Taking Tiffany (6 page)

Angela

Six Months Earlier

AFTER THREE HOURS of silence, we finally arrived.
Dear God
.
No.
Was this a joke?

There was no preparing for this…dump.  My parents warned me that I’d be living with the basics only. I thought, instead of a five-star hotel, I’d be faced with a Best Western-type living place, but this was a dilapidated hovel.

  Right smack dab in the center of a fenced off area sat the sorriest building ever built.  A huge structure, stretching about twenty feet high, and looked to be around six thousand square feet. At some point, maybe fifty years ago, someone painted the exterior a purplish-brown color. Now, the paint was peeling and was mostly gone. Only a few high windows were visible from where I stood. It was ugly and depressing.

Surrounding the main building were a dozen or so huts placed haphazardly inside a fenced off area. I wasn’t even sure they would be considered huts because they didn’t look like they’d stand up to any type of wind. Never mind wind – a small cough would probably topple them.

I recalled my nanny reading the Three Little Pigs story, and I giggled.

He-with-no-name turned his stupidly handsome face toward me and glared. If looks could kill, I was sure I’d be dead and gone. Maybe, if I kept laughing, he could make it happen. Death. Anything would be better than the hell my parents sent me to.

I always thought my parents were uninterested in me. Typically, they ignored me until I made a fuss. When I got loud enough, they’d throw money at me until I quieted down. We had a non-verbal agreement. I stayed out of their way as long as I got what I wanted.

That all changed once I ‘humiliated the family’.  Now I knew they weren’t uninterested; they hated me. Pure and simple. They put me in a place which was not only worse than jail, it was worse than any existence I could imagine.

Now I hated them right back. They were the biggest phonies in the world. I embarrassed them, so now I had to stay in this hell until society forgot me.
It’s only a year, sweetie
. Sweetie? Really? They hadn’t used that word since I was six.

I made a vow to get back at them.  I’d get away from here and disappear. I’d have the last laugh.

Mr. Sullen Man walked into one of the huts and placed my luggage in the corner. Oh, so this abode was mine. Lovely. I walked in, and the stench of the previous inhabitant was so strong, it burned the hairs inside my nose. What
was
that smell? I looked to my mute tour guide and, of course, got nothing. He did take a backwards step out of the putrid-smelling enclosure.

With hands on hips, my eyes narrowed and I asked, “Really?”

He shrugged and walked toward the main building. I kept talking even though he didn’t understand me. I needed to vent, and he would be my sounding board.

“How can you live in such a place? Don’t you want to hurl yourself off the nearest cliff? This place is disgusting! I hate it here!”

He stopped and turned toward me with the same if-looks-could-kill expression. He held up a hand then pointed at a sign on the door that read, “Director”.  He turned his back and walked through another door.
Pig.

I straightened my shoulders and headed toward the office. I was told by my parents that the director, Ms. Rutherford, was the quintessential Earth Mother. An Englishwoman who’d spent her life caring for the abandoned children of Romania. Looking around this dump, I knew they’d lied. Just as they lied about everything else in my entire life. Hatred filled me as I knocked on the door.

It creaked open slowly. There wasn’t anyone here. My eyes scanned the office, which appeared clean and organized. There was an outlet so I could charge my satellite phone. Good, I’d have that, though I’d need to sneak in at night to give it an adequate charge. My eyes adjusted to the darkened room. At least one room in this disaster of an orphanage was presentable. Oh, that’s right. They probably had inspections and need this space as their “front” so they’d appear legitimate. The people who ran this place must be pure evil. Who would allow anyone to live this way? Just as the thought skittered through me, I heard a squeak nearby.

Right below my line of sight were two big eyes, staring at me. And that’s pretty much all they were, because the rest of the child was nothing more than skin and bones.

About three feet tall and covered in dirt stood the skinniest person I’d ever seen. I’m not talking Paris-runway-skinny. This was much worse. With long stringy hair, sunken cheekbones, and limbs that could pass as twigs, was the most heart-wrenching excuse for a child imaginable. Rage filled me as the realization struck. They starve and torture children here.

The door on the other side of the office opened, and a smallish woman with an English accent greeted me. “Oh, you’re here! I heard Dr. Stefan was back. Welcome! I’m Dottie Rutherford.” Her smile lit up her round face.

What the hell? I shook with rage. How dare she try to fool me.

“What is the meaning of this?” My voice was low, but the animosity was unmistakable. I pointed to the child.

She slowed for a moment. “I see you’ve met Mirela,” Dottie said as she eyed me, sizing me up. My anger was evident from my sweating, flushed face and shaking body. I’d never been more upset.

“Mirela came to us yesterday. She’s new.” She turned to the little girl. “Miss Elise is looking for you,” she said, smiling at the child. She looked back at me. “Sometimes the new children tend to wander a little. She’ll get the hang of things.”

