Authors Note: LOOK A QUICK UPDATE! Thank you to bullchizz155, psychotic honeybadger of death, kissinginparis, guest, miyame-chan, guest, and enna for your kind reviews! This story is so AU and the focus isn't on the Pretty Committee, so it warms my heart to know that you guys still want me to update. I could cry. Really. It makes me happy that you guys enjoy the Westchester ladies a bit too. They're outrageous.
Restaurant names were taken from the Michelin Guide. I picked random ones in New York that had 4-stars and up. Claire obviously would not know how hard it would be to get last minute reservations. (Or have the place let them wear whatever they want). Places like that also don't have prices on the menu. You usually do a pre-set menu with a fixed (plus table service) price. Claire also had no idea Derrick/Massie were filthy stinking rich. Because old money do not really flaunt that kind of thing. Yep, so there you go. Hope that explains it. Also, Ella is racist. I think I've said this before.
Layne finally reveals all that she knows! And the Motorcars question is finally answered. Shout-out to anyone who caught all my little details of Claire's background.
Chapter Four: Arrivals and Reveals
##
"You spoil me," Claire told her boyfriend jokingly as they made their way out of the plane first. She had thought that Cam was kidding when he tugged her through the plush velvet curtains to their own walnut wood paneled section, featuring buttery hand-stitched leather seats, a spacious seating area with their own flat screens, unlimited drinks, and Givenchy throw blankets. Who even flew First Class from Chicago to New York anyways? It was barely a two hour ride.
"I figured since we're going on vacation for the first time together, I'd pull out all the stops," he had said with a shy smile.
"You didn't have to do this," she had protested. "What did this cost you? Part of your liver?"
"Nah," Cam had grinned toothily. "I had a lot of flyer miles saved up."
That was all that Claire could get out of Cam before a beautiful stewardess appeared out of nowhere, as if straight from a travel magazine, to help seat them. It was her first time riding First Class and Claire was never going back. So now, despite the late hour, Claire's whole body was vibrating with energy. The sight of all those skyscrapers lighting up the night sky in the distance took her breath away. She couldn't believe she was actually standing here in New York.
The moment they stepped on the escalator leading to Terminal 2 after picked up their luggage, Claire spotted what must have been Cam's best friend, Derrick Harrington, holding a sign that read 'BEST MAN'. Next to him, stood a willowy brunette wrapped in a blanket.
"What are you doing here?" Cam called in surprise as they stepped off the escalator and approached. He swung his arm around Derrick and pulled him into a bear hug.
"I had to welcome my best man properly. You're getting full service, man!" Derrick called back cheerfully, patting him on the back.
"My turn," the brunette beside him thrilled. She leaned over and pulled Cam into a hug and gave him pecks on the cheeks. She turned to Claire next and smiled brightly, showing her teeth, which were commercial white under the florescent airport lights. "You must be Claire. I'm Massie."
"Right, sorry. Claire Lyons—Massie Block, Derrick's fiancée, and this asshole over here, of course, is Derrick," Cam explained.
"It's nice to meet you," Claire smiled back. While her body was pulsing with excitement at the new atmosphere, she was embarrassed to think of what she looked like at one in the morning after a plane ride. She hadn't expected to meet Cam's best friend and the happy couple so soon. She studied them for a bit. Derrick was taller than she imagined, roguishly handsome with a smattering of tanned freckles and sun kissed mussed hair that gave him the easy-going look of a surfer. Massie, on the other hand, had intense amber eyes and classic features that made her look almost intimidating up close. She was pretty even without a stitch of makeup, her hair pulled back in a messy bun, and in what looked like silk pajama bottoms.
In all honesty, they were nothing like what Claire expected for Cam's childhood friends.
"The cars have been circling for almost half an hour, but let me make sure they're outside," Derrick said, texting away on his phone. He led them toward the exit. Claire followed after slowly, taking in the sights of the airport. She fished in her bag for her camera and snapped a picture of the modern floor to ceiling art display. Massie turned back at the flash. "Cam mentioned you were a photographer," she said. "You're going to need a lot of film for when you hit the city."
"I hope so," Claire replied as she snapped a photo of their exit. She was about to step foot in New York. She couldn't believe she was really here. With Cam.
Two all-black SUVs were parked out front as they exited the airport.
