Sinners & Saints (Sinners & Saints #1) (21 page)

           
“It’s
a waste of time. Mrs. Grabale’s sixth husband is under investigation for tax
evasion. She doesn’t have it.”

           
“She
never has it,” Ms. Eleanor says. Her face contorts, staring at the painting
once they reach a hundred fifty thousand. “And Andy was an obnoxious pompous
aristocrat. If it weren’t for me, her second and third husband would have never
been the senator and an Oscar winning actor.”

           
Jordana
leans in and whispers. “She slept with both too.”

           
“I’ll
let her have this one.” We watch as Ms. Eleanor refuses the painting and Mrs.
Grabale gleams in victory when announced the winner.

           
“Really?”
Jordana questions Ms. Eleanor, shocked.

           
“You
never let her win,” Poppy says.

           
I
watch as Ms. Eleanor and Mrs. Grabele exchange looks of shockingly respect.

           
“Us
women, no matter how crude we are with one another, we must always remember
that we have two enemies in common.”

           
The
three of us look at each other confused, then back at Ms. Eleanor waiting for
her to answer.

           
“Men,”
she sighs, still staring off. “And old age.”

           
That
sounds about right.

In the next room, the hosts of the
auction have pâté’s and drinks being served. We wait while Ms. Eleanor gives information
on where to send the works of art she won.

           
“So,
who’s hosting this?” I ask Poppy and Jordana.

           
“The
Manhattan Women’s Elite,” Jordana says.

           
I
smile to myself. “Oh yes, every place has an elite of the finest. My mum’s head
of London’s.”

           
“Yeah,
every housewife of a politician or CEO strives to be one of them. I honestly
don’t get it. So glad my mother’s a feminist.”

           
“Darlings,
are you ready?” Ms. Eleanor asks us.

           
“Yes,
I’m starving for real food,” Poppy says and I agree.

           
We
head for the exit but stop in our tracks once Ms. Eleanor squeals. “Noel!” She
wraps her arms around the guy in a tan suit. He has brown hair that’s long as
it curls around the back of his neck. He looks to be twenty-four or
twenty-five.

           
“Hi,
Ms. Eleanor.” He seems very happy to see her. This must be Noel Rochester.

           
“Are
you back from medical school?” she asks him.

           
“Yes,
I am.”

           
“Do
you remember Jordana?”

           
“Yes,”
he says staring at her. “From high school and Poppy too.”

           
Poppy
and Jordana both greet him.

           
“Oh
and this is Juliet Spears. Juliet, this is Noel Rochester. He was one of my
children from when Scarlett and Hugo’s brother were there.”

           
The
mention of their names causes something to shift in Noel’s eyes as he smiles at
me.

           
“You
were friends with Scarlett and Gabriel Mandrake?” I ask, nosy as usual.

           
“Yes,”
he hesitates. “We were living together.”

           
“I
met Scarlett,” I tell him. I just want to see his reaction.

           
“She’s
back?” he chokes out the question.

           
“Yeah,
engaged,” Jordana informs him. I’m guessing she’s noticing the same behavior.
“Juliet is staying in her old room.”

           
He
nods his head. “Well, Juliet, I can honestly vouch that you are staying with a
wonderful woman.”

           
“Oh,
Noel,” Ms. Eleanor pinches his cheek. “You were always such a sweet boy.”

           
“I
have to go
—
my mother
is waiting on me, but Ms. Eleanor it’s lovely to see you again. Sorry I lost
contact after I left.”

           
“It’s
alright. Hopefully we’ll meet again soon.”

           
“Maybe,”
he says doubtfully and quickly leaves.

           
“So
that was Noel,” I say to them as we walk out.

           
“Yep,
he had already left when I got there,” Jordana answers. “But apparently
reformed himself.”

           
“Noel
was always a fine boy, but unfortunately Scarlett never likes to be alone in
her despair,” Ms. Eleanor says.

           
“So
what changed him?” I ask.

           
“Gabriel,”
Ms. Eleanor sighs. “My heart weeps at the mention of him, but Noel took it very
hard.”

           
“They
must’ve been close then,” I say.

           
We
decide to have lunch at a French restaurant called Le Marc.

           
“So,
Jordana, why did you move to Ms. Eleanor’s?” I ask.

           
“Before
they got divorced, I traveled around the world with my parents. I lived in
Tokyo, Milan, and France before finally settling in the States. My dad loves
L.A. He’s from there. My mom hated it along with the groupies he brought to the
studio. He and my mom got divorced. She moved us to New York, but my mom has
the heart of a gypsy so she can’t stay in one place for so long. I just wanted
to stop. Stay somewhere, live a normal life. Well as normal as I could get.”

           
“I
met Jordana’s mother through Poppy’s mother,” Ms. Eleanor tells me.

           
“They
were in the same modeling agency back in the day,” Jordana says.

           
“What
about you Poppy?” I ask.

           
“They
live in L.A too. I personally love New York better, so Mommy dropped me off
here during Fashion Week.”

