Escape Your Past

THE PARTY

"Are you ready to leave?" Charles asked.

"Five more minutes." I responded while wiping myself with a towel.

"You're still showering?!I can't believe you are not dressed yet! We're going to be late. Why are never on time!?"

"First of all, I already finished showering, second- it's a party. You don't need to be there at eight a clock on the dot, ok, otherwise it will appear desperate."

"I told you, we need this!" he slammed the bathroom door and stormed off.

As usual his anger had an effect and I was in full tilt. I put my makeup on quickly, attached my white gold feather shaped hair pins as I quickly arranged my hairdo. Some women like rings and necklaces, I like hair jewelry. Maybe it's snobbish, but knowing my dark locks are held by something expensive gives me a sense of royalty, like wearing a tiara. Besides, hairpins are quite practical. They can pick locks and puncture arrogant bastards, if they get grabby. I put on the rest of my garb. Snatched my shoes and clutch, and made a run for the car. It took more than an hour to get there, the location was quite remote and I'm unfamiliar with the English terrain. We are visiting Britain temporarily for a long weekend. Our home is in Rome where our kids Mika and Daniel are awaiting our return. When we finally arrived the party was in full swing and Mr X was nowhere to be seen.

"We need to find him quickly, he's one sneeze away from dropping death" My husband whispered playfully in my ear. Oh, he loved the hunt. Tracking the right investor, organizing the deal, getting the funding, putting all the pieces of the puzzle together to create that wonderful end result which kept our lights on and the bread on our table.

The mansion was beautiful, as if pulled out from a Jane Austin novel. As the valet took our keys and drove off with our car I quickly counted- three stories high, nine windows per floor- place was huge. I put my "nice-face" on and started mingling, trying my best to exude charm and hopefully find some interesting contacts to introduce to Charles. Half an hour of nodding politely while listening about the local municipality scandalous decision to change the garbage cleaning company without going trough the proper chain of command, I was ready for my second drink. Although, any excuse to get away from the boring conversation would've worked.

"Dry martini, please." I asked the bartender

-"You always end up spilling martini glasses when you're in a hurry. Change the order."

"Actually, please, scratch that. I'll take white wine." I needed to be able to move quickly in case I spotted the investor.

"Never thought I'll see a Venus De Milo in the flesh in my own home." I heard a croaky voice behind me. 

-"BINGO! We've locked target."

I turned around and gave my most seductive smile and responded-"Not as scantily clad I hope." 

Mr X really looked exactly as described. Small, frail and with kind eyes. 

-"This is going to be easy."

"You must be Charles's wife. He mentioned he married a Greek goddess, his description is more than accurate."

-"Oh, you shameless geezer!"

In all honesty, I like it when old ladies' men try to woo me. They never hit on you with an actual expectation for something to happen, the flirt is just a sport for old times sake.

I held out my right hand and said-"Olivia Shay. The former is correct, I am originally from Greece, but that's where my resemblance with Aphrodite ends." He took my hand and instead of shaking it, he kissed it. Old school.

 "I've watched you"- he shook a finger at me-"when you stand still you look like a breathing statue" 

He's been watching me! Good. My straight posture was actually a result of a back injury I had as a child. It was followed by an operation with bolts and screws inserted into my spine to correct the damage. I was bedridden for days and as a result I now sit and stand upright perpetually, even if I'm just lounging at home in front of the TV in my pajamas. It also means I can pass metal detectors with my gun and knife. I am always packing. You just never know. Right now the knife is being held hidden by my hairpins and mane. My Glock was secured in my clutch.

"A statuesque figure can create the wrong first impression. See, I wouldn't want you to think of me as stone hearted." I smiled as warmly as possible and added  "For nothing is worse than a hot beer and a cold woman" That had him laughing. 

The bartender gave him a reverenced nod and acquired- "Would you like a drink, sir?"

"Yes Jimmie, gimme some Irish whiskey."

"Right away, sir." the servant jumped and started pouring. 

-What was that? 

His staff is on edge. Does that mean that under that cute old man sheepskin lies a wolf in disguise? I should tread carefully, this isn't going to be as easy as I thought.

"So, you like Irish whiskey, Mr Xander?" I deliberately used his full name to see his reaction." It's very fitting with the 'Great Gatsby' decor of your home." I added and waived my arm to underline my point, for the hall and even the bathrooms were designed in a Art Deco early twentieth century style.

"Please, call me Mr X. or just Rupert." he took a sip and winced "Alexander Foster was the name of my grandfather whom I'm named after. My mother had to change our family name and Rupert Xander is what she chose for me. He was a notorious gangster, my granddad, and I really don't see it fitting to keep the memory of him alive. Which is a bit difficult since I inherited his fortune." he said with a sly smile "also I feel Mr X sounds younger" he winked and offered me his arm which I gladly took as we started walking. So far, so good. He is definitely using the "embarrassing-old-man" profile as a facade. Does he honestly believe the bullshit he's saying or does he take me for an i***t? Being upset over your murderous gangster relatives while you bathe in the champagne they provided, must be very difficult.

-Don't you dare roll your eyes!

"And you are right on the money about the whiskey, Ms Shay." he chuckled "I reminds me of hard times in my past and those shouldn't be forgotten"

"I apologize for bringing up unfitting memories...Mr X. I was just trying to say that you have a beautiful home" I needed to dodge the name gaffe which obviously gave him discomfort.

"My home is indeed a source of pride for me. Would you like to take a tour of the premises?" He proposed.

-Absolutely not! 

Indeed, it is one thing to flirt with him in a crowded ballroom, it's entirely different to be alone in his company. It's all about context and as much as I wanted his money, I  was not for sale. Having to kick him in the balls would destroy any chance of working together. He saw my reservation and frowned as I took a step back. 

-s**t.

It is infuriating that because I am a businesswoman they always think that I'm part of the deal. It really doesn't matter if I am reserved or coquettish, the end result is the same. I could never tell Charles. He'll explode on the clients and leave me out of the company in order to protect me. Problem is, I also love the hunt. Alright, let's cut to the chase.