Everything that glitters isn't gold
The fall semester is registered for and the payment has been applied. Summer of 2010 feels like it slipped from my grip. Above all else it will definitely be a summer I remember.
He walked in very well dressed and his status wreaked from his pores. There was nothing forced about it, nothing predictable either. He dealt in arms and had no qualms about adding to world suffering. I spotted him heading towards the bar and could not help but capitalize on the chance.
"Scotch on the rocks" he said to the bartender. While reaching in his jacket pocket.
"Are you Richard Winston, the man with 3 Las Vegas 5 star hotels?" I said hiding all previous judgments.
"Why yes and who are you?" He said with a grin. "What are you drinking?"
"My name is Ivy Maxwell, and I pay attention to entrepreneurs of high esteem. You sir, are a well respected man and It is an honor."
He couldn't help but be attracted to me. It was their fatal flaw. Drawing them in was like tracing a picture, and it always lead to dinner.
"Break bread with me, and I will discuss with you whatever you'd like to know." Richard said with confidence.
I gladly obliged and followed the hostess to a small table on the far end of the bar. He pulled out my chair, but not before putting his hand on the small of my back. I cringed inside, but managed to stay poised. He ordered duck for himself and took the liberty of ordering a caprese salad for me.
"How does it feel to be unlimited?" I said while putting down my cutlery.
"We all have a limit my dear and that is the sky. What you meant to ask is, how does it feel to be obscenely wealthy?" He said with bedroom eyes. "Come up for a night cap?"
He took my hand and we went to the room. The suite was immaculate especially for such a special occasion. The next morning I showered and made sure to leave without being seen. People always assumed the worst of a lady leaving so early in the morning.
My phone went off for the third time during my nap, so someone must be dying. I rolled over to see 3 missed calls from my boss. He always denied my abilities, but relied on me so heavily. I turned on the T.V to find breaking news, and much to my surprise it was about Richard Winston. He was found dead in his hotel room this afternoon.
My phone went off again, and shook me from the trance.
"Ivy, get your ass in here! Long nights are your fault, and work begins at 9am." John screamed through the phone.
I hung up the phone and put on the lavender summer dress Mom bought me in the Hamptons. The discovery of Richards body had me re tracing my steps after leaving his hotel room. Coincidentally, I was worried about being looked at as a hooker. Now, I might be a suspect. I shook the thoughts from my head and set out for work.
Reiker & Blitman is the law group I work for and the reason for my obsession with two-faced men in power. Criminal lawyers have to represent the good and the bad. The saying "every dog has it's day" is wiped away once they hire John Blitman. Harvard law did him well and every criminal gets a "get-out-of-jail-free" card.
"Good morning Ivy and nice to see you hear so late." John said with annoyance.
His first client had already arrived, and I couldn't believe my eyes. His grey eyes flashed up at me scanning my entire body and it was obvious what he was thinking.
"Nice to meet you I'm Samuel Rochelle." He said while reaching for my hand.
"Good morning Mr. Rochelle, I'm Ivy Maxwell."
He stared right into my eyes and John didn't know what to do. "Please Mr. Rochelle follow me and let Ivy get settled."
He let his hand linger and walked away confidently. Samuel Rochelle was a big tobacco man, and owned most of the major cigarette companies. John was helping him settle a case in which 10 families were suing his companies for false advertising. Rochelle's companies marketed the cigarettes as a healthier type of tobacco, stating that it was "lighter on the lungs". Turns out, it sped up the chances of cancer by 30%. They spoke for about an hour before the office door opened up. They shook hands and Rochelle stopped at my desk for a chat.
"What are your plans for this evening? A beautiful girl like you must have a boyfriend to go home to?" He said with a smile.
"No boyfriend for me. All work and no play, and that's how I live." I replied without looking up.
"I'll be staying at the Ritz, my meetings end at 10pm ill see you there." He left his card on my desk and walked out of the firm.
The rest of the day went as it usually does, and John added a few hours to my day for my tardiness. He was a just man, but he knew nothing of justice.
I locked up the offices and ordered sushi on the way home. While leaving the car I noticed a small card on the passenger seat. "You are poison Ivy and I am the cure." I flipped it over and realized it was Rochelle's. The delivery guy waved at me and all I could think of was what I was wearing to the Ritz.
I stepped out of the house in a red and black cocktail dress, which went perfect with my red pumps. It screamed sex kitten, but I am always a flirt. It took 5 seconds for the GPS to locate the route and another 20minutes for me to get there. The valet studied my entire frame before taking my keys, and I thanked him for the unspoken compliment.
I scanned the room and found my mark. Rochelle's navy blue suit and silver tie made his eyes look unreal. His white hair was slicked back and his shoes were shined to perfection. He was checking his watch when I walked up to him.
"She couldn't have stood you up, and if she did I will gladly take her place." I said in a low seductive tone.
His eyes met mine and he raised my hand to his lips. Bad things are always wrapped in such good paper. Rochelle was no different, and the light ring around his most important finger gave away his whole story. The thoughts escaped me as he lead me to a table.
"I ordered white wine, as it goes well with what I was told is your favorite dish."
The waiter brought over two plates of grilled Mahi Mahi, brown rice and a green medley. He could have only known my favorite meal from John -he treated me to lunch a couple of times.
"I am really flattered you took the time to find out my favorite dish." I said with a full stomach. "This was really delicious."
He smiled and waived over the waiter. "Dessert please, and I promise we're done."
Tiramasu and expresso were brought along in a rolling cart, and by now I believed he knew my blood type. Tiramasu is the only dessert I will eat.
"Samuel, why are you doing all of this?" I blurted without control.
"Men like myself do not need to wine and dine women. They simply fall at my feet, but you wouldn't even make eye contact. He said while standing up. "Let's dance and think about the rest tomorrow."
We danced till last call and the piano player bid us a goodnight. There was no way we could get upstairs faster than we did.
I woke up next to his cuff links and made sure to leave everything in place. The shower removed all sin of last night, but I was still guilty. I left him there and headed for the back exit. The valet brought my car and I headed to my apartment. The sushi from last night made for a great breakfast while checking emails. John had decided to take the day off, so I was sent a courteous email. The T.V was blaring in the background with breaking news. I turned to see a stretcher leaving a hotel and lost my breath when his name came across the screen.
"Samuel Rochelle the multimillionaire was found dead on the balcony of his suite." said the channel 5 reporter. "He is survived by his wife and 4 children."
The odds of two high-powered men killed in the same week were slim, but the fact that I was the last person they were with made me uneasy. As long as no fingers were pointed I was in the clear. I was brought back to Earth by a knock on the door.
"Hello Ma'm I was sent to your home by John Blitman, he told me you could setup an appointment and handle some paperwork while the office is closed. My name's Cane Tilden." said the tall gentleman.
I moved to the side and told him to join me in my study. He seemed uneasy and I could tell his case wouldn't be simple.
"I got into some trouble with foreign labor, and it seems I haven't been paying them the proper amount. There is also an issue with the conditions under which they work." He said without looking up.
"Well sir what have you been paying them, and how can you fix the conditions?" I said without hesitation.
"The U.S has standards, but in third world countries, well I can pay them as little as 1 dollar an hour for hard labor."
I could see the expensive taste he had and his watch alone could feed a small village.
"I am a wealthy man, and your boss can make small issues like this go away. He said with confidence. These third world people are lucky for the business I bring to them. Losing a finger or two along the way is a small price to pay. Am I right?" He said with glee.
I went into the drawer that kept the necessary documents to begin his case. I reached under the papers for the knife I used to kill Richard. My boss knew nothing of justice, and that's where I come in.