Black Butterfly (22 page)

A silver-haired white man in the chair facing her turned around and smiled as Sydney entered. Sydney smiled back.

“Come in and close the door, Sydney,” Xenia said politely.

As Sydney obeyed and stepped inside, she noticed a young white man in suspenders and Clark Kent glasses staring at her. “Take a seat,” Xenia said, studying her face. Sydney sat next to the silver-haired man. The younger man spoke first. “My name is Raymond Benson, and I’m the head writer of this production.” Sydney nodded. “Nice to meet you.”

“I’m George Davis, the director,” the silver-haired man said, extending his hand to her.

Sydney shook it. “Nice to meet you.”

Raymond sat down on the corner of Xenia’s desk. “Ms. Allen, we’ve tossed around many ideas from classical to modern, and it wasn’t until recently that I was inspired to create what I think will be my best work to date.”

Sydney nodded, still confused.

Xenia leaned forward over her desk, resting on her elbows. “I want success, and, initially, I envisioned a modern dance, but I had no unifying theme.”

“Until we saw your performance,” George added quickly.

“Excuse me?”

Xenia snorted. “Your audition, honey. You do remember it, don’t you?”

“Yes, yes, ma’am, I do,” Sydney said, blushing.

Raymond grinned. “You inspired me! I want a modern ballet with you headlining. We’ll call it Black Butterfly.”

Sydney’s eyes lit up in astonishment. “Really? Oh God.”

“Don’t thank God, sweetie. Thank me.” Xenia smirked.

“Can we take a break? It’s been two hours.”

Trish laughed. “I’m sorry. You should have said something earlier. Of course we can.” She put down her brush.

Todd got up to look at the painting, but she stepped around it to stop him. “I don’t think so.”

“Come on. A peek won’t hurt.”

“Nope.”

He stared down into her green eyes. “I’m sure it will be well done.”

“Why, thank you, Todd. Now where is your bathroom so I can wash my hands?” He pointed behind him.

“Can I trust you to be a good boy and not peek?”

“Do I get a reward if I’m good?”

“Your reward is that I finish the painting.”

As soon as she left, Todd turned to look at the painting, but stopped himself, deciding to honor her request. Instead he went to the kitchen and began to fix sandwiches for lunch. Hearing Trish enter the room, he turned to see her slipping her hands into her jeans pockets.

“We can call it a day,” she said. “I know you’re busy.”

“Have lunch with me.”

“What is it?”

“Bologna. I have other deli meats, but bologna is a weakness of mine. Blame it on my grandmother.”

“Interesting. Are you frying it?”

He stopped. “No. That doesn’t sound very appetizing.”

“Are you kidding me? Who eats bologna without frying it?”

“Me, for starters.”

“Where are your frying pans?”

Todd retrieved a stainless steel pan, which she took graciously. “Watch and learn,” she said as she took the butter and bologna from the fridge. Turning on the stove, she dropped the butter into the pan, and he watched it sizzle into yellow bubbles as it melted. She threw in two pieces of bologna, which quickly began to swell and puff up. She quickly cut the edges to bring down the swelling.

“The trick is to burn the edges,” she explained. “Portia taught me this.” Todd flinched at the mention of Portia, but she didn’t seem to notice.

“I promise, after you try this, you won’t want bologna any other way,” she said, smiling.

He moved the hair shielding the side of her face to her shoulder.

She looked at him warily. “Don’t touch me,” she said softly.

He frowned. “Why?”

“I don’t like to be touched,” she said, sticking a fork into the bologna and turning it over.

“That’s odd. Everybody likes to be touched.”

“Well, not me.”

“Do you date? Do you have someone special who holds you?”

She looked at him, then back to the frying pan. “Occasionally, until a guy touches me.” Todd leaned against the counter. “I don’t understand.”

She smiled at him. “Get some napkins and a plate. They’re pretty greasy.” Todd reluctantly did so, and Trish set the table while he fixed lemonade. They sat down across from each other, and he studied her face. “I have to say, I’m very attracted to you,” he said as he took a bite out of his sandwich.

She kept eating.

“Did you hear me?”

“I heard you.”

“Well?”

She looked hurt. “What do you want me to say?”

Not understanding her response, he put down his sandwich. “What is it with you? Why do you have these walls up? You’re too young to be so guarded.”

