We’ve known each other too long for me to believe Misha’s the jealous type, and that this is an elaborate plan to get me away from Tom or his party. Having said that, her threat detectors do tend to go off over the smallest of things, even at the best of times. Guys checking us out on campus, strangers approaching us at a restaurant offering to buy us drinks; the list goes on.
“Why’s that?” I’ll indulge her, but I won’t let it get in the way of my mission.
“Remember Jenny Morgan?”
“What about her?” I glance sideways in the mirror to meet Misha’s gaze.
“She transferred to Paris after the Seine was built,” she speaks softly, but with enough conviction to highlight the seriousness of the topic.
Seine, named after the river in France, is one of the latest districts to be built in Midnite City. Much like its predecessors, the Seine plays on its origins, with Parisian architecture and designs, so as to make the natives feel at home on foreign soil. It’s number seven of the sixteen planned districts, and I’ve heard that bulldozers are already pushing the earth back on the next.
“Yes, but from what I remember, that was always her family’s plan. Her dad was here to oversee the Seine’s construction, and they’d planned to go home after that.”
Misha scoffs and shakes her head. “Haven’t you ever wondered why the Morgans didn’t stick around for the grand unveiling? Or why her dad didn’t give any press releases or statements about the work he’d done in the Seine?”
“I didn’t know her well enough to think about it.” I’d be lying if I said Misha didn’t pique my interest, but I also don’t see where this is going other than down a conspiracy rabbit hole.
“Wanna know where her last stop was before they jumped on their jet and disappeared?” Misha steeples her fingers in front of her face and starts tapping her fingertips together like some evil villain.
“Tell me.” The answer is evident, seeing as she’s here to stop me. But what kind of friend would I be, if I didn’t let her play out her detective fantasy…
“The Hendersons.” Misha kicks one leg under the other and grabs a glass of stale water that’s sitting on my nightstand. She drinks it before I can warn her. Unfazed, she continues.
“She was invited to dinner at a grand palace, no doubt served and doted on like a princess, and then never seen again.”
“I’m sure she’s doing fine.” I chuckle at Misha because there’s not much else I can do. “Do you honestly believe that if she’d disappeared that night, her parents would have just gone along with it?”
“That’s where the story gets juicy,” she says, practically salivating. “I did some snooping and it turns out Jenny’s dad made a long visit to Maxwell Henderson, the night before he left. Some say it was for a bribe; some say it was about threats, but everyone agrees that it was to cover up what happened at his place.”
“Have you tried reaching out to her since?” I turn my attention back to the mirror for a final inspection.
“No, but—“
“There’s your problem. I bet if you did, you’d have found Jenny was fine and thriving in her new life.” Well, not so new anymore. The Morgans left almost two yearsago. “Besides, you’ve got the wrong idea of why I’m going there.”
Her jaw drops again, and her eyes widen at my comment. She scowls at me, angry that I wasn’t straight with her about what I was planning.
In our first year of high school, Misha and I made a promise to never keep secrets from one another. Good or bad, we’d have each other’s backs through whatever came our way. A pinky promise pact of sorts, and we’ve both adhered to it since its conception.
Technically, I still haven’t broken it. Omission isn’t a lie, and I had to keep it secret because Misha wouldn’t approve of what I’m doing. She was raised by loving parents who lived a nomadic lifestyle in what might as well be a different part of the world. Their pure intentions and good-hearted values don’t cut it in a place like Midnite City.
You’re either in it to survive, or the city will chew you up and spit you out as a husk of who you used to be.
“I’m not interested in pursuing Tom,” I say to salve the burning disappointment that I am sure is coursing through her. “It’s more about what I can get out of him.”
The look on her face says she thinks I’ll be regretting my choices for a very long time.
Before Misha has a chance to respond, my phone starts ringing on the side table. I glance over and see it’s Tom’s driver calling. When I answer, he says he’s waiting outside.
“I’ll explain everything later,” I rush over to Misha’s side and plant a kiss on her cheek. “Just trust me on this. I’ve got everything under control.”
***
I’ve been around money my entire life. Before he passed, my father built a company that would have rivaled the powerhouses of this city if he’d been there to run it. Mom sold it to the highest bidder less than a year after his death. She said that she believed the research and technology he’d worked on would be in better hands with a mega-corporation that could actually use it.
In some ways, I suppose it is. Only instead of honoring him for his work, they scrapped his company for parts and left the rest to die with him. Whatever, it was an enormous payday for us. A number so large, I doubt my kids or their kids will ever be able to spend it all.
However, as we enter the Henderson estate, my views on what true wealth really is, tumble around my feet. We’re rich, but nothing could have prepared me for the extravagance and luxury that belongs to a “one-percenter”.
