A Collateral Attraction (2 page)

Within seconds, my forced smile turns real as everyone crowds around us, marveling at the similarities between us. They point out the thick dark hair, the luminous skin, the matching boobs, and even the teeth.

And as I allow myself to be admired, poked and prodded like some real live doll, I realize that Blythe is right. I need to let go of the past. After all, I did take the time off to spend time with her, and after almost three years of not having seen her in person except for her social media postings from all over the world, it feels good to be with her again. And right now, it feels good to be seen as the identical twins that we are, even though deep inside, we’re poles apart.

Like fire and ice.

While Blythe is in the  back room having her dress fitted to her measurements, I’m enjoying my second glass of wine when the front doors burst open, and a man strides in. He’s dressed in an immaculately tailored suit that can’t hide a broad chest and slim waist, his long strides emphasizing muscled thighs and long legs.  He’s like a Greek god with dark hair and piercing steel blue-gray eyes, a strong jaw and full lips, and the way he moves reminds me of a panther, smooth and stealthy.

The wine has probably made me act bolder than I usually am, though when his gaze sweeps across the room and our eyes meet, my confidence falters. I look down into my glass, suddenly wishing I’m invisible, not that it helps, for he’s seen me and now he’s striding purposefully towards me.

One of the employees, a young woman with a pixie hair cut that reminds me of Twiggy, meets him halfway. “May I help you, sir?”

“I’m here to speak to
her
,” he says, pointing his finger at me. I look up at him, startled.  
Me? 
Do I know him?
I struggle to remember if I’ve seen him before, maybe someone Blythe introduced me to sometime between my arrival and right now, but I come up empty.

“I’m sorry, sir, but we’re in the middle of a private event, and I’ll have to ask you to leave,” the young woman says, and just like that, I swear the temperature in the room turns cold as his gaze sweeps along the length of her.

“Obviously you’re new.  Do you know who I am?”

Before she can answer, Alicia appears next to her, smiling sweetly.  “Mister Kheiron! I didn’t expect to see you here today.”

“Alicia, how are you?”

“I’m well, thank you for asking.  I sincerely apologize for this young lady’s manners.  Amelie is new, you see, and isn’t yet familiar with our regular clients. In fact, Blythe recommended her,” Alicia says,  before turning to face the young woman, who’s just turned white as sheet. “Shouldn’t you be stocking inventory?”

As Amelie scurries to the back room, the man walks past Alicia and continues to make his way towards me.  I set my wine glass on the coffee table and stand up.
Based on mean he is, this must be the infamous Heath Kheiron.
  Then I wonder if we’ve overcharged the Gold Card by mistake.

As he stops in front of me, I smell his cologne and my nostrils flare, the hairs at the back of my arms standing on end. Even my belly tightens.  Citrusy with a hint of spice.

“Where is he?” he asks, his voice cold and deep.

I glance around, as if confirming that he
is
talking to me. “Who?”

“Don’t ‘who’ me,” he says through gritted teeth as he draws closer. “Where is Ethan?”

“I don’t know,” I stammer, confused and not understanding his anger.  “We’re meeting him for dinner-“

“When you see him, tell him to call me,” he says just as the realization hits me.
He thinks I’m Blythe!

“No, wait! You’re wrong! I’m not Blythe! I’m-”

“Yeah, right,” he scoffs, grabbing my wrist, and this time his voice lowers as he addresses me. “Tell Ethan to give back what he stole, or I’m making sure that everything will be taken away from him — his spending accounts, his access to company properties,” he pauses, lifting an eyebrow as he looks at me. “Even you, Blythe.”

The way he looks at me makes me wither inside. It’s cold and demoralizing, like he’s appraised me from behind his blue-gray eyes and I came up short.

“For your information, mister,” I say as I yank my wrist away from him, “I am not
a thing
.”

Heath eyes me, as if surprised that I actually can speak, and then he chuckles, as if I just said something funny. “You’re not
a thing
, is that it? You’re not
this thing
for my brother to dress up and primp like some doll on display — like he’s doing now?”

He bites his lower lip, and shakes his head, as if he’s the one who’s perplexed. But clearly, by the words that follow, he’s not. “It’s time to wake up and smell the roses, dear Blythe, because as far as I’m concerned, that’s exactly what you are to me — a thing.  Now where is Ethan?”

This time, I’m too shocked to say anything back, but Alicia comes to my rescue.

“I need you to leave, Mister Kheiron. This behavior is inexcusable.”

“Don’t worry.  I’m done here, Alicia,” Heath says before turning his attention back to me. “Tell Ethan he’s got till tomorrow to explain himself, or he’s going to end up with a bigger problem in his hands — and I believe you know what I’m talking about, Blythe.  And tell him that once I notify the board of what’s been happening, he’ll have nothing to his name — nothing.  Neither will you.”

