"Charlotte, meet Mr. Silva, he is the CEO of Silver Wings Holdings."
Charlie fake smiled at the man who, she knew, was planning to rape her. He didn't look like a pedophile or even a rapist but then they say they never do. He looked to be in his late forties, he was fit and well groomed. There were distinguished touches of grey in his dark hair and laugh lines surrounding pale blue eyes.
He seemed like a kind uncle or loving father the way that he smiled at her. There was no apparent lust in his eyes. He didn't leer or 'check her out' at least not that she could tell. It made her feel sick to the stomach knowing what this man and her family had planned and how if she hadn't overheard the conversation two weeks before, she would have no inkling, no warning at all.
If the world was fair, he would be a fat, pimply man. He would stink of his illness like some pervasive body odor warning everyone to stay away. There is a sick mind here. But the world has never been fair.
"It's a pleasure to meet you. Thank you for coming to my sister's birthday party." Charlie said the scripted words that Tiffany had provided for this public performance of 'the bastard child is a valued member of the family.'
"I wouldn't miss it." Mr. Silva responded gently, "You must be looking forward to your turn at a party like this."
"I couldn't even imagine." Charlie replied vaguely with a soft insincere smile. Though the smile was fake you would never be able to tell by looking. There are ways to fake a smile and make it look real. She didn't just smile with her mouth but she also crinkled the corners of her eyes. You could never tell the disgust and disdain hidden by that smile.
Mr. Rapist moved on and the greeting line continued, people danced and drank and networked all in the name of Neveah's eighteenth birthday.
Charlie socialized according to the script. She picked up drinks and pretended to sip them. She took food from the banquet table and moved it around her plate. She didn't dance but then, she never did at parties like these.
When the time came to toast and cut the cake, Neveah stood front and center glowing in her white, off the shoulder, designer gown. She looked radiant, young, and sweet. Charlie could tell that most of the young men present were interested if not outright smitten by her youthful and vibrant appearance.
Charlie was a quiet and unremarkable foil to her sister's loveliness as she stood near the back of the family group. Her gown was a soft pink that didn't quite compliment her skin tone. It didn't clash, but that was the most that could be said. The color, the cut, the fit, the most that could be said of any of it was that it didn't make her look bad, but it didn't make her look good either. It had been Tiffany's choice. On the other hand, Neveah's skin glowed, set off by the perfect shade of ivory. The dress hugged her luxurious chest and hips and made her waist look tiny. The skirt was the perfect length to make her legs appear longer and more elegant than they were. Her hair was styled to set her slightly round face to an advantage and jewelry drew attention to her best features. She was a young princess where as Charlie was the chamber maid. Pretty, present, and entirely forgettable.
Tiffany handed Charlie a glass of champagne for the toast. The hairs on the back of Charlie's. neck stood up straight. There was an aura about the smile on Tiffany's face, a feel of genuine joy that was always lacking in front of Charlie. Charlie was certain the champagne was drugged. She smiled and took the glass. Her father gathered everyone's attention to make the first toast.
Charlie could feel her heart beating more quickly by the moment until it seemed a rampaging stampede. She had to somehow get rid of the champagne with no one noticing and she still had to drink the toasts. Her eyes roamed until she noticed a waiter carrying a tray of champagne towards the guests. She moved as if to grab a napkin off one of the tables and stumbled a bit into the path of the waiter. He helped her recover her balance while she carefully switched the glass Tiffany had given her with one of the ones on the tray.
When her father finished the toast, Charlie raised her glass with everyone else and drank deeply of the slightly sweet bubbly liquid as her stepmother watched. There were more toasts, one from her mother, each of her brothers and even Charlie was required to recite the speech that her parents had provided. She carefully enunciated each word and spoke slowly as though she was starting to feel drunk and was being overly cautious of her words and actions. Finally, the toasts ended and Neveah cut the cake. Charlie took a moment to lean against a table as though she was feeling dizzy.
"Charlotte, are you okay?" Tiffany asked.
"I'm fine," Charlotte immediately responded as if she were afraid she would get in trouble, "I just had a little too much champagne, I think."
