Chapter 5

Margot

I, Margot Rollins, will get through today.

Every day I issued the same words because every single day I was exhausted, perhaps more so than the day before. Sadly, today was no different. I wasn't just burning the candles at both ends. I was creating firestorms capable of burning down an entire city.

"Are you okay?" Emily asked as she flanked my side. At least my diner working buddy had a friendly voice, which some days was rare.

Perhaps she'd asked for the third time this afternoon since I'd already dropped two plates and a bottle of ketchup that had exploded on my uniform, and was continuously missing one saltshaker or another as I'd attempted to refill them before I could head to my second of three jobs for the day.

"Peachy. Why do you ask?" I answered, using my forearm to brush sweat off my brow. I heard the door open, the jingling bell over it giving every employee the heads up we either had a new customer, or one was leaving. Just in case we needed to chase after them because they'd tried to skip out on their bill. I'd had two try the week before, including stiffing me on my tips.

And I'd dared grab a cup of my favorite mocha latte from a tiny little coffee shop near my mother's apartment building, spending the last little bit of cash I carried in my purse. It had been a frivolous indulgence, but I'd wanted something small just for me. Now I knew why I tried to refrain from silly purchases. However, that didn't make it acceptable for people to run out without paying their tabs.

I knew times were tough. God knows I'd gotten that memo years before, but you had to pay to play, or in this case, eat. Sometimes what I made in tips during my shifts meant eating or not eating for the week. Sighing, I glanced in the direction of the door, groaning since it was a brand-new customer who'd sidled up to the counter, already becoming impatient because neither my bestie or I were johnny on the spot.

"You're more on edge today than normal. What gives, girl?"

I slammed the huge bottle of salt back into the plastic tub before answering. "Maybe because I haven't gotten any sleep in four nights or the fact the final rehearsal for the play is this afternoon. It's only the biggest opportunity of my career. If I fuck it up, I'll be shoved back into being given parts that have no speaking lines."

"You're going to do great! You're a fabulous actress."

"Right. Tell that to the critics." I gritted my teeth, my last and only performance where I'd been second to the lead had been marred by the critic stating I had no talent and should consider another career such as basket weaving. Okay, so I'd refused to go on a date with the man, but he'd actually used that term in his article online, a piece everyone had seen including the director.

"You will do fantastic. I'll take the new customer. The lady in booth ten was asking to see you."

I glanced over my shoulder at the woman sitting near the back door. She'd barely said two words other than asking for coffee. Maybe she needed a refill. We were in a part of Kansas City where we seemed to attract a lot of transients, men or women just trying to get in from the cold or heat. At least I wasn't the only one who had difficulty paying rent on time.

If I wasn't careful, my landlord would make good on the eviction notice he'd threatened last week. This play had to work. I needed bigger parts. Hell, maybe I needed a CAT scan for thinking I could make something of myself in this lousy town.

Granted, I certainly couldn't leave, not with my mother facing one treatment after another. "I appreciate that." I put down the last shaker, grabbing the coffeepot, rubbing my sweaty hand down my apron before walking from the back of the long counter toward her.

"Can I get you something? A refill?"

The woman remained in dark sunglasses, her hair covered in a scarf even though it was lovely and mild outside. Maybe she was running from the cops. I bit back a smile from the thought. I could figure out when a person was down on their luck easily by the clothes they wore or maybe a watch on their arm. And of course, having ratty bags of possessions was a dead giveaway that they were homeless.

This woman was anything but. The coat covering her attire was designer, similar to one I'd seen in a favorite magazine of mine. The watch on her slender arm was Cartier, top notch with diamonds encompassing the bezel. Even the sunglasses cost over five hundred dollars. I couldn't help but try to conjure up a sexy yet tragic story about her. Like she was a runaway bride trying to figure out her next steps in life.

She lifted her head slowly and I could sense she was studying me intently. "What's your name?" she asked, her voice soft and silky like the kind you heard on exotic perfume ads on television.

"Margot."

"It's beautiful."

"Thank you. Are you okay? Is there anyone I can call for you?" I asked, finding it odd I was concerned about her.

