Chapter Three
What am I doing here? Kristy wondered as she leaned against a wall, crossing her arms in front of her. All around her, people she barely knew were dancing, laughing, and quickly getting drunk from alcohol that flowed freely in crystal goblets. She was at the staff party for Brooke Majors, who was being transferred to Los Angeles. Of course none of the rich bigwigs at Willow Books would have a party that was anything less than spectacular. It was being held in someone's penthouse apartment, which was bigger than the mansion Kristy had lived in back in Stoneybrook. Kristy didn't even know who owned the apartment, but whoever did had expensive taste. Million-dollar art hung on the cream colored walls, black leather furniture was covered in clear plastic covers, and everywhere Kristy looked, she saw another statue or piece of art that, if sold, could probably feed an entire third-world country.
Money had never impressed Kristy. Even before she was twelve, when her mother married Watson, her rich stepfather, money had never made much of a difference to Kristy. She knew that money was essential for things like diapers and baby food and toys, and when you needed groceries or an extra bottle of wine, a little extra money was nice to have in the bank. But she didn't understand how people who made so much money would blow it on things like paintings or sculptures. Things that cost thousands of dollars just to sit in your house where they weren't really doing anything any good.
She hadn't planned on coming to the party. She had never spoken to Brooke Majors, and she didn't like parties, or hanging around listening to overdressed women with three pounds of make-up on their faces compare how much money they had. In subtle ways, of course. But Lindsay had insisted that she come. And when Kristy protested on account of Sarah, Lindsay made a phone call to her twelve year old niece who loved to baby-sit. And so Kristy found herself dressed up in clothes borrowed from Lindsay, standing alone while Lindsay made out with her latest flavor-of-the-week out on the dance floor. Music was booming loudly and from the dim lights and the bodies, it was more like a club than someone's home.
Kristy adjusted herself uncomfortably. Even though she had to dress up for work, Kristy's style was still pretty casual. She preferred pants suits for the office, and when she was at home, she was always in jeans or sweatpants and a t-shirt. She didn't even think she owned anything else. Lindsay had insisted that dressing up was the most fun part, and that was why Kristy was now wearing a pair of designer jeans with amethyst stones sewn onto the pockets, along with a shimmering amethyst halter top and a pair of white stiletto heels. Her hair was up in a bun with her bangs hanging loose, but Kristy could already feel the bun wilting from the heat. She was bored out of her skull.
She cast one more disgusted look at Lindsay and then turned, heading for the bathroom. She'd fix her hair and take off her stupid shoes and then she'd get the hell out of there. She must have been suffering from temporary insanity to allow Lindsay to talk her into coming here. Just so that Lindsay could end up ditching her. Some friend.
When Kristy pushed open the bathroom door, she heard a gasp. Then she felt her face go white. A man and a woman were in the bathroom, doing more than making out. A lot more. The woman's skirt (which wasn't very long to begin with) was pushed up, and they were both sweaty. Kristy's eyes widened and then she managed to move herself enough to back up and slam the door closed again. There, she stood staring at the closed door in total shock. She'd never seen something like that. It was the kind of thing you would expect at a high school or a college party. Not at a party thrown by editors and executives that was supposed to be sophisticated. "Gross," Kristy muttered when she felt recovered enough to speak. So much for going to the bathroom.
"Oh well," Kristy murmured. "I'll just go home."
As she started to make her way back to the entrance, she bumped into a guy dressed in black pants and a white shirt, carrying a tray of drinks. Kristy paused, surprised at the way her mouth instantly watered when she saw the glasses on the tray. Strawberry dacquiris, elegantly made, topped in whipped cream. It was a harmless drink. Maybe it would take the edge off of her nerves.
The waiter held the tray to her. "Drink, ma'am?" he offered politely.
Kristy bit her lip, then decided that one drink wouldn't hurt. "Sure," she said, and took a glass from the tray. The waiter went on his way. Kristy took a sip from her foamy drink and decided to head outside to the balcony. She couldn't see anyone out there. She would sit and finish her drink, and then she'd go home.
Kristy had to admit that the balcony was impressive, much more impressive than her own fire escape. There were double French doors along one wall, decorated with white lace curtains. Kristy stepped outside and immediately felt a cool breeze across her face. The balcony was intricately built, complete with a ceramic-tiled floor and white ivory posts. A few ivy vines twisted around the posts, and a few rosebushes sat off to the side, giving off a sweet perfume. Kristy closed the door behind her, closing off the sound of the loud music and voices inside. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath, immediately feeling calmer. From this high up, she couldn't even hear the noises from the city below, aside from the faint sounds of a police siren. In New York, there were always police sirens.
