Star-crossed double-cross 30

Chapter 30 – That’s show business

“Here, Mary-Lou. I made you a coffee,” Carl said as he placed down a cup next to Lucian.

“What, no sexist remark today?” Lucian said while turning away from the photocopier before giving the young man a curious look.

“No, just doing something nice for a colleague,” Carl replied with a smile. “Why don’t you sit down for a moment and take a load off? I mean, you sure do look sexy strutting around in those heels all day, but they can’t be very comfortable on your feet.”

Picking up the cup, Lucian wondered what the smirking man was after. He was acting out of character, and it was a little unsettling. But Carl was right about one thing. He could do with a rest after standing by the copying machine for the last hour, not so much his feet but his upper legs and back. “Sure, thanks, Carl,” he remarked before tottering past the greasy-haired man to take a seat in the break room next door.

Sitting comfortable opposite Carl, Lucian took a sip of his coffee. “Ugh! Did you put salt in here or something? It’s really bitter,” he remarked while screwing up his face.

“Err… no. It’s just… umm…. A new kind of bean. Low fat and good for circulation, they say. It’s what all the celebrities are drinking. I thought you would have heard about it?” Carl stuttered while shifting around awkwardly in his seat.

Looking sceptical, Lucian tried another sip. “Really?” he announced. “Because it tastes awful. What’s it called?”

Carl chuckled nervously, “Err… umm… celebrity juice.”

“Celebrity juu…,” Lucian tried to say but suddenly found his lips refusing to move. Starting to panic, he attempted to move his arm but found it too was paralysed by his side.

With his eyes starting to tire, Lucian watched in horror as Carl walked around the table and planted a sloppy kiss on his inflated lips. “I’m sorry, Mary-Lou, I really am,” he announced as he gave Lucian’s right breast a squeeze through his silky blouse. “It was just too much to turn down.”

“Is she out?” announced a familiar voice that sent a shiver down Lucian’s spine.

“Yes, do you have my money?” Carl answered.

“Right, here,” the man replied. “Now, take it and get off of her.”

“Hey, I was just…” Carl said, trying to defend himself. “Now,” the man boomed. “Before I have second thoughts about your payment.”

Lucian listened while Carl and the mystery man exchanged a few more words. Carl then left the room with the envelope of money in hand as the man took up the vacant seat opposite Lucian. “Hello, Lucia. Long time no see.” Raul announced, sending Lucian’s panicked mind into overdrive.

“Try to stay calm, girl. There's no need to worry,” Raul added as Lucian’s eyelids began to feel like lead weights. “It’s just a mild sedative. No one is going to hurt you. It’s just a precaution following what happened last time we tried to bring you in. And bravo to you, I might add. You really have given us the runaround. If you hadn’t slipped up by calling your friend, we may never have found you.”

Slumped on the chair, Lucian allowed his eyes to close. With all his fight gone, he drifted off to sleep.

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“Welcome back to the land of the living, Darling. Before we begin, I must apologise about the décor. it is rather ghastly, but we had to keep this one of the books, you see.”

As his dry eyes began to focus, Lucian looked around, finding himself strapped to a bed in what looked like a jail cell. Paint was peeling from the walls, and the humid air smelt stale and musty. And there, looming over him at the foot of his bed, was a face he instantly recognised. They hadn’t met before, but the face of Simon Powell was universally known.

(See image 30.1)

“Where… how…cough… cough.” Lucian tried to speak but found his mouth too dry to form sentences.

“The Dominican Republic, in a clinic of sorts,” Simon replied. “As for how long. Almost two months now.”

Lucian tried to move but felt a pain shoot down his side. “Argh… I… cough… I need… cough.”

“Don’t try to move. You’ll only hurt yourself on the restraints, Darling,” Simon said as he unfolded his arms. “You know you’re a lucky girl. I don’t always make these types of visits, but I was in the area, and you’re a special one, a real fighter.”

“You really have caused me a lot of bother, but I do like a girl with character,” Simon added as he opened a bottle of water and poured a few sips into Lucian’s parched mouth. “That’s why I’m giving you the opportunity to start a new life. Here on this beautiful Caribbean island.”

“You’re insane if you think I’ll go along with this,” Lucian snarled angrily. “What’s to stop me from telling my story to the world?”

Simon broke out into a hearty laugh before looking Lucian dead in the eyes. “Oh, Darling. You really are a feisty one, aren’t you? But I’d put all ideas like that out of your mind. I own the media; nothing gets published without my approval."

“Then I’ll go to the police,” Lucian announced, not willing to back down.

“You can try,” Simon replied with a chuckle. “But you need to realise one thing. You are no longer Lucian Styles. Over the past few months, you have been surgically altered to take on a new persona. You are now Flavia de la Cruz, an orphan girl turned dancer and entertainer. Lucian Styles is a wanted criminal. In some parts of the world, they would call what he did euthanasia. But placing a pillow over your mother’s head, a kindness or not, is still murder. The police have you on video running from the room at the time of her death. I doubt they’ll believe it was a lookalike.”

“What… you… you killed my mom?” Lucian gasped, struggling to breathe as tears started forming in the corner of his eyes.

“She was in pain, Dear. She was put out of her misery. I assure you it was quick and painless,” Simon stated with not even a hint of remorse in his voice. “Now you need your rest, Flavia, Darling, and I have a plane to catch. We’ll see each other again soon. I have a house not far from here. I’ll call for you when you’re all patched up. We can chat more then. Ciao for now, Darling.”

A single tear rolled down Lucian’s cheek as he watched Simon saunter from the room. He wanted to be angry, but inside he just felt numb. Feeling himself sinking into the hard mattress of the shady back-alley clinic, he closed his eyes and fell back to sleep.

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“Move, bitch! You’re in my seat,” Shouted Irene, Lucian’s main rival at the club where he now worked six nights a week.

Jumping to his high-heeled feet, Lucian stared her down. “Who are you calling a bitch? Bitch,” he replied in Spanish. The language he almost exclusively spoke these days.

“Oh, you think you’re something special, Barbie,” Irene shot back. “You think that fake blonde hair makes you number one around here. Well, let me tell you. I’m the reason people come in here and don’t you forget it.”

“Hey, Flavia, Are you listening to me? Or did you lose half your brain cells when you got that tacky hairdo?” Irene added, seeing Lucian staring blankly over her shoulder.

(See image 30.2)

Lucian wasn’t listening. Instead, his heavily made-up, cat-like eyes were fixated on the muted TV hanging on the back wall. The screen showed Bianca Cabello, chatting away on yet another TV show.

Annoyed at being ignored, Irene turned to see what her main competitor for tips was looking at. But as soon as she turned, she too got lost gazing at the image on the screen.

You see, unbeknown to the pair of miserable strippers, they had a lot more in common than they knew. Both girls having once upon a time, for a brief moment in time, lived the life of Bianca Cabello. A made-up person, like all the major names on the books of Synco entertainment. Taylor Swaft, Justin Bebop, all created to sell records before being swapped out with lookalikes when they became troublesome. Most ended up in places like the one Lucian now resided. Out of sight and out of mind, ready to pleasure Simon when he felt the urge to call upon them. After all, you don’t become the richest man in the music industry by playing by the rules.

The end