She allowed a slight smile to cross her face, but it quickly disappeared. "I'm fine. Thank you."

I could detect a slight accent, although I wasn't certain what nationality. I had a sense she was sophisticated, highly educated. I don't why it mattered to me. "Coffee?"

"No, just the check."

Okay. I placed the pot down on the chipped melamine table, knowing the surface was impervious to heat, cold, and idiots with knives determined to carve their initials or gang-related signs in them. I'd seen it all. After ripping the ticket off my pad and putting it down next to her, I could tell she wanted to ask me something else.

I had no idea whether or not she'd paid any attention to the piece of paper, her gaze remaining on me. It was eerie that I couldn't see her eyes, just a slight shadow allowing me to know she was studying me.

"What else do you do, Margot? Surely this isn't your only job."

Laughing, the bitter sound no longer surprised me. "I'm an actress." Why not admit I finally had a small part to brag about?

"Oh?" She seemed more animated. "Where do you perform?"

"It's just a small community theater a few blocks from here. The Easy Street Theater? Have you ever heard of it?" Of course she hadn't.

"I'm afraid not. I'm new to town. Are you in anything coming up?"

"As a matter of fact, I'm in a final rehearsal this afternoon, our opening night in two days. I'm pretty excited about it. My first starring role." Why was I telling a complete stranger anything? For all I knew, she could be a stalker or serial killer. Yeah, right. There went my crazy imagination again.

"That's lovely." She looked down, finally grabbing her purse, which was also designer, Prada to be exact. I knew my designer brands, my daydreams of being rich and famous the only way of getting peace from the horrific life I seemed to lead. She pulled out a couple of bills, folding them before placing them next to the tab.

I grabbed the coffeepot and the money. "Do you need change?"

"No, I do not, Margot. It was lovely meeting you." She eased out of the booth, her actions like a Persian kitty uncurling herself from a silk pillow. Everything about her was elegant, her high heels costing more than I made in a week, a direct contrast to the used Nikes I'd picked up from Goodwill just a couple of weeks before.

I waited, watching her as she walked elegantly toward the door, placing one foot in front of the other as a model would do walking down a runway in Paris. Boy, my mind was working overtime. Only after she'd walked out the door did I notice what she'd given me. They were three crisp hundred-dollar bills.

Jesus.

"And never forget, Johnny boy. The sun will rise tomorrow. It's what we do with the rest of our lives that truly matters." As he cupped my face, I beamed as required, waiting as the music jumped in pitch, the crescendo as practiced.

"And cut. Fantastic," the director said from the front row of the theater's seats. Only on the last practice performance did he sit where the audience would, the meticulous man particular about everything.

Every cast member began to clap, the lights in the small auditorium slowly ebbing to darkness. I took a deep breath, backing away from my costar.

While Jake was cute in every sense of the word, he and I didn't get along too well. He was just as stiff as I was, his fake smile fading before he turned around, storming off the stage. He'd made a big deal about me being cast in the lead since we'd have to be pretend to be in love. Well, bully for him that he had to fake it ‘til he made it.

Ha.

"Truly fantastic, everyone. I think we're ready," the director added, also clapping, which was usually a good sign. It was when he said and did nothing that the cast could worry. I felt giddy as I headed back to the shared dressing room to wipe off some of my makeup. Then it was off to the next job at the small clothing store. At least I didn't have to close tonight. Maybe I could actually get a few hours of sleep.

Fortunately, my mother had experienced a good day, able to stay by herself without calling in a nurse, which was proving to be way outside my budget. Maybe I'd even stop and get a treat for both of us since I'd gotten such a lovely, large tip.

I was practically skipping as I headed into the small space, sitting down on the cheap stool in front of the mirror, finally smiling for real for the first time in what seemed like months. Today had been a good day all the way around. Maybe my luck was finally changing.

As I grabbed a couple of makeup wipes, I started humming, waiting as the other girls popped in, every one of them excited.

When Mark, our stage manager, popped his head in seconds later, I thought for certain the director was going to call me on the carpet about something. Especially since he had a sheepish look on his face.

"Um, Margot. There's someone here to see you," Mark said, acting as if he was letting me know I was being arrested.