“You don’t know me.”

“I’d like to.”

“Why, so we can have sex?”

“Is there something wrong with sex?”

Trish blushed and rolled her eyes, then looked away from him and ate her sandwich in silence.

“I need to go,” she said, standing up. He rose to stop her, and she backed away. “Please, leave me alone.” Concerned and confused, he looked at her but said nothing.

She blushed and her eyes filled with tears. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to—”

“I know that you don’t know me, and that’s ok,” he said. “Sometimes you can confide in a stranger what you can’t reveal to people closest to you. Tell me what’s wrong.” She looked away.

“You’ll feel better if you tell me.”

She looked at him, then shook her head. “No thank you.”

“Trish.” He stepped to block her pass. “I’ve spent a lifetime hiding from things that were too hard to face.

It’s made me miss out on a lot of good.”

“I don’t have anything to say to you.”

“I'm a good listener.”

“I don’t care. I don’t know you.”

“Then you have nothing to lose.”

Trish lifted her head, apparently reacting to the truthfulness of that statement.

“Sit, Trish, please.”

At first she didn’t move, not even a blink. She reminded him of a scared rabbit he saw a fox corner once when he was out hunting with his dad. Considering his actions with her friend Portia, he admittedly knew he wasn’t the one to be trusted. But she had him curious. It was evident she hadn’t told anyone about him, and didn’t know his connection with Portia. Why not offer her friendship. Hell he wasn’t a total bastard.

“My real name is Patricia Hesser.” She said softly.

He smiled. “Nice to meet you, Patricia.”

“My father is William Hesser, the brother of Andrew Hesser.”

Todd frowned. “Ok.” So far he didn’t get what she was telling him.

“Andrew Hesser, the Hesser ketchup fortune. Now do you know?” He smirked. “Are you telling me you’re an heiress?”

She nodded.

Todd smiled tenderly at her. “Well, sweetie, that’s not a bad thing.”

“It is if you knew my father,” she said sadly and took a seat.

“My name is Todd Ellison. My dad is Marshall Ellison, the tycoon who owns Ellison Commodities, and the cruelest bastard you’d ever meet.”

She nodded. Quite possibly their paths had crossed when they were kids. “You left your family?” she asked.

“I couldn’t live with his evil dictatorship over my life, so I struck out on my own.” Todd answered.

Trish dropped her head. “I understand that,” she mumbled.

Todd fought the urge to touch her to him and make the dark shadows clouding her pretty green eyes go away. He waited for her to continue her story.

“I should go,” she said, looking back up into his eyes. “I can't believe I shared this with you. I haven’t with anyone. Please don't ever say anything to Sydney. I don’t want her and Portia to know.”

“No, I wouldn't betray your confidence. Whatever it is you're afraid of, you can’t carry it with you like this. Tell me why being Patricia Hesser is so terrible?”

“I can’t, I won't.” She looked toward the door. He feared she'd bolt for it at any moment.

“You've already told me your secret. . . ”

“You’re a stranger. I—”

“Not anymore. Why else would you trust me? You're kind of worrying me here, kid.” He dared a touch, placing his hand over hers. “I’m sure I can help, and if I can’t, we can figure it out from there.” Looking from his hand to his eyes, she sighed. “I’ve never told another living soul except my mother, and she didn’t believe me. It’s disgusting. I don’t want to talk about it.” The confident painter he had found irresistible was transforming into a scared little girl. Taking her hand in his, he made his own confession. “My father pounded on me from the first time I disappointed him until the last. Everyone saw him as this great, powerful man, but I saw the monster that lived within. No one believed me either, Trish.”

She looked away, and he saw her struggling with her truth. She pulled her hand from his, and he knew that he needed patience. For several long minutes, he sat with her, letting her think as silent tears fell down her face.

Finally, he dared to speak. “You can trust me.”

Her face was turned away from him, and she spoke in a hollow voice that touched his heart. “My father forced me into doing horrible things with him from the time I was nine.”

“What kinds of things?”

Squeezing her eyes shut, she said, “He made me do things, nasty things, and when I couldn’t take it anymore, I ran away. It’s why I don’t like to be touched, and men eventually go away. I’m just—I’m just damaged goods.” She hid her face in her hands as if to force the memories away or perhaps to conceal herself from him.

