Priceless (3 page)

“Did you see Taylor?” Jane looked worried.

Charlotte nodded. “It’s OK. It’s been a long time.”

“Did you see who he’s with?” Emily looked excited.

Charlotte nodded again. “Stacy Star.”

Zeb was beside himself. “I have all her albums. She’s outrageous. She worked the runway for Gaultier, and it was beyond fabulous. She’s awesome.”

Charlotte looked at him. “You’re babbling, Zeb. Calm down.”

He was quivering like a greyhound. “I can’t. She’s awesome. I love her.”

Charlotte frowned, indicating to a passing waitress that she needed service. The waitress ignored her. “Zeb, I went to preschool with her. Her real name is Stacy Fishbein.”

Zeb refused to be put off. “Well, good for her that she changed it, then. I’d change mine if I could.”

“What’s stopping you?”

“My parents. They think Zebediah is a cool name for a faggot. Fucking hippies. They’re so accepting, it’s really annoying.”

The waitress came over, finally. Charlotte smiled up at her.

“Did Nick make you wear that, or are those your own clothes?”

The waitress was wearing a peekaboo bra, with glitter on her nipples and short-shorts. She narrowed her eyes. “You’re a friend of Nick’s?”

“I’m a very good friend of Nick’s. You must be new, or you’d know me by sight and would already have brought me a Grey Goose and grapefruit, which is what I always have. I never pay, and neither does anyone with me.”

The waitress started to laugh. “You’re joking, right?”

The rest of the table went quiet. The waitress looked nervous. She looked over at Nick, who was watching her. He raised his eyebrows and made a gesture with his hand that made it clear she was to give Charlotte anything she wanted.

“Uh, I’ll get you your drink right away. Sorry.” She turned to go.

“Show me your tits.” James was being insolent, but Charlotte let it go. New staff need to be taught a lesson sometimes.

The waitress turned back. She was actually very pretty. “No. Fuck off.”

Pretty and feisty. That was hot, and James became more interested.

“No, really, take off your bra, and let me touch your tits. In fact, if you know what’s good for you, you’ll let me see it all. Otherwise, Charlotte will tell Nick you’re out of here.”

Charlotte sighed. This was too much. “No, I won’t, James. Get a grip. Go get us our drinks, OK?” The waitress hurried away.

James was annoyed. “I want the waitress, Charlotte.”

Charlotte shrugged. “Well, why not go about it the usual way, James? Talk to her for ten minutes, and tell her she’s pretty. It usually works for you, right? Of course, now you’ve got your asshole behavior to overcome, so it might take you half an hour.”

She was watching Taylor. He hadn’t seen her yet. Time to make a move.

She stood up, tousling her hair and smoothing her dress. “Come on, James, come dance with me.” She felt hollow inside, but she couldn’t let anyone see it.

James was sulking. He shook his head.

Charlotte smiled at him. “Come on. We’ll make it so hot the waitress won’t be able to help herself, and she’ll go down on you on the dance floor.”

James smiled. He really was a very simple creature. He stood up, elegant and tall, and took her hand.

The dance floor had been full not a moment before, but somehow it had had one of those sudden shifts, where half the people wander off for a drink. Everyone could see Charlotte and James as they walked on, and since most of the club knew who they were, there was lots of whispering.

Charlotte began to dance sinuously. She knew she looked good, and dancing always turned her on. She and James had actually done this many times before; it was how they’d hooked up. There was something about their chemistry that turned dancing into foreplay. She could feel Taylor watching her now and touched herself, shimmying the silk of her dress over her body until her nipples became hard, clearly visible through the thin fabric. James was moving very close to her, their hips pressed against each other, swinging and moving in time. James took her long hair in one hand and wound it around his wrist, pulling her head back so he could start licking her neck. His other hand curved around her breast, squeezing it and pulling on the already hard nipple until she felt herself growing aroused. The dance floor was clear now, and even the pole dancers were watching. Charlotte suddenly twisted away from James and turned her back on him, making him grab her hips and pull her against him, closing his eyes. Charlotte saw the waitress watching and beckoned her over.