"I didn't expect to see anyone else out here," a voice said. A voice with a British accent. Kristy immediately tensed up again and opened her eyes, turning to see Clive standing off to the side, smoking a cigarette.
"Sorry, I didn't think anyone else was out here," Kristy replied, taking a backwards step. She'd rather be back inside than out with Clive.
"You don't have to leave," Clive said, as if he were reading her mind.
Kristy tried to bluff. "It's a little chilly out here," she said.
"Well, here." Clive put out his cigarette and stepped towards her, offering her the light coat that he was wearing. Kristy stood stiffly as he set it around her shoulders. "Thanks," she said, eyeing him suspiciously.
"I thought you weren't going to be able to make it," Clive went on, smiling at her. "I'm glad that you did."
"Well, my so-called friend talked me into it," Kristy said, casting an unconscious glare towards the party.
Clive cocked his head to the side. "So-called, eh? A falling out?"
Kristy sighed. "She said it was important for me to be here, and then as soon as we arrived, she went to make-out with her date. And I don't really know anyone else."
Clive was still smiling. "Ah, well, the better for me, don't you think?"
"What's that supposed to mean?" She knew it! He was nothing but a womanizing playboy
Clive shrugged. "It just means I get to enjoy the pleasure of your company."
Kristy shot him a thin, tight smile. "Actually, I'm heading home. I just stepped out for a minute, that's all."
She took a sip of her drink, trying to ignore his eyes on her and the feel of his coat against her bare back. She could smell cologne on the coat. Expensive cologne. For a brief moment, she imagined standing close enough to Clive to smell that same cologne on his body. She shook her head to rid herself of the thought.
He was still studying her. "You are a mystery," he said finally.
Kristy drank some more. "What do you mean?" she asked.
"You've been at Willow Books for three years, am I right?" When Kristy nodded, he went on, "Yet nobody seems to know much about you."
"I like to keep my private life separate from my professional life," Kristy answered with a shrug. Which was the polite way of saying that it wasn't any of his business.
Clive nodded. "I understand that. But you've been working with me for almost a month now and I still don't know very much about you. It just makes me wonder if I ever will."
Kristy finished off her drink and set her glass on the outside table. Plenty of other glasses were there already, so she didn't feel bad about it. "Well, don't count on it," she replied bluntly. This guy just wasn't getting the hint. She took his coat off and handed it back to him. "See you at work tomorrow," she added frostily, before turning and letting herself back into the apartment.
Kristy wasn't stupid. Clive was interested in her in more than a professional way. She could see it in the way that he looked at her. It wasn't any kind of lustful look. It was more of a genuine interest in her romantically. Well, uh uh, no way, no how, not happening. Kristy kept denying him in her head as she made her way through the party-goers and to the door. She grabbed her own jacket from the hook on the door and put it on, then let herself out of the penthouse. Her heels clicked against the floor as she marched towards the elevator. Kristy was not going to get involved with someone like Clive Brighton. He was a successful businessman, and everyone knew what businessmen were really like. They acted like they were interested, until they'd had their fill of sexual satisfaction. Then they left you high and dry. Well, Kristy wasn't going to be a victim. She would never be a victim again.
She kept thinking that all the way back to her apartment.
When she got home, she found Emily, Lindsay's niece, and Sarah in front of the DVD player, watching an animated movie. "I'm home!" she announced.
"Mommy!" Sarah jumped up from the ground and ran over to Kristy, hugging her knees. Kristy bent down and lifted Sarah up. Sarah was still light enough, even if she was two, to be carried easily. "Did you have fun?" Kristy asked her.
"Uh huh." Sarah's blonde pigtails bobbed up and down as she nodded her head. "We had a movie party."
Kristy glanced at Emily quizzically. Emily turned off the DVD player and grinned. "It was my idea," she said. "We've been watching movies all night. I told Sarah it would be like a night out at the movies, and I made popcorn and gave her juice. I hope that's okay."
"Sure, that's fine," Kristy responded. She didn't let Sarah spent too much time in front of the TV, but she supposed one night wouldn't hurt Sarah's budding intellect.
Kristy set Sarah back down and opened her purse, fishing out some money for Emily. "Do you need to be walked home?" Kristy offered after she paid Emily.
Emily shook her head, sticking the money in the back of her jeans pocket. "No thanks, Ms. Thomas. I live in the next building over. I'll be fine."
"Are you sure?"
"Positive. Feel free to call me anytime." She flashed a grin, and Kristy noticed that she had a tooth missing. She suddenly looked so young, with her straight brown hair cut in bangs. "I love to baby-sit," Emily added. "And Sarah's such a doll."
