“Make this easy on yourself and have a seat, Kiya. My men have secured all the exits. You won’t get any further than the top of the stairs if you try to run.”
I have no reason to doubt the man, but I’m a curious person by nature and still look back toward the stairs to see if what he says is true. There’s a man sweeping the floor. Unassuming enough, I suppose. But very suspicious in an apartment where the landlord doesn’t bother with things like a janitorial staff or maintenance. That’s probably one of the men.
I enter my apartment, close the door behind me, and sit in a chair I grab from my kitchen table.
“How do you know my name?” I ask, not caring about the sitcom they claim to be watching.
“You know our names. Isn’t it only fair?”
Of course, I know their names. Whodoesn’tknow Addy Bianchi and Adrian Blake? Or Adelena and Adrian Fantoni as they’re legally called. Even without the whole scandal a few years ago where Addy turned out to be the secret, long lost daughter of Stephen Pray, the corporate billionaire and governor of Colorado found to have run an entire sex trafficking ring thanks to said daughter. Addy Bianchi was a famous New York City socialite for years before that and is the CEO, owner, and founder ofBianchi’s Beauty Inc. Even without that whole gang and drug thing Adrian Blake was part of over a decade ago and helped bring down—Adrian Blake was a notorious, rich playboy before and after his first wife died.
And that’s just separate. Then the two met, found their match in each other, and Adrian Blake let go of his playboy ways, and Addy Bianchi spent less time socializing and more time taking her business serious and raising their three—now four—children.
The timeline of all it is a little strange. According to the entertainment news sites, apparently Adrian cheated on his first wife and the two women were pregnant at the same time. Addy broke up with him when she found out about his marriage and then Adrian’s first wife died from complications in childbirth. They met up again for business years later while Adrian was dating Addy’s best friend, and then he cheated a second time for Addy and finally decided to marry her after their third child. And somehow, they’re both still friends with his ex.
But that’s all irrelevant to their fame and infamy. The details that a girl whose mother never let her go anywhere poured over as she spent all her time on the internet reading about celebrities and living their luxurious and eventful lifestyles vicariously after she figured out how to get past the basic parental controls of her not very tech savvy mother.
I say nothing as Addy continues to watch her sitcom while her husband sits and watches disinterestedly next to her.
I get the feeling that she’s not as interested in her sitcom as she says she is. This is a show of power and authority. Something that’s supposed to make me squirm in my seat in growing anxiety that I’ve done something wrong without being sure what. To make me desperate because she knows the wait is worse than the relief that comes with knowing why you’re in trouble or that you haven’t done anything at all.
I know tricks like these well. Doesn’t matter if my mother’s pulling them on me in a barely decent house in Middle Georgia. Or two of the most powerful people in the world in a crappy apartment in New York City.
But just because I know the tricks doesn’t mean I’m immune to them.
There’s no way theyknowabout my theft earlier. There’s no way… It happened less than an hour ago. That’s not enough time to get someone to review the tapes, let alone get an identification because I’m not the only long, big curly-kinky ginger-haired, honey-beige skinned girl with freckles in the entirety of New York City. My eye color is only unusual because blue eyes aren’t common on a girl like me, but there’s no way they got a good enough picture to get my eye color. Even then, there are plenty of girls that facial identification would flag before mine. So there’s no way…
Addy finally turns off the television and turns to me.
“I’m sure you know why we’re here,” she says.
Another trick. Something to make me think there’s no use trying to hide what I’ve done. No use lying because they already know exactly what I’ve done, and they’re giving me a chance to come clean now rather than face further humiliation.
My mother used this trick too.
“I don’t know,” I reply.
“Really? Not even an idea?” Adrian Blake asks.
I have some idea, but truthfully I don’t know. It could be anything. And that’s what they asked. So I’m going to answer what they asked.
“I don’t know,” I repeat.
Silence. The type of silence that makes you squirm. And I do squirm as Addy Bianchi and Adrian Blake stare me down.
Finally, Addy smiles as she says, presumably to her husband, “She’s smart, Adrian.”
She walks over and grabs my purse before I can even think to stop her. Then she adds, “Not smart enough to wait before opening the spoils of her efforts until she was sure she wouldn’t be caught, but smart enough for our purpose.”
“Purpose,” I repeat.
“Yes,” the woman says. “What you’re going to do for us so that you don’t go to jail and won’t have theft marring up your record. That would really fuck your life up. People would hire a murderer before they hire a thief.”
I pale. “Ms. Bianchi… Fantoni…”
“Addy and Adrian is fine,” the woman says.
“I’m sorry. I just… I really love your makeup. And I couldn’t afford it. And no one was buying it. And all big companies like you are going to do is just throw it away if it doesn’t sell. So I just… Please don’t—”