“Mister Kheiron!” Alicia’s voice is shrill now and two men in dark suits seem to magically appear next to her.

“Good day, Alicia,” Heath says, nodding his head curtly, before turning to address me, the bow of his head mocking me.  “And you, too, Blythe.  Enjoy your shopping spree.”

I can’t even say anything back at him, not when the way he looks at me decimates me into someone who clearly is not worth anything in his eyes.  I feel Alicia’s hand rest on my arm as Heath turns away and walks out of the store.

“I’m so sorry, dear,” Alicia says. “Are you alright?”

I nod.  “I guess when tycoons have a bad day, they really do have a bad day, don’t they?”

“Everyone gets bad days, dear, but it’s still no excuse for bad manners,” she says sadly just as Blythe waltzes outside of the showroom, looking stunning in a dress of embroidered lace red flowers against a backdrop of white.

She’s so happy, reminding me of the bubbly little girl she’s always been, so different from tomboyish me, who was always happier either with my nose in a book or outside surrounded by nature. And as Blythe takes my hands and waltzes me along with her around the room, I wonder if I should tell her I’d just met the brother she spoke so terribly of — and how she was so right about him.

I never get to tell Blythe about my encounter with Heath because the moment we leave the shop and head back to the penthouse, her iPhone comes to life and everyone wants to know where she’s going to be that evening.  It’s like she’d taken the last two nights off to devote to me, and all of a sudden, she was back on everyone’s radar.

The first friend wants to meet us for drinks at the James.  Another one said to meet them at the Top of the Standard, while yet another one said,
W
hy not Soho House?

I can’t get over how popular Blythe is, and how, if it were me back in Nevada City, I’d have run out of bars to pick from because there’s really only two places in town.  The rest are in Auburn and other neighboring towns, and the last thing I want to do is drive on Highway 49 late at night, not even when someone else is driving.

Tonight, we’re wearing matching lace dresses we purchased earlier, each one tailored to fit us perfectly. Hers is red, and mine is hunter green, with matching open toe shoes though the clutches we carry are black. The last thing Alicia wanted us to look like were Christmas decorations walking around Manhattan.

The clutch is only big enough to fit an old flip phone which Blythe threatens to replace tomorrow, my California driver’s license, a credit card, and a tube of lipstick that she swears will brighten any day — and while I think it’s baloney, I’ll believe it while I’m in New York. There’s also my passport which Blythe tells me I need to have with me should Ethan fly us anywhere in the world at a moment’s notice.

“How can anyone fly at a moments’ notice?” I ask her in the limo as we head to the meatpacking district where she and her friends finally agreed on a place to meet for drinks: Soho House. “Flights are expensive and it takes time to book a seat, especially if it’s for the same day.”

She rolls her eyes at me, then laughs. “Oh, Billie, there’s so much for you to learn. It’s not like Ethan’s family doesn’t have, like, two planes, maybe even three.”

“Private planes?”

“Duh!” She laughs again. “I told you! The next two weeks are going to be awesome!  We could even end up in Paris, or Milan!  Though I have to warn you — Ethan has to work part of the time.  He’s got a big tournament in a few days.”

“So what’s this event about?” I ask, as I step out of the limo after her, one hand against my breasts, as if I’m afraid they’d spill out. “Is there anything I need to know before we walk in there?”

“It’s not what you know, Billie, that gets you ahead in life. It’s who you know. And this is not an event. We’re just here to hang out before joining Ethan for dinner,” she says as she takes my hand and leads me into a hotel bar that’s crowded with the best-looking people I’ve ever seen in my life. Everyone seems to have walked out of a fashion and lifestyle magazine, and for the first time, I’m grateful that Blythe gave me the full body make-over. I can’t even imagine what everyone would think of a paisley wearing flower child in their midst who barely waxed her legs or armpits before yesterday.

But I forget all that when Blythe reminds me to close my mouth and smile, before saying
Hi, Craig
to some blonde deity in a clinging t-shirt and jeans or
Hey, Giz
, to a matching goddess in a simple sleeveless top and slacks, looking so beautiful without make-up though Blythe tells me that it probably took her an hour to look like she didn’t put any make-up on.

I don’t realize how nervous I am till she squeezes my hand and flashes a wide smile at me. But it doesn’t work, for I feel an anxiety attack coming on, my breath emerging in short bursts. I’ve never been used to large crowds, not when they seem to be surging towards us, everyone saying Blythe’s name.

