I ran up to her and got on her side. “What is the name of your fragrance? It's so feminine and perfect.”
“Thanks. My mom created it for me. She's a perfumier.” Dawn rubbed her wrist against my nose, probably so I could get a better whiff. “Mom mixed currants, jasmine, rose petals, sandalwood, and get this, pralines.”
“That's amazing. Do you think she could whip up something for me?”
“Of course. She likes to meet people, talk with them for a while, and create a scent that she believes tells her about them.”
“So what does that blend say about you?”
She tossed her hair over her shoulder. “I have no idea. Maybe I'm feminine like the flowers she used, but also a bit nutty since she dropped in pralines at the end.”
We arrived toward the end of the path. An old woman sat on a stool several feet away. Slow music filled the air as she strummed a guitar and sang out an old tune in Spanish.
“Oh my.” Dawn held her hand to her chest while I led her into the picnic area. “This is beautiful.”
Two tables were outside. Hundreds of candles formed around the space in the shape of a heart. A small table rested in the center. The finest silverware on the yacht lounged on that table. White roses in a silver dish finished the setting off as their flowery fragrance merged with the food's tantalizing aroma.
Two servants stood farther away, next to a large table. A buffet of small dishes covered it. Anything a woman could desire lay in one of those bowls, from savory to sweet, meaty to simmering soup. I made sure the chef provided it all. I needed to fulfill Dawn’s every desire, make her fantasy come true. And I had to be her fantasy. She joked about Disney princesses like they were insignificant little waifs, but I could see that she hoped to be a princess one day. That secret want glazed in her eyes, telling me that she still yearned to be swept off of her feet and treated like royalty.
And that's just how I'll get her.
I pulled out a chair and let Dawn sit down.
I'll probably bend her over this table when we're done eating. I should have Chef Michel grab some whipped cream.
Before I could get in my own seat, she asked, “How did your mother pass away?”
I hung in mid-air with my knees half bent and a dumb expression plastered on my face. In my head, the evening was going according to plan, but once again, Dawn changed the schedule.
“W-why?” I asked.
“I'm sorry. I probably shouldn't have asked that. It’s a pretty awful thing to ask.” She grabbed the water and gulped some. “How about I apologize and blame it on the alcohol? Maybe I shouldn't have drunk those shots.”
I slumped into the chair with less finesse than I'd planned to. “Why did you want to know about my mother?”
“It was just sad. I was wondering how it happened. It's a pretty rude thing to ask. I'm really sorry.”
I held my hand up. “No. It's fine. It's just . . .no one has ever asked me that.”
Her regretful expression shifted to skeptical. “I don't believe you.”
“Trust me. No one's ever asked me that. Not even guy friends back at any of my boarding schools or in college and definitely not any of the women from the games my brother and I play. I'm just surprised that you asked.”
“I'm pretty nosy.”
“Well,” I held my hands together, “Do you really want to know? It might make you sad.”
“It's up to you if you want to tell me.”
I rubbed the inside of my palm. “My mom committed suicide.”
She covered her face. “Oh God. I'm really sorry for asking—”
“No, seriously. It's fine.” I waved my hand. “This happened long ago. It's been twenty years now.”
“Which would make you twenty-eight?”
“Yes.”
“Wow. Okay. Again, I apologize.”
Quiet hovered over us for a while. For once, I was at a loss for words, trying to figure out why she'd even asked that question. What did she have to gain? What could she do with that information? Was this part of the game somehow, some sick strategy?
I peered at her. “Why did you really ask me that?”
“I just wanted to know. Haven't you ever just wanted to learn about a person, figure out why that individual is who he or she is?”
“Not if I didn't need the information for a particular reason. Why would I care about anyone else?”
“No disrespect, but that sounds pretty cutthroat and selfish.”
“People talk about how violent ghettos are, but don't realize how scary it is around the wealthy. No one’s family gets as rich as the people I know, from being good Christians and loving the world.”
“Really?” Her cheeks rose as she grinned.
I immediately loved the way her whole face lit up with excitement. “Really. There’s a whole lot of rich people who are seriously corrupt individuals.”
“Okay. Then prove it,” she said. “Tell me what's the craziest gossip you've ever heard among the rich and twisted.”
“You mean something crazier than two brothers playing mind games with women?”
“Yes. Even wackier.”
“I know a man who has four wives. And with each wife, he has kids with them. The worst part is that none of the families know about the other. Each woman lives in a different country.”
She placed her elbows on the table and balanced her chin on her hands. “How could they not know?”
“Well, he pretends to be middle class in these four different places. These families live in third world countries. He acts like he works really hard to provide for them. Apparently all four think he has a job that keeps him away for the seasons.”
“So he spends each season with a new family?” she asked.
“Yes. If I can remember correctly, he only visits each place when it is a warm season. He detests the snow.”
“Poor dick head. How many kids does he have?”
I hit my head trying to remember. “I don't know. I keep thinking twelve, but who knows. It could be more.”
“That's horrific.”
“It's life.”
“No, that's not.” A wrinkle formed at her forehead. “It's some spoiled guy taking advantage of lots of people for his own pleasure. Why not just buy up an island, ship people in, and tell them to worship you. Why all the lies and deception? He should just get it over with.”
I laughed. “That was the other piece of gossip that I was going to tell you. There's another guy I partied with. He told me that he bought an island and did just that. He has fifty people walking around it, serving and calling him king.”
“Now you’re full of it. This island does not exist. In fact, please tell me it isn’t real. Please.”
“Oh it’s a hundred percent real. I could take you there. You wouldn't believe it.”
“You've actually been there?” she asked.
“Oh yes. Freakiest experience I've ever had.”
“Oh my God. I really wish I could see that. Sadly, I would probably be dragged off the island for slapping him or something.”
“Yep. I'm sure that's against the law there.” I considered the possibility of flying off with Dawn to meet Cedric the Fifth, the guy who did in fact purchase an island for people to worship him. It would be worth the energy and money just to sit in a room with the both of them. There was no way Cedric would be the same after a visit from Dawn. She just had a way of changing everything. Yeah. I gazed at her, telling myself that my studying her face was all about the game and not some need to imprint her alluring beauty into my mind.