Sylvie opened one side of the front double door and screamed when she saw the women get off the elevator and step into the foyer. ‘Good God! What are you all doing here?’ she asked, hurrying toward them with outstretched arms.
‘We’re here to do an intervention,’ her sister Sara said as she pulled her into a bear hug. Not to be outdone, her sisters-in-law Kelly, Rebecca, and Jessie joined the fray, followed by her cousin Meagan and her father’s new wife, Leona. The security guards who rode up with them watched the scene with amusement as each of the women in turn grabbed Sylvie, squeezed her tight, then smothered her with kisses.
‘It’s so good to see you guys. I can’t believe you’re here,’ Sylvie said as she tried extricating herself from her family’s overly enthusiastic embraces. She was the shortest of the group. Every time someone wrapped their arms around her, she got a new set of boobs jabbing her in the face.
Meagan backed away from the rest of the women and looked around. ‘How cool is this? You could fit my whole apartment in this foyer, with plenty of room left over. Is this just for your apartment?’ she asked incredulously.
Sylvie nodded.
‘Wow! I’m impressed! White marble floor, white marble walls, fountain chandelier, the whole nine yards. You’ve come up in the world Syl. Must be nice having a rich boyfriend who’s also your boss!’ Meagan sounded envious.
‘What’s the matter with you? Have you been sick?’ Kelly asked, staring at Sylvie in alarm. ‘You’re nothing but skin and bones. You’ve lost a lot of weight since the wedding. Haven’t you been eating?’
‘And so pale,’ Leona added.
‘And the circles, look at the circles under her eyes. Have you been getting enough sleep?’ Jessie piped in.
Before Sylvie could respond, it was Rebecca’s turn. ‘You seem to be wincing every time you move. Are you in pain or something? Jesus, Sylvie. You look like a train wreck!’
‘She’s right you know. You really do look like shit!’ Meagan added, putting in her two cents worth.
‘Gee ladies! Thanks for the kind words and complements! I’m flattered! You really know how to cheer a girl up! Be careful or you’ll give me a swelled head!’ Sylvie chirped sweetly, her words dripping with sarcasm. ‘But you still haven’t told me why you’re here. It can’t be that you came all this way just to pump up my self-esteem.’
‘Aren’t you glad to see us?’ Meagan asked, fixing her mouth in a pout.
‘Of course I’m happy to see you. I’m just surprised is all. If you’d let me know you were coming I could have made you a nice dinner, gotten some tickets to a show, arranged for a tour of the city.
‘I told you. This is an intervention!’ Sarah repeated. ‘We’re very worried about you. No matter what time of the day or night we call, weekdays or weekends, you’re always working. You’ve turned into a frigging workaholic. You’re always cranky, always exhausted. You need to get a life! Kick up your heels! Have some fun! You know what they say about all work and no play.’
Easier said than done! Having fun wasn’t an option. Connor didn’t allow it! The last thing Sylvie wanted was a lecture from her bossy big sister. Her eyes darted to the two security guards. Why were they still hanging around? This conversation didn’t concern them. One’s name was Chase Yannick. He was the big, bald-headed giant who’d run to the store for her Tampax. The other was Tim O’Brien. She blushed every time she saw him. She’d baptized him with puke after her night on the town. How embarrassing was that?
Sylvie didn’t appear to be listening. She was staring at the security people instead. Sara hadn’t come all this way to be ignored. She tapped Sylvie on the shoulder to get her attention, then continued. ‘You sound so depressed and unhappy over the phone that you really worry us. You’re so secretive and closemouthed about your life. You won’t talk to any of us about what’s bothering you. Every time one of us calls it sounds like you’re on the verge of tears. We want to help you, but we can’t do that unless you tell us what’s wrong.’ Sara fixed her little sister with a firm, unwavering gaze. ‘That’s why we’re here. Why we decided to do an intervention. You are going to tell us what the problem is, even if we have to pry the information out of you. Even if it takes all fucking night!’ It was then that Sara remembered they weren’t alone. She looked over at the security people still standing by the elevator and blushed. ‘Sorry about the language. I get carried away sometimes,’ she apologized.
