From Riches To Rags Part 13

She looked at me incredulously and then realized I was joking.

"My parents entire mansion would fit in this one room alone."

I heard someone clear their throat behind me and I turned to find the Butler in the doorway.

"Pardon the intrusion, Miss Blackie, but where would you like your breakfast served?"

"Chris?"

"Oh, um, the inside garden would be nice dont you think?"

"There you have it, Jeeves, the inside garden, if you please."

He smiled and said jovially, "I always aim to please you, Miss Blackie."

When we were alone again Chris shook her head and asked, "Is his name really Jeeves, the butler?"

"No, its Charles, but when he calls me Miss Blackie, which I hate, then I call him Jeeves, which he hates. Weve had a love-hate relations.h.i.+p for as long as Ive known him."

"Aw, thats so sweet in a malevolent sort of way."

"Oh, to rough. Come on, you, lets go have breakfast."

Time to Face the Music - Meg b.u.mgartner and Carl and Felicia Livingston Mr. Livingston greeted me at the door to his mansion with an angry question, "What do you mean you dont know where shes at, Ms. b.u.mgartner? She couldnt have gotten too far because she cant afford it."

I had been summoned by Mr. Livingston himself, to report in person, and explain how I lost Chris, and what was I doing to find her. I started from where I had left off the last time I reported in person, the integration of her new friend, Blackie Blackstone, who had probably unintentionally blown my cover. At least it was only the no contact portion of my cover. The part that I was working for him and conducting surveillance on her was still a secret.

I left out a few things like how I wanted to puke when I walked into my wifes office and saw Chris standing there. I dont think Ive ever been as shocked or as p.i.s.sed as I was at that moment. But then, once I got over the shock, I was so happy to see my adopted kid sister in person again. G.o.d I feel so guilty tricking her like this. I suppose I should be grateful to Blackie for bringing us together ahead of schedule, because I was exhausted from fighting off the urge to go to her and help her out. I had been close to reaching out to her before, like when she was unconscious in the gutter with that drunk. I stood at the corner of that alley all night to make sure she was safe. I had to do something similar like that several times, until she finally sobered up and got a job.

And now I needed to tell them the part that would probably get me fired, the part that I had deliberately left out when they interviewed me.

"Uh, Chris knows me from when you all lived in Collierville. My family lived next door to you, and my little sister, Bonnie, was Chrissies, I mean Chriss best friend until you moved away."

Mrs. Livingston looked at me curiously, "Your mother and I are still the best friends, Margaret, thats why when your name was suggested, I called your mother to ask her opinion. She asked me if there could be anyone more capable of protecting Chris as if she were family, than you were. You have proven her right, many times over. Thank you."

"You talked with my mom? She never told me."

"No, I shouldnt imagine she would have." Mr. Livingston said, "Meg, sometimes parents have to make the really hard choices in order to save their child. Your sister was killed by someone very much like what Chris had become and when she almost killed that man, leaving him wheelchair bound, we had no choice left. We hoped she would learn a lesson and stop drinking. Ill admit, I was holding my breath there for a while, but she has done it and I couldnt be prouder of her."

"Your mother told me she asked Bonnie to watch over Chris, and Margaret, you were the angel G.o.d sent to her." Mrs. Livingston had tears in her eyes when she said, "I have one regret that I must apologize to you for. I dont know if you remember because you were very distraught at the funeral, but I was there. My regret is that I never told Chris of Bonnies death. She was already drinking at the time and I was afraid the news would send her into a tailspin. I realize now, that was a mistake. She was already in a tailspin and telling her how Bonnie had died, might have brought her out of it."

"No, I think your first instinct was the right one, Mrs. Livingston. I think it would have only made things worse. When I saw her the other day, I told her about Bonnie and she handled it well. I think she wanted to tell me then about her drinking, but for whatever reason, decided not to. Probably because Blackie was there nosing around."

Mr. Livingston looked at me, "You dont like her very much, do you Margaret?"

"No sir, right now I do not. Shes a loose cannon who doesnt care about anything or anyone but herself. But, I do believe that Chris has been a good influence on her, although I would never tell Blackie that. And I think that wherever Chris is at with Blackie, she is much safer than when she was pa.s.sed out in that back alley. When Blackie pulled up in front of the restaurant in a limousine, they drove to the airport and got into her private jet. I dont know where they were flying to because without a court order, I cant see the flight plan."

"I have a few connections with the port authority, Ill find out for you and have my jet standing by to take you wherever you need to go."

"Thank you, but Im hoping that wont be necessary. From what I can tell, Chris did not make arrangements for someone to care for her kitten and I know she would never leave her pet for very long without food and water."

"Youre that sure of the kittens importance?"

"Oh yes sir, very sure."

"All right then, Ill still find out where the plane went and if shes not home in a day or two, youll go find our little girl, wont you, Margaret?"

