Starr Gone Read online

  The back of Grandmother’s head reminds me of coiled snakes ready to strike. “You’ll find your room exactly how you left it. Well,” she laughs, “except for the bedding and the closet. I had a personal shopper pick out some things for you. In a few days, we’ll fly to New York for a shopping spree. You can shop until your heart’s content and then some.”

  At this point, Jody Lynn is positively dying with anticipation. All her dreams about dressing me up like a Barbie doll are about to come true. As for Samantha, well Samantha wants to stab me in the back and rip out my throat.

  “You’ll find the bathroom fully stocked with the very best beauty products. There’s a mini-fridge in the closet. If there’s anything else you might need, just ring the bell. All right, here we are,” she says, swinging the door open and stepping back.

  I swallow. A flood of memories comes rushing back at me. Mom. Dad. Past lives. New lives. Broken hearts. I don’t know how much longer I can keep up this charade. I step into the past. Ten years to be exact. The model horses still on the shelf. My show ribbons still hanging on the wall. My Victorian dollhouse still perfect.

  “I guess I’ll have the staff set up extra cots in the room. It’ll be a little cramped, but I guess for now, we can make it work.”

  I glance around the twenty-five foot by twenty-five foot room. Team Asshole steps around me. Cramped is the least of my worries.

  “The comforter, sheets, and pillows are new. Daphne, my personal shopper, said they had a teenage vibe.”

  I wish Di was here. She would have punched Grandmother by now.

  She claps as she spins in a slow circle. “I can’t believe you’ll be living here!”

  The four-poster king-sized bed with a sheer canopy hanging down is from every girl’s fairytale room except mine. For me, it’s out of a nightmare.

  “You’ll find the sitting room provides a lovely view of the front gardens. My seamstress made new curtains and covers for the window seat.”

  Seamstress. Of course. Everyone has a seamstress.

  As much as I’d like to begrudge Grandmother, I can’t resist the possibility of any view of the outside world. I finger the fine pillows as I stare out the window past the gardens, past the gate, and into the woods. It’s only in the distant trees that I find some semblance of peace.

  Someone grasps my arm. My heart leaps in my throat as I tug away and tuck into a defensive position. There is no one in this room I want to be touched by. No one in this room I want anywhere near me. “Jessica dear,” Grandmother says in the admonishing tone I remember as a child when I didn’t wash my hands after eating Bee Buzz Sticks or when one of the guests had the gall to wear white after Labor Day. “No reason to be so jumpy. No one is going to hurt you.”

  My eyes catch Samantha’s. The hint of laughter there suggests quite the opposite.

  “Now come,” she says, reaching for my hand. I fold mine behind my back. She and I will not be of the handholding variety. She tsks. “No matter. Come see the closet.”

  She leads me down a short hallway and into another room. Yes, room.

  Floor to ceiling shelving and hanging storage fills the space. I step backward. I think it might be faster to have Samantha kill me now. The “few” items Grandmother had her buyer purchase take up seventy-five percent of the closet, including most of the wall of shoes. I trail a finger along the tips of the ballet slippers and wedges and other shoes I don’t even have a name for. There’s not one flip-flop, not one sneaker.

  “Jessica Darling, isn’t it grand?”

  I nod. If I open my mouth, I will vomit.

  “I will leave you to yourself. A maid will bring up tea and biscuits at four. She’ll help you dress for dinner. Hors d’oeuvres will be served at six, followed by the main course. Oh, and here’s the bell,” she says, pointing to a pull string with a silver bell attached to it. “Ring it if you need anything.”

  Without any attempt at a parting embrace or pat on the head or general feeling of love, she leaves, shutting the door behind her. Most likely, she’s decided to retreat to her own space to recover after the “trying” meeting this afternoon. I flop down on the window seat and realize the dress doesn’t allow flopping or comfortably sitting or much of anything including breathing.

  The thought of reentering the closet makes me want to stab my eyes out. I doubt there’s one pair of yoga pants and let alone a t-shirt. I should ask Jody Lynn to find me something. As one of my personal attendants, it’s her duty to ensure my comfort, but she’d enjoy the opportunity too much. I haven’t forgiven her for what she did with Christian.

