Garrett
"It is odd," Garrett agreed, as he sat on the edge of the bed, buttoning into his pyjamas.
"I say," Lydia sat at her bureau, picking up a hairbrush, wrapped in a robe, her face bare of makeup. "I cannot make heads nor tails of it. At least she's invited us to the house warming; I'll find out more there."
"I thought you said you didn't like the Altos?" Garrett yawned, his eyes were red, and head pounding from a long day.
As the incumbent mayor, it was on his head to take the flak now that the Kinneas' skyscraper stood almost as a slap in the face to those seeking housing; it had only just come out in the press that the skyscraper was private housing by one family.
"Oh, they're tolerable enough," Lydia could spare some sentiment now that their absence left a hole in who she might confide in. Getting to the top required a lacquer and sheen; but every social climber imagines a sense of relief after getting what they want. Yet paramount upon her shoulders was simply to maintain the facade, and truly she wondered if it was all worth it if she couldn't be herself; whoever that once was.
"Did she invite just you, or the whole family?" Garrett tucked some pillows behind his head.
"Well, I think she can be presumed upon to invite us all," Lydia rubbed cream over her hands from a little tube she set precisely next to her perfume. "She seemed as weak willed as Phillipa Spencer, if with a bit more of a spark. The husband's an actor, I gather."
"I think it best if Conrad and Alexandra stay home," Garrett watched his wife traipse across to join him in bed, still stuck in her thoughts. "You know they love to cause mischief."
"Yes," Lydia nodded. "And I'll have to buy Alistair a new suit."
"Oh, don't bother the boy," Garrett shared a warm smile. "He'll be wanting to go out with his work colleagues for dinner. Katrina will love it, though."
"She's becoming close with Clara Kinneas' daughter," Lydia pondered. "Katrina actually seems to like the girl."
"She is your daughter through and through," Garrett offered as a tribute with raised eyebrows, and received a chaste peck on the lips for his trouble.
Katrina
Katrina came downstairs the next morning, joining her mom at the dinner table. The butler served them pancakes and orange juice, and mother and daughter sipped quietly.
"Is Dad already in the office?" Katrina asked her mother.
"You know him, an early riser," her mother smiled.
Katrina looked to the head of the table. "You know, I almost miss him."
"Why?" her mother piqued. "He was always in early even while you were growing up."
"Well… " Katrina lingered. "Don't you miss him?"
"Hmm?" her mother paused with the fork halfway to her mouth. "That's the nature of the job, Katrina. To make money, he has to be in early to make deals."
"That wasn't my question, mom." Katrina pointed out.
Her mother paused, and considered the matter; and considered Katrina. Always they had been a duo of light banter, of shopping and jewellery and facials. And yet…
"Well, I suppose I do, from time, to time," her mother sniffed. "Do you?"
"Yes," Katrina said quietly.
"What's got into you?" her mother asked over her glass of juice.
"I think it's being around Hikari, mom," Katrina admitted. "She has the best relationship with her dad, but not with her mom."
"Well, you know your father loves you," Lydia said idly. "He has to work. Otherwise where else would we be?"
"I think we'd be happier," Katrina ventured, and there began the shattering of the glass: for all her hope of fame, the warmth of family burned bright in her stomach, helped her stay erect in the toughest of times. "I wouldn't mind even if he retired early."
Her mother seemed to consider this; to weigh up that the climb for which they had foisted nannies on their children, spent late nights discussing the campaign, spent money on ordeals meant to impress a public who, with this skyscraper scandal, were not at all appeased by a family whose only worth in the mayor's residence was to shine and not lift a finger to fix the situation. She had been a confidant to her husband for so long.
"It's too late, in any case," Lydia resolved and fixed Katrina with a stare. "Your father has a duty to the people. He took up the mantle, and to discard it wouldn't be worth the shame."
"The shame of how you'd look to your friends?" Katrina raised an eyebrow, and her mother frowned.
"Worse than that," the words fell out of Lydia's mouth, before she could catch them. "A personal failure. How does one stand straight knowing you've betrayed yourself?"
Katrina intermingled her hands in her lap. She knew at that point her fashion was for show: it had earned her her peers' attention, but only so long as she continued to do so. And she knew that if she did not stop this repetitive need to align herself to her peers' expectations, she could not also expect the seeds of inner change to grow, either.
"We must soldier on," her mother blurted, as though sensing unwillingness on Katrina's part. "We've been invited to a house warming at the Altos' old home."
"Why did they move?" Katrina was still shook in her quiet self determination.
"That, my daughter, is what I mean to find out," Lydia nodded as the butler took her plate away. Katrina's was largely uneaten. "You'll want to go shopping, I'm sure."
"Yeah," Katrina pictured the mannequins and racks of clothing and wondered if Hikari might want to come. "Who's it for?"
"Hmm?" Lydia queried.
"The housewarming," Katrina replied. "Do we know these people?"