"Here," Derrick gestured at one of them. "Just pile all your luggage in there. It's going straight to the hotel."
Claire was so overwhelmed by the bustle of random people surrounding them and loading and unloading luggage that she didn't question it. She allowed a man in a suit to take her luggage out of her hands. She followed Cam as he held open the door to the other SUV for her. Cam slid in after her, shaking his head at his best friend in the driver's seat.
"Dude, I can't even remember the last time I had a reception like this." Probably when he was a kid and he was returning from a summer aboard for the first time. After that, there were about a hundred trips without fanfare. His parents were usually too busy to head out, arranging drivers to pick him up at the tarmac.
"Nothing but the best for my best man," Derrick replied smarmily, adjusting the mirrors in the car. He turned and faced Cam and Claire in the back. "Okay, where to? Straight to the hotel or out? Are you guys hungry?"
"I'm starving," Cam moaned. But he knew Claire must be feeling overwhelmed, so he turned to see what she wanted.
"I could eat," Claire said slowly. She was way too excited to head to the hotel just yet and it looked like despite Derrick and Massie dressed in pajamas, they weren't quite ready for bed yet either. "I'm not really tired at all."
Cam chuckled and threw his arm around his girlfriend. "Claire spent the whole plane ride mooning over Thor in the Avengers. All of the special pre-releases and she chose a movie she's seen about a hundred times before."
Massie turned around in her seat and eyed Claire unnervingly. "You're a fan of Chris Hemsworth?" Claire nodded nervously until Massie's face broke out into a slight teasing smile. "Okay then. We can be friends," she declared.
"What is it with girls and Chris Hemsworth?" Cam pretended to roll his eyes.
"Hello?" Massie pretended to snap, settling back into her seat and snuggling up under her blanket to shield herself from the car's air conditioning. "Are you blind? He's dreamy."
"So where to?" Derrick asked, pulling out of the airport with heavy traffic on all sides. "What are we feeling? Where should we take Claire for her first time in the city?"
Claire was pressed against the window, amazed by the immense skyscrapers that surrounded them on all sides, so tall she couldn't even see the top. They hovered over her with a tangible presence. It was as if she was enclosed in a whole other world of unnaturally bright neon lights and city cars. Despite the late hour and cool night, the city was busier and brighter than Chicago ever was.
"Oh man," Cam rubbed his face, dropping his head back against the seat, overwhelmed at all the choices. "…What about brioche at the Tortine? Or those zucchini pancakes at Le Bernardin? Fuck, I haven't had those since I was a kid." Being back in the city was bringing back a multitude of memories of all his favorite places; the restaurants his grandparents took him to for celebrations, the bars and lounges he hit up with Harris and his friends, the brunches he had with his parents and their friends. He wanted Claire to be able to try them all.
Derrick laughed. "Le Bernardin? Dude, you only like those because Messo used to make them special just for you. Shit, I forgot all about that. We haven't been there in years. Is he still the head chef there? It's been so long."
"Ew. Cam!" Massie fake-whined, wrinkling her nose. "Seriously? You haven't changed at all. As in you don't change at all. No one goes to Le Bernardin anymore. The wait is headache-inducing."
"…I don't know…" Derrick disagreed. He found himself craving the salted caramel they served. "They do have entertainment."
Massie reached over and teasingly pinched Derrick's cheek. "Aww, you just want to spend as much time as possible with Cam."
"Fuck yeah!" Derrick swatted her away as he made a turn into heavy traffic. "I gotta monopolize as much time as possible before Mommy Dearest swoops in." He glanced at Claire through the rearview mirror. "Claire, be thankful that you don't have to deal with Ella right when you arrive—"
"Derrick, you're going to scare her off," Cam interrupted before he could finish.
Claire blinked in confusion, but before she could ask, Massie turned around and spoke. "Oh, I almost forgot. Cam, last time I ran into your mom at the Ridgeway, she grabbed me by the arm and said, 'Massssie, darling, you're getting way too dark! You better stop sun-tanning now, otherwise on your wedding day, you'll be so black people will think you're Mexican.'"
The car erupted into snorting laughter, but not Claire. "Um, she was kidding, right?"
Massie cut her eyes to her. They were sharp. "Of course not. Ella doesn't kid."