  With a sigh, I reenter the torture chamber Grandmother has contrived for me. Overhead lights flood the room upon my entrance. Flicking on a light on one’s own is such a bother.

  On every hanger, there’s a dress or linen shirt or some other expensive piece of fabric someone with a twisted sense of humor labeled clothing. I rifle through the drawers and dressers. My previous suspicions are confirmed. Not one article of daywear that would pass as remotely comfortable. Nightwear will have to do.

  I slip out of my dress. At this point, I am beyond caring if Jude and Thomas are around—I’m on exhibit 24/7 anyway. May as well get the formality of clothing out of the way. I slide into the silk pajama bottoms and tug on a camisole.

  “What are you doing?” Jody Lynn gasps.

  “What does it look like I’m doing?” I snap as I pass her on my way back to the window seat.

  “It’s three o’clock in the afternoon. You can’t wear that.”

  I smile at her. “Watch me.”

  She glances at Samantha, then back at me. “You do plan on getting changed for dinner though. Right?”

  “I don’t plan on going to dinner at all.”

  She gasps. “Jessica, you have to.”

  “First of all, I am not Jessica, and second, what are they going to do—lock me away in a room? Oh wait, they’ve already done that.”

  “Be reasonable, Starr,” Jude says.

  He’s not going to fool me with his reasonableness. I jump up from my seat and stalk over. If it’s a fight they want, it’s a fight they’re going to get. “Like I’m going to take advice from a traitor,” I snap.

  He holds his ground. “I’m not the one who cheated on you.”

  And with that remark, the burden of the day crashes down around me and I remember who I am and what I’ve lost, along with the startling realization, Starr is gone.

  Chapter Thirty-Nine

  Starr

  Hiding behind the silk canopy, I almost feel like I’m alone. I almost feel like I can pretend I’m here by choice, like I can leave at any time. Fortunately, I never delve in the realm of fantasy for long. I know all too well that just on the other side of the thin sheet of fabric there lie four individuals assigned to guard me.

  No one has said a word all morning. Not to me. Not to each other. Treadwell’s orders I’m sure.

  I can imagine him reviewing their assignment. “Do not speak unless spoken too.” With four recruits seeking to remain in his good favor, any loyalty to one another disappeared with the promise of advancement. He’s conditioned them like Pavlov’s dogs, and I’m the chew toy.

  With a quick burst, I jump out of bed. No declarations of wakefulness. No announcement that I’ve decided to begin my day. Jody Lynn and Samantha are conditioned though. They follow me into the bathroom, their heels clicking on the tile. Heels must be all the rage for wanna-be Black Widows.

  My stomach rumbles, reminding me I’ve skipped several meals the past few days. I consider skipping the next one in protest of my imprisonment, but I’m starving, actually starving. On my way out of the bathroom, I glance through the shoes on the off chance Grandmother bought me a pair of slippers, but of course, she didn’t. Proper Southern ladies must not wear slippers, and since I wasn’t provided with comfortable footwear, I’m not going to wear any footwear at all. See what Grandmother thinks about that.

  I slip through my bedroom and out the d
oor.

  “You’re not planning to go down to breakfast in that,” Jody calls out. I can hear her heels click, click, click across the wood floor.

  I stop and furrow my brow at her. “I guess I’m not the only one who doesn’t really know their friends at all.”

  “Jessica,” she starts. I freeze over. My hands tighten into fists. I step in front of her. She shuffles backward. Thomas and Jude shift around and position themselves between us. Samantha glares at me over Jody Lynn’s shoulder. “Starr, you can’t eat breakfast with your grandparents in your pajamas and bare feet. Let me help you find something adequate to wear.”

  “Adequate? I’ll give you adequate,” I say, pushing my way through.

  Jude places a hand on my shoulder to stop me. “Starr, don’t.”

  I shrug him off. “Listen to me. I will wear what I want to, and there is nothing you can do about it.” I charge at her but Thomas and Jude stop me. “And if you call me Jessica one more time, I will smash your makeup-caked face in.”

