AllFreeNovel
Share Us
18
Annie
The house appeared out of the dark green plants that surrounded it like we were in a jungle. Imposing and as huge as it had to be to fit its setting, it still seemed to just suddenly appear in front of us.
White, with a grand wrapping porch and wide front stairs. Columns. Enormous windows. A double front door. Everything about it screamed overkill and excess. This was a place for the rich who needed everyone to know they were rich. At the same time it was so hidden, so insulated with the plants and the rolling hills of the canyon, I had no doubt it was as intimate as the owner needed it to be for his purposes.
Once again I didn't have to act. Theo carried the bag because I couldn't have done it. I was shaking and nauseated and my eyes darted around sucking in details and cataloging them to myself. A cynical sneer for everything I looked at because I was so desperate to distract myself.
It wasn't clear if I was really getting enough details to identify where I was again or just stopping myself from trying something drastic. Running here would be stupid. There'd be predators in these hills, probably bobcats and mountain lions and coyotes. With the exception of the lions, I thought they'd be a better risk than the men flanking me and the man waiting for me.
"Are you going fight when we get in?" Chad asked as we climbed the stairs. He sounded more like he hoped I would than like he wanted to know if I was going to make the operation look bad.
I didn't answer. My breathing had a hitch, like I'd been sobbing.
Theo didn't say anything either, but he took hold of my arm on that side and I felt the tension running through him. His grip forced me up the stairs, not letting me slow or stumble or balk. At the same time, it kept me from falling.
The door opened before we got there. Lights came on like we'd just gone on stage. Brilliant, blinding floodlights. I squinted and tried to keep my eyes open so I could see what was waiting. In a place like this, surely armed guards or a proper British butler. Sometimes out of the movies and out of insanity.
I did not think the man rich enough to actually buy a person – rich as Cole, for example – would be opening his own door.
But he did.
"You're here!" he said, sounding like a man greeting his favorite grandchildren. "And you made good time, too. I'm so glad! So glad! Come in, come in."
It was all the night needed to tip over into surreal. Maybe none of this was what I thought. Maybe he'd send Chad and Theo away and give me a meal and some clothes that didn't look like the whore collection from some line of lingerie. Maybe he'd find someone to treat my injuries and then send me back where I needed to be in his private jet.
Right. Apparently where I needed to be was Wonderland. Because this was clearly a fantasy I was having.
My eyes adjusted as we went inside. We'd passed our enthusiastic host before I was anything but dazzled so my first sight of anything was of a very professionally decorated and absolutely personality-free living room. Leather couches, potted palms, a white marble fireplace, tile floors. The house spread back and back from the front door, leading on the ground floor into a dining room and from the light coming that way I guessed the kitchen. Elegant iron scrollwork on the bannister that swept up and around the curling terra cotta stairs. A hallway to the right that led to more of the downstairs. The place was massive and had no imprint of anyone. It looked like it had come out of a vacation rental brochure or maybe was some grand hotel meant for corporate retreats.
Client 3837 didn't live here. He also wasn't in sight. Even Chad paused for a moment, confronted by a large empty house. "Hello?"
Our host bustled back out of the kitchen, carrying a tray with a delicate porcelain teapot covered in pale pink roses, four china cups and saucers. There were lacy tea cookies. There were crudités and a dipping sauce. There was a stack of dessert plate sized plates and linen napkins. On the table that separated the enormous living room into manageable sections there was a tall crystal pitcher of ice water and immaculate crystal glasses. Soft music played on a stereo system that surrounded us. If I didn't miss my guess, it was Vivaldi's Seasons, something I only knew about because my mother adored the piece. There was an elegant wolfhound of some sort sleeping decorously on an area rug.
There was a sense of disconnect that slammed into me so hard for a second I not only wouldn't have been able to say what my cover name was, I wasn't sure I'd remember my real name.
"Sit, sit! You must all be exhausted from the drive." He gestured at the seating arrangements which were leather and obviously expensive, and just as obviously situated so I'd have my back to a wall with tall windows protected by ivy-patterned wrought iron bars. The effect was beautiful, but they were still bars. The couches were short as love seats. I had mine, and Chad was on one side and Theo on the other. Client 3837 sat across from me. Very casual, have some space to yourself and be comfortable seating arrangements for people new to each other.
Also I was backed against a wall and surrounded.
Still, there were polite manners, low volume classical music, offers of tea and cookies. All completely normal if we were all insane. I was starting to think I might be.
"So I want to hear all about you," the man said, leaning forward. He looked like someone I'd seen in an old Marilyn Monroe movie once, all kind of mammal like features, like he was harmless and cute. He had wrinkles on his wrinkles and walnut brown skin from the California sun. His hair was clipped very short and the same color as his skin, but he seemed to have a full head of it. Very intense and alarmingly round black eyes were open wide behind round black framed Harry Potter glasses.
The effect of the whole didn't do anything to convince me I was dealing with reality.
Snap decision. Because what Chad and Theo would expect was probably more of what had gone on so far – sobbing, pleading, occasionally hitting people. The whole fear thing.
But on second thought, what Chad thought was that I was a job and if the job had dissolved into his massive fist curled around a fragile tea cup, well, what the fuck? Clearly he was deserving of the finer things in life. Whatever those were. Chad had done his job. Undoubtedly the two captors would spend the rest of the night in LA and drive back and get paid. Or shot. Whichever. But since they'd done other jobs, I thought paid was more likely. Paid, and given more work to do.
Theo, on the other hand. There was something weird about him. I thought if I didn't panic, didn't snivel, didn't do more than ask and then talk? He'd take it in stride.
There hadn't been time to build up months of reactions that Erin might have. So I started fresh.
"My name's Erin Trace. Who're you?"
He seemed delighted at the question, though Theo frowned at his tea and Chad looked like he wanted to hit me.