Derrick glanced at Claire through the rearview mirror again. "I think you'll understand once you meet Cam's mom," he said, trying to put her at ease. "Anyways, it's perfect that your parents are gone, Cam, because this weekend is the bachelor party."
"And Claire, you'll have to come to my bachelorette party," Massie declared. "Let's show the guys how it's really done."
"You bet," Claire smiled slowly, her confusion slipping away at the kind offer.
Massie returned to the topic at hand before any more could be said. "Le Bernardin is out. The wait definitely isn't worth it. If you're craving brunch for dinner, Cam, the pancakes at Per Se are so much better."
"You always want to go to Per Se," Derrick butted in with a chuckle, giving Massie's scheme away. "You just want those white truffles."
Massie turned back around to face them again. "If we're going to take Claire anywhere, Per Se's the place. Those truffles are to die for. I swear, one bite and you'll be in heaven. The guys don't know what they're talking about. Where else in the city can you find a better low-cal meal with the best table service at this time of night?"
Cam threw his arm over Claire, leaning in close to whisper into her ear. "Welcome to New York, where everyone argues about food, over who knows the best place for the best dish at the best time of day. It's a pissing contest."
Claire giggled, gazing up at him. She had never seen her boyfriend so happy. Claire wondered how she could have ever possibly been worried about this trip. She leaned her head against Cam's chest and closed her eyes, allowing the pleasant sounds of her boyfriend and her new friends chattering in the background to sooth her nerves as the late night city blurred past.
"So, Claire," Derrick called again as they pulled into a parking area. "How does it feel to be in New York?"
"Well," Claire mused slowly, licking her lips. She was still gazing into Cam's sparkling eyes. "An hour ago, we landed in an airport more beautiful and modern than I could have ever imagined, and now I'm sitting here, in the city of lights, surrounded by nightlife, about to have my first meal in New York. I don't think I ever want to leave!"
Cam grinned broadly at her and Claire beamed back.
Neither noticed the look Massie shot Derrick.
##
The sun was streaming in bright through the windows. Claire stretched her arms above her head and slowly blinked awake, turning to look at the alarm clock on the side table. Cam was snoring softly beside her. She calculated that she'd only slept for about five hours, but it was already bright outside and she was way too excited to go back to sleep.
Claire sat up and bit her lip, looking around the hotel room. She wondered how much it was costing Cam a night. Because it was a beautiful, elegant suite decorated in understated pale wood and creamy whites. The only burst of color came from the bright orange roses on a console table against a mirrored wall. Claire had never stayed in any place so nice. (She'd lived in apartments smaller than this!)
She rolled out of bed and with a quirk of her lips, slipped on the luxurious Hers bathrobe before padding to the bathroom to brush her teeth. The bathroom was breathtaking, inlaid with what looked to be Italian marble and mother of pearl details. It was also scary advanced, offering 'therapeutic whirlpool bath soaks' and 'rainforest Swiss steam showers', along with terry cloth towel warmers.
Then, Claire walked over to one of the windows and peeked outside.
A perfectly manicured garden with a large, sparkling swimming pool lined with sleek deck chairs greeted her. A man in dark-blue-and-khaki uniform was walking around with a long pole and net, fishing out strays leaves on the surface of the water. There were even pool cabanas and villas available for guests, and just beyond that scenic view, was a brilliant view of Central Park and the high-rise structure of the shopping district, reminding Claire (as if she could forget) that she was standing in the middle of New York.
She closed the curtains for Cam to sleep-in and headed to the sitting room. She pulled out her phone to text her old friend.
Layne: Are you really here?
Claire: YES! I can't believe it
Claire: it's not even 7 and already SO HOT
Layne: this is nothing. just wait. are you staying at Cam's parents?
Claire: no we're at st sherry's
Layne: …
Claire: ?
Layne: nothing, it's just… central. but anyways, do you want to hang out today?
Claire: today sounds great. cam needs to help the groom.
Layne: what is he? the wedding planner? LOL meet at noon?
Claire: can't wait!
At 12:15pm, there was a knock on the double doors. But before Claire could get up, their butler (Claire still had trouble believing it, and even more trouble interacting with him) slid open the doors.
"Ms. Abeley for you," he announced.
"Uh," Claire stammered. "Right—thank you."