“He’s all yours, love. Enjoy.” She kissed the girl on the mouth, just for fun, and wandered over to Taylor’s table.

Taylor watched her approach, his face hard to read. Stacy Star was an easier book.

“Charlotte Williams, the last time I saw you, you were playing with Legos. You grew up so nicely! My girlfriend wants to eat you all up, don’t you, honey?”

Honey nodded, sucking her finger. “You’re pretty.”

Charlotte smiled at her kindly. “You’re a moron. You should all go away now. I want to talk to Taylor. Go lick each other in the bathroom.”

Stacy started to get pissed off but then shrugged. “Why not? Come on, ladies, I need a touch-up, if you know what I mean.” She giggled, then quickly bent over and snorted two lines of coke that had been hidden behind her drink. Rubbing some on her gums, she stood and swayed a little, pulling the other girls with her.

Charlotte sat down, sweeping the rest of the coke onto the floor with the back of her hand. Taylor started to protest but didn’t bother. Coke was cheap.

“What’s up, Charlotte? Long time no see, baby.”

“It’s only been a year, Taylor. What happened to Phillipa?”

He shrugged. “She started dating a commodities trader with a house in the Bahamas.”

“So now you’re seeing Stacy Fishbein?”

“She doesn’t use that name anymore. I want to work in the music business, you know. She knows people. She’s a hot commodity right now, and she likes me. Why not?” Charlotte said nothing. Taylor lit a cigarette, another new habit. “I graduated, sweetness, and not all of us have Daddy to buy us out of trouble.
I have to work, have to get a career going.”

“Really? I would have thought that was optional.”

He shook his head. “No, I want to work.”

She was surprised. He really didn’t need to. His family was almost as wealthy as hers. She looked at him again. Blond hair to his shoulders, stubble, a face like a model, he still made her ache inside.

And yet. It passed. She felt the attraction suddenly ebbing and thanked whatever higher power had decided to set her free.

As if he could read her mind, Taylor spoke again. “You still make me hot, Charlotte. Come home with us. Stacy throws a mean party, if you know what I mean. I know you like it. We used to ball all night, remember?”

“I remember. But no thanks, Taylor. It’s not worth re-lighting that fire, if you’ll pardon the phrase.”

His smile faded as she walked away. But hers just grew bigger and bigger.

Her father had waited up for her, of course. She dropped her house keys on the hall table and paused, listening.

“The lovely girl, the lovely day …”

She smiled. Her father had a great voice, a secret she kept for him, and singing together was one of their private pleasures. This was a song he’d made up for her as a little girl.

“A perfect time to run and play …”

Charlotte’s voice was not a secret. Singing “Happy Birthday” at the age of five, she had silenced a room. People really listened when she sang, and at first it made her shy and frightened. But when Millie, her beloved nanny, had told her father she really had talent, her father had encouraged her, sent her to the best teachers, and, most of all, loved to listen to her. Her voice was deep, smooth, with the barest hint of a rasp.

“
Daddy’s here, won’t go away …”

Charlotte followed the sound of his voice, finding him, as expected, standing by the fire in his study.

“
And in his arms you’ll always stay.”

They finished the line together, laughing, and Jacob Williams held out his arms. She stepped into his embrace, resting her head on his shoulder, the cashmere of his jacket feeling just as wonderful as it always did. No cigar smoke anymore—she’d made him quit.

He kissed the top of her smooth head and stepped to the sideboard. “Drink?” He topped up his scotch glass, the ice cubes tumbling together.

Charlotte nodded. “A little.”

“Scotch?”

“Brandy.”

He nodded, reaching for the bottle.

She curled up on the sofa, the glass warming in her hands, and smiled broadly at him. At home, she could just be herself.

“So, Daddy, what’s new on the Street?”

He laughed. “Like you have any interest at all.”

She pretended to be offended, kicking her shoes off onto the floor. “Of course I’m interested. Just because I don’t understand it doesn’t mean it’s not interesting. I don’t really get Greek philosophy, but I like to listen to people talk about it.”

“You do?” His look was quizzical. “Bullshit.”

She laughed.

“But since you asked, there was a nice pop in the market today, and quite a few people got very rich.”

“What made that happen?”