           
“How
was the high school here?”

           
“Welsh
Academy was your usual well-educated institution.” Jordana rolls her eyes.
“When I got there, the school was still in mourning.”

           
“Mourning?”

           
“Karlie
Dale. She was long gone when Hugo and I got there, but she was a good girl.
Scholarship student. Beautiful, well-loved because of how nice she was.
Apparently though she tried some cocaine for the first time and overdosed.”

           
“Jesus,”
I say taking a sip from my water.

           
“Yeah,
it was a huge scandal. She survived and I heard her mom sent her to live with
family in Ohio. Then the Gabriel thing happened, but people weren’t too sad
about Gabriel Mandrake’s death.”

           
“I
was,” Ms. Eleanor says, her lip poked out. “Gabriel was a nice boy too. Just
sad all the time and sadness attracts the malevolent.”

           
“You
mean Scarlett?” I ask her, narrowing my eyes.

           
“Of
course, Lady Macbeth at her best,” Jordana smiles.

           
“How
did Scarlett come to live with you, Ms. Eleanor?”

           
“Oh,
I remember the day well. It’s a day I’ll truly regret.” Ms. Eleanor speaks in a
happy tone, but she is serious. “Her mother brought her right after her
father’s death. She was a… dark lovely. She was a little girl that clearly
possessed darkness in those grey eyes. If it wasn’t for her blonde locks, some might
have seen it easily. She and Noel were the first. Then came Chad and Gabriel. I
am a woman of wonder and my wonder stirs away from the children. I can’t help
it. I had no control over Scarlett’s influence over the boys. She was born to
capture every man she came across. Women like that are rare and for a reason.”

           
“Something
should have made her like that. No one is born to be that cruel,” I suggest.

           
“You
are right, my dear.”

           
“So
what made Scarlett that way?” I ask more myself wondering.

           
“Good
question,” Poppy says twirling her hair.

           
“Why
a man, of course,” Ms. Eleanor answers, giggling and sipping her Bloody Mary.

SCARLETT

I buzz the doorbell on the shitty
intercom.

I stare at the barely red door with
chipped paint on it, waiting for it to open and let me in away from this
horrible Godforsaken city… Brooklyn.

           
“What
do you want?” the jagged voice speaks through the intercom.

           
I
slowly grin. “Hello Chad.”

           
Not
a second goes by before the alarm sounds for me to enter. I walk up the cold
steps to the second floor of this foul smelling building. Number 2C opens up
and I view the strung out eyes of Chad Michelson, one of my former devotees,
and his eyes still scream love as I walk up to him in my white Vera Wang dress
and black Chanel sunglasses. I remove them and smile.

           
“Miss
me?”

           
He
glares, his jaw twitching. “Bitch.”

           
“I
take that as a yes.” I brush past him and let myself into his one bedroom
apartment that hasn’t been clean in months. I see three vials of cocaine on his
coffee table along with six empty beer bottles. The blinds are barely hanging
from his windows and the walls are as badly chipped as the outside door. His
only furniture is a dirty green couch covered with burnt cigarette holes and
unorthodox stains and a brown coffee table in front of it. There is definitely
nowhere for me to sit.

           
“Your
parents really did cut you off, huh?” I say as he sits on his disease infested
couch. Dust spills out once he lands on it.

           
“My
dad won’t give me any money outside of rent until I get clean,” he says cutting
down a line on the broken glass mirror. He grins up at me. “Want some? It’s
pure, just the way you like it.”

           
“No
thanks.” I haven’t done a line of coke in over two years. I miss it, but it’s
never worth it. I can’t become like Chad. Chad Michelson used to be gold.
Blonde hair, bright blue eyes and a smile that could light up a room, but
behind that smile stands a dark soul
—
the same as
mine. He’s just more reckless. He does too many drugs, drinks too much tequila,
and talks too much shit to his father, a man who controls his fate.

           
“When
did you get back?” He rubs his nose after a hit.

           
“A
week ago. My fiancé and I.”

           
He
stops what he’s doing and stares up at me, his face contorted and ill. “Finally
getting all that you wanted, huh?”

           
“Come
on, Chad, you and I were never in the cards.”

           
“No.”
He stands up. “Even before, it was always you and Gabriel. Well, that was until
he fucked you over. Precious Gabriel, a disappointment to the almighty
Scarlett. All life was ruined until his fucktard of a brother arrived.”

           
“Still
angry at Hugo for succeeding at what you failed to do?”

           
“What
is that?”

           
“Gain
my adoration.”

           
 
“No, he gained your tit to suck milk out
of.”

           
I
shrug. “You still had the other one.”

           
He
chuckles and lights a cigarette. “So what do you want?”

           
“You
still handy with a camera?” I ask.

           
“Yes,”
he answers rubbing his temples.

           
“You
still need a lot of money?”

           
He
arches his brow, smiling at me. “More than you know.”

           
“Still
a son of a bitch without regard for anyone?”

           
He
bites his lip. “Till the day I die.”