Layne breezed past him into the room dressed like pure her. With her classic nose ring, homemade Burn Baby Burn leather vest jacket, high-waisted jean shorts, and motorcycle boots, Layne looked better than ever. It was an outfit only Layne could pull off. It also looked as if they were about to hit Kaufman's before another one of Cam's band set. It brought tears to Claire's eyes.
"Layne!" Claire cried, running towards her with her arms outstretched. "You look great."
"Claire!" Layne called back, pulling her in a rib crushing hug. "It's been so long."
They pulled away, but Claire pulled Layne back into another bone crushing hug to return the favor. She couldn't help but think that if it hadn't been for her, Claire wouldn't even be standing here. She glanced over Layne's shoulder to see the butler (still weird) still standing there.
"Are you done with breakfast, Ms. Lyons?" he asked politely, gesturing to the trolley he had brought in this morning. Claire had been amazed by the selection of pre-breakfast fruits and full service French press coffee for her and Cam.
"Uh, yeah, thank you so much," Claire stammered again as she watched him wheel out the trolley. After reminding them he was only a call away, he headed out.
At the slam of the double doors, Layne turned to Claire. "Okay. What. The. Hell."
Claire stared back with wide blue eyes. She had no idea either.
"Claire!" Layne cried, spinning around and taking in the suite. "Look at this place!"
Claire turned with her, taking in the spacious mosaic marble foyer and sitting room, with its glass chandeliers and wall-to-floor glass doors for privacy. The 24-hour butler service, the flat screen television with Bose surround sound system, the heated floors (though it was almost 90 degrees outside), the electronic drapes, and the classic New York artwork looked beyond extreme in the morning light. She completely understood Layne's shock.
"Isn't this place amazing?" Claire finally blurted out, still overwhelmed by the place.
"It's outrageous!" Layne exclaimed.
Claire thought about the bidet in the bathroom and had to agree.
"I feel like I'm in a dream," she muttered, thinking about how right her words were as they were leaving the plane. Was all of New York this extravagant?
"No, Claire," Layne replied. Claire blinked; she hadn't realized that she had spoken aloud. "It really isn't. You're on the top floor of this place. Your butler had to escort me up because of security reasons. He announced my arrival."
"I…"
"I think Cam has some explaining to do," Layne told her with a raised brow and her arms over her chest. It was disconcerting because Claire was slowly realizing that her friend was right. She had been so overwhelmed with the beauty of New York and Cam's happiness that they hadn't really had time to really talk. After the plane ride and the delicious feast last night, they had collapsed into right into bed. And then Cam had errands this morning and Claire had wanted to see Layne as soon as possible. "And I have something to tell you too."
"What? What is it?" she asked in surprise.
"So, you know how you gave me the name of Cam's best friend or whatever?"
Claire nodded frantically, trying to urge Layne to hurry and say more.
"I looked him up," Layne finally explained.
"What?" Claire gasped. "You—why?"
"Because I swore his name sounded crazy familiar," Layne muttered, heading over to another console table with bright orange roses. "And you mentioned Westchester County, which is—I can't even explain. It's out of this world, okay? And then you're staying at the St. Sherry's, it just confirms it."
"Confirms what?" Claire asked slowly. Layne grabbed the New York times sitting on the table and flipped it open.
"Derrick Harrington is the heir to the biggest real estate magnate in all of New York," Layne explained, flipping through the newspaper and dropping pages she didn't need and letting them flutter to the ground.
"What?" Claire asked. She seemed to be saying that a lot today. She resolved to stop.
"I couldn't find a single thing on him though," her brunette friend rolled her eyes, flopping down on into a plush velvet Récamier settee and propping her feet up. "Like, he's never in the papers or anything, but I swore I read something the other day that had his name in it." She turned to Claire.
"Look here! Listen to this: Expect private-jet gridlock at Teterboro Airport and road closures all over Westchester this month as New York witnesses its own royal wedding. Massie Alana Block weds Derrick Harrington at St. Peter's Methodist Church in two weeks at high noon, with a private reception to follow at an undisclosed location. The mother of the bride, Kendra Block, is said to have planned every single detail, blowing northward of forty million dollars on the occasion…
"Although the crème de la crème guest list has been more closely guarded and classified than NATO, don't be surprised to see royalty, heads of state, and celebrities in attendance. It's rumored that one of North America's biggest pop divas will perform and many are already taking bets on who designed the bride-to-be's wedding gown. Be on the lookout for New York's most glamorous to arrive in full force, including the socialite Riveras, talk-show host Merri-Lee Marvil and her daughters, reality star Skye Hamilton, the notable Hurleys, and the Lyons of Lyons Motorcars."
