Katrina
Katrina was her mother's daughter; at least, in most things. She enjoyed shopping and making herself beautiful and ensuring that she was the queen bee of private school - which she was, especially now that her father was the mayor - and stepping off the school bus, she enjoyed looks of envy and camaraderie and wolf-whistles from every avenue.
Her lipstick was glossy and her heels high and her fashion was on point - she was as obsessive as her mother as ensuring her look was perfect; to secure her social status and the lead of her peers, of which her cult following consisted of little bees who followed her round and did what she said all day.
Of course, college was on the horizon. Academic Le Tour had already been paid for; of all her siblings, she was her mother's favourite, or at least her favourite daughter. Alistair was so similar to her father it was gross; and Alexandra's first pair of cargo pants had slid her mother's eye over to her precocious younger daughter.
On any given day, Katrina expected to play the lead: she meant to pursue a career in Show Business. Not that she'd tell her parents that (they knew already), and certainly not for the money (but when her folks kicked the bucket, she'd only get a fourth).
She was destined to move to Bridgeport, the glittering capital of stardom where so many movie stars frolicked. Theirs was a gated community of star studded mansions, or in the city centre where skyscrapers were dime a dozen. Even as the bus drove her to school, she had glanced up at the finished product in Pleasantview; a glittering magic wand amid a dry hubbub of brick buildings and wished she were a young adult, so she might finagle one of the apartments. It was truly something that her father had arranged, to be sure; one of his deals as a Business-something, to have it built and ready by the time he had become mayor.
"Who is that?"
Katrina glowed with mild pride that even at this school, there were still students who remained to know her. Were they living under a rock? She turned, expecting to see their mouths agape, yet their gazes were over her shoulder, and miffed, she turned to see the ruckus. The bell rang yet she daren't move an inch.
The truck which stopped at the kerb belched a blonde waif of a girl; not dissimilar to herself except that she held a character of confidence which kept her head high and glancing neither to one side nor to the other.
"Have fun," called the driver in the truck, he in a cowboy hat, and what was unmistakably a shotgun in the back.
"A scholarship student," Katrina gathered the gazes fleeing from her own and realised what she had to do.
She followed the girl through the corridors into their first class, where students sat behind desks and opened their books and the lecturer rapped smartly on the blackboard with a switch.
"Students, would you please welcome our newest addition to the class," the lecturer, himself puffed in ego with a mustache and a fine coat. "Hikari Kinneas."
"Kinneas?" Katrina mumbled, and thought that she had never heard a more bizarre name in her life. Of course, she was a scholarship student; she could no more pick her surname than her luck in life.
"Where are you joining us from, Miss Kinneas?" inquired the lecturer.
"Champs Les Sims," Hikari nodded, and the melody of her voice perked many a guy's eyebrows and glance, as Katrina scowled.
"And where did you study?" inquired the lecturer, perhaps too taken in by his curiosity.
"I was homeschooled," Hikari blurted.
"Ah," the lecturer's conclusion was that of a book snapped shut. "Then let us continue. Class… "
Katrina paid as little mind to her books as she had every day; she idled with her pencil and wondered about the little homeschooled girl who had tramped here from Champs Les Sims, in a truck, no less. There was not a streak of cruelty in Katrina; at least, not one quickly mollified by obedience, and so she resolved upon the ring of the bell, to find out all she could, and - if this girl was a threat - to befriend her, to know her secrets.
"Hi," Katrina sat beside Hikari on the bench in the inner courtyard, students milling by, sunshine glowing above, the prestige of starched shirts and designer backpacks heaving and sighing. "You must be so out of your element here."
"I am," Hikari admitted, and Katrina was taken aback by her frankness. "I'm only new here."
Katrina paused, not wanting to seem too direct, then exhaled in a gush,
"So, homeschooled. That's very interesting."
"It wasn't, really. It was just my parents. Mostly it was very hot."
"But - " Katrina paused, trying to frame her question. "So, I saw your boyfriend. He was so cool in that cowboy hat."
"My - boyfriend?" Hikari frowned, puzzled. "No, that's my dad."
"Oh, yes, sorry. I had no clue," Katrina held her hand to her chest. "My mistake."
