Scarlett Promise (The Scarletts Page 3

  "Have you no sympathy?" Ricky asked, frowning. "This guy died and all you have been talking about is the fact that somebody might have overheard a conversation that he had…and you are even calling him a moron?"

  Francine glared at Ricky. "I hate this new you. I wanted you to forget the Scarletts and be a halfway decent human being, not turn into bloody Mother Theresa!"

  "Swearing," Ricky tut-tutted. "The more I get to reknow you, Francine, the more I am amazed that I wasn't worse than you described. I must have had one messed-up childhood to have you as a mother. It makes me happy that I can't remember."

  "Good. Your shock therapy worked. Now, on to more immediate things," Francine growled. "This Lisa person—I need to deal with her."

  Ricky sat up straighter in the chair. "Deal with her?"

  "Yes." Francene hissed, "get her out of Kingston for the next three months at least. What do you think I meant, Ricardo Mills?"

  She gave Ricky an annoyed look. "I am not some mafia head that orders killings. Gosh, darn your memory!

  "I met Ray a couple of years ago; I financed his run for a political office. It is only natural that if I need a favor he should grant it. I am his benefactress. I am the reason he's where he is."

  "Only natural." Ricky ran his fingers through his hair sleepily. "And shouldn't that be where he was? He is no longer with us in the land of the living."

  "It's business!" Francine stopped pacing. "You used to handle these things for me...now what a mess."

  "You have my deepest sympathies." Ricky laid back on the settee.

  "No need to sound sarcastic," Francine raised an eyebrow and looked at him. "The doctor said that your memories would come back. I just wish that your motivation to be a businessman would come back too."

  "My memories are coming back," Ricky grimaced, "and what I am remembering I don't like. I want to do something different like write a book, preferably by the seaside, or maybe I should become a fisherman. That sounds like fun."

  "A fisherman!" Francine widened her eyes in consternation. "Ricky, that's crazy. I don't know how that could ever...ever enter your mind!"

  "I don't know," Ricky shrugged. "I keep thinking of the sea and the sound of it, and the smell of fish and the gentle caress of breezes, and the feel of warm sand. I am going to take a shot at the writing thing."

  Francine sighed.

  The doorbell pealed and she headed to the door. "Hold that thought. Believe it or not, this might be a solution to my present problem."

  Only the security would be able to make it to the door without her knowing. She still looked through the keyhole to be on the safe side and when she did she saw Ike and Devin with a frightful creature cowering behind them.

  Good Lord, was this the Lisa Raybourne was with? She looked like a common trollop from the streets. One of the very common ones. She had at least thought that she would have been more sophisticated looking.

  Francine opened the door and tried her best to convey some graciousness. This girl quite literally could ruin her business reputation if she but knew it. Bribing a politician was not considered a light matter and though Ray was dead this girl could create problems if she repeated the conversation she had overheard, especially before the energy deal got a chance to go through.

  She imagined the news stories: SunWind, the energy company owned by Mills Inc., was granted the government contract to provide alternate energy to government institutions island wide because Francine Mills, the head of Mills Inc., bribed the sitting energy minister.

  "Thank you, gentlemen," she smiled at her security staff and then at Lisa determinedly.

  Someone would have gotten the contract anyway because Ray was a dirty politician. The other companies had paid for his services. She had just paid more. The ungrateful leach--after all she had done for him. She had had to pay him an arm and a leg just for her bid to get through.

  "Lisa, if you would come this way." She pasted a smile on her face.

  Lisa shuffled into the foyer reluctantly and Francine closed the door.

  "You are a prostitute, one of Raybourne's rumored nighttime friends?" Francine could not quite keep the sneer out of her innocently voiced question.

  Lisa was too busy looking around the high ceiling room to answer immediately.

  "Come this way." Francine walked toward the living room where Ricky was lounging. She watched as Lisa slowly came through, looking like a frightened, hunted animal.

  She was going to be easy to manipulate. Obviously poor, even the brief scrap of clothing that she had on looked washed out and threadbare.

