Page 46 of Dahlias, Sapphires, and Cool Autumn Dusk
Eyes seemed to pin me as I followed her up the stairs, and I glanced down to realize quite a few in the crowd stared with curiosity. I didn’t spot any Lents, so I pulled out my phone to text our group chat.Got summoned upstairs to Murial.
I didn’t even know who she was or what to expect. Greer pulled out a keycard and used it on the door before pulling an elevator open. I froze, staring at the box as if it were a bear trap.
“I’m not getting in that. I don’t know where you’re taking me.”
I might be dumb, but I’m not stupid.
Her hand squeezed my arm gently, nudging me into motion. “I get it. Intimidating, right? Like I said, I get it. I understand your position, and I remember you. You’re the Lent grandmother’s companion, right?” Something in her smile oozed poison. “It’s so kind how they’re being nice to you for her. My family does things like that, too. We paid for our housekeeper’s daughter to go to college.”
I almost lied and claimed my family was rich, but I stopped myself, figuring she would know better anyway. I didn’t even know how I was related to my own family or where I was born. Instead, I gritted my teeth and stared her down, refusing to get into the elevator and saying, “That was very nice of you.”
Her smile brightened, becoming somewhat genuine. “I know, right? So, Murial wants to meet you. You’ll go meet her, then youcan go downstairs and leave, if you want. It’s like nothing even happened. If you don’t go, things go badly for you and the Lents, so you satisfy her curiosity or you face her wrath. You decide, elevator or not?
She spoke the last two words slowly, like I was a bug getting squashed beneath her spiky black shoe. I resisted snarling back at her, because she couldn’t even tell which twin she fucked.
Jeremy really was a man-whore for a long time, so dating him meant I would constantly end up facing off with his former hookups. Did I honestly want to fight every single one of them?
Besides, Murial wasn’t something the Lents could get me out of, so why not just face it? I said simply, “Sure.”
I couldn’t think of a way out of the meeting, other than faking my own spontaneous combustion. I followed her into the posh elevator. I remembered the cameras in most buildings, and figured Murial might be watching me even as we rode the elevator. The Lents would find a way to get me out of it, though. They always did, their success track record perfect so far.
I swallowed hard, the movement making my stomach flip. We only traveled up one floor, which seemed a waste for an elevator. “Couldn’t we just have taken the stairs?”
“They’re closed for the party. No one comes up or down without invitation.” She side-eyed me, glancing at her feet. “Besides, these shoes don’t really scream stairs.”
I bit my lip, because I guessed her feet had to be killing her.Nailed it.
A small crowd filled the space of what I could best describe as an upstairs historic parlor, the gilt and style likely from when they first built the house however many ages ago.
About a dozen teenagers in various states of intoxication milled around the room, seeming wildly out of place in the elegant space. I spotted at least three more outside on thebalcony, where sound flowed in from the city through the opened doors.
Scanning the walls, I noticed a painting and froze.I know that man. Downstairs, they had a Warhol, but upstairs hid a Rembrandt. For a second, I forgot how to breathe, drifting toward the canvas.
“It’s beautiful, right?” a girl said who I’d never met before. I glanced around to realize Greer had vanished while I stared enrapt at the art.
I blinked at the stranger, still a little jarred by the art. My brain still cycled through a symphony ofholy shits.
“Are you Murial?” I asked in response, saying the first thing that came to mind.
She nodded. “Yup, nice to meet you, Alatheia Winder. I know everyone at the upper school at Pullman, so I did my homework when you enrolled. Companion to the Lents’ granny, you live with your aunt Tricia in the same building. As you know, I’m Murial, so this is my house, and Pullman is my school. This ismycity.” She folded her hands together, glancing around the room as if considering her kingdom. “Since we’ve finished with introductions, would you rather discuss the art?”
I swallowed hard, because she wassofar out of my league onsomany levels. Beautiful, she managed to be one of those people who didn’t even seem to be real. Jet black hair, sleeked back into a single ponytail without a single bump, more proof of her unreality since not even a strand dared stray out of order. At five foot nothing she wore a men’s button-up white shirt with the sleeves rolled to her elbows and the top three buttons undone. She paired it with a pair of nondescript black pants. I stared at her manicured toenails, surprised at her bare feet and not sure what it said about her.
I couldn’t tell if she bothered with cosmetics, either, if I was honest. Although her face framed perfect high cheekbones, it all struck me as naturally flawless.
I might have spent every day since I turned eleven with the wealthy and elite, but I never met anyone like her. As I gazed at her, I believed her—it was her school, her house, and her city, not mine.
I turned my gaze back at the painting—a far safer subject than class. “It’s beautiful, so beautiful. I’ve never seen one outside of a museum before.”
She nodded. “You recognize it. I think we’re the only ones in the room who even know it’s here.” She motioned toward the room, and I couldn’t debate her guess despite knowing a few of the people. Davis—from one of my classes, and someone Phoenix warned me to steer away from if I could—and Greer as well as, unfortunately, Maggie.
The shower bitch.
“I’m glad to show it to you. Would you believe it was less expensive than the Warhol? Then again, everyone recognizes the Warhol. This went for so much less at auction; it was comical.” She shook her head, gaze reminiscent. “Things tend to come around, if you just wait. Trends. People. By this time next year, Rembrandt could be the thing again.”
I shook my head and blurted, “I think…” Then abruptly I shut my mouth. I could guess she didn’t care about my thoughts on the matter.
Murial placed her hand on my arm, her fingertips cool and surprising. “No, please. Tell me what you think, Alatheia?”
