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“Thanks,” she says with a grin, kicking off her shoes and padding barefoot toward the kitchen.
Smiling, I watch her go, chuckling softly beneath my breath. Before she broke the will, she would have been in full hair and makeup with a slinky little dress and six-inch heels. Today, she’s gorgeous in black skinny jeans and a soft cashmere jumper, her hair loose in soft waves, and her makeup edgy. She’s still Penelope, only she seems more comfortable in her skin than she’s ever been before.
“Did you see all the press?” Kip laughs, following after my girl.
“Yeah, what the fuck? How many papers picked up the story?”
“All of them, it’s everywhere, along with the pictures of the girls and speculation over why Penelope Rhodes was being comforted by Hawthorn Benedict.”
Stepping into the kitchen, I salute the others who are all sitting around the huge kitchen table. “Morning, guys.”
“We ordered food in if you haven’t eaten,” Izzy says, pointing to the huge platters of food that are lined up on the wooden countertops.
Penelope immediately heads for them, and I can’t help the warmth that fills me at watching her choose to eat. She picks the healthiest thing on offer, grabbing a bowl and filling it with fruit and granola, but the haunted, fearful look is gone, at least for the moment. Crossing to the full coffee pot, I fill a cup for myself and make one for her too, lacing hers with creamer before I join the others at the table and push her cup toward her.
There’s a massive formal dining room at the front of the house or a comfortable family room we could be using, but it’s obvious that the girls don’t enjoy being in the rooms that hold the most memories of their parents, so we’re using the kitchen as our base because neither of them have ever really spent any time in here.
“Right, now that we’re all here, let’s decide what to do next,” Gulliver says. “The story about your parents being missing is everywhere, every major media outlet has the story as at least a minor feature piece, with a few sites that cover society stuff having it as their main headline. Obviously, you’ve seen all the photographers outside, so I think it’s time for the girls to make a comment on social media.”
“Agreed,” Kip says, his ever-present iPad in his hands. “I’ve drafted up a simple statement, saying that the girls are devastated at the news of their parents being missing and that they ask for privacy while they wait for further news. Then there’s a similar one for the rest of us to post, that says we’re all doing what we can to support the girls and ask for distance and understanding from the media while they try to deal with everything that’s happening.”
“Then what?” Princess asks.
“Then nothing. At least not yet. We have the pre-surgery photos ready to drop the moment your parents re-emerge fit and well, and about three thousand people are planning to turn up here the day after tomorrow for a free house clearance,” he says with a laugh.
“My investigator says your parents are still in Marrakesh, he’ll notify us the moment they move,” Gulliver assures her.
“This doesn’t feel like enough,” Izzy says.
“This is only the start,” Davis reminds us all. “Once they’re back, we’ll send out invites for the big party where we tell your parents and every family who was on your great-grandfather’s messed-up husband list that Pen is no longer for sale. Then we swoop in and buy their shares in Rhodes Corp. Once we’ve really pissed off and embarrassed your parents, we get your dad fired and release the sex tape of your mom fucking your dad up the ass with a strap-on.”
“What?” Penelope shrieks, coughing, as she chokes on the mouthful of coffee she just drank.
Izzy laughs. “Yep, that’s what was on that pen drive you found in Mom’s safe. Mom dressed as Marilyn Monroe, singing ‘Happy Birthday, Mr. President’ to Dad, then bending him over and pegging him with a huge black dildo.”
“Oh my god,” Princess cries, her face scrunched up in disgust.
“What’s up, Pen? She didn’t teach you that way to bring a guy to his knees?” Gulliver taunts with a smirk.
“Oh god, I’m imagining it,” she yells, cringing.
“Think yourself lucky you didn’t see it, because I did,” Izzy groans.
“Eww, I don’t even want to think about seeing it,” she hisses. “Can we really leak that without anyone knowing it came from us?”
“We probably could, yes, but revenge porn is illegal in the state of California, so maybe we’ll just send it to your parents and make them think it’s been leaked to the media, while we sit back and watch them freak out,” Kip says.
“If there was a sex tape on the pen drive in Mom’s safe, what was the sex tape you found in Dad’s safe?” Penelope asks.
“That was your dad fucking multiple prostitutes while your mom played dominatrix, another birthday treat according to the message at the start of the video.” Davis laughs. “Your parents are all kinds of freaky.”
“Gah, shut up, I don’t want to think about them having sex,” Penelope groans, burying her face into my arm and covering her ears with her hands.
“Has anyone come up with anything else we can do? Selling a twenty-thousand-dollar painting for five bucks is good and all, but it’s just money,” Izzy sighs.
“We could put the house up for sale, but if they turn up in the next day or so, they’ll just withdraw it,” Kip suggests.
“We could hide shrimp in the cushions, in a couple of days, it’ll smell like a mix of dirty pussy and fishing trawlers in here,” Davis offers.