Claire's jaw had dropped in blatant incredulity.
Layne met her eyes with a look crossed between revulsion and sympathy. "This thing is, like, the biggest event of the year. His name is barely there, and I thought I was wrong because this is ridiculous. But is this her? Is this Derrick's fiancée?" Layne flipped the article toward Claire who leaned over with shaking hands and accepted the paper.
'WEDDING WATCH' was printed in bold and had a whole article on a girl and her mother picking out flowers. There was a picture in the bottom and someone who looked nothing like the makeup-less girl in silk pajamas that greeted her last night. With what looked like expertly applied makeup and a fresh blowout, Massie Block looked supermodel worthy walking the streets on New York with her mom (who was dressed even classier than her)!
"I met them last night," Claire told Layne with disbelieving eyes. "But I had no idea." They had been so laid-back, that Claire still had trouble wrapping her mind around this. Massie in the papers looked nothing like the girl who picked them up from the airport. She couldn't even be sure if this was really Massie. She looked back to Layne. "You said something about the hotel proving it?"
"Claire, he owns this hotel. That's why you're staying here. Your boyfriend's best friend Derrick Harrington's family owns almost all the hotels in New York!"
Claire thought about the two SUVs waiting at the airport yesterday with a weird sort recognition. It was entirely possible. She flopped back against her chair with a whoosh of air. She was so confused.
"I think you and Cam have some things to talk about," Layne told her sagely.
Claire blinked.
##
Matthew Fisher sat in his favorite folding chair in his personal yacht overlooking the clear blue green waters of Port Jackson. He kept one eye on his fishing line that went straight out into the water and the other on the latest issue of Popular Mechanics and its article on self-driving cars. His cell phone vibrated loudly, disrupting the quiet serenity of the bay.
It had to be his wife. She was the only person who ever called his personal cell.
He answered. Immediately, a hysterical flood greeted him.
"Calm down, honey. And speak slower. I can't understand a word you're saying. What is going on? And why are you going to kill yourself?" he asked in his usual calm manner. Typically, nothing rattled him. His work (and wife) required him to have an unruffled demeanor.
"I just got the full dossier on this Claire Lyons girl from Nadia's private investigator in Dover. Do you want to know what it says."
It wasn't even a question. It sounded like a threat. Matthew knew to tread carefully now.
"Err… honey, who is Claire Lyons?" he asked, slowly.
"Don't play dumb!" Ella practically shrieked. He pulled the phone away from his ear with a wince. "I told you last week. Don't you remember? Your son has been dating some girl in secret for more than two years. And he only thought to actually tell us about it days before he actually brings her to New York!"
"You hired a private investigator to check up on this girl?" Matthew asked for clarification.
"Of course I did! We know nothing about this Claire Lyons. And everyone already knows about them. Everyone, and I mean, everyone is talking about her and Cameron. Do you even know what I had to put up with? And this private investigator comes highly recommended. I—"
Matthew looked down at his fishing pole, which was just at the beginning tremors and starting to vibrate. He knew exactly where this conversation was going and honestly, he wanted no part of it. "I'm terribly sorry, honey. I'm afraid I can't talk right now. I'm in the middle of an urgent meeting."
"Stop! This is urgent! The report is even worse than I could ever have imagined. The rumors have it all wrong! It turns out this girl is not a Lyons of Lyons Motorcars!"
"I always tell you never to believe a word out of those ladies' mouths, Ella honey. They're known for spinning the wildest tales. I thought that you would have discovered this after…" He cleared his throat, not wanting to bring up his other son. He changed back to the topic at hand. "But what difference does this make? Isn't this a good thing, honey? Lyons Motorcars would have been terrible for business. Cam should have known better."
"Good thing?" Ella cried. "This girl is being deceitful. She's a liar and a poser. She's pretending to be a Lyons!"