  "Have a seat." Francine pointed to a seat across from Ricky and then she sat in a Victorian armchair in the middle of the settees.

  "Hi," Ricky said to Lisa when she sat down.

  Lisa's eyes widened and she jumped. "Er...hi."

  She hadn't seen him lounging in the sofa. When she saw him she kept glancing at him interestedly, as if she couldn't quite believe he was real.

  "Now," Francine said, "I am Francine Mills and that is my son Ricardo Mills."

  "Ricky not Ricardo," Ricky interjected lazily. "Ricky just doesn't sound right to me and I am operating on half a brain. My mother had the doctors fry my brain because I was inconveniently bad."

  "Okay," Lisa stammered. He didn't look bad; he was quite goodlooking, golden skinned, light brown eyes, wavy black hair, obviously mixed race since Francine was very dark skinned and modelesque looking, kind of Naomi Campbell like.

  It was remarkable; in the same night she had seen two of the best looking men she had seen in real life.

  On the night when she was at her worst. God had a weird sense of humor.

  "What is your full name?" Francine asked before Lisa could recline properly in the chair.

  "Lisa Barclay," Lisa said slowly. "Why am I here?"

  "Because you overheard my mom plotting with the politician," Ricky said laconically. "Old Ray certainly knew how to blab."

  "Ricky!" Francine sputtered. "What is wrong with you?"

  Ricky shrugged. "I don't know what's wrong, Mother. Wasn't I always this incorrigible?"

  "That's enough!" Francine scowled at him fiercely and then turned to Lisa. "Unfortunately, you overheard a private conversation that you shouldn't have."

  "But I wouldn't tell anybody!" Lisa protested. "I don't even remember what was said. I panicked when Raybourne collapsed."

  "Ah my dear, I am sure you think so now but I am not into taking chances, not where my business is concerned. I am sure that in the next couple of days when the media is flooded with news of Ray's death that you may remember something of that conversation.

  "Your type of people are not exactly rolling in money, are they? You could sell what you know to some reporter for a small sum.

  "Obviously, you are not above selling your own body for financial gain, and that conversation with Ray would likely cost more if told to the right person."

  "But I..." Lisa opened her mouth to further protest but Francine held up her hand.

  "In a way you have just won yourself a bigger opportunity. I am willing to work out something a bit more lucrative than whatever a reporter would give you."

  "What do you mean?" Lisa asked nervously.

  Francine was looking at her with a speculative glint in her eyes.

  "Stop with the wide-eyed wonder bit." Francine snorted. "It does not match your costume."

  "I am not really a prostitute." Lisa looked down at her hand and swallowed. She could feel Francine's disdain. It was rolling off her in waves. "I was kicked out of my grandmother's house today and I had no place left to go. I left my bag with a friend—well, sort of a friend, and she suggested that Back Road was a good place to make money."

  Francine rolled her eyes. "Ridiculous!"

  "I had to make money tonight; I have no place to live or sleep. I have no money. I felt as if I had no other choice. So I went to Back Road and that's where I met Raybourne."

  Lisa said the last bit in a rush of air, her
voice hitching at the end. She was gulping back a sob. She probably appeared pathetic and weak to these two obviously privileged people.

  Francine tapped the armchair. "Met Ray? Ah, you put it so nicely."

  "Francine, have some compassion," Ricky urged after a brief silence. He looked at Lisa "You have no family and no money?"

  "Yes." Lisa lips trembled. "Well, I...I guess not. My grandmother practically disowned me today."

  Francine and Ricky looked at each other.

  "Why?" Ricky asked softly.

  "Because she wants my uncle to stay at the house and she wants the space. I guess it was just her way of justifying why she doesn't want me around anymore."

  Francine cleared her throat. "So sad," she said without any real sympathy and then shifted the topic abruptly. "When Ray collapsed did you take any money from his pockets?"

  "No!" Lisa frowned. The thought had not even occurred to her. Her only thought had been to get as far away from that house as fast as possible.

  "Ah...how unusual." Francine relaxed in her chair and looked at her assessingly.

  "The word you are searching for is refreshing," Ricky said to Francine, "and she obviously has no wallet on her."