"Yes sir, I will."

Chapter Thirteen.

One Last Hurrah, Part Two Melinda Blackstone and Christine Livingston "Ever ridden in a helicopter before, Chris?"

"Yes, once, when I was a teenager, why do you ask, Melinda?"

I looked at her and grinned, "I have more to show you."

I led her out to the helipad, where a sleek Bell 407 helicopter waited for us. We climbed inside the s.p.a.cious craft and buckled our seatbelts. As soon as I gave the thumbs up to the pilot, the four rotor blades began to whirl above us, and in moments we were airborne.

"Where are we going this time?" She shouted to be heard over the thumping sound of the blades.

I pointed to the headset hanging beside her and once we put them on, we could have a normal conversation. I told her that we were going to several different places and I would explain each location once we got to it.

The first stop was my car vault. A few years ago, a new company came to my father asking to secure and protect his cars with their 150,000-square-foot vault. Using state of the art technology, his cars would be stored as if they were being showcased, and protected by laser security, inside and out, with a fingerprint key entry, silent alarms, and invisible cameras. All of which made the facility impenetrable. My father, with his dry, wicked sense of humor, hired them to test it out using my cars. Thankfully, they were proven right and my cars have never been safer.

I made a special effort to point out my American cars to Chris.

She laughed and said, "Consider me embarra.s.sed." And then she asked, "Melinda, why do you need so many different cars?"

"As you know, Im a very complex person and depending on my mood, I drive the car that will either enhance it, or change it."

"Ive never heard of mood cars before."

"Oh yeah," I said without missing a beat, "Its the latest craze."

We hopped back in the copter and headed to our next destination, the ocean, where my fathers two hundred million dollar yacht was anch.o.r.ed close to the peninsula but far enough away to avoid the harbor traffic. The yacht has its own helicopter pad, complete living quarters including master bedrooms and bathrooms, living room, game room and dining room. And one very cool toy, that I couldnt wait to show Chris.

Once I showed her around the four hundred and thirty square foot yacht, I took her to the stern of the boat and opened the door to a one-atmosphere, two person, submersible submarine with a three-hundred and sixty degree pressure hull. It is a very compact little sub that can submerge down a thousand meters, and goes about three and a half miles per hour, but the view outside the hull is worth slowing down for. I started to climb in when Chris stopped me.

"Are we going somewhere in that little thing?" She asked timidly.

"Yeah, if youre comfortable with the idea. I thought we could take it out for a spin."

"I dont know, Melinda, it looks awfully small."

"Thats the beauty of it. I promise, we wont go very deep below the surface and if you decide you dont like it, Ill bring us back up, p.r.o.nto. Are you game?" I held my hand out and she took it, smiling, with her forehead crease in doubt.

She was nervous at first, but once we submerged and began to glide through the water, she relaxed and looked at the different species of fish swimming by, seemingly oblivious to us. I pointed out a shark coming our way, and she leaned back, I guess so he wouldnt see her, and held her breath until he pa.s.sed us by. And then a squid swam by and it was my turn to hold my breath, praying that his tentacles wouldnt become entangled around the machinery.

Once we had our fill of that adventure, we enjoyed a sumptuous lunch on the aft deck and by sheer coincidence, the chef had prepared squid barbeque.

She took a bite and said, "Oh my gosh, this is so good!"

"Im glad you like it. So, what do you think so far?"

"You mean about your magical never-never land? I think its wonderful. And here I thought I was privileged. Youre right, now I have a much better understanding of what youre giving up. But Im not surprised that youre going through with it. Im thankful, actually."

I was confused and asked, "Thankful, why?"

"Because, Melinda Blackstone, you are worth so much more than all these toys you play with. So much more than what your net-worth is."

"Oh, uh, thank you. I hope I can live up to your expectations."

"Its not my expectations you should be trying to live up to. You need to find your own potential, just like I had to do, like all of us must do. When I woke up hung over but sober in that alley, it finally hit me that I didn't want that life anymore. But if I was going to have the life I wanted, I was going to have to find it on my own. And you know what, I did. I know, it isnt much, but its my life, not my parent's life, not my parents money and certainly not the booze I poured down my throat every night."

I decided to come clean with her, "Chris, I dont know if I can leave all of this behind, even for a month. It makes me feel really lonely, if that makes sense to you?"

She looked at me for a moment, contemplating something, and then asked, "Melinda, where did you disappear to for two days?"

"You noticed?"

"Of course I noticed. I was even mad at you, because you didnt even say goodbye. You got drunk and had an orgy, didnt you."

"I resent that - but yes, I did, in Vegas." She leaned in and looked in my eyes and I had to look away, "All right, I did go back to Vegas and drank some, but I didnt get drunk and I didnt have s.e.x."