"Well, if her last name just happens to be Lyons, how can you really accuse her of pretending to be a Lyons?" he chuckled.
"Don't mock me!"
"Yes, honey."
"Don't patronize me either. Because I'll tell you how she's a liar. At first, the private investigator told me she was born in South Carolina, but after some deeper digging, he found out that she wasn't even truly born there. She was born in Orlando, Florida!"
"So?" Matthew asked, still eyeing the fishing line distractedly.
"Did you hear me? I said Orlando, Florida!"
Matthew was a bit confused. "Well, where would you rather she originate from?"
"Don't joke, Matthew! Her family comes from some trailer park mobile home center that nobody's has ever heard of. She's not from new money. It's worse than I ever imagined, Matthew! The investigator claims that they were most likely lower class. In other words, they're lower than peasants!"
Matthew sighed. "If you go back far enough, honey, all our families were peasants. And you should know that the working class should be revered. They're the backbone of this economy and the fortitude of our fortunes. Without the working class, Fisher Enterprise would never—"
"You're speaking blasphemy, Matthew!" Ella interrupted in distress. "And you're interrupting me. You haven't even heard the worst of it yet. The girl moved to South Carolina as a baby with her mother. But there is no record of her father! In fact, the private investigator wouldn't give me any information on this girl's parents. But with no records, her parents must be divorced! They might never even have been married. Can you believe this?! A child from some divorced no-name peasant family. I'm going to kill myself!"
"Honey, there's nothing wrong with coming from poor broken homes. There are plenty of people like that who go on to have long, happy marriages and long, fruitful lives," he explained patiently, trying to sooth (and reason) with his wife.
"You're not getting it," Ella practically wailed. Matthew sighed deeply. "You're not hearing what I'm saying. This girl is obviously cunning and deceitful and a gold digger! You know as well as I do that your last son and only heir can never marry someone like that. Can you imagine how all of polite society is going to react when he brings this parasitic opportunist home?"
After… the latest scandal, Matthew couldn't care less what all of Westchester thought.
"But do you not see how this will affect Cameron? It's Westchester. Surely you know how this will end?" Ella finally asked quietly into the silence.
Matthew sighed once more. This was the exactly the reason he spent as much time as he possibly could away from Westchester under the guise of work.
"I've asked Nadia's private investigator to look into and investigate the girl's entire family in Florida. We need to know everything. I don't want to leave a single stone unturned. We need to dig up every little secret. Who knows what we'll find. We need to be prepared for every possibility," his wife declared.
"Don't you think you're going a bit overboard?" Matthew asked with a small smile at his wife's antics. "We haven't even met the girl."
"No, I do not think I'm going overboard, Matthew darling. We must put a stop to this girl before she hurricanes our family." Before Matthew could even ask what the hell that even meant, Ella continued, "Do you want to know what Marsha Gregory thinks?"
Not really, he thought. But out loud, he said, "Hm?"
"Marsha thinks that Cameron is going to propose to this girl while they're in New York!"
"If he hasn't proposed already," Matthew couldn't resist teasing his wife.
"Oh my god!" Ella screeched. "Do you know something I don't? Has Cameron told you about—"
"No, no, no," Matthew soothed instantly in his calming tones. There was a shit-eating grin on his face. "Don't panic, honey. Ella, you're letting your silly girlfriends work you up for no reason. Let's just wait until we meet her. I'm sure she's going to turn out just—"
Ella interrupted him again with tones of sorrow that drew his attention from his fishing instantly.
"And do you remember the last time we allowed our son to date who they pleased? We can't trust their judgments."
Matthew shut his eyes in both regret and sadness, trying to push out the residual anger that still managed to rise up in him after all this time. His wife was probably right. It was just the right thing to say to get him worried too.
"Nadia's private investigator guarantees that he will uncover it all, but he's asking for a ridiculous price," Ella said quietly through the phone.
"Go ahead, honey," Matthew finally said after a moment of pensive silence and contemplation. He looked back up at his fishing line. The fish was really tugging now. Maybe it was a barramundi. He could ask the chef to grill it for lunch. Matthew just wanted this conversation over with.
His wife would take care of it.
##
Author's Note: Derrick and Cam interactions next chapter along with Claire meeting some people in Westchester. (Should I also do a flashback?) Thanks for reading!
Review if you like?