Total pages in book: 130
Estimated words: 129571 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 648(@200wpm)___ 518(@250wpm)___ 432(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 129571 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 648(@200wpm)___ 518(@250wpm)___ 432(@300wpm)
More and more, the word Finderella carried on the breeze.
And then Sophia got out of the car and stepped to my side. Quiet stilled the air. No one else had anything to say or whisper.
I turned to Sophia. “Who’s Finderella?”
“That’s what they call Jasmine. A fake ass Cinderella.” She scanned the crowd and gave a wicked smile. “I bet they won’t say it while I’m out here.”
She paused as if waiting for someone to murmur the name.
Silence continued.
“Good. They don’t want it. And I don’t have the time to give it to them.” She chuckled to herself and nudged my arm. “Ready?”
I scanned the angry faces. “Why do they look so mad?”
“Really?”
“Yeah, really?”
“Because you’re rich and they’re poor.” She tossed her wavy hair over her shoulders. “Ready?”
“Yeah.”
“You look a bit sick there, Chase. Did you eat something before we left?”
I wiped my mouth. My throat was dry, my tongue numb from the liquor. “No, I didn’t eat anything.”
“Good.”
“Good?”
“Then you won’t throw up when you walk into Benny’s garden.”
Chapter 8
Jasmine
Rain battered against the Rolls Royce’s polished surface. The weather fit my mood—dark and gloomy with no chance of sunshine.
Riding with Benny equated to waiting on an AIDS test result. I prayed for a good result, but sometimes life bowled tough balls that knocked down all the pins. In fact, I symbolized one of those sad little pins that death barreled down every day.
We turned onto a new road. The sign read Bishops Avenue. This is where we are going? How could Chase not find us in this place? Luxury lived here. Not one house existed on the long road, just mansions with large gates outlining the massive estates. Each one held at least a dozen windows. Tall, white columns marked most of the front entrances. Splendid architecture, some traditional, others modern. Skeletal trees towered over magnificent beauties made from stone.
I turned to Benny. “Are we almost there? Because this can’t be the place.”
“It is. Welcome to Billionaire’s Row. The nickname used to be Millionaire’s Row, but it got upgraded when the property values skyrocketed. Most owners are royalty from Saudi Arabia who were fleeing Saddam Hussein, newspaper barons and others who were too rich for their own good.”
“And you can afford a place here?”
“A good Middle Eastern friend of mine can afford it. I’m just house sitting.”
And then the road shifted from extravagance to abandonment. For some reason, the rich bricked-wonders shifted to still grand mansions, yet warnings signs and over-grown lawns, beware pictures of patrolling dogs and chains twisted around gate entrances. A few mansions boasted boarded up windows as if they sat in the hood. Brown and green smudges stained many of these columns. Wild vines wound around the tops of massive roofs and grew along the second level’s windows. Brown leaves stuck out from muddy patches on the estates that held vacant parking spaces.
“These properties are worth billions.”
Fascinated, I leaned against the window. “Not all of these homes can be worth that much.”
“Trust me. They are. Half of these mansions are empty. And most are in disarray.”
The car pulled into one of the properties. Two guards, who held umbrellas, stood at the gates and wore all black, except for the bright yellow plastic vests that said security. The two men undid a huge chain and slid the gate open.
We rolled down a bumpy gray pathway. I squinted to see the place through the rain. Besides the two men, I couldn’t believe that anyone else lived here. The mansion looked abandoned.
Another man walked out of the blur of rain with a big umbrella. The car stopped right next to him, and he opened my side of the door.
“Welcome, Ms. Montgomery.” He held the umbrella over me as I stepped out.
“Go ahead inside, Jasmine.” Benny gestured behind him. “I have some things to discuss with them.”
“O-kay.” I glanced at the dwindling estates. “Are Troy and Vivian already inside?”
“Yes, but on the east wing. Just go inside and wait for me. Don’t walk any farther. There are holes and Mother Earth’s booby traps all around. I’ve stayed here a few times. I know how to get through the house without injuring myself. I’ll escort you, when I’m done.”
“Okay.” I remained under the guard’s umbrella as he step-by-step guided me up the ragged steps and toward the entrance.
The tall, double doors screeched as he opened them. “Here you go, Ms. Montgomery.”
“Thank you.”
I walked through what could only be described as a haunted mansion.
Ruin dominated the foyer—cracked tiles and decayed wood lay scattered all over the place.
No matter who’d started the battle, nature had won. Plants grew out of the floors. Water dripped in long lines from the ceiling. Vines, ferns, and other vegetation grew from the staircase in front of me. Branches and mold sprouted out of paint-cracked walls. Black dirt smudged the floors, along with puddles of thick, bubbling mud. The staircase’s ivory bars and intricate design of swirls and flowers had rusted through years of neglect. Bat, or maybe bird droppings coated the steps. Rotted skeletal bodies of birds littered everywhere else.