"Please don't tell me it's a bill collector."

He snorted, which always made me laugh. Not today. "No. Just some guy dressed in a suit. He asked to see you for just a minute. He's right outside."

Hmmm… I'd had my share of admirers over the years, but few of them, other than the godforsaken asshole of a reporter, had followed me here. Usually, it was the jerks at the diner who hit on me. I wiped lipstick off my lips before standing. "Okay. I'll see him." I followed Mark out the door and he pointed to a shadowy figure standing only a few feet away.

I took a deep breath, holding it for a few seconds before moving toward him. The closer I got, the more I realized the mystery man was huge, like six foot five or so. He was also dressed impeccably, the suit he was wearing designer—Armani or Gucci. What were so many rich people doing in a shitty part of Kansas City?

"Can I help you?" I asked.

He lifted his head, the dim lighting finally allowing me to get a good look at his features. I was instantly offput by the huge scar on the side of his face, longing to shrink back. In his hand was an envelope, which also freaked me out a little bit.

"Margot Rollins?"

"Uh-huh. That's me. Who are you?"

"I was asked to invite you to a meeting of a very special admirer."

"I beg your pardon?" I half whispered, trying not to stare at his face in horror. The horrific scar had to be from a knife wound. Who the hell was this guy?

"You will be paid well for your time." He handed me the envelope, which I hesitated to take.

But I did, my curiosity getting the better of me. I stared at him for a few seconds before opening the flap. There were several hundred-dollar bills. Instantly, I shoved it back at him. "I'm sorry. I don't know who you are or what you want but I'm not a whore. I'm an actress. I'm not for sale."

When I started to turn away, he chuckled and the sound was far too ominous, as if he held some huge, dark secret.

"I assure you that the woman who'd like to see you is only requesting an hour of your time to talk. Nothing more. This is a mere token knowing you are a busy young woman. One thousand dollars now and one thousand after you meet with her."

Why did I have a strange feeling this had something to do with the woman I'd waited on at the diner? I turned around fully, crossing my arms. "Where is this meeting?"

He pulled a piece of paper from his jacket, slowly extending his arm. I snatched it from his hand quickly, giving it a quick glance. The meeting was at the finest five-star hotel in the city, the kind of place where rooms were one thousand a night, suites three times that. A lump formed in my throat. The time was listed for nine in the morning, which I could do since I didn't need to be at the diner until eleven.

"What is this meeting about?" I demanded, staring at him without blinking.

"That's between you and the party involved."

Why was it he didn't want to tell me the woman's name? "O-kay. And if I don't choose to go to this meeting?"

He grinned and I was expecting to see gold teeth. "Then sadly, it will be your loss. This is a business opportunity for you and nothing else."

I mulled over the request, two thousand dollars going a long way. I could pay rent for a couple of months, buy food, and have medicine for my mom. Maybe even a couple of books that she'd been wanting to read since she was mostly bedridden.

"What do you say, Ms. Rollins?"

Swallowing hard, I felt the heavy pulse in my neck and sighed. "Okay, I'll be there."

"The penthouse suite."

"Can you tell me her first name? Anything?"

He debated, staring at me as intently as I was doing to him. "Her name is Maria."

Maybe I was an idiot for going to a meeting with a stranger, but I wasn't going to deny how much my little family needed the money. With my mother's diagnosis two years before, I'd made the tough decision to move in with her to try to ease the burden of hiring help when she wasn't in the hospital receiving chemo. We thought we'd been out of the woods almost four months before, my mother's remission allowing her to even work parttime.

But her cancer had returned with a vengeance.

My once beautiful mother was all the family I had in the world, our friendship stronger than any disease could take from us. She didn't deserve the horrible illness, her once beautiful raven hair falling out in clumps, her tears almost breaking me. But she was stronger than I was, never complaining even when I'd often been forced to make ramen noodles three nights a week.

This was an opportunity I couldn't pass up. However, I was no fool. If it was some scam, I would go to the police, giving up the second part of the money promised.

Maybe I shouldn't have spent the first thousand dollars, but my mother and I needed a safe place to stay, not some homeless shelter.

