A woman answered on the first ring. “Hello, Dignitary. How can I help?” Her tone was melodious yet crisp, with an accent that, like Michael’s, was hard to pinpoint.
“H-Hi,” I stuttered. I’d been so busy talking myself into calling that I hadn’t stopped to consider what I was going to say if anyone answered. “Last night I was . . . At the bar . . . I met . . .”
The woman’s end was so silent that I’d thought she’d hung up.
“Hello?” I squeaked.
“I’m here,” she said sharply, the subtext being:I don’t have time for this shit.Spit it out.
I swallowed. “My name is Olivia Taylor. Michael gave me his card last night and told me to call?”
“Oh, yes, Olivia,” she chirped, suddenly nicey-nicey. “Michael told me all about you.”
He did?
“I’m Marlena, Michael’s business partner.”
“Hi Mar—”
“Would you like to come down for a visit? We’d love to show you around the place.”
Maybe it was gullible of me, but I felt better knowing that a female was involved in the operation. At the very least, some of what Michael had told me was proving to be true. “When would you like to meet?”
“How about nine?”
“Tonight?”
She chuckled. “Sure, why not? We’re very informal around here. But if you already have plans, we could schedule for another time.”
“No,” I said hastily. Better to get it done sooner rather than later, lest I lose the nerve. “I mean, no, I don’t have any plans. Yes, I can be there at nine.”
“Fantastic.” I could hear the smile in her voice as she provided me the address.
7
Dignitary was situated in an outlying suburb of San Francisco. What suburb it was exactly I couldn’t say, having never had a reason to go out that way. The business itself was located inside a residence, but that didn’t concern me. Due to the density and lack of space in the Bay Area, a lot of smaller companies were run similarly.
I’d been so worried about being late that I ended up arriving ten minutes early. I parked half a block away and sat in my car, trying not to look like a burglar casing the joint. With lavish iron gates and pristinely tailored laws, every palatial home on the block had a price tag well into the millions. Private neighborhood security was guaranteed. If I’d learned anything about rich people from my time at Dewhurst, it was that they were exceedingly paranoid about being invaded by outsiders like myself.
I primped in the rearview mirror, adding another layer of lipstick and boosting my cleavage inside my bra. I flipped my head upside down to fluff my hair, cracking my forehead on the steering wheel like an imbecile. I rubbed at the spot, willing it not to rise. That would be a great first impression, showing up with a giant welt on my face. Other than the fading red mark on my forehead, I thought I looked okay. Not amazing and not haggard, but okay enough.
Having been a broke student for few years, and then just a broke person in general (as Liz so graciously pointed out), I didn’t have a lot of clothes in the stylish department. I wore a slinky wrap dress that had been given to me by Liz after she’d accidently shrunk it in the dryer. It was a little tight even on me, so I hoped the fabric pulled against my body in a way that was flattering. I also had on simple black heels, the same ones I always wore to official job interviews that took place at nine in the morning instead of nine at night. It was the best I could muster on such short notice, so if I wasn’t elegant enough for Dignitary, they could sue me.
I was aware of the potential danger of meeting with Michael and Marlena on my own, but I didn’t have much of a choice, with the only close friend I had in town avoiding me. Also, I hadn’t thrown caution completely into the wind; I’d left a note for Liz that provided the address of my whereabouts, should I happen to disappear, and had also stashed a canister of pepper spray inside my handbag. I patted it nervously as I exited my car, hoping I wouldn’t need to use it.
The exterior of Dignitary was painted a pastel salmon shade. The grand mansion looked like it had been taken straight out of the French Quarter and plunked down in the middle of San Francisco. It was from a more graceful time, an era when one would sit on the porch drinking mint juleps while fanning their face with a lace hankie and saying things likegoodness graciousandI do declare.Marlena had provided me a gate code, so I used it to let myself in.
Nearing the entryway, I smoothed down the front of my secondhand dress, feeling ratty and unbefitting for such a graceful environment. I raised my hand to knock on the door, but it opened before my knuckles could make contact. A stunning woman I assumed was Marlena beamed at me from inside the house.
She was tall, about the same height as Liz, but built differently, with one of those rare, unfeasible body shapes that is both feminine curves and taut muscles. Her alabaster skin glowed from within like she’d been eating fireflies as vitamins. Maybe she and Michael shared the same jar of skin cream. A fiery copper shade, her bouncy hair hung loosely around her shoulders. Estimating her age was tough, as her face was youthful but shrewd. Early forties, maybe?
Her dazzling emerald eyes looked me over. It could have been nerves on my part, but her smile didn’t seem to reach her eyes. Then again, with the kind of money she had, she’d probably had Botox to Mars and back.
“You must be Olivia,” she said. She wore a silky tailored pantsuit the color of whipped cream. I had no doubt that it had cost more than the trailer I’d grown up in.
I swallowed. “Yes, that’s me.”
“I’m Marlena. It’s soverynice to see you. Welcome to Dignitary!”
