Coffee—some people drink it so that it gives them a much-needed jolt, I drink it so that I can relax. That’s why I’m sitting at Rue 57 right now, a cup of coffee in my hand. Yeah, don’t you think that I came here because I’m not worried about everything that’s happening with Magnus’ company.
It’s just that I can’t help him at the office; Joyce is pretty much all the help he needs, and I’m not doing a favor to myself by becoming a nervous wreck. I figured I needed some fresh air and took a taxi here, in the hopes that a warm cup of coffee would help me see things more clearly.
I need to do something, you know? This whole situation is insane. The scandal my mother created is costing Magnus an arm and a leg, and all that devastation isn’t pretty. Magnus has been awake for close to 48 hours now, his cellphone glued to his ear as he tries to patch every small disaster happening every five minutes or so. His company is losing contracts left and right, and now word got out that the Committee in charge of overseeing the Equinox Tower project has decided to reevaluate Magnus’ involvement.
And if Magnus loses the Equinox deal… Well, I don’t even want to think about it. If the city manages to crush that deal, then logic follows that every deal Magnus’ company has with the city is at risk. If the Equinox deal goes up in flames, Magnus’ company is going to turn into a large pile of ashes.
I can’t let that happen. I have no idea what a journalist just out of college (and out of a job at that) can do to help a business tycoon currently fighting a vicious mayor, but there has to be something. Right? Please, please, give me some encouragement, because this picture is a pretty bleak one.
I’ve talked with Magnus and Joyce about holding a press conference and denying the Daily Journal's’ article, but Joyce advised me against it. The scandal is still fresh on people’s mind, and having me talk to the public would be like pouring gasoline on top of a raging fire. Besides, Magnus forbade me from doing it; he told me it was because a press conference like the one I had in mind would do nothing for his comp
any, but I know that it was because he doesn’t want to see me being ripped to shreds by the press.
This is chaos. Absolute chaos. And it all happened because I was a naive girl who believed I could serve justice to a man I didn’t even know. Look where that got me, huh? The man I love is facing financial ruin, and… and then there’s the child I’m carrying inside my belly.
I lay one hand on top of my belly, absent-mindedly caressing my still unnoticeable lump, and that’s when I notice a shadow falling over me.
“How many weeks are you?” I hear a feminine voice say, and I turn my head around to see a woman I’ve never met before. She isn’t much older than me, not yet in her thirties, and there’s an easy-going aura around her, almost as if she had reached the pinnacle of happiness. She’s wearing an expensive dress, one that compliments the curves of her body, and she looks like she stepped out from a cover magazine. Which, of course, makes a lot of sense; I’ve already seen her face in the cover of a magazine.
“Natalie Trask…!” I whisper in disbelief, my jaw hanging open, and she just smiles and sits across the table.
“How many weeks?” she asks me again, gently smiling and waving at my belly.
“How did you…?”
“I’ve been where you are. Penny, isn’t it? And you have that ‘distressed mother’ look, you know?”
I look at her, having no idea what to say, and let my hand fall from my belly. This is Natalie Trask, and I don’t really have nice things to say about anyone with the Trask name. Did Laurel send her? And how did she even find me here?
“Don’t worry, Penny, I have nothing to do with Laurel. She might be my husband’s sister, but that doesn’t mean I get along with her. In fact, you might say we butt heads more often than not,” she says, and I can’t help but trust her. She was involved in a pretty big scandal of her own two years ago, where she got involved with Parker Trask, the mayor at the time. They plunged the city into chaos, but she stood by the man she loved right until the very end.
“I’m sorry, I… I don’t understand,” I finally manage to say, remembering not to let my mouth hang open.
“Well, don’t hate me, but I asked Parker for some help and he pulled a few strings so that I could find you here,” she says, and my mouth hangs open once more. Why would Natalie Trask be looking for me? “Look, I know my sister-in-law, and I’ve been in your shoes before. I can’t simply stand aside and let Laurel have her way. Besides, you remind me of myself, Penny.”
“Me?” I ask her, pointing at myself stupidly. Natalie Trask is one of those women who seems to have been born to rule the world, a take-no-shit-from-anyone attitude etched deep in their DNA, and I can’t help but be surprised by the fact that she’s comparing herself to me. Hell, we’re talking about the woman who founded a sex toy company in her apartment and turned it into a million-dollar operation, and all that while dating the New York City mayor… which, turns out, was her own stepfather. Rings a bell?
It’s kinda weird to think about, in a way. I mean, this is the woman who developed the vibrator bullet I used with Magnus on our little ride through Manhattan.
“You,” she whispers, reaching across the table and grabbing my hand. “You remind me of myself, and I really wish I could help you. But I can’t pull Parker into this without plunging the city into chaos again, and no one wants that. But I can give you some advice.”
“Please do.” I sit up straight in my chair, looking into her eyes as I make sure I listen attentively to whatever she’s going to tell me.
“Have you ever used any of my toys?” she asks me slyly, and I feel warm blood rushing to my face. “I see you did, good,” she continues, my embarrassment the only answer she needs. “Maybe you don’t know it, but my vibrator bullets do more than just vibrate.”
“What do they do?”
“Well, they do something that might help you out. You see, Penny, sometimes the truth is like a rotten tooth… It just lies there, uselessly, and you have to pull it out and bring it into the light, even if sometimes you have to use unsavory methods.” Then, grinning wickedly at me, she pauses for a few seconds for dramatic effect. “My bullet can help with that.”
I look at her and her eyes sparkle.
“It can record conversations,” Natalie says with a smile.
I lean forward in my chair, suddenly feeling as if I’m conspiring with a woman I’ve known forever.
“Tell me what to do.”
The New York Daily Journal