"I gather the husband is a movie star," Lydia tittered. "I caught her name on their mail. Mrs Grace Knoxville?"
"Oh," Hikari's face flooded recognition. "Mom, Hikari mentioned her aunt and uncle are moving here from Bridgeport."
"No," Lydia repeated. "She's Mr Spencer's other sister?"
"Yes," Katrina replied.
"But she was so - so - " Lydia floundered for words. "She was so casual. She had no staff!"
"Well, mom," Katrina replied, stung. "From what Hikari told me, her aunt's trying to live a ordinary life despite her family's wealth. And from what I've heard from you about Mr Spencer and Mrs Kinneas, she sounds like the normal one in the family."
Lydia
Lydia was excited; at last, here was her entry into true society. She had been upset not to be invited to Mrs Kinneas' housewarming at the skyscraper; yet even driving into the backwoods, Lydia could feel proud that she knew and her family knew that this was the one prized invite above all.
The limo wound up the lane, with the chauffeur driving and her husband and daughter joining her in the back. The car pulled up in front of what was now the Knoxville home, and the chauffeur alighted to let out his passengers.
In the open garage, Mrs Knoxville's Margaret Vaguester was parked beside a Montalcino. Parked on the road was a racing-yellow Velocity and a pink Extravagator 5000.
"I thought there'd be more," Lydia idled near the extravagant vehicles.
She led the way up to the porch, where the door was ajar. Her heels clicked on the parquet floor as her husband and daughter followed and she caught sight of a snazzy man with sunglasses in conversation with Grace Knoxville; and a couple dancing to the stereo, the man goosing the woman who threw her head back with laughter.
"Oh, they're here!" Grace hurried over. "Johnny - come meet them!"
Johnny was tall and strutting yet without arrogance; he promptly shook Garrett's hand and was from all accounts genuinely normal, although he had the sheen of star power.
"This is my husband Johnny," Grace smiled up at him, clearly dependent, but he wrapped a loving arm around her.
"Mr Mayor. Mrs Mayor," Johnny winked at Lydia and a nervous giggle escaped her lips. He turned to Katrina. "And the next leading lady, I'll bet!"
"I hope so," Katrina gushed, and Lydia frowned.
"Come, come," Johnny ushered them forth, but a voice from upstairs broke his lead. "Hon, I'll run up and check on Kylie. Could you - "?
"Yes, yes," Grace hurried to take her husband's place. "Please, come meet my other guests."
Lydia glanced at her husband and daughter who were led towards the other couple.
"This is my brother Max and his wife Maria," Grace glowed. "They have a baby boy Diablo; but he had to stay in Bridgeport with the nanny."
Max's face was mold for a smirk with cunning eyes which peered out. He wore a hoodie and jeans. His wife Maria, was a vivacious red head with an accent and a laugh that sounded like Vita's.
"I've never met a mayor before," Maria lit up. She turned to Katrina. "You're adorable in that gown! I must know where you bought it from."
Lydia turned to Grace. "Where are your other siblings?"
"Oh, Clara couldn't come," Grace said sadly. "She was busy. And Adam flew out to Champs Les Sims to join Phillipa and Leo."
"Oh, yes," Lydia scratched at her pearls. She was hoping to meet Mrs Kinneas.
"I made brownies," Grace waved her over to a tray, and Lydia almost choked on how fudgey they are. "I don't usually cook; I usually order takeout or something."
Katrina
Katrina stood to one side with Maria; curvaceous, busty and confident. Her mother was following Grace around the house tour, and Garrett was nodding along to Johnny's descriptions of the stunts shown on his films.
"I can tell you want to be a superstar," Maria smiled, gripping Katrina's arm. "You must stay, sometime."
"In Bridgeport?" Katrina broke a smile. The glamour and glitz intoxicated her. "I'd love to!"
"Oh, yes," Maria nodded approvingly. "Max's out most nights, so it's only me and Diablo; and when the nannies have put him to sleep, what else is a girl to do?"
"Do you see many celebrities?" Katrina beckoned.
"Occasionally," Maria gave a yawn. "Max used to live in the city, then when we married he bought Matthew Hammond's place."
"The actor?" Katrina was star struck. "I love him!"
"But he didn't like that one, it wasn't big enough," Maria sniffed. "So he bought the place where those Big Blings used to live."
Katrina and Maria glanced over to where Max stuffed his face with brownies.
"I said to Max, if Clara can build a skyscraper, why can't we?" Maria pouted. "But he said he didn't want to live in Pleasantview. So we're settling in Bridgeport, for now."
Katrina felt that Maria came from humble beginnings and wanted to name-drop, and the thought sickened Katrina that the two were alike.
"Have you been to Villa Paradiso?" Maria turned to Katrina.
"Um, yeah," Katrina nodded. "But when we arrived it was bad weather, so we didn't stay very long."