But Blythe is ready, for she’s known the signs of my anxiety attacks since we were children.  She grabs my hand and with a wave of her hand, she tells everyone that we’ll be right back, steering me into the ladies’ room, which thankfully is empty. Blythe rests her hands on my shoulders and peers at me.

“It’s going to be okay, Bee, I promise.  Nothing’s going to happen, and you’ll do fine,” she says as I take deep breaths. “It was either this or sitting at the penthouse waiting for Ethan to call.”

“I don’t mind waiting.”

“Well, I do,” she says. “Besides, you’re the sister I want everyone to meet. Just because I haven’t been home in three years doesn’t mean I don’t miss you, or talk about you. Don’t we talk on the phone as much as we can?”

“We text more than anything,” I say. “I have to follow you on Instagram just to make sure I know where you are.”

She sighs, grabbing my clutch from my hand which I’m holding in front of me like it’s my armor and sets it on the bathroom counter next to hers.

“I know this isn’t Nevada City, but don’t you think it’s time you got out of that little town for a while and live a little?
Just a little?
”

I nod, taking a few more deep breaths.

“Ever since mom and dad died, that’s all you’ve done, but you can’t expect to hide behind that counter forever,” she says. “I mean, that’s what employees are for!”

“Employees that I have to pay to work behind that counter right now!”

“Two weeks, Billie, that’s all. Two weeks is all I ask of you,” she implores, giving me the best sad face she can give me. “Just pretend you’re me, like we used to do when we were kids. Remember how much fun we used to have, making people believe I was you and you were me?  Like that time when we actually fooled Dad and he ended up taking you to ballet class and me to archery, and I almost shot your instructor instead of the bulls-eye thingie? Remember?”

“And I ended up stepping all over Jonathan’s toes and he decided you weren’t so cool after all,” I laugh. “Dad made us swear never to pull that on him again.”

“He also told us never to tell Mom, remember? That way, he wouldn’t get in trouble,” she says and for a moment we just look at each other and giggle, mirror reflections that hide the differences between us that somehow do more to keep us apart than bring us together.

I take a deep breath and exhale, feeling much calmer and grateful that Blythe took the time to pull me aside. It’s crazy for me to feel this way, letting my anxiety get the better of me, but I tell myself that I’m also exhausted, and all I want to do tonight is slip under the luxurious Frette covers of the guest bed with a good book.

But Blythe also has a point. I can’t hide from the world forever.

“Okay then. Two weeks and then my world returns to normal,” I tell her, forcing a smile. “Who knows? I just might get used to all this.”

“Yessay, ohsay!” Blythe exclaims happily in pig-Latin, hugging me tightly. “Two weeks of East Coast parties and you can go back home and stand behind that counter all you want. You can even let your Brazilian grow out.  And just so you know, men love it, and sex feels way better without all that hair.  Not only that, but they’re quicker to go down on you,” she says, eyeing me down there before we both giggle like children, though I can feel my cheeks burning with embarrassment.

I can’t help but feel like such a country mouse, getting lessons from my sister, though I have no intention of giving my Brazilian a test drive.

“Two weeks,” I say, grabbing both clutches from the counter and handing Blythe hers as we make our way out of the ladies room and back to the bar.

“Let’s go and have fun,” Blythe says as she grabs my hand again and guides me through the crowd. Her touch fills me with the familiar feeling of closeness that we used to share, before the world beyond Route 49 transformed us as different as night and day.

And she’s right. Before long, I’m having fun as we’re surrounded by Blythe’s friends from the fashion world that include stylists and photographers, models, production assistants and personal assistants. At first, they’re so enthralled by how identical we look that it’s all they talk about, but soon, muscle memory kicks in and they talk about work, tossing names of designers expected to have showings at the upcoming Fashion Week, and who among the
Who’s Who
was holding which party where. The Top of the Standard, Polo Lounge, Soho House.

I don’t know how Blythe remembers them all, but she does, and she does it so effortlessly. So I watch her and I learn, slowly coming out of my own comfort zone as I hold conversations with people I barely know.

Who knows?  Maybe one day, I can be just like her.

When Blythe drifts away from me to head to the rooftop pool with her friends, I don’t panic. Instead, I’m curious about the art work that surrounds me, eclectic paintings and sculptures that grace the walls of the bar. I’m reading the information on one of the paintings when a stocky blonde man entering the front door sees me and waves his hand.

“Blythe!  There you are! We’ve been looking all over for you!”

Here we go again
.  I smile at him, shaking my head.  ”If you’re looking for-”

“I spotted your limo outside and Conrad said you were in here,”he says, catching his breath. “Anyway, we gotta get going.”

“But I’m not-”

“Ethan sent me to fetch you since he can’t be seen in Manhattan at the moment, not when Heath’s stalking him,” he says, his voice lowering and his expression turning serious. He’s also grabbed my arm.  “Come on, let’s go.”