He looked into his glass. “I was in a good mood, I sold, I bought, and lo and behold, the market rose.”

“Goodness, what power you wield. Can you do something about world peace? Or, better still, the price of couture?”

He shook his head. “Those things are beyond me. But you don’t need to worry about the price of couture. You got wealthier today by about three million dollars.”

Charlotte paused, about to sip her brandy. “Really? I didn’t even feel as if I was working.”

“You weren’t. I didn’t even have anything to do with it. Your mother set up a fund for you before she died that I can’t even touch. But today it did well, all on its ownsome.”

“Huh, who knew?”

“Colloquialisms, Charlotte? I didn’t send you to Paris to forget to speak English. I sent you there to learn French.”

She ignored him. “What else? Are you seeing anyone?”

He frowned, hard and quick. “No, of course not.”

She frowned back at him, mockingly. “Why not? You’re not too old.”

“I should damn well think not.”

“And you’re still very good-looking.”

“You’re biased.”

“Maybe.” But it was true. Jacob was still handsome. Tall, healthy and fit, superbly dressed, and one of the most powerful men on Wall Street. He’d been featured on the covers of
Time
and
BusinessWeek
and in the party pages of
Vanity Fair
. He attended functions with a variety of actresses and models, some as young as his daughter, but that wasn’t what Charlotte meant. He knew what she meant.

Sighing, he looked her in the eye. “Charlotte, when you are older, you will understand. I believe there are only one or two people in the world with whom one can have a true connection. When you’ve been fortunate enough to find and marry one of those people, you are reluctant to settle for less. One can have lovers, those are easily found, but true love rarely strikes twice.”

Charlotte snorted. “God, Dad, you sound like a Hallmark ad. Why don’t you try going out with women who are closer in age to you than they are to me? Someone you’ll have stuff in common with?”

Jacob stood. “Lord, child, you used ‘stuff’ in a sentence and then ended it with a preposition. I can’t continue this conversation.” But he was smiling.

Charlotte put down her glass and reached for his hand. Jacob pulled her up, held her in the curve of his arm, and started to dance.

She grinned up at him as they moved slowly into the hall, dancing gravely.

“The lovely girl … the lovely day …”

They stopped at the bottom of the stairs, Jacob dipping Charlotte low as they finished the song together. Then he pushed her toward the stairs.

“Go to bed, little one. Get your beauty sleep, not that you need to be any prettier, Lord knows.”

He watched until she was out of sight, then closed his eyes, trying to hold the image. Decisively, he turned and headed back to the study. It was morning in Tokyo, and there really is no rest for the wicked.

Jacob was long gone when Charlotte came down to breakfast the next day. Sipping her latte, she wandered around the apartment.

“Looking for me, Charlotte?” Greta surprised her. She’d caught Charlotte watching the young man she’d seen the day before, who was deliciously bent over, repairing something in the kitchen. “Admiring my new appliances?”

“Is that what you call him?” Charlotte kept her voice low, but Greta raised hers.

“Watch out, Andy, the mistress of the house is after you.”

He straightened, turning around to regard his audience. Broad grin. White teeth. Dark skin.

“You know my heart belongs to you, Greta.”

“I know, but she’s new in town.”

Charlotte protested. “I’m not really new, I’m just back again.”

He shrugged. “Maybe you missed the memo. Young and pretty is out, older and wiser is in.” He grinned at Greta and turned back to work.

Greta walked out, crooking her finger at Charlotte as she did so. They went into the conservatory, with its curving glass walls overlooking Central Park. It was winter still, and the warmth of the room and the tangle of exotic plants felt surreal against the
background of ashen trees below.

“Now, listen here, Charlotte.” Greta had been with the Williams family since before Charlotte was born, and she had become another mother to Charlotte after her own had died. “You keep your hands off Andy. He’s a man, like any other, and likely to get his head turned by you, but he’s happily married, with two small children, and you have no interest in any of that. Leave him alone.”

Charlotte narrowed her eyes. “I have no idea what you mean, Greta.”

The older woman snorted. “Please. I’ve seen the kind of trouble you can cause. Burning down a building was comparatively civilized for you.”