"It is amazing in the sunshine," Maria gloried. "My Max had a houseboat there, but he drove me crazy on that water scooting thing all day. I stomped over to the hotel and booked the whole place out. He was searching everywhere!"
"No way," Katrina dampened. She just could not compete with the level of wealth.
"He built a holiday home so I wouldn't go wandering," Maria laughed. "But when we arrived on helicopter, we realised we hadn't put a landing pad in. Max had to rappel down and organise scuba divers in case I drowned."
"That's… something," Katrina said faintly. "Excuse me, won't you?"
Garrett
"You must be bored stiff," Max wandered his way over, his eyes missing nothing.
"It's more for the ladies," Garrett popped a brownie in his mouth, feeling his gums stick together. "Tell me something. Do you work in the family business with Adam, too?"
"Nah," Max shook his head. "He picked that job up as a side hustle."
"So it's not a family business?" Garrett frowned. "What does he really do, then?"
"I dunno, reads and shit," Max shrugged.
"And what about you?" Garrett piqued. "You're a celebrity in Bridgeport?"
"Nah," Max leaned in with a smirk, in the hushed silence. "I'm the Emperor of Evil."
Maria let out a tinkling laugh, and Grace a nervous giggle, and Johnny his patented psycho laugh; and Garrett tensed and muttered a polite excuse, caught his wife's shocked look and his daughter's glum face, and realised they were but middle-class yet again.
"Cheer up," Max slapped Garrett on the back, once the merriment had died down. "It's only a housewarming. I'd die before moving to Pleasantview!"
"Can I ask you something else," Garrett leaned in, and Max did too. "Nick Alto is a friend of mine - "
"No he isn't," Max cut through the bullshit, and Garrett's mask slipped for a moment. "He felt up Phillipa at some restaurant, you know that?"
"No," Garrett stilled, and felt his wife's eyes on the eve of eavesdropping. "I never knew. Is that why she went to Champs Les Sims?"
"Probably," Max shrugged. "But you know, he couldn't hang round after that."
"Are you saying - " Garrett paused. "This house - "
"This house was on the market, my friend," Max grinned amiably.
"But where are they now? The Altos?" Garrett whispered.
"Who knows," Max shrugged. "But you won't hear from them ever again."
Lydia
Lydia sat silently in the back with her husband and daughter, both silent, and raised the partition for privacy.
"You think something happened to them, Garrett?" Lydia had longed to broach the subject.
"I think he means what he says," Garrett blurted. "He must be a criminal. Adam has his hand in every business deal and investment; Max can work the underworld."
"But that's preposterous," Lydia burst. "It would mean you could do nothing as mayor."
"That has been my growing realisation," Garrett admitted. "It's not only that they're masters in their field. It's that they have such large amounts of money to throw at any problem."
"And Maria," Katrina remarked. "She married into their family; she used to be just an aerobics instructor. Now she rules Bridgeport; she buys homes and buildings like candy!"
"Even the silly little Grace Knoxville," Lydia shook her head. "She could keep Johnny very well kept. Does she even know what she has?"
"It's more than that," Garrett pondered. "Nobody hears from the Landgraabs anymore. The Altos are toast. What if we get on the wrong side of them? What happens to us?"
"They wouldn't," Katrina shook. "I'm good friends with Hikari."
"You're the mayor," Lydia pointed out. "That has to count for something."
"Perhaps I'm their puppet," Garrett spread his hands as the limo jerked round a corner. "And they're humouring us with their little parties - "
"Humouring?" Lydia drew herself up. "No. I won't have it."
"We can't do anything, Lydia," Garrett spread his hands.
"He's a criminal! The younger Mr Spencer at least," Lydia nodded enthusiastically. "You can take him down, and hold the older Mr Spencer to ransom!"
"It's not that easy," Garrett shook his head. "I'm just a figurehead. If the Spencers can evict residents of a home without trace, what else are they capable of?"
"I won't stand for it," Lydia shook her head. "This isn't just about our rise to power meaning nothing. This isn't about their flaunting themselves in front of us. Whatever they're doing, it's wrong. And we must bring their crimes to light."
"How?" Garrett persisted. "When my predecessor sat on his hands and did nothing, too?"
"I got an invite," Katrina spoke up, and eyes fell on her. "Maria said I should come to her mansion in Bridgeport."
"Why?" Lydia peered. "You're in high school. What could a grown woman want with your company?"
"I think she likes showing off," Katrina shrugged. "She seems originally poor, and perhaps sees in us a status she isn't used to; one through her husband she can usurp. It's all a stage for her, and if I can look under the woodwork and find something, isn't it with something?"
"You're hardly an agent of the SCIA, Katrina," Garrett pleaded. "You can't put yourself in harm's way for this. If Max is truly the top criminal, he would be the hardest one to put in the slammer."
"I need to do this, dad," Katrina begged. "What if I come home one day and Maria's living in the mayor's residence cos she likes the lampshades?"
"She's right, Garrett," Lydia nodded. "We're all at risk; we have to act."