Category: Blog post

Nothing to Hide

March 19, 2021     Scarlett Finn     Sneak peek

 

 

 

ONE

 

 

“People assume that because I own nightclubs, I must be a depraved, perverted playboy living a debauched life.”

Zairn Lomond: playboy extraordinaire. That was the only thing Roxie Kyst knew about him. She was in the Talk at Sunset audience in support of her roommates. They’d saved every spare dime to travel a couple of thousand miles to be in the same room as Lomond for a few minutes.

“And that’s not the case? No debauchery?” Drew Harvey asked his guest. “Zairn, I’m disappointed.”

Zairn Lomond’s arm rose to drape itself along the back of the couch behind the stunning actress sitting at his side. The woman didn’t mind. And why should she?

“Drew,” Lomond said, an arrogant slant to his lips. “You’ve partied with me… Have you ever seen anything debauched?”

Drew Harvey paused. A tight smile teased his lips, damming a laugh. “I plead the Fifth.”

Everyone laughed, Lomond included. “It’s all relative, right? My life isn’t like most others.”

“Like any other,” Drew said.

Led by a vast number of women, the audience had gone crazy when Lomond first appeared. Her friends’ idol had a magnetic kind of ease, she’d give him that. His appeal came in more than just his appearance, he oozed charisma. From that angle, she got why Toria and Jane went cuckoo for him. Not that she’d follow suit.

“Have I seen some wild things?” Lomond said, without disguising his smug nonchalance. “Sure. Have I been a part of some extreme setups? Yeah. That’s life. It’s the life I live.”

“Knox Collier is one of your best friends,” Drew Harvey stated. “The Collier family own a vast percentage of the world’s media.”

“Yeah, you’d think they’d go easier on me,” Lomond said, earning himself another laugh.

“Some might speculate that your Collier connection is exactly why you’re targeted so frequently in the press.” Lomond responded with a slight twitch of his shoulder. “Do you have an opinion on that? Have you considered severing the connection?”

“You think breaking with the Colliers is likely to improve my image in the press?” Lomond asked, shifting to sit straighter. “Look, I’m in the public eye and have connections to some newsworthy people. I chose this life, and everyone is entitled to their opinions. Free speech is our right and sometimes that speech isn’t in my favor. I don’t lose a lot of sleep over it, Drew.”

“You’ve been responsible for some high-profile matches. Unofficially, you’ve been responsible for some famous marriages, got different actors and actresses matched to movies that made their careers and/or earned them Oscars. Same for producers, directors, the whole range. You can make or break a career. It’s said everyone influential owes you a favor… and that you have dirt on hundreds, thousands of people, including those in the business and political worlds.”

“I know people who have dedicated their lives to information gathering. Personally, I don’t bank data.”

“But would it be fair to say?” Drew asked, receiving the same shoulder response as before. “You have power in prominent circles. Know something about everyone from movie extras to presidents.” Little response, just a slow, controlled blink. “You are facilitator to the world’s rich and powerful, right?”

“Crimson venues pride themselves on showing our guests a good time. If someone needs something specific, we’ll find a way to provide it.”

“And with a network like yours, I imagine there’s little you can’t provide. Maybe it’s jealousy. Could that be why the internet is rife with questions about your business and lifestyle?”

“People like to speculate.”

“Yes… especially when there’s a premature death involved.”

A tense, more somber air crackled through the studio.

Jane leaned in to whisper, “He’s talking about Dayah Lynn.”

“Dayah’s passing was a tragedy,” Lomond said. “We mourned her and cooperated with the investigation.”

“Your reputation took a hit after that incident. Is that why you came up with the idea of opening yourself to extreme scrutiny?”

“As much as I’d love to take credit, the contest wasn’t my idea,” Lomond said. “But we at Crimson have nothing to hide.”

The host adjusted his angle to address the audience. “We teased a challenge earlier in the show. One lucky member of our audience will be invited to tour the Crimson network with Zairn as he opens his doors to winners of the Crimson Experience.” Drew looked at Lomond again. “What exactly is the Crimson Experience?”

Offering a snicker, Lomond eased into his arrogance. “It will vary depending on where we are.”

“Contests are running across the world as we speak, aren’t they?”

Lomond nodded. “Yes. Winners will be contacted after the deadline this weekend.”

