"What do you mean you lost it?!" She shrieks
"It means I lost it. What about that is so hard to understand?"
She gives me a death glare, fiery red lips twisted in a frown. Her updo is now in shambles and her dress looks a mess.
"I'm going to pretend you didn't just say that to me. Natalia, where the heck is the ring?"
I resist the urge to roll my eyes. Are humans always so daft? I just said I lost it. 'Lost' being the verb here. What? Does she think I was waltzing through the park?
"I told you. I lost it. I can't find it. It's poof...gone!" I use hand gestures because she seems to be lacking in English. Maybe sign language would help.
Abigail, the red dragon in front of me, keeps glaring. If glares meant bullet wounds, I'd be shot right between my eyes.
"I've had it with your sass! Your uncouth behavior and total disregard for etiquette. Who the hell wears jeans to a dinner function?"
I look down at my attire. A beige sweater, blue jeans and nude heels. My hair is in a ponytail and I have diamond studs resting on each ear. I don't look that bad.
"Nothing's wrong with what I'm wearing. Can you stop trying to be my mom? Newsflash, you're not. You're just the new pass time for my father. I give you two weeks. See if he doesn't get bored. Also, you don't want to be caught talking to me that way. Daddy wouldn't like it." I smirk.
Immature? Yes. Satisfying? Hell yeah! Especially when her nose twitches. If she were a cartoon character, smoke would be leaving those ears.
"You better watch where you thread Natalia..."
"Or what?" The voice booms from behind her, catching us both off guard. My eyes widen in surprise as I take in the picture that is my mother. Looking gorgeous as always in a black shimmering gown all the way to her ankles with a conservative neckline and sleeveless arms. The gown fits just in the right places, not too showy and still leaves head turning. Mom is always a sight for sore eyes. Even at forty, she doesn't look a day over thirty. Her tear drop diamond earrings glimmer in the lights. Dad got her those.
"Mom!" I rush to her side. Her eyes soften when they land on me, but harden the moment they find the other woman in the room.
"Were you just threatening my daughter?" She asks. I have to fight with all my might not to smirk.
I glimpse the fear in Abigail's eyes, but it's gone almost as soon as it came. She is intimidated no matter how much she tries to compose herself. She has every reason to be. There's a reason my mother is known as the ice queen and it's not only for the fact that she was a one woman army, raising a multimillion dollar company back to it's feet at the ripe age of 20. It's also because her reputation as a vicious protector precedes her. You don't mess with what's hers. And in this case, that's me.
"And what if I was? She needs to learn some manners. You seem to have forgotten to instill them in her. I'm just being a good Stepmom." Abigail folds her arms in front of her chest and I smile. Mother had taught me to read body language. She'd majored in psychology amongst other things. Right now, Abigail's body language reeks of fear; insecurity.
I feel the chilling air before he even speaks.
"You think you have what it takes?" The eeriely calm voice of my father permeates the air. Abigail looks like a deer caught in headlights. Her eyes widening the size of saucers in her head.
"Darling..." She starts only to be caught off.
"I asked just one thing of you Abigail. To never cross my family. What's this I hear of you disrespecting my wife?"
"I am not your wife." My mom bites back, eyes still trained on her prey.
Dad turns his head to look at Mom, his eyes loosing their previous harshness.
"You're not? I haven't even signed the papers."
"Oh really now?" She turns to face him, "I must have missed that memo while you frolicked around with the likes of that." Mom throws a thumb in Abigail's direction completely oblivious to the bemused look on her face.
"Are you jealous? You still look as ravishing as the first day I saw you."
I'm stuck right in the middle and it's a little awkward watching your parents who were days away from from ripping each other's heads off have an almost normal conversation. Emphasis on the Almost.
My mom scoffs and looks away but I see the light shade of pink coating her face. I know that's not make-up. My eyes go back and forth between them.
"David...darling..." Abigail tries to get my father's attention. She shouldn't bother trying.
"Would you give me one dance?" My father had finally succeeded in closing the space between them, pushing me to the side. That's how it has always been for all the years my parents have been married. Dad never ceased to shower Mom with attention. He loves me of course but he loves her more and I don't mind. Infact, I like it.
"Dance with your toy." Mom walks away but Dad is quickly on her heels, following her like a lost puppy. I knew they'd make up. You can't throw away 25 years of marriage over just one mistake. My mom might be cold and closed off but she loves with all her heart and my father has her wrapped around his finger just like he's wrapped around hers.
"Nothing happened between us. I only wanted to make you jealous. It worked and now..."
My father's voice trails off as they walk farther away. I turn to look at Abigail but she's gone. Ha!
With a better mood than I had this evening, I bounce on the leather couch kept at a secluded corner of the room for privacy but something pokes my butt. Oh!
I dig into my back pocket and pull out the emerald ring Abigail had been so adamant I give to her. My father had gotten it for her two days ago. I asked to borrow it tonight and being so eager to please, she gave it to me. Now, she's never getting it back. She never should have had it anyway. I signal for a waitress to come over. The girl, who looks barely legal, makes her way over looking like she might faint any second.
"This your first job?" I can't help asking.
She nods, doe eyes looking down at me with apprehension. Her tray trembles a little, giving away her anxiousness.
"Here." I lift the ring to her.
She takes a step back, brown eyes doubling their size. Everyone knows a "Martel" when they see it. It is a fortune all in one tiny object.
"N-no Miss. I could never–"
"I know. But I want you to have it. Take it. Don't make me get up and force you." I smile sweetly at her. She looks absolutely horrified. You'd think I was pointing a gun at her. She's hesitant when she finally takes it with trembling hands. Thanking me with a bow.
I feel twice as tall as she walks off knowing that whoever she is, her life won't remain the same and I had a part to play in it.