Seeing her retreat from his support, Todd didn’t push for more details. Instead, he pulled her gently to her feet. “You don’t have to say anymore,” he said softly as she burst into tears, finally allowing him to hold her.

What kind of monster rapes his nine-year-old daughter? he wondered. The idea of it made him sick.

Chapter 10

In the Middle of the Night

“Thank you, gentlemen,” Xenia said, rising and adjusting her dark suit jacket. “If you’ll excuse us, Sydney and I need to have a little chat.” Tossing her blond hair from her shoulders, she fixed her eyes on Sydney. “Girl talk.”

Sydney stared on, expressionless.

Raymond and George congratulated her. Both men reassured her that she’d do a great job. She thanked them and they left. Xenia walked around her desk. Turning around to face Sydney, she smiled. “Do you like my necklace?”

Sydney looked closely at the diamond solitaire on its platinum chain. The light hit the beautifully carved gem, sending out a starburst of rainbow colors. Nonplussed by the question, Sydney said, “It’s very nice.” Xenia licked her glossed lips. “Nolen gave it to me for my birthday.” Sydney’s smile faded with a renewed understanding. “That was nice of him.”

“That’s the way he is. Money means nothing to him, and he likes beautiful things. He collects beautiful things. You know, the first time he saw me, he sent six dozen long-stemmed purple roses to my office. Before the night was over, I was in a Prada cocktail dress he’d picked out for me, red of course, and we were dining at the Tea Room before retiring to his Manhattan condo to make love through the night.” Sydney smiled sweetly, trying not to let Xenia’s taunts get to her. Of course she knew that her Casanova had used flowers and trinkets to bed many women in this town. She had to laugh at how little effort he put forth, yet women like Xenia thought it was worth swooning over. Still it stung to know that he had done the same with her. Sure she put him off at first, but she was in his bed last night. They probably acted out every scene he’s done with Xenia Minetti. She shifted in her seat and tried again to mask her discomfort.

Xenia folded her arms confidently, studying Sydney’s face. “We have an open relationship, and he’s allowed to dabble every now and then, but he knows where home is.”

“Excuse me, Ms. Minetti,” Sydney said. “I’m still a little confused as to what this has to do with me.”

“Are you?”

“Yes.” She lied.

“Well, I know he’s shown a little interest in you. He insisted that you perform first at the audition…”

“He did what?” Sydney frowned.

“Oh, pardon me dear, you didn’t know? He insisted that you audition for him first and he gave some, shall we say, favorable input into the final selection process. But make no mistake. This is my production. I decide whether you stay or go!”

Sydney ground her molars in caged anger. How dare Nolen not tell her he’d done this? “Did I earn my spot?” Sydney asked.

Xenia smirked. “Yes, you earned it. Not even Nolen Adams can make me pick a talent when it doesn’t exist. However, you would not have been a first choice for me if I hadn’t seen that performance of Black Butterfly.”

Sydney relaxed.

Xenia sneered. “Though, you have a little more hips and ass than a prima ballerina.”

“All I want to do is dance. I came here for that opportunity, and I’m not about to ruin that chance by disrespecting you.”

“Then we understand each other. You’re a talented young woman. My colleagues think you can make me very rich. I’m offering you the chance of a lifetime, Ms. Allen, the opportunity to be the headliner in this show.

But your loyalties are with me. If I find that you’re interfering in my relationship with Nolen, then your ass is out of here!”

Sydney considered setting the stupid witch straight. But the satisfaction would be short-lived. Xenia disliked Sydney, but Xenia recognized Sydney’s talent, and if Sydney kept her mouth shut, she would have top billing. Once she debuted and the world saw what she had to offer, she’d reveal the truth about her budding romance, if she and Nolen made it that far. She met Xenia’s eyes, not the least bit threatened by her posturing.

Swallowing her anger and smiling at the secret that could bring this haughty witch to her knees, she nodded. “Nolen Adams is his own man. Whatever he does or doesn’t do is on him. I’m happy about the opportunity, Ms. Minetti, but if you plan to run this production based on your love life, then maybe we’re not a good fit.”

Xenia looked her over. “Stay away from him, and we’ll be fine!” The command sounded a bit haughty and arrogant. Sydney didn’t let people push her around. She always stood up for herself. “Is that all?”