  Lisa groaned. "I left it at the house."

  Francine glared at her. "Did it have your IDs or anything like that?"

  "No," Lisa shook her head. "It was just a plain fake leather thing that I got at a fair last year because it had the initials LB on it. It was supposed to put my, er, money in after..."

  "Oh." Francine relaxed again. "My son has been hankering for the beach. We have a place in Treasure Beach. Ricky would need a housekeeper. Can you do housework? And cooking?"

  "Yes." Lisa nodded enthusiastically. "I am good at that."

  "Wait a minute." Ricky frowned at Francine. "You can't run my life like this. I say what I want to do and where I want to go and who I want to carry. Besides, isn't Treasure Beach the place where I did the most evil and I was never to go back there ever?"

  "Well," Francine inclined her head, "you are right. It is not a good idea and for the record I am not trying to run your life. Believe it or not, I have your best interest at heart. I am the only one who does!"

  Ricky grunted.

  "Anyway," Francine snapped her fingers, "we have a place at Golden Eye in St. Mary. I have to get her out of the town and I need you to keep an eye on her."

  Ricky sighed. "I am not feeling Golden Eye. I think I'll chance it at Treasure Beach; maybe it will give me an opportunity to make amends."

  Francine sniggered. "Amends? To the Scarlett family? Not going to happen. You did those people wrong, Ricky."

  Ricky stood up and grimaced, rubbing his leg. "I have to at least try. You said they were Christian people, right? Christians are forgiving."

  "I am sorry that I suggested this," Francine muttered. "Promise me you won't go looking for the Scarletts to stir up trouble. Leave them alone."

  "Fine," Ricky muttered.

  He winked at Lisa. "Well, okay then. Welcome to my employ, Lisa." He rubbed his leg absently. “I am off to bed; a side effect of getting one's brain messed with is that I need more sleep."

  "And you haven't been exercising. Don't think I haven't seen you favoring your legs. You were crippled for a long time," Francine pointed out. "You want to relapse?"

  Ricky walked over to Francine kissed her on her forehead. "I will get a physiotherapist as soon as I return to Treasure Beach. Be nicer to Lisa; remember the saying there go I but for the grace of God."

  Francine looked at him and shook her head. "Yes, I know it. I didn't know that you did."

  "I must have picked it up somewhere; my memory returns slowly." Ricky shrugged. "Goodnight."

  Francine rubbed her chin and glared at Lisa with unnecessary venom. The girl was definitely staying with them now; they had so blithely conversed before her, she had even more ammunition than she previously had.

  "I will find a suitable wardrobe for you tomorrow," Francine said stiffly. "I will have my security drop you at your friend and have you pick up your bag. You can reassure her that you got a decent job. Tell her that you received a legitimate job offer before you embarked on your ill-conceived idea to sell your body. I'll personally pay you every two weeks. A much healthier sum than a housekeeper should get."

  "Yes!" Lisa was almost bouncing with excitement.

  Francine stood up. "You of course will have to sign a privacy contract. You cannot disclose to anyone what you overheard tonight or else..."

  The threat hung in the air but Lisa didn't seem threatened. Strange child. She was staring at Francine as if all her prayers were answered.

  "I think it would be best if we pretend that tonight never happened. Don't you?" Francine said, adjusting her tone to one of mild friendliness; dealing with Lisa, despite her garish appearance, was like dealing with a kitten. She actually liked the girl. Where'd that come from?

  "Yes, sure. I am quite fine with that. It would be preferred. I desperately want to forget it too." Lisa nodded eagerly.

  "Good." Francine stood up. "My housekeeper here is not live-in. You can use the helper's quarters tonight. Tomorrow we sort you out."

  Chapter Four

  She was awakened at seven o'clock by Francine. She had strolled into the helper's room and pulled the heavy drapes and clapped her hands, jerking her out of a pleasant dream where she was kissing the handsome guy she had seen at Raybourne Cross' house.