"Oh dear!" Tiffany chuckled indulgently, "Why don't we have Don send you to one of the rooms we booked? You can rest, drink some water, and come back when you're feeling better." It was wrong, Tiffany was never this nice to Charlie. She was condescending at best, never concerned or accommodating. It there was any doubt left in Charlie's mind as to whether or not what she had over heard was real. This abolished it.
"No, I should be here for Nevaeh." Charlie responded hesitantly.
"I insist," Charlie's stepmother waved over her personal assistant Don, "Don, take Charlotte up to one of the rooms to rest. She has had a bit too much to drink."
"Of course Madame," Don replied with a bow, "Ms. Charlotte?"
Don, a muscular man with a shaved bald head, was Tiffany's hands and feet. He fit all the stereotypes of a loyal dog or bodyguard. Strong, not bad looking, well-dressed, and utterly incorruptible. Don never seemed to have his own thought but rather he reflected Tiffany's ideas and opinions at all times and, like Tiffany, Don despised Charlie. He only called her Ms. Charlotte and pretended to treat her respectfully, in public.
Charlie was counting on his public act to allow her to get away from him.
Don gently but firmly held her forearm as he lead her from the ballroom towards the the elevator bank that lead up to the suits. Charlie went along with him though she walked deliberately slowly as if she was being extra careful not to stumble. She blinked her eyes a bit more frequently and once she almost imperceptibly shook her head as if trying to clear it.
Don didn't miss these small details. His sharp eyes seemed to take in and analyze everything. Charlie was terrified of doing too much to fake being drugged, at the same time she was afraid she would do too little. Her heart pounded and she could feel the sweat beginning to run down her forehead. Hopefully those were also signs of being drugged.
In order to reach the correct bank of elevators, they had to walk down a long hall, past the lobby, and down a shorter corridor. As they approached the turn for the elevators, they passed the lobby restrooms.
"Oh," Charlotte said as if she had just noticed them, "Don, wait a moment, I need to use the restroom." She stumbled a bit after pulling away from Don's support. She caught herself, straightened her back and walked carefully and deliberately to the restroom. It was empty. She placed her clutch purse on the counter while she used the restroom and washed her hands. She dried her hands carefully, before walking out of the room just as carefully as she had walked in.
Don had a small frown between his eyes that disappeared when she returned and immediately latched onto his arm.
"Thanks," Charlie murmured.
"Of course, Ms. Charlotte."
Don hit the button for the elevator and they walked in. He touched the number 19 on the wall and the doors began to close.
"My purse!" Charlie exclaimed. She dashed clumsily out the closing doors. "I'll be right back," she called over her shoulder.
Don's eyes flitted to both of her hands, which were in fact empty. She had deliberately left her clutch in the restroom. Charlie had heard that when people lie they tend to over explain so she had kept it short. She was tempted to say more, to explain how she had left her purse in the bathroom, probably because she was feeling tipsy and all, but she bit her tongue and hurried back toward the lobby. She hoped the elevator would delay Don somewhat because she had no intention of returning and she needed to get as far away as she could before anyone followed.
She hurried back to the restroom in the lobby. She had chosen this restroom, as opposed to the ones in the ballroom, because there was a secret. The closet that held the cleaning supplies in this restroom connected to the hotel's staff restroom and the 'Employee Only' back areas of the hotel. She had learned this during the last two weeks when she was trying to come up with some sort of escape from the trap laid out for her.
Apparently the hotel thought that their guests wouldn't like it if they thought the 'help' used the same toilets as they do. So, they built separate toilets but in an effort to keep the plumbing and cleaning easy, they were connected via a shared storage closet. This closet was never locked due to the fact that none of the upscale patrons of this incredibly pricey hotel would ever even think of stealing cleaning supplies or even consider touching such a mundane door handle.
The clutch purse was exactly where Charlie had left it. She moved it, minus her subway pass, along with all the jewelry she was wearing to one of the feminine hygiene disposal bins and locked the door to the stall. Hopefully that would trip up anyone who came to check on her, at least for a little bit. They could track her phone right? She had heard of jewelry, especially real jewelry being tagged with GPS locators as well. Maybe she was thinking to much but she didn't want to risk anything.
She didn't hesitate and hastily existed through the closet to the world of 'Employees Only.'