Kelly averted her eyes, trying not to smirk. Sometimes? Try always! Sara lobbed F-bombs all the time, like it was her job. She had the filthiest mouth in the family, even worse than her brothers and they had an excuse: they’d been Marines!
‘Let’s go inside shall we?’ Sylvie suggested, hoping the security guards would get the hint and vamoose.
‘I’ll take those,’ Meagan said, batting her big baby blues at O’Brien and grabbing the pile of boxes he held in his hands. ‘See! We came prepared. We brought libations!’
Kelly, Sara, Rebecca, Jessie, and Leona each retrieved a shopping bag from the elevator. ‘Pinot Grigio!’ they shouted in unison.
‘Enough to get us all shit-faced and then some!’ Kelly whooped, doing what amounted to a happy-dance cheer at the prospect.
‘And the pièce de résistance…pizza! Now I ask you,’ Meagan smiled triumphantly, ‘do we know how to throw an intervention or what?’
‘We’ll bring up the luggage,’ O’Brien told them, realizing the women wanted to discuss personal family matters and it would be rude of them to intrude any longer.
Meagan gave him her prettiest smile. ‘Why thank you. Mr. O’Brien,’ she said, squinting to read his name tag. ‘That’s very kind of you.’ The words were softly spoken. The charm offensive had begun. She took a deep breath, causing her chest to swell and stick out to best advantage. The man was a hottie and Meagan was never one to let an opportunity pass her by.
Sylvie looked at her cousin and rolled her eyes. Old habits die hard! She hadn’t changed one iota since the last time Sylvie saw her. She wasn’t the least bit shy when it came to men and getting what she wanted from them. If Meagan was interested in someone, she damn well sure let him know it. She’d seen the girl in action before and it wasn’t pretty. She had to give her credit; Meagan had it down to a science. She was still smiling at him as she pulled her shoulders back and thrust her boobs out even more. Then she turned slightly so he could see her breasts in profile. A little bit more and the center of gravity would shift and she’d fall flat on her face on the floor. Obviously Meagan wanted to make sure the man didn’t miss what she often referred to as her ‘bodacious tatas,’ her ‘rack.’ Had he noticed? Her eyes fluttered down to his package, waiting for some sign of appreciation. O’Brien shook his head, quirking a disapproving eyebrow in her direction when he saw her appraising his ‘goods.’ He turned on his heel and stepped into the elevator with Yannick, leaving Meagan looking puzzled and annoyed.
‘We’ll be back in a few minutes with your bags,’ he informed them as the doors closed.
‘What’s up with him? Is he gay?’ Meagan asked indignantly, tossing her head and sending a cascade of long brown curls back over her shoulder. She wasn’t used to being thwarted. ‘He isn’t wearing a wedding ring so he must be single. Right? What is he, some kind of monk?’
Poor Meagan. She always took rejection badly. ‘Your luggage is here?’ Sylvie inquired nervously. ‘Where are you staying?’ Much to her consternation, she thought she already knew the answer to that…and it wasn’t good!
‘Why here of course! Duh?’ Jessie told her in that cheerful patient tone she used with the slow learners in her kindergarten class.
‘Oh sure,’ Sylvie said trying her best to sound pleased even though she wasn’t. ‘How long are you staying?’ she asked, holding her breath, afraid to hear the answer.
‘Just tonight,’ Sara responded. ‘We’ve got to get back to the kids before your brother-in-law and brothers send your nieces and nephews to the hospital with sugar comas and/or severe gastric problems. Plus we’ve all got to be back to work bright and early Monday morning. I hate to leave Sean alone with the little ones too long. His idea of a well-balanced meal for the kids is a box of mac and cheese with cut up hot dogs in it, served with potato chips and cheese curls on the side,’ she snickered. ‘We decided to come here on the spur of the moment last night. There was no time to plan or prepare. We would’ve been here earlier, but the damn train was delayed four hours: problems with the track between Rochester and Utica. We’ll have our little pajama party intervention: drink some wine, make that lots of wine; have some laughs;, and be out of your hair by 10 AM tomorrow morning. See! That’s not so bad is it?’