I stood in the lobby of the fancy hotel, feeling like a pauper dressed in blue jeans that were close to being threadbare and a shirt that I'd owned for five years. As I headed toward the elevator, I felt eyes on me, the fabulous people all dressed in fancy clothes acting as if I was going to steal from them.

Meanwhile, I'd never broken a law in my entire life. Not one. My mother had instilled right from wrong, good from bad. She'd taught me to be a lady and care for animals and older people. I'd followed every decent path. So had my mother. We deserved a tiny break. Just one.

As the elevator headed to the twenty-fifth floor, butterflies swarmed my stomach. I'd longed for sleep, but it hadn't come, worried about what I would find once I was here. At least my mother had laughed for the first time when I'd been able to bring home two of her favorite books. It didn't matter I'd hunted them down in a used bookstore. She hadn't cared.

Just seeing a smile on her face meant the world to me.

As I walked into the silent hallway, I took a deep breath, raking my hand through my long curls. I could do this. Whatever the outcome, I would make the right decision.

The walk reminded me of heading down the cement path leading to the electrocution chamber. Okay, so the dramatics were getting the better of me. I blamed it on the lack of sleep and my fear of whatever I was about to face.

Just standing in front of the suite door made me crazy, so much so I almost panicked and raced away. Thank God my usual courage prevailed.

Almost as soon as I knocked on the door, the same man from before opened the door, giving me a hard onceover before nodding.

"You're right on time. Ms. Rossi will like that."

Now at least I had her full name.

As he opened the door, allowing me inside, I couldn't help but swoon from seeing the opulent surroundings. The suite was fabulous in my book. Hell, it would be to anyone. From the sweeping views of the city and the baby grand placed off center from an all-leather furniture seating arrangement to the fresh flowers in two locations, I felt as if I'd walked into the most lavish environment I'd ever be allowed to see.

"Can I get you something to drink?"

"I don't know if you have a Coke?" My throat was parched, my mind spinning. At least with a can of soda in front of my face, I could hide behind it.

"Of course. Make yourself at home."

My feet were heavy as I walked further inside, hating I hadn't worn my one good dress instead. When I moved toward the bank of floor-to-ceiling windows, it was impossible not to gasp from the stunning highlight of the city I'd adopted years before. I stood smack in front of one of them, gawking at the surreal feeling of being here. I was almost like a giddy kid being allowed to run free in a toy store.

I felt the large man's presence behind me and turned slightly. He'd brought a fancy glass with ice, popping the opening and pouring as if he was a waiter in a fine restaurant.

"Ms. Rossi will be right with you."

"Thank you. What's your name?"

He seemed surprised I'd bothered to ask. I was rewarded with a smile. At least it took me away from staring at his scar. "Leonardo."

"Thank you, Leonardo. I appreciate your kindness."

There was no doubt I'd pleased him, which surprised me. Who was he in relation to Maria? After a few seconds, I moved toward the glass coffee table, grabbing the Coke, trying my best not to gulp the entire contents. That wouldn't be very ladylike. Now, would it? I waited in front of the window for what seemed like fifteen minutes, even though I knew it was only one or two. Sadly, I couldn't stop the nervousness nearly tearing my stomach apart.

After taking a couple of sips, I moved toward the piano, running my fingers over the top, marveling in how gorgeous it was. I couldn't help myself, using my right hand only to play a little of a melody I remembered from taking lessons in what seemed like a lifetime before.

Only a few seconds later, I felt a presence and slowly lifted my head. My assumptions had been correct. The woman who'd requested the meeting was the same one from the diner, but the only way I recognized her was from the fact she was wearing the same luxurious, diamond-encrusted watch.

She appeared completely different than before, also wearing jeans with a funky blouse, only I had a feeling her jeans cost several hundred dollars. She was also wearing fashionable boots and chunky gold jewelry, the slender-fitting attire highlighting her hourglass figure while her long raven curls did the same for her stunning face.

Maria was my age, a young girl who obviously had been given a different path in her life. There was one aspect that I couldn't get over. Given a change in clothes and the loss of jewelry, she could pass for me, a dead ringer.

Or vice versa.

What in God's name was going on?