"Oh, Luxury, you gotta get over that white guy. Really, you do," Aliyah shakes her head at me. I look around and notice that she's brought all the pots of flowers back into the shop. Urban Gardens, for the first time, is making me feel claustrophobic.
Victor
"Don't start with me, Victor Wesley Thomas D'Ross. Grown men, a duke is not allowed to be cheeky! If you aren't home in 5 days, you will be disowned. Title stripped," Mother threatens into the phone.
Cheeky? That I have not been. She won't allow me to get a word in edgewise as she continues to reprimand me like a child, " … God forbid you come home to a desolate land!"
What is this woman talking about? My advisors have been standing in. There are no issues, and I've warned death to any of my advisors who didn't provide any disputes in a timely manner. "But mother – "
"Madeline would like to speak with you, too."
"No. I'm too busy. I'll be home in 5 days," I quickly add ,knowing this is the only way to get Mother to stop this madness.
"Very well, then," Princess Mary simmers down. Every once in a while she gets excited, it's as fun as watching paint dry, so surely Mother is happy, as I hear a minuet crest of anticipation as she says, "We will all be very glad to see you."
The call disconnects. I slide the phone across the table to Burt. He rubs his nose, as if not wanting anything to do with the situation.
"I'm to presume that my withstanding as a butler for 39 years with D'Ross has come to an end?" he replies, having heard Mother's rants. She will do nothing short of threaten lives, and because Burt has been cultivated to know better, Princess Mary will do no less than threatening his career.
"Not until you're ready," I reply to the man who's been more than a father to me. We continue sifting through even more private detectives' resumes.
We've seen hundreds of them. Monica even sent for a few as far as Chicago and down to Miami since I'm not convinced about their ability to keep the Whitsons safe, mostly Luxury.
There was one whose eyes seemed to brighten as he suggested $5000 per month to keep tabs on Lux. When I agreed all too quickly, noting that his resume boasted many positive attributes, his price increased. Money is not a question, but I can't stand a weasel.
"Burt, what's the next round?"
He rubs his sunken eye sockets. "Paul has done thorough background checks on the 3 Private security companies who're already waiting in the lobby, Vic. For our sakes, for your mother's, and if you care anything of Madeline's … embarrassment … pick one so we can be on our way home."
My childhood friend, Maddy, will be okay. But Home? That sends a deep sigh through my abdominals as I arise, and decide to head down to the lobby to meet these three potential options. Three choices and one should have a keen sense strong enough to keep Luxury safe. In all actuality, her factor as a threat decreases the further away I go anyway. So the source would be keeping Whitson safe until Everhart is found.
"Howdy," a ruddy-cheeked Texan shakes my hand. "I'm Bobby George. At your service."
"Vic," is my reply as we take a seat. I've read his proposition a few times. He has the manpower to keep someone watching the Whitsons' around the clock and the ability to check into Everhart's past. Find out where the doctor has been hiding these days.
I begin to make small talk with Bobby George all in the hopes to get a feel for him. How could I leave Luxury here alone? It's absurd to think that she needs me to survive, when she's on the other side of twenty and has done so this long. Yet the thought of letting her go, had me cross the name of too many potential resources to count.
~~~
Day 28. My time is up. Bobby George and his private security associates have proven to be more than capable of around the clock care. They have promised that once Everhart is found, I will be notified. Mother expects me in England and the jet is fueled up and ready for me to go home. I help Burt grab our hard-sealed luggage from the back of the Mercedes and put it toward the back of the Learjet. Rubbing my leather-clad hands together, I clasp another button on my camel coat and go for the larger piece of luggage when Burt stops me.
"Victor, don't you have a board meeting you need to attend to? I'm sure you can set up on the jet, don't want to kept the member's waiting, do you?" Burt asks. His nose is red, and for all intents and purposes he looks as if he has been crying. But I know Burt hasn't since cold out, though his demeanor is strikingly sad when worried.
"No. I'm content helping my old pal get us out of here as fast as we can," I reply, drily. Whitson's words rough, reminding me that the more I've gotten involved with Luxury the worst off she will be. Especially since my sole offer is financial stability.
We're halfway done piling the luggage when a big fat raindrop plops on my forehead. I place down my bag of tactical defense equipment and look at Burt.
Rain.
Luxury hasn't enjoyed a rainy day since that asshole Arnold ruined them for her. Instantly, I'm running back to the S550. "Burt, the keys?" I shout, and he tosses them to me.
"Where you going?" he shouts, appearing baffled.
"Have to give Lux the perfect rainy day before … " My heart won't let me say before I never see her again. As I turn to get into the driver's seat, I see a smile creep up the left side of Burt's face.
I get into the car, I grumble wishing I had bought the AMG instead of the S550, but style has me in this moment. Besides, soon as my Mercedes zip down the runway, and toward an even more gray sky, I stop short and into all the traffic. Picking up my cellphone from the pocket of my peacoat, I dial Lux.
Lux
The infamous yellow-polka dot pajamas have been washed three times since I've seen Victor seven days ago. At this rate, they'll be a taken down to nothing before my heart can get over the fact that he doesn't want to be with me.
God, why did I say those stupid words? Why did I ask about babies? Why did I ruin … us?
The mirrors in my bedroom have been shrouded with linen and towels or whatever else I could get my hands on. The few mirrors in the downstairs living room need to be blocked, but for Dad, I attempt to stay outwardly strong.
Monday I almost forgot to come by his job with the black roses. So I've been making it up to him by watching reruns of any show he can think of. Though the comedy shows can't get through to my depressed soul, it serves its purpose. As I sat there watching them, it took everything in me to attempt a smile. God forbid I tried to laugh at the jokes, that would have been entirely too fake.
By Thursday the shop is closed for the day. The end of the week presents the most sales for my barely afloat business, but I can't take it. So I've taken to my bed in my room, even though I'm afraid of the dark, and the day is dark and stormy, I just lay there under my sheets.
It smells like rain.
It feels like death.
Shoulda closed the window. I had left it just ajar to let in fresh air for when laying in my own funk seemed to take my breath away.
Around noon, the heaven opens up and sheds tears for my broken soul. A sob begins to form at the pit of my belly.
For all of Victor's faults, his egotistical mannerisms, he knew how to make my body cry tears of joy. He would look at me and there would be no doubt to how beautiful that I am, regardless of how long I've been at odds with every freckle on my body.
My body heaves and I cry. God, he even gave me the gift of my mom. I mean, Mommy-and-me in the simplest form of things. I hadn't thought about Gina outside of preparing those black roses, until Victor. Now my tears turn to hysterical laughs and back again as I think about how Vic and I went coupon shopping.
"Lux," Jonah speaks through the door.
I grumble, placing a hand over my mouth to stifle cries. Why didn't he go into the office today?
"Luxury, please open up. I made breakfast earlier, just got back from a quick walk, and you haven't eaten. How about we make peanut butter jelly sandwiches and play a card game?"
That thought makes me feel young and useless so I hold in my shaky tone, and quickly reply, "No, I have a tummy ache." It's a lie. Because I can't even recall the last time I ate. Haven't eaten anything, my stomach, my entire body is numb since each and every nerve ending is geared toward keeping my heart afloat.
A few seconds later, he's gone and I'm all out bawling. Hugging my pillow to my chest, as I lay in an embryo state. "Mommy, I need you." I whisper out.
I remember when I was little and back in the Bronx. The scent of some sort of sweets would be wafting through the air. It would be just enough to remove me from my sadness, whether it was James in elementary school that didn't like anything about Maria or me in middle school that made fun of all my freckles. To think, sadness warranted the end of the world back then.