“But our winner from the audience, he or she will accompany you on the whole tour. It’s what? Three months?”

“Almost three months on the ground. Longer if you factor the travel time. We’ll spend around a week in each city and end right here in LA,” Lomond said, smoothing a hand down his thigh. “A documentary crew will follow the winners as they receive their experience in each city.”

“The documentary will air next year?”

“Yes. The person who wins tonight will be able to direct a supplement to the documentary. Streaming a video diary as often as they want. The world will be able to follow progress and keep up with the news as we travel.”

“Proving you have nothing to hide?”

“And having some good times along the way,” Lomond said, focusing on the host even while the actress wriggled closer.

“It’s an excellent prize,” Drew Harvey said. “Comes with five-star hotels, all expenses paid and an allowance for clothes, hair, make-up, whatever they need.”

“That’s right.”

“And unrestricted access to you and your team.”

On another easy smile, Lomond’s eyes glittered with innuendo. “Unfortunately, there will be some restrictions.”

The host laughed. “Right.”

“But the winner will be involved in our daily briefs and given the VIP treatment at every venue. They’ll also have unrestricted backstage access. They’ll meet the guests—”

“Famous guests?”

“Yeah, whoever we have appearing or who’s in for a good time.”

“No doors closed in their face.”

“No,” Lomond said. “They’ll have complete access and will be invited to contribute to the documentary. They’ll be interviewed for it throughout and after their experience comes to an end. The winner will have full editing rights over their own comments too.”

“Approval before air?”

“Exactly.”

“So nothing can be doctored or manipulated?”

“We have nothing to hide,” Lomond said again.

Nothing to Hide” would be a good title. Except Roxie’s suspicion ticked up the more often it was said. Anyone that adamant and arrogant would believe himself above typical rules. Lomond probably thought the winner would be too star-struck to dig in and ask the hard questions.

Drew Harvey switched to talk to his audience again. “How does that sound?”

The room went wild, further stoking the ego of the man on the couch. He chose that moment to notice the actress. Her breasts were almost squashed against him, it was a miracle he hadn’t noticed her before. Of course Lomond wasn’t repelled by her proximity, he smiled and winked before leaning in to whisper something. The beauty laughed and stroked his arm.

Roxie didn’t get it. Well, she did get it. Both of them were Hollywood hot and knew it too. In their positions of society, there would be few scenarios, if any, where they didn’t get exactly what they wanted.

“As if that wasn’t enough…” Drew Harvey shouted over the audience, calming their cheers. “At the end of the experience, before they return home, the tour prizewinner will receive all secondary prizes given tonight and, as a reward for their hard work, fifty thousand dollars!”

More cheering and clapping. With good reason, the audience dialed it up to eleven. Fifty thousand dollars was a lot of money. Was it bribery? Who wouldn’t give someone a positive review in exchange for that amount of cash?

The host tapped Lomond’s leg to get his attention away from the woman on the couch. The two men exchanged some unheard words and then got up to approach the audience.

“Okay, take a seat! Take a seat!” Drew Harvey called. Roxie hadn’t realized so many people were standing. “It’s unusual for us to do this, bear with us… Every member of our audience will win something tonight. And, believe it or not, the final decision was to do this by the Oprah method. You’ll find an envelope under your seats. Don’t open it!” The audience did as he said. “If you have a red envelope, stand up!”

Jane stood up, excitement shimmering around her. Blazing anticipation was buzzing around the room, upping the temperature of the air.

“Open those red envelopes!” Drew paused for a few seconds. “All of you are the proud owners of a pair of tickets to the Crimson Resort in the Bahamas! Flights and hotel stay included!”

Lots more cheering. Jane dropped into her seat, showing them the glitzy invite.

“Next, gold envelopes, stand up!”

Toria held hers up as she leaped to her feet. The gold prize was a pair of tickets for the grand New Year re-opening of the New York club. According to the host, it had been closed for months undergoing a multimillion-dollar refurb.

Her gregarious roommate was made for that prize. Jane wouldn’t be comfortable getting VIP treatment, not if she was singled-out. In contrast, Toria would lap up any and all attention, in the most fabulous way.

The green envelope holders won a thousand dollars; blue envelopes got masses of merchandise. Next, Drew Harvey told the purple envelope holders to stand. Roxie didn’t hear him say that, it was Toria and Jane nudging and pushing at her that got her up.