“But my sister is-”

“Don’t worry about your sister. It’s not like she’s a child. She’ll be just fine,” he says, shaking his head as of I’d just asked him to babysit. “C’mon, let’s go — now!“

I pull away from him but his grip on my wrist is tight.  “But I’m not-”

“Jackson Denman, just the man I’m looking for,” drawls a voice right behind me and I stiffen. “Where’s Ethan?  Is he outside?”

Oh, great.  Heath Kheiron — again.

“Like it’s any of your business where he is,” Jackson says under his breath as he lets go of my arm and I see him straighten, appearing taller than his height of five-foot-seven. Since I’m only five-four, with three inch high heels, he’s basically my height. Heath, on the other hand, towers over me.

But with Jackson in front of me, Heath behind me, and a sculpture of a couple in a compromising position to my right, I don’t have much room to maneuver away from them. It also seems that neither of them have heard of this thing called
personal space
.

“You have the nerve to call him your brother, Heath,” Jackson scoffs and the hair along the back of my arms prickle. “I couldn’t believe it either, not until I saw the proof myself.  And I always thought she was one classy lady.

Heath tenses and I see his jaw clench.  “Now, just because you’re Ethan’s assistant doesn’t mean you forget your place with me.  Is that how you’d talk to the president of the company you once were fortunate enough to be appointed as co-chair?”

As Heath speaks, his body moves closer behind me — too close — and he wraps one arm around my waist.

“Whatever is going on between you two, leave me out of-” I start to say but Heath’s arm tightens, rooting me in place.

“Why should we, Blythe, when this involves you, too,” Heath says, and I can feel his breath warm against my ear, fanning my hair. “It’s not like threesomes are such a bad thing, are they?”

“
Ugh!
  Dream on!  You couldn’t pay me to even have a twosome with you, much less
be
with you,” I hiss just as Heath presses his body behind me, his grip tightening. His touch is warm, almost hot, and I feel an electric charge go through me, and it makes my body tremble with excitement. I glance towards the door leading to the rooftop, hoping to catch Blythe’s attention, but other patrons are blocking my way.

This time, it’s Jackson’s turn to chuckle drily.  “You’re the one who should be remembering his place from now on, Heath, especially when word gets out about you and who you really are-“

“I’d be careful if I were you,” Heath says, the undercurrent of rage simmering between the lines and I stiffen as Jackson grabs my hand, pulling me away from Heath.

“Blythe, we really need to get going,” Jackson says, glaring at me.

“Now why is that?” Heath asks.  “Why would you want dear Blythe here out of New York so soon when I hear she’s supposed to meet my brother for dinner?  Why are you in such a rush?”

“None of your damn business, Heath,” Jackson growls, but as he reaches for my hand again, a tall woman approaches us.  Red hair and striking green eyes along with her skinny build tell me that she must be a model.  She’s wearing a cream silk dress with a deep V-neckline that accentuates breast implants that jut out, all perky. 
Didn’t anyone wear bras anymore? 

“Heath, darling! Is that really you?” she says before turning to look at Jackson, “Oh, hi there, Jackson,” though her gaze returns to Heath and then to me.

But Jackson doesn’t pay any attention to her, for he’s watching me now, his hazel eyes narrowing as if he realizes who I really am.

“Well, Natasha, you ready to take my place in this threesome?” Jackson asks, grinning broadly.  “Because I’m sure your Heath here won’t say no.  Anyway, looks like I’m not wanted her anyway.”

“See you around, you lucky son of a bitch,” he says to Heath as Natasha leans forward to plant a kiss on Heath’s mouth.  I look away, embarrassed, wishing Heath will let me go, but the kiss is short-lived for he pushes Natasha away with his other hand.  From the corner of my eye, I see Jackson hurrying towards the pool.

I take a step away from Heath but he pulls me right back against him, and this time his grip tightens even more, his fingers digging into my skin.

“Aw, you’re still mad at me,” Natasha pouts.

“I can’t be mad at someone I no longer give a damn about, Tasha,” he says. “Why don’t you go back to your dear fans.  I’m busy at the moment.”

“Why am I not surprised, Blythe?” Natasha drawls with a cock of her head. “I always figured you had the hots for Heath, and why not? He’s the one with the most money now, right?”

“Whatever,” I find myself saying as I roll my eyes, surprising even myself at how much I sound like Blythe. If I can’t beat them, I might as well join them, especially since I can’t get away from Heath and he’s holding me so tightly I’m finding it difficult to breathe.  But he’s also making the butterflies in my belly flutter, and my knees go weak.