Carli
“Ushered out like a piece of unwanted trash. Yep, that was fab. Then him! Yep. Not a blessing in disguise.” Cussing and cursing my predicament as I drive down Rodeo, I’m looking for a spot to park the car. I most definitely need retail therapy to get out of this funk mood.
Rubbing it out with Jai didn’t fix it, and after being found by the same said man, I now need a better release. To be honest, I don’t care where I shop today, just as long as it fits like a glove, is made from the finest materials, and is extravagantly overpriced. It will brighten my mood considerably.
Seeing the demise of my black card, I park in front of Gucci. Parking and hopping out, I lock it. Standing in front of the silver shrine to excess, I walk quite proudly to the doors.
“Welcome to Gucci, madam. Enjoy your shopping experience today,” the doorman greets me in a very cool and kindly manner. He’s neither indifferent nor welcoming, but I don’t give a shit that his attitude needs a check.
Stepping inside, the crisp air conditioning that’s perfectly tempered entices me as it wraps around my soul. “Today is a good day to shop,” I mutter, not expecting an answer.
“Very right you are. And how can I help you do that today?” a chipper voice asks from behind me. Turning around, standing in the window amidst the mannequins is a very pristinely dressed young man. His hair is short, but stylish. And his outfit? Oh, wow. His green and garish outfit is straight out of Sgt. Pepper’s Lonely Hearts Club Band video, and is awful for his skin tone.
“I’m looking for access to the third floor. Could you let Jon Henry know I’m here? I’m in need of a retail release.”
Hand on his hip, he frowns as he checks me out from head to toe, inspecting my attire. “I’m not sure you’re entitled to that section of the store.”
Looking at his garish nametag on the lapel of his jacket, I grasp the awful 3D, plum colored flower tightly. “Buddy, I’m happy to slam this five-thousand-dollar heel into your asshole and wear you as a slipper. Now, tell Jon Henry I’m here or I’ll gladly introduce you to my Louboutin’s.”
“Now Carli, that would look absolutely ridiculous. He’s already wearing my size ten from this morning, aren’t you Simber?”
With an obviously forced smile, the young man shrugs his shoulders and winks. “Of course, and they fit so well, sir.”
“Run along now. Finish dusting the showcase,” Jon Henry quips as he flutters his fingers at Buddy / Simber. “It’s the closest you’ll get to touching a human being in this building if I have a say in it.” Nodding with a smirk, the imp abruptly spins on his heel with a sassy frown, delving back into the front window cabinet.
“You called him Simber, but his tag says Buddy?” I question once we’re standing alone.
With a ‘well duh,’ look, Jon Henry releases a heavy sigh, running his tongue along his teeth. “With a name like Simber and a brain like a tulip, he needed a new one. Besides, it’s Hollywood, and his parents are movie producers. That’s the only reason he works here.” Shuffling us off toward the back, acting as if the interaction I just had was with a trained monkey instead of Simber, Jon Henry takes my bag.
“Sorry to just drop by, but I’m in dire need today.”
“I see that, and I’d expect no less of you. So, let’s get started, shall we?” Hitting the stairs, we walk off to the second floor, past security, and enter the third floor with ease. “Where’s the budget today, love?”
“I hadn’t thought of it. Honestly, I needed to clear my head and shopping was the first thing that came to mind. Assume that we’re in the top end of the spectrum.”
He knows my spectrum ranges from ‘I need a new outfit,’ to ‘I had my heart trampled by a rhino,’ and that the prices in there are excessive to obscene.
“Well then,” he says, snapping his fingers, “let me get you settled first before we break open the special collections.” Setting me in a wide, yet functionally perverse satin arm chair, I watch as he and two of his girls saunter around, selecting and laying out various pieces for my perusal.
“Would you care for an espresso?” one of the girls asks.
“Sure, that would be lovely.”
As she walks away and the others flitter around like little butterflies, I pull my phone out to text Circe. Before touching my finger to the screen, I stop. Today was horrible. She’s my best and only friend, and it pained me to hold the info back about Wyatt. But the idea that I’d lose everything I own to that obscene legal contract was too much to ignore, so I held off. What bothered me the most is the way she rolled right out of there without a sideways glance with China. I bet Circe still has no idea that the contract was designed and orchestrated by the sweet and adorable China Crown that led her away.
And it’s not like I would deny her knowing the truth, or seeing Wyatt when he was most in need. So yeah, it hurt to see her take China’s side.
As the girl returns with my petite cup—adding the right amount of sugar and stirring it for me, I might add—I sip away, thinking of my friend. “I’m not begrudging her, you know. It’s just unfair that I was ushered out like last week’s takeout.”
Surprised, and slightly unsure of what to do or say, the girl nods and quickly walks off before saying something she shouldn’t.
Muttering into my cup, I say, “This day sucks.”
Two hours later, thousands of dollars spent and a car full of nothing, my outfits, Jon Henry has assured me, will be delivered to my suite tomorrow. They’ll be perfectly pressed, neatly hung, arranged and color coded, and I’ll feel marginally better inside. Marginally. What I really need to do is correct the conversation with my friend.
After a long debate with myself, I decide that tomorrow I’ll revisit Circe at the hospital and apologize.
I’ve been a horrible friend to her, if all I’d worried about were my feelings. She’s waited months to even know if her racer lived, all while I knew and withheld it. I’ve been a little jealous of their connection. It’s not fair to her.
The next day, stopping at the deli around the corner from the hospital, I grab her one of her more disgusting, yet well-loved sandwiches and an ungodly large pickle spear. I know she’ll be ecstatic. I’ll apologize profusely to her for being such a hurt bitch when I left and we’ll be back to normal.
Parking the car close and passing through the front of the hospital unscathed, I revel in the quiet. At this early hour, it’s normally packed.
Heading across the grand entrance and toward the elevator doors, I’m still so surprised at the quiet, and honestly, a bit freaked. It’s only eleven-thirty. This place should be teeming with people.
Rounding the corner and heading to the door, my heart abruptly stops. Stepping out of the shadows, dressed in a pure black suit is someone I’d know anywhere, though I fucking wish I didn’t.
“Kaori,” he greets formally, yet harshly in my native tongue.
“You have the wrong person. My name is Carli.” As my heart thunders, I hold my ground.
“Kaori. No more hiding. You’re wanted home.”
Shaking my head, I purse my lips. “I’m Carli, and I don’t know who this—”
“Chinmoku,” he snaps. Silence. The firm and unyielding need to obey holds my tongue.
Stepping closer, coming out of the shadow and close enough to touch, I stand still, taking in his gaze. “You are to return by the end of the week, or your sisters will be relocated to other family members.”
He walks away without another word. I’m aghast that they’d threaten them. No, I’m more than that. Aghast is a light and sweet term for how I’m feeling.
I’m afraid.
What I’m most freaked out about is that I felt like I did as a child—obedient and pliant.
Strength of will escaped me and I was once more that young girl that gave into others.