‘It’s fine,’ Sylvie assured her, smiling broadly, hoping they couldn’t hear the relief in her voice. She loved her family, but…10 AM Sunday morning couldn’t come fast enough! She wasn’t looking forward to this evening at all.
She was glad to see them. But an intervention? She wondered which one of her nosy parker, buttinski relatives dreamed this up? Either Kels or Sara she was sure. They were both pains when it came to insinuating themselves into her life and giving advice ad nauseam. She wished they’d told her they were coming, instead of springing it on her like this. She was sorry that she’d worried them. That they felt it necessary to hightail it to the city to help her. But they’d put her in a hell of a predicament.
How could she admit what was wrong? They liked Connor. She didn’t want to tell them he’d kicked her out of his house and exiled her here. They’d assume he’d taken advantage of her. Seduced her, then cast her aside. They’d think him a cad, a scoundrel. They’d hate him! Sylvie didn’t want that. They were like mama bears, very protective, especially Sara. She’d scratch out the eyes of any man who hurt Sylvie…turn him into a eunuch even. Connor a eunuch? Over Sylvie’s dead body!
She was being held here almost incommunicado: rarely allowed to leave the premises and only if accompanied by two very burly bodyguards. It was hard to explain what was happening without telling them why. That Connor was a suspect in a series of grisly killings. Sylvie couldn’t do that. Connor had insisted she tell no one about the murder investigation, not even her family. If they were worried now, that little bit of information would really scare the hell out of them. They’d freak!
If she even hinted what was really wrong, she’d have her father and brothers here quick as a flash to pack her up and drag her home. She was never good at lying, but she better take a crash course in the arts of deception, obfuscation, subterfuge and misdirection real quick or she’d find herself back in Wyoming tending cows before she knew what hit her. ‘Come on in ladies. The view from up here is spectacular.’ She pushed open both doors and bid them enter.
The din started the minute they crossed the threshold and got a good look at the penthouse. They were babbling, everyone speaking at once, talking over each other. She couldn’t tell who was saying what, but the comments were flying fast and furious. They rushed around like a swarm of locusts, veering one way then the other, trying to take it all in.
‘Holy shit!’ one of them cried out.
‘Wow! Double, triple, quadruple wow!’ exclaimed another.
‘This is your home? You really, truly live here?’ She believed that was Meagan.
‘Unbelievable. You are sooooo lucky! This sure beats the farm!’ That sounded like Rebecca.
‘Look at the rooftop terrace. It’s magnificent! And this view…absolutely breathtaking! I love that teardrop crystal chandelier…so elegant. Feel this carpet. It’s like walking on a cloud. Your feet sink right in. Have you ever seen furniture like this? It’s frigging enormous! That sectional’s got to seat 20 at least. All this artwork on the walls: the oil paintings and watercolors; probably worth a fortune. The kitchen is to die for. Cabinets all the way up to the ceiling. Custom built I’m sure. And take a look at the refrigerator. It’s huge! You could fit a couple of cows in there! An eight-burner, two-oven stove, two extra wall ovens and three separate sinks…who do they cook for…an army?’ Sara sounded like a tour director pointing out places and things of interest. ‘This place is fucking fabulous! Sylvie, listen to your big sister. You’ve got to marry this guy!‘
‘I’ll get right on it!’ Sylvie snorted, shaking her head.
‘Gorgeous! Awesome! Exquisite! Stunning! Luxurious!’ The superlatives and hyperbole bounced around the rooms and off the walls. To say that they were impressed with the place was a gross understatement.
Sylvie stared at them, her head pounding, neck throbbing. How would she ever survive the next 12 hours? It was going to be a very, very, very long night. She slowly followed them into the penthouse and shut the doors behind her. Thank God they brought wine!
