Roberta had made hanging out at Jeremy’s place sound like the opportunity of a lifetime. Nicky, Roberta said, would be part of “the Pritkin Experience.” She would make real money mingling with movie stars, movers and shakers, important people from all walks of life, and the most important person of all, of course: Jeremy. Nicky would be part of a team of young girls who’d help make a visit to the brownstone one that no one would ever forget. Think of the advantages! The things she would learn! These people could advance their careers, get them into the best schools, find them placements at some of the richest firms in the country.
Hadn’t quite worked out that way so far for Nicky.
Oh, Nicky had made some good money, no question about it. And it had come at the right time, when she had hardly any at all. It wasn’t like her mom and her new boyfriend were transferring anything to her account. But as for all the things she would learn, probably the most important one around here was, especially where Jeremy Pritkin was concerned, the only good massage was one with a happy ending.
“How are we doing today?” Roberta asked.
Not far beyond her, a short way down the hall at the second-floor landing, stood one of Jeremy’s security detail. Heavyset, well dressed, the guy looked like a refrigerator in a suit and tie. Nicky knew he was there in case she decided to make a run for it when the door opened. She knew because she had tried it once. The guy grabbed her, carried her back to her room, and tossed her inside like she was a misbehaving puppy.
Roberta was carrying a small tray.
“Look what we have here,” she said. “Just about the best lunch ever. We hosted a little dinner last night for the Peruvian ambassador, and there was some beef Wellington left over. And a piece of chocolate almond cake that is to die for.”
Roberta set the tray down on the desk in the corner. Then she pulled out a chair, inviting Nicky to leave the bed and take a seat.
“I’m not hungry right now,” she said.
“I see,” Roberta said, unable to hide the hurt in her voice. “Antoine went to a lot of trouble to make this for you.”
“I’ll eat it in a bit,” she said.
Roberta painted on a smile and took a seat in a plush, leather chair that faced the bed. “You didn’t answer my question.”
“What question?”
“How are we doing today?”
“I want to leave,” Nicky said flatly. “I want to go to school.”
“Well, of course you do,” Roberta said, almost cheerfully.
“How long is my punishment going to be? I mean, I’ve heard of someone being sent to their room, but this is getting kind of ridiculous.”
“I totally understand that. I promise you, I’m going to speak to Mr. Pritkin about it. I guess a lot of it will depend on whether he feels you’ve learned your lesson.”
“I have, I really have.”
“That’s good. That’s good to hear.”
“Is he still mad at me?”
“Oh, Nicky, I wouldn’t say he’s mad at you. Unhappy, yes. Disappointed, for sure. But not mad.”
“I haven’t seen him since it happened.”
“He’s very busy. Did you see him last night on CNN?”
“I was watching something else, I guess,” Nicky said.
“He was talking to Chris Cuomo about the federal infrastructure plans. Jeremy knows a lot about that kind of thing. Not enough is being done.”
“If you say so. Listen, if I could talk to him for a minute, tell him again I didn’t hear anything, then maybe you could let me go?”
“I’ll certainly deliver that message. But surely you understand, hiding in his office, spying on him, so soon after you were thinking about talking to... others... about our life here inside this building—”
“I wasn’t spying.”
“It certainly looked that way, Nicky. And appearances mean everything. Mr. Pritkin is a great and powerful man, and he doesn’t take kindly to efforts to undermine him.”
“Honest, I didn’t mean anything by it.” Her shoulders sank. “Are you still texting the school and my friends, pretending to be me?”
“They all send their best wishes. Everyone wants to let you rest. That’s what they suggest for mono. They all know it can take several weeks to recover from that. So they’re not alarmed by your absence. I’ve spoken directly with the school administrators. Everything’s under control. Meanwhile, we’re trying to make things as pleasant for you as we can.”
“This is kidnapping,” Nicky said.
“Don’t be ridiculous. You’re a sick girl. We’re looking after you.”
Nicky felt tears coming, but she fought them. She would not cry in front of this woman.
Roberta stood, headed for the door. “I’ll send someone back for the tray later,” she said. “You really must try it. It’d be a shame to waste it. Would you mind if I told Antoine that you loved it? Because he’s going to ask.”
“Sure,” Nicky said. “The last thing I would want to do is hurt anyone’s feelings.”
Roberta smiled broadly. “That’s the spirit.” She went to the door and rapped on it twice, quickly. Seconds later, it was opened by the security guy. Roberta was halfway into the hall when Nicky called out to her.
“Roberta.”
Roberta stopped. “Yes, child?”
“What’s the plan? I mean, you can’t keep me a prisoner here forever.”
“No,” said Roberta. “No, I don’t suppose we can.”
Twenty-Six
Paris, France
It took Bonnie Trumble a while to figure out where she should go to report a missing person.
She was living in the Third Arrondissement, in the Marais district, around the corner from the Picasso museum. She and her bestie had found a place through Airbnb, had been saving their money for three years so they could come over here for a couple of months. Growing up in Lackawanna, just outside Buffalo, it was hard to imagine a place more exotic than Paris, although, when you lived in Lackawanna, the bar was not set all that high. All the way back to the ninth grade, shortly after they had become fast friends in their first year of high school, they had talked about going to the City of Lights someday.
When they finished high school, instead of going straight to college — their parents’ choice for them, of course — they decided this was their chance. They would rent a place, right in Paris, and spend two months there. Soak it up, live like the locals. And when the two months were over, they would go back to their boring Lackawanna lives.
And it had been going great. They did all the touristy things the first week they were here. The Eiffel Tower, the Louvre, Notre Dame Cathedral, although at that last one all they could do was walk around it, what with the fire and all a couple of years ago. Once they had the sightseeing stuff out of their system, they settled into more of a routine. Making meals at home — they were going to wipe out their savings pretty fast eating in the cafés every day — and going out to shop every day to get what they needed. Oh, man, the bread! Who could have guessed something as simple as bread could be that good? And you had to shop every day, because everything over here was smaller. The cupboards were small. You put a couple of containers of yogurt in the fridge and it was full. You didn’t exactly take out the car and go to Costco and bring home a six-gallon jug of olives.