"He's the best," Hikari emitted, dazedly.
"And your mom?" Katrina leaned. "I have the best relationship with mine; oh. We go shopping and get manicures all the time."
Hikari's smile waned and she dropped her eyes. Katrina's eyes flashed like a jaguar.
"Did I say something?" Katrina placed her hand on Hikari's shoulder.
"No, no," Hikari smiled brightly; brittle. "It's fine."
"You know," Katrina said conspiratorially. "I would go crazy if my mom home schooled me. We're too alike, you know!"
Hikari nodded but the warmth had gone out of the sun. Katrina kept her gaze but Hikari glanced up to the clouds. Katrina felt a vague discomfort of having gone too far.
"I should probably grab some lunch at the cafeteria," Hikari rose.
"Oh, I'll come with," Katrina smiled, determined to steer this doe into a moving bus if necessary. "You're probably like me. All these guys looking at you; you'll need a friend if you're to survive here."
Hikari smiled up at Katrina with the naivety of youth; and somewhere, Katrina resolved that she would help her fellow peer. But first, she must know everything about her; she must crack her open and glimpse if the pearl inside has any mud to scrape out, first.
LEO
Leo drove his Yomoshoto up the hill leading to his home; his graduation stuff in the back seat and boot of the car. He had always loved living here; the silence and seclusion of the forest. His only neighbors were the Altos; yet they had never finagled an invite in.
His mother itched to have more friends, but as his father said to them both:
"We must be discreet. Who needs those people poking around in our affairs?"
And so Leo tuned onto the lane and saw his family home rise up before him. He drove around the little path with the fountain and parked out where the butler stood nearby, and so too did his parents, smiling widely. Even together, Leo had always noticed that one was not quite as comfortable as the other.
"Leo," Phillipa gushed, and scored the first hug. Her hair was lank but she wore a tan dress and her cheeks glowed.
"Dad," Leo then turned to his father, whose smile broke and with some surprise; he barely smiled.
Leo followed his parents inside, and the scent of hamburgers from the kitchen wafted through. The butler organised maids to help park the car and unload his things, with the quiet efficiency of mice.
"You must want to see your room," Leo's father smiled. "We will be in the study with tea."
Leo took the stairs, hand heavy on the railing, feeling all the nostalgia hit him at once. He hadn't many friends as he grew up; only his aunts, uncles or cousins. He had attended private school, but any friends he made, he was to go to their house and for a while, they had thought he was a scholarship student…
Leo rounded the corridor and entered his room. It was themed in blue and black, a comfortable bed with a wide screen TV opposite, an ensuite, an antique wardrobe and bookshelves galore, for he was literary and a dreamer. His father pushed him to pursue his creative desires and his mother stood by whatever made him happy.
Oddly, Leo was an introvert not very troubled by life; though his parents had money, he had not grown to be precocious even though their dealings led to him being the center of their attention. If anything, he held his parents together; their strange affinity he could not quite unlock, bound only by the love they had for him, he had never seen them as affectionate as he had other students' parents…
Phillipa
Phillipa sat sipping her tea in the living room. Her husband sat adjacent, stretching his legs and the butler disappeared in a whiff of air.
"Lydia has invited me to a late luncheon," Phillipa admitted. "Though the timing couldn't be worse."
"You want to be friends with her?" Adam raised an eyebrow. "She's an insufferable bore. Proud and haughty, ever clutching to her pearls."
"It would be nice to have some friends," Phillipa stared down at the china pattern of her saucer. "There's only the garden club, and to have lunch there."
"That's all you need," Adam reminded. "You are the most important person in my life. You are not dictated to; who does Lydia think she is?"
"She's the mayor's wife, the First Lady," Phillipa reasoned. "I should make some effort."
"Nonsense. Mayors come and go. We do not kowtow to anyone." Adam concluded.
"Yes," Phillipa agreed idly, for nothing stirred her husband's fervor more than that she mingle with the masses. "Well, in any case. We're to attend your sister's housewarming."
"Ah, yes," Adam's eyes lit up. "I'm looking forward to it."
"I should probably buy a new dress… " Phillipa pondered.