Kristy had a sudden flash of nostalgia. She reminds me of me, Kristy realized.
"Sure, Emily," Kristy responded, shaking the thought from her head. She managed a friendly smile.
Emily waved and headed out the door, and Kristy made sure to lock it up behind her. Then she turned to Sarah. "Ready for bed?" she asked brightly, taking off her coat.
"Can I finish the movie?" Sarah asked hopefully.
"Tomorrow," Kristy promised automatically. "It's too late tonight." She made her face stern as she slipped out of the four-inch stiletto heels. "Much past your bedtime, young lady."
"Please please please?" Sarah attempted.
Kristy shook her head. "No way, Jose."
"Okay." Sarah stuck out her bottom lip, but she did turn and start heading for the bedroom. Kristy followed her and helped her change into her pajamas and get tucked into bed. Sarah laid down while Kristy read another Wiggles book to her. The movies must have tired her out because she was asleep halfway through it. Kristy finished the book anyway, and then closed it and left it on the nightstand. She gave Sarah a quick kiss on the forehead and then turned out the light.
Kristy went to her own bedroom. She liked her bedroom. She'd fixed it up with odds and ends that she found in thrift stores, to cut down on costs. Stuffed animals and fluffy pillows rested on the bed, and ancient sports memorabilia hung from the walls, alongside funny little decorations and some collages she'd made herself, of magazine cutout quotes and pictures. Just beside her TV table was a bookshelf. Kristy crossed the room to the bookshelf in her bare feet, kneeling down to look at the selections. There weren't a whole lot. A few romance novels, a sports almanac, and a copy of Wasted, by Marya Hornbacher, that she'd read in high school and had ever since loved. Marya reminded her so much of herself. Not in the eating disorder sense, but the fact that Marya was so driven, so manic. At least, it was how Kristy used to be.
Beside the books was a shoebox. Kristy knew what was in the shoebox. It was the only personal thing that she'd taken with her, that she had been able to fit in her bag from Stoneybrook. Gingerly, Kristy picked up the shoebox and carried it over to her bed.
Inside, she found two thick notebooks. One was her club notebook; the other was the club record book. In middle school, Kristy had been president of a club called the Baby-sitters Club. All the girls in the club, Kristy's closest friends, loved to baby-sit, and the point of the club was to allow parents to reach several baby-sitters at one number without having to call all over town. Maybe it was a little goofy, or maybe it was a genius idea. Either way, the times Kristy had spent with the club were some of the best times of her life. Kristy thumbed through the club notebook, where each member had to write about her baby-sitting experiences. The pages were yellowed with age and the handwriting was smudged, but it was still all there. Kristy gazed over the entries, recognizing a lot of her own writing. She smiled to herself. The club had been laid to rest in high school, but Kristy had kept these things as memories.
Putting the notebooks aside, she peered further into the box and found a picture album. Pictures. Kristy felt a lump in her throat as she opened the album. The first photo she came across was her seventh grade school picture. Taken right before she'd given up on dressing up for school and began dressing like the tomboy she was. In this picture, she was wearing a pleated, navy blue skirt along with a white blouse, knee socks, and Mary Janes. Her long, straight brown hair hung down her back and was held back with a navy headband. Her wide smile showed that she was missing a tooth, just like Emily was now. The picture had been taken on the first day of school, just before the birth of the BSC. Turning the pages, Kristy saw more pictures. Herself dressed in her softball uniform. Her best friend, Mary Anne, just after she'd cut off all of her hair. Claudia Kishi, dressed in a painter's smock and grinning for the camera, her arm around Stacey McGill, who was smiling like a model. Kristy's mother and stepfather, her brothers, her younger stepsister Karen. Her dog Louie, who had died when Kristy was in eighth grade.
So many memories. Kristy sighed and closed the photo album, sticking the things back into the shoebox. She hadn't opened the box in years, and now she remembered why. The nostalgia was too thick, so thick that it suffocated her. She shoved the shoebox back down on the bookshelf and sighed, flipping back on the bed. She needed to stop yearning for the past. She had to accept her decisions and move on. It was her and Sarah now, two against the world. Nobody else could come in. And that went for her thoughts as well.
Sighing again, Kristy stood up and took off Lindsay's jeans and halter top. She'd return them tomorrow. Right now, all she wanted to do was sleep. In just her underwear, Kristy wrapped herself up in her thick comforter and laid down in the bed, among her pillows and stuffed animals. Closing her eyes, she drifted into a troubled sleep.