Stone Cold Fox (60)

I had to deliver the performance of a lifetime.

“Collin. There are no secrets between us. Please don’t be upset. Now, I know you don’t want to hear this, but Gale is in love with you, and she would say anything if it meant even the slightest chance that you would leave me. Whatever she thought about that house or my reaction to it, it really has nothing to do with me. She just wants you and she thinks she deserves you. More than I do, that’s for sure. You and I don’t come from the same world, Collin. We don’t talk about that very much because it doesn’t seem to be an issue for you, at least so far, but if you’re looking for an easy out based on a hearsay gut feeling from a jealous foe like Gale Wallace-Leicester, maybe you’re the one who needs to be honest with me.”

A lone tear fell from my cheek.

My voice broke at the very end.

It was some of my finest work, with a supporting nod to my own sincere desperation at the thought of losing everything.

But how could Collin argue with any of that?

He couldn’t.

“Oh, Bea. Please don’t cry. I’m so sorry,” he apologized, nearly brought to tears himself. “I really am sorry. I shouldn’t have said anything. I don’t know what I was thinking. Between work and my family and then Gale said that stuff. Shit, I’m sorry, I was just losing it. There’s so much stress in my life right now, but you always stand by me with your full support. That’s all I could ask for. You’re a magnificent woman and I’m so sorry, Bea. So sorry. Do you forgive me?”

I didn’t find his deeply apologetic display very attractive, but the sentiment was appreciated, since I was legitimately worried everything was about to fall apart. Did Gale really think I would come clean to Collin? Did she actually know everything and want to torture me? Or did she really know nothing and just want me to torture myself?

It certainly seemed plausible that Dave could know about East Eighty-First Street based on the reputation that preceded him. Told Gale about it. She took it and ran with it. But in my heart of hearts, it also felt like too much of a coincidence. But it was impossible. There was no trace. Was there?

I was questioning everything. I hated it. I hated her. I hated myself for underestimating her presence as sheer amusement and nothing more, because I was wrong. As it turned out, Gale Wallace-Leicester, mules, moles and all, was a worthy adversary indeed. Why had I wanted such a thing?

Especially when I knew what such a person could do.



* * *



? ? ?

IT WAS A very lonely day. I was the bride, but I didn’t feel particularly special to anyone there, except for Collin. No mother in the bridal suite to equal parts annoy and care for me. No father to walk me down the aisle. Bridesmaids who either actively disliked me, or were indifferent, or kissed my ass to the point that I disrespected her. Yes, I mean Wren Daly. It was strange because typically I never felt downright lonesome. My own company had always been enough, but there was something about that day and what it represented that vexed me. Perhaps it was that I was getting what I wanted at long last.

But then what?

The enormity of my greatest achievement being unlocked was overwhelming.

I was a true Vogue bride. Better. Truly stunning. I refused to wear the kind of dress that required help getting into and out of, as I preferred to piss in private. I opted for a sleek Galia Lahav gown that left little to the imagination. Strategic cutouts around my posterior and décolletage that would all but ensure the guests would be drooling. I donned a cathedral-length veil with pearl accents that shimmered when they hit the light just right. The combination would photograph splendidly. I didn’t care much about our personal album, but there would be features in the society rags. I wanted them all to squirm at my beauty and grace.

I. Wanted. People. To. Talk. It was the only way to bite back at Gale, since I was moments from full possession of the one thing she couldn’t have. She wasn’t having any fun at all as we got ready in the bridal suite. None of us were really, except for Wren Daly. She was embracing the bridesmaid role to an obnoxious degree. I promised myself that after the wedding, I’d never invite her anywhere again. She just wouldn’t stop fussing over me, touching me, primping me, fluffing me, taking selfies, posting on Instagram, tagging me, tagging Collin. It was too much and I hated it and wanted to scream at her to stop with all the theatrics, but I was the bride.

I was supposed to want all of that stuff.

I walked myself down the aisle. Quelle surprise. I suppose I could have asked Hayes Case to be on my arm, in lieu of my nonexistent father, but that would have felt far too phony. No matter. In all honesty, I craved the attention. I wanted everyone’s eyes on me and me alone. Bear witness to my greatest achievement. It was about to be over. I had won.

So Hayes walked Haven down the aisle. She wore silver because anything lighter would have been socially inappropriate, but she was sending a clear message about whose special day it really was. The bridesmaids and the groomsmen followed. Finally, a flower girl with her little basket of white rose petals. I don’t remember who she was. Someone’s child. We took a photo or two together. Her teeny-tiny fingernails were painted pale pink.

And then I made the journey alone, standing along the end of the aisle at the Rainbow Room. I locked in on Collin, avoiding Gale’s hard gaze at the front of the venue. It was really happening. What could she do now that wouldn’t mortify the entire family? Her fate was sealed and so was mine.