"You didn't for the mayor," Adam scoffed. "And nor shall you for my sister. There is no need to impress anyone."
"It's just for me," Phillipa pleaded. "It's not as though you don't have the money."
"Our money, once we married," Adam reached for her hand, and Phillipa gave a weak smile. "It's enough to have the tailor round to custom fit. Buying from a shop gives word that we are trying to fit in."
"Yes," Phillipa agreed, and sipped her tea once more. "Well, I'll go see how Leo's doing."
Lydia
Lydia glanced round at her cohorts on the plush sofas, with some mild disagreement. Although she had old-money Bella Goth and new-face Vito Alto in her midst, she had been surprised when Phillipa Spencer had called with a conflict.
"You must come round," Lydia had insisted. "It's just a late luncheon with some of the girls."
"I've already plans," Phillipa apologised. "My sister-in-law's having a housewarming… "
While Lydia had been disappointed that Phillipa - of all things! - had turned her luncheon down, there was advantage to be gained in the one currency she loved almost as much as money: gossip.
Lydia took her seat with the butler offering a tray of cucumber sandwiches, and appraised who she had chose as her 'friends': Vita was frightfully garish but practically her partner in crime for gossip; while Bella had married very well and knew all the families in Pleasantview. And so she had two no better partners for lunch, especially now they it was just them three.
"You must tell me," Lydia decided. "Who are these Spencers? I mean, they uproot my husband for a dinner on the night of his mayoralty. And Garrett won't say anything - it's all a boy's club in those halls."
"They keep to themselves," Vita shrugged. "When the Landgraabs moved, I counted my blessings. They were always lording it over us. Now, the Spencers? Very discreet. You wouldn't even know they were rich, from the way they dress!"
"That Phillipa," Lydia nodded. "She's in the garden club but dresses as though she lives there! As limp as lettuce!"
"Yes, yes," Vita nodded. "And the husband, so stiff."
"What of their son, Leo?" Lydia sniffed. "Sim State? Are they heavily mortgaged?"
"He must be stupid," Vita nodded. "It can't be for money's sake that he didn't get in."
Vita rose from the couch to use the ladies, and Lydia noticed in her babble that Bella had said not a word.
"Bella, what say you?" Lydia peered, almost suspicious. "What do you know of these… stiff-and-soil Spencers?"
"Not much," Bella gulped her tea, stinging her tongue. "They bought the Landgraab's property to be sure, and they seem to be old-money, discreet in their ways."
"Well," Lydia sniffed. "That hardly explains why my husband rushed to drive me into their part of town. I mean, even your Mortimer would think to make plans first!"
Bella smiled vaguely. "Mortimer doesn't have much influence in the political sphere."
"Well, he wouldn't," Lydia shook her head. "She spends all day with plants and he's in Business. Well, so was my husband. I've met plenty of CEOs and chairmans as Garrett rose in the political sphere."
Bella sipped her tea and glanced up as Vita wandered back, dully jealous of the few rooms she had peeked into.
"Well, that bathroom is a design success, you should be very proud, Lydia," Vita nodded. "You can see the skyscraper all the way across town from this hill."
"The view is very nice," Lydia nodded. "I wonder when it will be finished?"
"Very recently," Bella interrupted, surprising Lydia and Vita.
"Oh, my husband must be unveiling it," Lydia smiled proudly. "Apartments aren't for me; but I've caught my Katrina eyeing one, don't you worry. But who would want to live there?"
"The view," Vita nodded. "You know, my Nick inquired after the price of one of the apartments - you know, for the poor side of his family - and he was told they're all taken!"
"All?" Lydia screwed up her nose. "Let's not hope this town becomes like Bridgeport. All those lights. I'd have a fit. I'll have to ask Garrett how it went - "
"I asked Mortimer when I came home the other day," Bella spoke up, and attention swung to her. "He told me nobody in town he'd talked to had bought an apartment."
"Then who could it be for?" Lydia burst. "If nobody from Bridgeport buys, it's a monstrosity! It's a failure of public funds!"
As if on cue, the butler's murmurings at the front door brought her husband home. He tensed at the sight of his wife's tete-a-tete in the living room.
"Oh, Garrett," Lydia smiled, and waved him over. "You'll remember Bella and Vita, of course?"