The lights on the host and Lomond became more vivid when the audience were plunged into darkness. A spotlight formed over her. Blinded by the brilliant white light, Roxie held up a hand to block its glare.

“The five of you come on down!” Drew Harvey yelled.

Five? Roxie wouldn’t have seen the others on their feet even if she had looked around. Jane jumped up to get out of the way and pulled Roxie onto the stairs, giving her a push to get her moving.

Drew Harvey spoke again, “Stay with us, folks! You’ll find out which of these lucky people are about to have the time of their lives!”

 

 

 

TWO

 

 

Roxie stood on the stairs while Drew Harvey waited on pause, presumably for the commercial break to start.

The lights came up and a woman wearing a headset rushed over to gather the five purple envelope holders.

“Come with me,” Headset Gal said, gesturing at them.

The five followed her onto the set. They wound around cameras, hopped over wires, and dodged people until they came to a side curtain leading into a wide corridor. They hurried along in double-quick time and were funneled into a bright room with white walls and a bunch of computers set up in the middle.

“Sit down and fill out what you can,” Headset Gal said. “You have twelve minutes.”

The woman shuffled out and the door was closed.

Sealed in silence, their quintet looked at each other for a few seconds.

“Jill Alcott,” the brunette opposite Roxie said.

“I don’t think they want us to make friends,” one of the guys said, rushing to seat himself at a computer.

“He’s right,” the other woman said, running to another terminal. “We only have twelve minutes!”

The reminder got everyone moving; her with less impetus. Curiosity won out, so Roxie took her place at a computer to see what awaited on screen. Fifty grand was nothing to sniff at. She wouldn’t mind travelling for a few months either.

The club appealed to a certain extent. At home, she and her girls went to nightclubs all the time. Every week, often more than once. Exclusive extras weren’t required to have a good time. As long as there was music and a good atmosphere, she’d have fun.

No one could see each other’s screens; the monitors had been positioned to ensure that. She guessed they shared the same questionnaire.

Name, age, marital status, occupation, number of children. Easy. Straightforward. Beyond the basic biography stuff, all of the questions were multiple choice. A quick scan revealed that in addition to three or four specific choices, every question had “all of the above” and “none of the above” as optional answers too.

Favorite color? The options were the colors of the envelopes. Roxie went with “all of the above.” Favorite ice-cream flavor and genre of music got the same response.

“Oh my God, it asks for favorite sexual position!” Jill exclaimed.

The men straightened up, encouraged by the inclusion apparently. They exchanged a look before returning to their screens, no doubt to search for the question. Roxie kept going down the list, answering questions as they were numbered.

“What do you think they’re looking for?” Jill asked. “What do the questions mean?”

“It’ll be some scientific thing, like the answers reveal a lot about us,” one of the guys said. “I’m Dale, by the way.”

Roxie didn’t think to respond to him until she noticed he was looking right at her. “I didn’t ask the question,” she said. “Jill did.”

Smiling, he didn’t look away. “Just wanted to introduce myself.”

Creepy, but okay. Weirded out, she drew her attention back to the screen.

“I think we’re supposed to be honest,” the other, more fresh-faced, woman said. “Not try to figure it out.”

“How old are you?” Dale asked. “Are you even legal?”

She did look young.

“Bet Lomond picks her just so he can get in her pants,” Mr. In-A-Hurry said then stood up to offer his hand to Dale. “Ron.”

“Dale,” he said again and shook his hand. “And, yeah, you’re probably right.”

“I’m nineteen,” the gorgeous blonde said. “I’m an adult.”

Just barely. She snorted. Oops, had that come out? Yeah, everyone was looking at her.

Clearing her throat, Roxie returned her focus to the screen.

“If he’s picking based on who he’s sexually attracted to…” Jill said. “Why are we filling out questionnaires?”

“He can’t do that,” Roxie said. “If she was already the winner, they could’ve just spotlighted her and been done with it.”

The others pondered for a minute, so Roxie went back to the questions.

“What’s your name?” Ron asked the young woman.

“Bree.”

“She could be a plant,” Dale said. “Sent in to throw us off.”

“You would do him though, right?” Ron asked Bree. “For fifty grand, I don’t think anyone would say no.”