She pressed a button on a small box on her desk. I heard a cracking sound, then, “Yes, Ms. Dottie?”

“Hi, Elise. I have Mirela in my office. It looks like she’s checking things out.” She gave me a wink.

I breathed in, trying to calm down. Maybe I’d overreacted. It wouldn’t be the first time.

“I’ll be right there!” The box quieted and the static died.

Dottie turned her warm smile back at me. “I don’t blame you for your reaction. It can be shocking when you first arrive here. I heard from Doctor Stefan you have a dead vole in your hut. That couldn’t have been a pleasant surprise. I’m so sorry. We’ll have that cleaned and sterilized before you go back in. In the meantime, are you hungry?”

Disbelief. Was she really talking about dead creatures and food in the same breath? And how did the news of it get to the doctor and the director? Oh, that’s right. Mr. Stupidly Handsome. He must have blabbed.

“No. I’m not hungry. But someone should feed her.” I held the little girl’s eyes again.

Another warm smile from Dottie. “We’re working on …”

The door from outside burst open, and a young woman of eighteen or nineteen charged in. “Oh! There you are Mirela. I’ve been looking all over for you.” She had brown skin and a beautiful white smile. Long, dark hair framed a round face that radiated exuberance. She turned toward me and said, “Oh, you must be Angel!” then flung her arms around my neck. I thought I’d choke to death before she let go.

I took a step back and gawked at her. “What do you think you’re doing?” I demanded as I straightened my clothing.

She placed a hand over her mouth and giggled. “I did it again, didn’t I, Miss Dottie?”

I remembered the old television show I watched on the Sci-fi channel when I was younger. Twilight Zone. It was an episode about landing in an alternate universe. That was what happened to me. All I needed to do now was wake up or turn the channel.

“It’s okay, Elise. I think Angela is a bit shell-shocked. Let’s give her a little time to get settled in. Did Adam get the animal out of her hut yet?”

Elise turned her bright smile my way. “He sure did! He’ll have that dead vole buried in no time.” Her head nodded the entire time she spoke. “I’m going to sterilize and clean it from top to bottom for you,” she said as she held out her hand for Mirela. “As soon as I get this little one back to the playroom.”

As quick as lightning, Mirela dashed across the room and wrapped herself around my leg. For a little thing, she sure packed a punch. She almost knocked me off my feet.

Dottie’s face softened. “She must have heard you standing up for her.” She turned to Elise and said, “I’ll bet she does speak or understand English after all.”

Elise whispered to me, “She hasn’t eaten or spoken a word since she arrived yesterday. She won’t let anyone touch her either.”

I tried to peel her from my leg, but she wrapped herself around me like stubborn ivy.

My eyes pleaded with Dottie and Elise to do something. I didn’t like children. I didn’t know anything about them.

Dottie’s sympathy was visible, but she said, “She hasn’t bonded with anyone yet.” She continued speaking while her eyes studied me. “I hadn’t planned to put you to work within minutes of your arrival, but can she stay with you a bit?”

Panic, strong and powerful, replaced the exhaustion, anger, and dread from earlier. “What do I do with her?” I asked while shaking my head. No. I wasn’t equipped to help a starving, obviously crazy child. Why would she latch on to me?

We were interrupted by loud male voices coming down the corridor outside the office.

Dottie clapped her hands and said, “Oh good! You’ll get to meet my husband, Jerome, and that sounds like Dr. Stefan.” She stopped speaking and her eyebrows furrowed, replacing her happy expression.

The two men were arguing, enthusiastically, and loud enough for us to hear.

A deep voice with an English accent filled the hallway. “I don’t agree. What we need is skilled assistance, not some superficial socialite princess who will spend her days more concerned about her fancy clothes and makeup. She’ll be a horrible influence on the children and staff. Take my advice, send her out on the first plane available.”

Another male voice with a similar English accent responded, “We need the help. You’ve seen the latest funding figures. We’re dealing with a potential disaster. She needs to stay. We’re desperate. Elise told me she’s more beautiful than a super-model. I can’t believe you’d have a problem with that.”

How many English people were here anyway?

“But she’s awful!” The door swung open, and I locked eyes with Mr. Sullen, Stupidly Handsome, No-Name…Pig. 

“You! You speak English!” I stated the obvious. For a fleeting second, I saw his hard expression lift. But it went right back to stony.

Bastard.

His eyes lowered to my leg, which had lost its circulation due to the creature strangling it with superhuman strength. I saw it again; his expression went soft. He smiled at Mirela and asked, “How are you, luv?” in a soft voice that did all sorts of sparkly, thrilling things to my insides.

That voice was meant for the child, you idiot.

“She’s fine. She’s with me, and we’re going…” I shifted my eyes to Dottie, “We’re going…?”

“To the cafeteria,” she finished for me. “First, I’d like you to meet my husband, Jerome.” She narrowed her eyes at Stefan and said with controlled calmness, “It looks like you’ve already made Dr. Stefan’s acquaintance.”

