said when she came up behind me and kissed my other cheek. “It’s good to see you.”

  “It’s good to see you, too, Alexa. It’s been months. Did you two just get in?”

  “Like two hours ago,” Daniella said. She glared at her mother. “We were expecting a car. We waited for a car. But when it became clear that one wasn’t coming, we had to take a cab.”

  “How pedestrian of you,” Barbara said.

  “We were expecting a car.”

  “And why is that?”

  “Because you’ve always arranged a car for us. And since when do we take cabs? Like, ever?”

  “Just because I’ve done something in the past, doesn’t necessarily mean I’ll do it in the future—especially since both of you are now adults, and I don’t have to worry about your safety as much as I did when you were younger. Perhaps next time you’ll call up your father and ask for him to send you a car.”

  “Maybe next time I will.”

  “I’d encourage it. As you know, your father does so much to support both of you at your age. So, please—have at it. Maybe, for once in his life, he’ll cough up some money to get that private car you need.”

  “I’m not even talking with him now,” she said.

  “Why?”

  “Because whenever I call, Rita answers. You know I can’t stand her.”

  “But she’s his new wife.”

  “Exactly. And she’s, like, thirty years younger than he is. She’s nosy. She asks way too many questions. She fucking freaks me out. It’s gross.”

  “Don’t say ‘fucking’.”

  “Then don’t bring up my father.”

  “How is university?” I asked in an effort to diffuse the tension.

  “A bucket of suck,” Daniella said. “Changing majors was the worst thing I could have done. I’ve been in that prison for four years—I could have been out by now. Obvi. But, oh no—mother thought I should get a business degree. She thought I’d be more marketable that way.”

  “You will be,” Blackwell said.

  “Whatevs. You’d think that since my parents went through with the big ‘D’ that Dad naturally would disagree with her—but he didn’t! He also thought it was a good idea for me to drop drama as my major and take up business in an effort to ‘solidify my life.’ Now I’m paying the price for it.”

  “You are,” Alexa said. “Clearly, drama defines your life, as it will be going forward.”

  “Bitch, I will cut you if you don’t lay off me.”

  “You’ll cut me with what? Your wit? If so, let’s just say that I’m safe. Talk about a dull blade.”

  “Dull blade, my ass. And by the way, have I told you recently that your tampon makes you look fat? Because it does.” Before Alexa could respond to that, Daniella stopped and looked quizzically at me. “Jennifer, what’s wrong with you? Ever since we walked into this gilded pie in the sky, I knew there was something out of whack, but I couldn’t put my finger on it. Now I can. You look like shit, and you never look like shit. Damn, girl. You look like you just read ‘Fifty Shades of Pale.’”

  “Let’s just say that it’s been a rough day, Daniella.”

  “To say the least. You look like hell.”

  “Daniella,” Blackwell said.

  “Settle down, for Christ’s sake. Jennifer is gorge—everyone in this room knows that I envy her for her looks and her booty. Especially her booty. But what the hell is up with her skin color? She looks as if she’s just been slapped by Whitey the Clown. All she needs is a bit of the right foundation. I’m surprised that you haven’t hooked her up with the good shit, mother, especially since you pride yourself on being the queen of all things chic. Jennifer is one of the last decent people on the planet. She deserves better. And yet you’ve totally queefed out on her.”

  “I’ve what?”

  “You seriously don’t want to know what that means, Mom,” Alexa said.

  “Which means that I do.”

  “It’s not important,” Alexa said. “What is important is out these windows.”

  She walked past her mother and moved toward the wall of windows. “Can I direct your attention to the smog? Are you so blind to it at this point that you don’t even notice it? Look at it! It’s only gotten worse since I’ve been in college. Why aren’t people planting more trees in our parks? Or building more rooftop gardens? Or using more public transport, clean energy, hybrid cars? Electric cars! Or their damned feet? I feel sick just being in this city. It’s like I’m back in Xingtai.”

  “Zing what?” Daniella said.

  “Xingtai. It’s in the Hebai province of China, not that you’d know of it, you shallow little bitch. I spent a semester there trying to find ways to combat the pollution problem those poor people face. It’s the most polluted place in the world. You have to wear a mask just to breathe there.”

  “Then you totes should move there for good reason. After all, Alexa, if you wore a mask, the boys might stop offering you cubes of sugar because it would cover your face, and they’d stop mistaking you for a horse.”

  �
�As if your face is molded from porcelain. You look more like a Dalí than a Da Vinci.”

  “Who the hell is Dalí?”

  Alexa sighed. “I rest my case.”

  “Are you two finished?” Blackwell asked.

  “We’ve been at this for hours,” Daniella said. “Ever since we met up in L.A. and took the flight here. You know—together. Which was a terrible idea. Oh, and by the way, thank you very much for flying us coach for that seven-hour flight. I can’t tell you how comfortable we were.”

  “You’re welcome. If you wanted first class, you should have upgraded with the allowance I give you—and which your father denies you.”

  “To hell with that. Living on that puny stipend is tough enough.”

  “The world owes you nothing, Daniella—and neither do I. And by the way, do you realize that we haven’t seen each other in five months? Does that even matter to you? Why is it that you haven’t even given your mother a hug since you barreled in here? Do I mean that little to you?”

  “So, now I get the guilt trip.” She jolted a thumb towards Alexa. “What about this one? What about Little Miss Mother Earth? Does it matter to you that she hasn’t showered you with sunshine and rose petals either?”

  “Let’s deal with you first. Then we’ll get to Alexa. You’re combative for a reason. What’s your problem?”

  “Another guy dumped her,” Alexa said. “It’s become a sorry routine at this point. The last time was at Christmas—remember how she was then? Insufferable. She gets dumped, and we all pay the price for it. It’s always been that way.”

  “Shut the fuck up, Alexa. I told you to keep that private.”

  “You didn’t tell me it was private.”

  “Well, it was.”

  “Who dumped you?” Blackwell asked.

  A rush of color reddened Daniella’s cheeks. “I really don’t want to talk about it.”

  “It was some idiot,” Alexa said. “Obvi, he was as thick as the smog lurking outside this window. And probably just as toxic.”