Roxie was incredulous. “Do you think any studio or show could get away with prostituting the audience?”

Mystifying. Some people were… Surely everyone got to that conclusion on their own.

“We have to get through these questions,” Jill said. “I don’t think we’re supposed to talk to each other.”

“Everything is a test,” Ron said, nodding. “That’s the truth. We live in a reality TV show. Life is reality TV.”

Life was reality, not TV. Dwelling on reality was no fun for anyone. The pursuit of liberty and happiness went hand in hand, but she never worried about being watched or coerced into contrived setups. Pushing out her lips, her eyes slunk left to right. She’d never worried about it until right then anyway.

“It could be the one who answers the most questions wins,” Dale said.

“Or the fewest,” Roxie said to be contrary.

Dale was smiling at her again. Still creepy. The guy could be perfectly nice, completely harmless. But with the creepy smiling, he didn’t stand a chance.

“I bet the resort is amazing. The Bahamas, I’ve always wanted to stay at a luxury resort,” Bree said, pausing to swoon. “Zairn must live an incredible life. Imagine.”

“Endless money,” Ron said. “Endless pussy.”

What else could a man want? Women on the other hand… In her experience, men only wanted their women to have a good time if it suited them. Suited the guy that is, not the woman. Double standard. Her ex, Porter, came to mind.

Continuing with the questions, she ignored the speculation bouncing between the guys and Bree. Risqué conversation didn’t bother her, few things did, but guessing was pointless. Jill was keeping her head down too.

The conversation came to an end when the door opened and Headset Gal leaned in. “You’re done. Hit submit at the bottom and come with me.”

Roxie scrolled down and clicked submit as instructed, then fell in line with the others as they filtered out. Instead of returning the way they’d come, Headset Gal directed them the other way to continue along the corridor.

Nearby voices were muffled. Everyone they passed was silent. Her group went around a curve just as the unmistakable sound of applause rose. Each of the quintet was pushed through curtains into the glare of more bright lights.

The applause died down as her eyes adjusted to the illumination. The purple envelope posse stood at the back of the talk show set flanked by the host to one side and the couch guests to the other.

“Welcome, all!” Drew Harvey said. “We’re going to reveal our winner in one short minute. Our computer geniuses are cracking the numbers as we speak. Zairn, what do you think of the line-up?”

Inscrutable Lomond perused the line. “Some I could work with.”

With no interest in his inspection, Roxie drew her eyes away.

Drew Harvey went to gorgeous Bree first. Shocker. “What’s your name?” he asked, shoving a microphone in the young woman’s face.

“Bree.”

“What would it mean to you if you won, Bree?”

“It would be incredible! Amazing,” Bree said, vibrating with excitement.

Winning would be exciting, so long as it didn’t mean surrendering freewill. Jill seemed like a nice person and Bree would get a lot from the experience. So Roxie decided she was in it for the women to win.

Ron made some joke about being Lomond’s wingman. The audience laughed. Dale nudged her, so she looked up to see him rolling his eyes. And he thought she’d appreciate that? He’d been happy to talk about ogling women with Ron earlier.

“And here it is…” the host said, returning to the side to put the microphone down. He pressed his finger to his ear, probably for effect. “We have a winner. Z, man, you ready for this?”

Drew Harvey tossed a smile his apparent friend’s way, though the playboy didn’t react. Playing it cool seemed to be Lomond’s specialty… when he wasn’t busy flaunting his ego.

“Roxie Kyst!”

Her name. Did he say her name? It flashed on a screen above the band. That was her name. Roxie had won.

Someone hugged her, then someone else.

“Congratulations, Roxie. You’re in for a wild adventure! Our other four finalists do not go home empty-handed. You get all of the other prizes, resort holiday, tickets to the opening night in New York, all the merchandise and one thousand dollars!”

Still in a daze when the embracing ended, Roxie was dumbfounded. Cheering and applause rose. Her ears rang with it as the host thanked his guests and said goodnight.

(C) Scarlett Finn

 

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Lost – Chapter One

November 18, 2020     Scarlett Finn     Sneak peek

 

 

ONE

 

 

I do.

Those were the words the groom was supposed to say.

Bridesmaid Poppy Granger stood behind her sister, wondering why there was a hold up.