  Lisa had no idea that she would have slept so soundly, but she had. The helper's room was nicer than anything she had ever slept in before. The whole place looked like what she imagined a fancy hotel would look like. And the bed had been more than comfortable. Francine had found an oversized t-shirt for her to sleep in.

  Francine gave her a cold, assessing stare as she struggled to focus on her standing in the middle of the room. She looked insanely made up and perfect, as if she had just stepped out of a photoshoot.

  Lisa had gotten a chance to inspect her properly from last night. Her initial assessment was right; she was modelesque. She was tall, thin, broad cheekbones, and her dark skin almost glowed in the early morning light. She wore a long, straight wig, which hit her somewhere in her mid-back. She looked like one of those black Barbie dolls that she had played with when she was a child.

  Francine was supermodel material. She must have had Ricky when she was in her teens. She didn't look like someone with an adult son.

  "The itinerary for the day is as follows," she said briskly. "First we visit your friend. Then we get you some clothes. Then you head for Treasure Beach with Ricky.

  "I will check up on you, every day at first," Francine said in a cold, clipped voice. She threw a phone on the bed, which bounced on the comforter.

  "Do not even think of seducing my son. If you do, I will punish you severely. Do not let him seduce you. If he does, I'll punish you. In other words, think of Ricky as your brother/friend, whatever. Any hint of romance will bring my wrath. I don't care about your love life, just don't mess with Ricky. Got that?"

  Lisa nodded rapidly. She was duly warned from a woman who looked like things happened when she snapped her fingers.

  "Do not think of calling the media or embarrassing me in anyway. Get dressed; the papers to be signed are downstairs."

  "But I don't have any clothes other than last night’s clothes," Lisa said, staring at the scraps of cloth she had worn the night before.

  "You have quite the shape," Francine sniffed. "Nothing of mine can fit your, er, curves."

  "I know I am fat." Lisa hung her head.

  "You are not fat or chunky." Francine looked her over contemplatively. "You have an hourglass figure, what my former boss in the modeling world would call voluptuous. On second thought, I do have a spandex summer dress that may fit you."

  She spun around, left the room, and returned with a black and white striped sleeveless dress.

  After Lisa showered and washed her hair and put on the dress, Francine was waiting f
or her in the living room.

  She had been sifting through a pile of mail. She narrowed her eyes and watched as Lisa came down the stairs.

  "Good God Almighty," Ricky murmured. He lowered the newspaper he was reading and uncrossed his legs. "Who is this, Francine?"

  Lisa blushed at the whispered roughness of his question. She had to admit that the dress seemed as if it was made for her. It was clingy but not overly tight. Her hair was damp from the shower and curly; it had not resorted to the ball of frizz that it usually did after a wash.

  It hung on her shoulders in obedient clumps of curls, quite unlike the mop it was known to become. She had to ask Francine where she got the brand of hair products in the bathroom.

  Francine did not answer Ricky, she was still staring steadily at Lisa.

  "You have quite the unique coloring, that hair and those eyes..." She turned to Ricky. "Close your mouth!"

  Ricky closed it and chuckled. "I had no idea you were so pretty, Lisa. You are quite frankly a gorgeous girl."

  Lisa smiled. "Thank you, I guess."

  Francine glared at her and wagged her finger. "You need to work on that self esteem of yours. You are beautiful. And no smiling at my son."

  "Yes ma'am." Lisa nodded, trying to keep her face straight as she looked at Ricky. He was even better looking than last night. In the light of day she could see that his eyes were whisky brown. He had level and thick eyebrows that were slightly slanted at the corners, like Francine's. His thick black wavy hair was tousled, and a hunk of it hung over his forehead.

  She understood the warning by Francine. Ricky looked like the kind of person that women would find fascinating.

  Ricky met her stare and winked. "Relax, Francine. It's just a compliment. I am sure it's not the first Lisa is hearing that she is lovely." He raised an eyebrow and looked at her. "How old are you, Lisa?"

  "Twenty," Lisa stammered.

  "Mmm." Ricky nodded contemplatively and went back to his paper. Lowering it once more and staring at her, a frown between his brow, he asked, "What was your surname again?"