"Of course," Garrett nodded, stern and sober in his wrinkled suit. "If you'll - "
"Garrett," Lydia cried. "We were just talking about the skyscraper. Has anyone bought any apartments?"
"I shouldn't think so," Garrett shook his head. "The building is a private residence."
Lydia tittered and Vita's throaty laugh made Bella's silence all the more obvious.
"How can a skyscraper be a private residence?" Lydia curled her brow. "It has forty floors!"
"It was commissioned by my predecessor," Garrett explained. "It's always been built and intended for private use. The owner - "
"The owner?" Lydia frowned, as Vita did and Bella sipped her tea. "But - which company bought it?"
"No company," Garrett said quietly. "It was a family of three, I believe."
"That's impossible!" Lydia burst out. "Not even we - well, not even Vita or Bella or myself could afford to build a skyscraper and live in it! And a family of three? How does a family of three live in a skyscraper?"
"Very comfortably, I'd say," Garrett sorted through the post.
"Garrett!" Lydia turned to her ladies. "Can you believe him?"
"I'm shocked," Vita uttered. "Do you think some celebrity bought it?"
"No, no," Lydia shook her head. "I would've heard of them. Oh - Garrett!"
For Garrett had been on the cusp of leaving, and paused like a deer in headlights.
"You must know these things," Lydia babbled. "How on earth would someone get approved to build their own skyscraper? And who would do such a thing?"
"I suggest you ask your friend Phillipa," Garrett said.
"She said she was attending a house warming!" Lydia turned round. "It's at that skyscraper! And - and she said it was for her sister-in-law! So Mr Spencer's sister owns the building!"
"Yes," Bella nodded quietly. "It makes sense now."
Garrett padded off into his study before Lydia could reach out with her talons.
"But who is this woman?" Lydia decried. "She may not know it, but she has totally upstaged me!"
Garrett
Garrett wandered into his study, flicking off letters from the post where he saw only junk. His butler collected it, and he barely had to lift a finger anymore. Even in public office, as mayor, he commanded and Pleasantview curled.
Except where the skyscraper was concerned… he too, had been worried by what his predecessor had set in motion as a private dwelling; certain that it had been a joke. And when he looked at the paperwork, he saw the buyer's name and jolted in shock.
"Clarissa," he had called to his secretary. "Please get Mr Spencer on the line."
"He's not answering his home phone. I'll try his office," Clarissa replied.
Garrett met a dial tone, and thought that nobody in town dared give him call waiting since he had been mayor. Even Mortimer Goth, who had been crucial in the donation of a science wing, had gladly nattered about the old days when honor mattered most.
"Garrett," Adam replied, as curt and old English as ever. "You'll have to be quick; I'm afraid."
Garrett rose at that; he was the mayor, who else could be more important than he?
"Adam," Garrett gripped the phone. "I understand the skyscraper in Pleasantview will be ready shortly."
"Well yes," Adam said mildly. "It's for my sister."
"Your sister bought it?" Garrett blurted.
"The family bought it, Garrett," Adam replied. "My sister needs a place to stay."
Garrett felt as insignificant as a bug. Certainly neither he nor any family in Pleasantview could afford to build and live in an entire skyscraper; nor any celebrity in Bridgeport.
"And she is to live in it?" Garrett paused. "An entire skyscraper?"
"Well, only the penthouse, I presume," Adam sniffed. "She's holding a housewarming, she'll tell us more there. I must dash, Garrett."
And with that he was left with a dial tone; and in the present, he sat at his office of crumpled files and realised his climb to mayor had not been the top of the heap as he imagined.
He opened the desk drawer with the manila folder he had brought home, from his first day in office that he had been instructed to open by Adam's secretary. Inside were documents pertaining to almost every building and company in Pleasantview; even the skyscraper, though he had not skimmed that far back at first. All were owned by the same entity, by the same person: and the name he recognised, and he had known he was dealing with the highest rung of the Business ladder.
His wife slid in, and he knew her ladies were gone.
"Garrett," Lydia accosted. "Tell me. Who is Mr Spencer's sister? And why on earth did I not receive an invite to her housewarming?"