For two years, her sister Violet had been planning the wedding of the century. The dream event was the envy of all her friends. Whether married or single, society’s darlings held their breath, waiting for Holden Abernathy, multibillionaire, to say “I do” to Violet Granger.

I do.

It was really simple… so why the hell was the groom just standing there looking at her?

Holden’s gaze flicked away from her to land on his bride. “I’m sorry, Violet,” he said, filled with contrition. “I can’t marry you.”

A collective gasp of horror—mixed with perhaps a little delight—went around the church… Well, it was more like a cathedral in her opinion, though she’d been corrected on that point more than once. The building was huge and ornate. Filling it hadn’t been a problem when there were so many people eager to witness the match happen in real time. No one could’ve predicted the turn of events.

“Wha… what?” Violet asked.

Poppy’s heart went out to her. It couldn’t be easy to be jilted and that was exactly what was happening. Primrose, Poppy’s other sister, grabbed for her arm. They stood there, just two of many bridesmaids her sister had chosen to line up behind her, watching the moment unfold.

Maybe five hundred guests was seeming a little excessive now. She’d said it upon seeing the guest list for the first time. Then she’d shrugged it off. Even Poppy couldn’t have foreseen Holden’s last second change of heart.

“I’m sorry, Violet,” Holden said. “I can’t marry you.”

It took Violet another few seconds to locate her voice again. “You can’t… why not?”

Poppy couldn’t blame her sister for being exasperated. The asshole had plenty of chances to back out of the deal. Choosing that platform, practically on a stage, elevated in front of all their peers… yeah, asshole was an understatement.

“Because I’m in love with your sister.”

Poppy’s eyes widened as another gasp seized the room. Her instinct brought her focus around to Primrose who was staring right back, just as shocked.

“What the hell did you do?” Poppy whispered to Primrose.

Primrose and Violet were known for being competitive, but going for the same guy? Even Poppy wouldn’t have thought it of them.

“Me?” Primrose shrieked. “He’s looking at you!”

Poppy’s head snapped around to find that, yeah, Primrose wasn’t wrong.

“What?” Poppy asked in a burst of shock. “Me?”

“Poppy,” Holden said, stepping around Violet. “For years I’ve been watching you… seeing you bloom into an incredible woman—”

“Whoa,” she said, thrusting her bouquet his way, preventing him from getting too near. “That’s close enough. You’re marrying my sister.”

“No,” he said, shaking his head, a smile tugging at his lips. “How can I do that when I feel this way about you? I didn’t know love could be so… overwhelming. So powerful in its draw. Yes, I should marry Violet, she’s the eldest, the closest thing your father has to an heir.”

“That’s what this was about?” Poppy snapped. “Money?”

“Everything is about money,” someone in the congregation muttered… someone who sounded an awful lot like her grandmother.

“Not with you,” Holden said, trying to come closer again. “With you, it’s all love, it’s all real.”

Poppy thrust the bridal bouquet toward him, pairing it with her own. Violet had handed her the flowers as she reached the altar just a few minutes ago. Her sister’s life had a path then, a glorious, optimistic path.

That path was crumbling fast.

“How could you do this to me?” Violet yelped and dashed up the aisle she’d glided down not too long ago.

Watching the cloud of silk and lace recede down the middle of the room through the sea of gawkers, Poppy was at a loss. Rooted to the spot, she couldn’t move even when the other bridesmaids started to disappear after the bride.

Her father was quick to leap up too. He grabbed for his mother and his wife, giving both of them a push to go after Violet. The room was alive. People were standing up, reaching over each other, talking, speculating.

Poppy just stayed there. Completely stunned.

Someone touched her, tearing her out of the daze. The man with his hand on her arm filled her with anger: Holden. Yanking it away from his entitled grip, Poppy threw the flowers to the floor. She didn’t even think before pulling back her fist and bringing it around to smack that disgusting glow of hope from his smiling face.

Whatever he thought there was to smile about, he was mistaken.

Leaping from her perch, Poppy ran up the aisle, darting around anyone who tried to reach out or get in her way.

There were several rooms off the long vestibule beyond the double doors she burst through. Her grandmother, Marigold Granger, stood outside one.

“Come here,” Marigold said, opening the door and gesturing her over.

She and her grandmother had always been bonded. It bothered her sisters sometimes, but Poppy was grateful for it. Especially then. She’d need an ally.