  Her eyes widen. She glances at Samantha. Samantha narrows her eyes at me, but her dimple pops out. I hate that she enjoys this. I hate that she’s turning me into what Treadwell wants me to be.

  I twist out of Thomas and Jude’s grasp and stomp down the hall, bare feet and all, to the breakfast room.

  Grandfather’s at his usual spot at the head of the table with the Wall Street Journal. In front of him, predictably is a plate of dry toast with black coffee. Sugar would be wasted on his sour disposition. Grandmother sits opposite him with a plate of sweet breakfast pastries and creamy coffee. Sugar’s been wasted on her. She looks up and smiles. “My dear Jessica, how did you sleep last night?”

  “Grand.”

  She gasps as she notices my attire. I should remind her that she’s forgotten her charm school lessons. “What are you wearing?”

  I tug out a chair and plop down. “My pajamas.”

  Grandfather lifts his head. She glances over at him. She smooths out her napkin on her lap. She pats her curls.

  That’s it, Evelyn. Remember your lessons.

  “I will assist you after breakfast to select something appropriate to wear for our afternoon tea with Jerry White and his son.”

  I snort, before shoveling some eggs into my mouth. “I’m not having tea with anyone.”

  Grandfather smacks the newspaper against the table. “Jessica, when your grandmother or I am speaking to you, I expect you to sit up and pay attention. Do not slump over your plate of food like some common person. You come from a long line of excellent breeding. I expect you to start acting that way. Do you understand?”

  I shrug my shoulders. I might be forced to live here, but they can’t possibly expect me to act accordingly.

  “I can’t hear your head shake young lady. Answer me.”

  “I understand perfectly. Look pretty. Sit still. Don’t speak. That about sum it up?”

  He pushes up from the table. “Young lady,” he says.

  “Horace,” Grandmother says, “may I handle this situation?”

  “Very well, but Jessica, I am well aware of the punishments Treadwell has in mind for you, and though at the moment I do not plan to follow him up on his proposition, I will if necessity warrants it.”

  Like that’s supposed to scare me. Try having Naomi work on you for a few hours.

  “Evelyn, I will be in my study if you need me.”

  “Thank you dear, we’ll be fine. Isn’t that right, Jessica?” she says. I could take her fake sugary sweetness and cover my toast with it.

  “Yes, Grandmother.”

  “See?” she says to him. He grunts and leaves the room. When he’s gone, she turns to me. “Jerry White and his son will be joining us this afternoon for tea. Your attendants here will make sure you join us. If you do not, if you disappoint me in any way, you will beg me to send you back to that awful man for discipline in place of what punishment will meet you here.”

  Aw yes, the Red Queen has returned. I knew she was hiding beneath the surface. Long live the Queen.

  She smiles at me. “Well, now,” she says, but instead of “off with her head,” she says, “Jerry can’t wait for you two to meet. If you started dating, you would be the most divine couple.” She fans her hand to her chest and I lose my appetite. “Dear, would you like some jam?”

  “No, thank you, ma’am.”

  Chapter Forty

  Starr

  After my bowlful of Grandmother’s threats, I don’t feel like doing much of anything. I certainly don’t feel like sitting around in my room all day either. I wander the halls for hours, not really paying attention to where I’m going or what I’m doing. My guards are always in tow. They are always two steps behind me. Without meaning to, I find myself in the library.

  I finger the chaise lounge, remembering my last visit. Dad granted my wish once, maybe he’ll do it again. Aware that my guards are watching my every move, I sweep my gaze around the room, careful not to stop at the ladder, or the bookshelf, or the secret passage.

  “You can wish all you want,” someone says behind me. I won’t give him the satisfaction of turning to face him. “You won’t be escaping out of this room again.”

  “Who let you in?”

  “Why your grandmother of course. She voiced some of her concerns over your behavior.”

  She plays her hand close to her chest, doesn’t she?

  He steps up beside me. He reeks of stale cigar. I suppose last night was cause for celebration, at least for him. Cubans, no doubt. “Of course, your friends here also keep me abreast of what’s going on.”