And just to make Stefan look bad, I put on my most sincere, sweetest expression and greeted Jerome, “Pleased to meet you. I’m so glad to be here to help.”

Jerome cast a sidelong glance at Stefan and replied, “We’re honored to have you.”

A choking sound came from the good doctor.

Take that.

Tiffany

I FELT LIKE I was a child again. I really did.

Covered with green paint and caught by my dad making out with Todd was not the way I imagined today would go. Not even a little. Still sleep-deprived, and judging by my behavior, deprived in other areas, I turned to greet my dad—who was so angry his face was a dark shade of red. I’d seen him upset before, but his coloring had only made it to pink. This was a new record.

“Dad.”

“What the hell are you doing?” he said through clenched teeth.

“We were painting and tripped?” I lied a little. Yep, no older than five.

He stared angrily at Todd, who stood straight and met my dad’s intimidating glare head-on. He was brave, I’d give him that. Maybe what Colin said about my dad scaring off potential dates was true. If I were Todd right now, I’d be shaking in my boots, or in his case, Nikes.

What was my dad doing here anyway? “Dad, aren’t you supposed to be fishing?”

He took his scary, angry eyes from Todd and looked distracted for a moment. “My secretary called me on the satellite phone. She said someone called in an emergency, and I needed to come here right away. I didn’t get much else from her.” He looked around the empty house. “Where is everyone? Did something happen?”

“No. Everything’s been quiet. The volunteers are at lunch.”

Todd cleared his throat. “Mr. Thompson. I think if someone tried to lure you here under the guise of an emergency, it might be wise to leave the house and call the police.”

“Dad! Todd’s right.” I grabbed his arm and started for the door. “Oh, by the way, this is Todd. Todd, this is my dad.”

He followed close behind, gave a nod and greeted, “Sir.” He was so serious.

Once we cleared the doorway and were outside, I took a good look at him. Laughter bubbled out when I saw that his lips were green.

He leaned in and whispered, “I wouldn’t laugh too hard, you look the same.”

My dad flipped his phone closed. “The police are on their way. I’m afraid you’ll have to shut down for today, Tiffany. I’m sorry, I know you’re trying to meet a deadline, but they’ll need to get their detectives out here to make sure this wasn’t some sort of set-up. Only a few people have my secretary’s direct line, so they’re taking this seriously. Whoever set up this prank went to a lot of trouble.”

“This is scaring me, Dad.”

All the emotions from the past day, combined with my lack of sleep, hit me all at once. And, I did what any five-year-old would do—my face reddened and my eyes began to fill with tears.
This was not going to happen. I would not cry.
Todd took a step toward me, my dad gave him a back-the-hell-off stare, and he did. Smart guy. Dad took me in his arms and gave me a big, comforting hug.

“Where’s Mom, anyway?” I asked.

He didn’t answer right away, giving me a long look, waiting for me to figure it out.

“She’s freaked out, and you took her home, didn’t you?” I surmised.

“Yes. I told her it was probably a prank and not to worry.”

“I know. I’m sure it is.” I nodded and wiped my eyes. “I’m just a little tired.”

Dad, back in his overprotective mode, said, “You’re a little like me, working too hard.”

Thankfully, the sound of sirens broke into anything else dad had to say.

Todd was in my peripheral vision, observing the interactions between Dad and me. He wore a sad smile and appeared wistful. It occurred to me I didn’t know anything about Todd’s parents. Our conversations always seemed to steer clear of family. I wondered if that was intentional.

Five police cars pulled up to the curb. Dad was right; they were taking this seriously. They shuffled us all farther away from the house. They’d called in the bomb squad and planned to do a sweep. Once we were in the all-clear area, one of them, a sergeant, pulled out a notebook.

“I can see there was a scuffle here.” He asked me, “Were you assaulted?”

Dad gave a snort. Todd stifled a grin.

“Oh, this,” I answered, like it happened every day. “We had a little painting accident.” Now I was lying to the police. When would this day end?

“A painting accident?” He did that one-eyebrow-raised-up thing.

“Okay! I was angry with Todd.” I pointed at him. “And I used my, um, paintbrush on him.” I lifted my hand up and down following the line of paint on his torso. “So, I assumed he would return the favor.” I stopped for a minute. The edge of laughter started to creep up, similar to the giggles I’d get while at church. I hadn’t outgrown that particular affliction, and it was building. Deep breathing, I reminded myself.
Do not laugh.
“I tried to move away and I tripped on the paint tray,” I managed to get out with a straight face.

“And I slipped trying to break her fall,” Todd added.

“You didn’t look angry when I found you.” Dad crossed his arms.

“Oh, for goodness’ sake! This …” I pointed between Todd and myself, “has nothing to do with this…” I gestured to the building and surrounding area.