Poppy assumed her family were inside, except the narrow room was empty, of people anyway. There were tables and chairs and all sorts of other furniture piled up at the back of the space like it was a storage area.

“What are we doing in here?” Poppy asked, spinning around just as her grandmother closed the door. “Where is everyone?”

“This will be a story,” Marigold said, coming over to take her arms. “He’s one of the richest men in the country. And he left his bride at the altar for her sister.”

“Nothing has ever happened between us,” Poppy said, her insistence becoming disgust. “I would never… Holden is Violet’s.”

Even if he wasn’t, Poppy wouldn’t want him.

“Are you sure about that?” her grandmother asked, inspecting her gaze. “Because it seems he’s yours for the taking. If you want him, you have to follow your heart.”

“My…” She exhaled. “Geez, Grammie, of everyone, I would think you would believe me. Why would I want a man like Holden?”

Marigold’s smile was slow. “Just checking you’re still the girl I raised.” Poppy rolled her eyes. “You’ve always been a determined girl. Since you were little. People called you precocious. Some thought you were rude… I always prayed you’d keep that fire; that you would never force yourself into their mold.”

“You do know the money is yours right?” Poppy asked. “That we have all this… the big fancy house, the company, the society, the possessions… because of you.”

“And some say it was my decision to marry your grandfather that sent my mother to an early grave. That mold belongs to the Adlers, not the Grangers.”

Poppy smiled. Her grandmother was born an Adler, but married a Granger, much to everyone’s outrage. The story of her grandparents’ courtship always brightened Poppy’s mood. Her grandfather was the groundskeeper’s apprentice. Dallying with the prestigious Adler family was forbidden for the help, especially back then.

Still, Marigold hadn’t hesitated. She’d followed her heart, going so far as to shun her family to run away with her love. It took years for her to reconcile with the Adler family. Marigold married her love, William Granger, without hesitation and only heard from her mother again after the news of her pregnancy reached the Adler Estate.

“I don’t want to marry Holden,” Poppy said. “I’ve never met anyone I want to marry.”

“And that’s why you have to leave.”

Shocked, Poppy’s mouth opened. “What?”

Marigold kept on smiling. “You’ll make it out there, Tot. You’ll love it.” She sighed and cupped her granddaughter’s face. “You haven’t been happy on the estate for a long time.”

Sometimes Poppy wondered if she ever had been. “Leaving will be a sign of guilt.”

Marigold raised her chin and took both of her hands. “They’ll believe you’re guilty anyway.” A sad truth. “The media. Society. They’ll believe you led him on… It’s not fair, but it’s always the way. It’s always the fault of the female.” Not a truth that Poppy liked to face, though it wasn’t one she could refute. “And your sister will bleed this for all it’s worth.”

It only took her a second to smile. Usually, her grandmother wasn’t so overt in her judgement of the spoiled Violet.

“Father would never let me leave.”

“Your father isn’t here,” Marigold said, letting go of her to remove her own earrings and necklace.

“What are you doing?” Poppy asked when her grandmother put the jewelry in her hands.

Marigold took off her bracelet and gave her that too. “It will get you started. I don’t have any cash and they’ll trace cards.”

“Grammie, I can’t just—”

“Yes, you can,” she said, holding up her hand to show the wedding and engagement rings on her finger. “You come back to me when you find someone worthy of giving this to you.”

“Grammie…”

“It’s okay,” Marigold said, pulling her into a hug. “I’ll take care of what I can here. You need to get away before the circus begins. There’s probably footage from inside.” Damnit, maybe she should’ve thought about that before punching Holden. “You call though… I won’t tell your parents, your siblings… You call me as soon as you stop somewhere. Don’t hesitate to call if you’re in trouble. If you need something and not—”

“Grammie,” Poppy said, leaning away from their hug. “Thank you.”

Someone had to cut the bonds that were pulling her down, dampening her spirit. Somehow, her grandmother had seen that and was freeing her. It was a debt Poppy wouldn’t be able to repay anytime soon.

“Take risks,” her grandmother said, drawing her into another hug. “Don’t be afraid to jump in, to throw yourself into anything that excites your heart and soul. Grab those chances with both hands. You have to risk your heart to love the way you deserve… It’s supposed to hurt. Let it reach down deep inside of you.”