  I step away from him. “They are no friends of mine.”

  “Would you prefer your old boyfriend? I’m sure we could arrange that.”

  Don’t rise to the bait Starr.

  Don’t do it. He doesn’t have Christian. He would be gloating if he did.

  He curls his hand and studies his squared off nails. “Did you happen to read the Asheville paper today?”

  Don’t do it Starr.

  Don’t.

  “No? You should. There was an unfortunate accident about fifteen miles from the ranch the other day. Terrible business. No survivors.”

  Don’t do it Starr.

  Don’t.

  “I know all about your unfortunate ‘accidents,’” I hiss and brush past Samantha and Jody Lynn.

  “Enjoy your tea this afternoon,” he calls out. I can hear the laugh in his voice. The pure joy. The taste of victory he thinks is his.

  We’ll see about that, General. I stomp out of the room, but the effect of bare feet is nowhere nearly as intimidating as I would like it to be.

  “Oh good, you’re here!” Grandmother exclaims from down the hall. I gather all the air around me to persuade myself to wait for her. She called Treadwell, and I’d sell an eighth of my soul to avoid any interaction with him ever again. “I wanted to help you get ready. Jessica! You’re still in your pajamas and you don’t have any shoes on!”

  I might make it my mission to see how many times a day I can make Grandmother forget her training.

  “A lady wears shoes. You want to be a lady, don’t you?”

  I laugh. “No, I don’t.”

  She clutches her chest and stumbles backward.

  Yes, I think it will be fun to violate her Southern upbringing.

  “There are no shoes without a heel. If I have to stay here, I need adequate footwear and comfortable clothes.”

  “Young lady,” she gasps.

  Yep, I did it again.

  “We do not dress in comfortable clothing. We are not scum. We are not trash. We entertain guests. We go to parties. We have tea. We do not dress common. The clothing in your closet reflects the lifestyle we live.”

  “There’s not even a pair of sneakers for running.”

  She tugs my arm to lead me into my room. “Jessica dear, I will buy you a dozen pair of sneakers if you only wear them in the gym. Sneakers are not worn outside in public unless it’s a charity
event. We are American royalty. Politicians, celebrities, and well-known wealthy people want to rub our elbows. We don’t dress like...like...them,” she says, sweeping her well-moisturized palms in the direction of Samantha and Jody Lynn.

  Jody Lynn’s cheeks turn pink. Samantha clears her throat, careful not to scowl.

  The old Starr would be indignant that her grandmother dared to insult another human being’s dress. The new, badly damaged model doesn’t feel so bad, especially when said insults are directed at friends who stabbed her in the back.

  “Now, never mind all this nonsense. Let me ring for my assistant to put on your makeup and help you get dressed.” She pushes a button in the hallway to my room.

  Oh, now I understand. This morning when she said she’d help me select something to wear, she actually meant her assistant would help me.

  Right, we don’t want too much personal interaction with our playthings.

  “That won’t be necessary. I can get myself ready.”

  She glances at me doubtfully.

  “I can do it,” Jody Lynn volunteers.

  Grandmother observes Jody Lynn as if for the first time. She scrutinizes her, from her head to her toes. Jody Lynn squirms under Grandmother’s attention, but she manages not to fidget with her fingers. “I’ll let you,” Grandmother says. “If you mess up, there’s always time to redo her.”

  Quite the confidence builder, isn’t she?

  “I don’t need any help,” I snap.

  Grandmother pinches her lips as she nods. “Jessica dear, you do. Your mother denied you the life you deserved. Why do something if someone else can do it for you? Let’s see what this girl can do. She can actually earn her way.”

  She actually wants to earn my closet.

  “You there. What’s your name?”

  “Jody Lynn, ma’am.”

  “Well Jody Lynn, consider this your one and only audition. I’ll stop over in one hour to assess the results.”

  I glare at Jody Lynn and stalk into the bathroom. She rushes in behind me and pulls out the enormous makeup bag Naomi gave me. She starts putting things on the counter. She nods her head up and down as if satisfied with the results all ready.