"Well, Im glad to hear that. See, youre already making progress." And then she smiled and said, "I think I know how to help you with that. Youll move in with me. That will make it an even harder test, being with me almost twenty-four seven for a month."

I really liked that idea... really liked it! But I had a few concerns.

"And this wont count against me, like Im using a crutch?"

"Oh, do you mean because Ill be there to help you? First of all, I wont help you, not like you think anyway, and considering everything youve shown me here today, I dont think it will hinder your difficulties too much, having me there."

She seemed to have it all figured out. Suddenly, I felt like a guinea pig in a testing lab. I realized one thing though. Living that close to someone with almost a complete lack of privacy would either make us best friends for life, or murderers.

After lunch we hopped back on the chopper and headed into the city. I wanted to prove to her that it wasnt just about the money. We gave to charity too, building hospital wings for children, low rent housing for the poor, and h.e.l.l, even a baseball park for the inner city kids. I showed her all of those things, pointing out the obvious and not so obvious charity works that were a.s.sociated with the Blackstone name. After we finally landed back at my house, I felt confident that I had proven my point, that the Blackstone money doesnt just buy me cars, it helps people out too. Then I realized, Chris had been quiet for the last half of my tour. I asked her what she thought about it.

"Melinda, thank you for showing me that your parents believe in charity. They have been most generous, but-"

"But?"

"You have your own money, right? An allowance or trust fund, or whatever."

"Yes, both of those, plus a salary as an executive in my fathers firm. I make a couple of million a-"

"So help me, if you say a couple of million a month Im going to faint."

I laughed and decided it was best to let that one go. "Why do you ask, Chris?"

She looked concerned, "Id like you to show me what you have done for charity."

I could feel my cheeks flush and I darted my eyes away before I could see the disappointment on her face. But she wasnt disappointed, instead she understood.

"Its okay, Melinda. Im right there with you. As I told you before, there had been many opportunities where I could have helped, but used the money for myself instead. You see, we have quite a lot in common, you and me. But I think we are learning from our mistakes, and this test will teach both of us what it means to make sacrifices. Together, I think we can make a real difference for others."

She probably didnt mean it the way I took it, which was that in the future we would be together, my best friend and me. I only prayed that it wasnt togetherness in the slums.

For the evening activities, I had planned something special that I was sure would blow her mind.

"Follow me," I said, and took her up to my mothers dressing room, explaining that she looked to be the same size as my mother. I opened several closets until I found the one with her c.o.c.ktail dresses. "Pick your dress." I said and smiled at the shocked look on her face. "One of these closets has shoes in it and you might find a pair that fit you." Then I walked over to the cabinet where her jewels were kept neatly in several different drawers. "And we cant forget the bling-bling, oh and theres a makeup table over there, not that you need makeup of course."

"My mom has a similar dressing room like this one and I use to love to go in there and play dress up. Oh..."

"What?"

"We shouldnt do this, Melinda. I cant wear your mothers things, she wouldnt appreciate it, Im sure. And besides, I absolutely do not want to go out drinking. Im not as strong as I look, you know?

"Dont worry, there will be no alcohol where were going, and my mother doesnt care. She has a room like this in every one of our houses."

"Well, all right, if youre sure?"

"Trust me, Im sure. Now get dressed, weve got a party to get to."

Forty-five minutes later, Chris emerged on the stairs looking like Julia Roberts in Pretty Woman, only more pet.i.te.

"My G.o.d, youre stunning!" I exclaimed as she walked down the stairs, one hand on the rail, the other clutching a small purse. She was wearing a royal blue, laced and sequined dress, with matching pumps, and had on s.h.i.+mmering red lipstick that matched the color of her fingernail polish. Her hair was pulled back with a diamond brooch, and she wore a diamond bracelet on her wrist and one on her ankle, that matched the brooch.

My G.o.d, you are so beautiful. I extended my arm to her and she accepted it, commenting on how good I looked. I was wearing a specially made black Armani suit with Mandarin Collar and diamond cufflinks and that combination always made me feel confident.

She said, "So, were are you taking me tonight?"

"Well, have you ever been to a billionaires party before?"

"No, but it cant be much different than a millionaires party... can it?"

"No, probably not."

I grinned at her mischievously, and then opened the door to the ball room, and we stepped into Italy, with its vineyards, art works and gondolas. Directly in front of us were the gondolas, floating up and down a real ca.n.a.l with a gondolier singing Italian operatic songs.

On the left wall was a painted mural of Mount Vesuvius erupting, and on the right wall was a mural of a hillside full of vines with cl.u.s.ters of real grapes hanging from them. In the back was the best part of Italy, the San Carlo Opera stage, where later in the evening, rising opera star, Renata Altobelli, would perform one of my favorite arias from Il Trovatore.

"My gosh, how did you pull this off so fast, Melinda?"