Poppy wasn’t so eager to find love. Her grandparents’ relationship was a great love. Since his death, her grandmother hadn’t looked at another man and had never taken off her rings. When she’d been a little girl, hearing her grandmother’s stories of them together, Poppy had made a promise to never, ever even consider marriage unless she loved like that.

It had never happened. She didn’t hold out much hope that it would. But she did want to be free of her family’s constraints. To live life, to experience something that wasn’t Granger dictated. To be someone other than the youngest Granger sister. Could she make it on her own? Stand on her own two feet? Being out there alone was the only way to find out.

Poppy could hear the rumble of the gossip mill getting going when she left her grandmother alone. Her family were in one of the other rooms. She could seek them out if she wanted to, but that would mean giving up the opportunity to be free. It would also mean facing whatever society and the media wanted to throw at her. And Poppy couldn’t be sure that Violet would be open to listening to reason.

Pausing to look back toward the altar, she saw Holden up there, on the phone, his back to the masses. Turning the other way, to the door into the world, Poppy made her choice: it was time to go.

Her grandmother’s jewelry was still in her palm, so she was grateful her dress was tea-length and not catching at her feet. Though the full tulle skirt made her easy to spot, which was a downside. Especially if the media got in before she got out.

Getting outside was only half the battle. The grounds of the church stretched in every direction; it was a long walk just to get back onto the main road. Walking that way would probably lead her straight into the path of the press who’d be racing for the scoop.

As far as she knew, there was security around the perimeter keeping the picture hounds out. But would they be able to control the inside and outside simultaneously? People from the congregation would have cameras on their phones. Their tale would fetch so much more if there were pictures, or video, to go with it.

On arrival, cars could draw up to the front of the building. They then looped around to park in a side parking lot. Near to that area, a few guys were mulling around.

Clutching the jewelry, Poppy started toward them. “I need a ride.” The guys stopped talking to look her way. “Please, can anyone take me away from here?”

They all looked at each other, but no one was quick to step forward. Figuring there might be someone in the actual parking lot more receptive to helping, Poppy didn’t let their lack of a response slow her down. There were a whole bunch of cars parked around there, someone had to be interested in helping her.

The men, who still hadn’t said a word, parted to allow her through their huddle. Determined, just like her grandmother said, Poppy held onto her fire and forged on. She was right that there were others around the side of the building. Those closest appeared much the same as the group she’d seen around front. Realizing that the men in suits and uniforms would be in the permanent employ of the socialites, they’d be unlikely to risk their positions, and their regular income, for her. So she cast her attention elsewhere. At the other end of the parking area was a group of slightly less tailored individuals.

Setting her sights on them, Poppy strode down the golden gravel to approach. As she got closer, she registered two men and two women. One of the guys was smoking and the younger of the two women was sitting on top of a short statue by a wooden door.

As Poppy approached, all of them stopped talking to look at her. Rather than the blank expressions of the other men, these people seemed wary.

“Hello,” she said, hoping confidence and a smile would go a long way. “I need some help.” She stopped walking, but didn’t receive any acknowledgement. “I need a ride out of here.”

“You the one screwing the groom?” the older of the two guys asked.

“No,” Poppy said, reminding herself that a groan wouldn’t ingratiate her. “Definitely not doing that… Can someone give me a ride?”

Glancing at the vehicles nearest to them, she noticed a small wooden sign driven into the grass at the edge of the gravel, which stated “employee parking.”

“Where you headed?” the guy asked.

“Anywhere,” she said. “Doesn’t matter.”

“Well, we’ve got work to do here,” he said. “You hang around a few hours and we’ll—”

“No,” she said. “I really need to go now…” Hesitating, she caught her lip in her teeth as she considered the options. “I can pay you.”

The guy’s brows went up and he looked around at the others. “Yeah? What you gotta pay with?”

No cash, if that’s what he was hoping. The diamonds of her grandmother’s jewelry dug into her palm. Instead of giving them the exquisite gems, she shook her head to highlight the sparkle of her earrings.

“Take me to the nearest pawn shop, you won’t be disappointed.”

The older guy prodded the younger one. “Keep an eye on things. I’ll be back later.”

She had a ride. Progress. Even if it was slow, Poppy had to appreciate every increment. One step at a time was the only way she’d get through.

 

(C) Scarlett Finn

 

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Go With It – Chapter O..

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