Category: #BestRevenge

Chapter 10 – The Psychic Link

Power is a heady thing.
Maybe it meant I’d get some

Questions answered.
“You really think she stole his jewels?”
He pulled away.

“He her diamonds as a wedding gift.”
Well, THAT seemed weird.
I recalled the rock weighing down
Mirabel’s left hand.
If he threatened prosecution
Would that make her disappear?
“At least he gave one lead.
Jacobson’s.” Verne’s face set
Mulishly. “A toady.”
If I was in charge I must be
Boss. No more of this false modesty.
“How long’d she work for him?”
Sore subject! He thrashed in his seat
Like a captured cat.

“Years. I took her to England
So she’d break things off
Only to discover
He was still hounding her with
Requests.” Requests?
“What requests?”
Fingers drummed. “Scouting.”
“Scouting for what?”
“Well, he’s a porn producer.”
Verne touched my knee to
See into my eyes. “I’m sorry.”
Was this the secret Mirabel
Did not want me to know?

Was this why she disappeared?
“Was there…anything between them?”
“Definitely at first. I wooed her away.”
He considered. “He disappointed her somehow.”
Not hard for married men to do!
Verne looked at his hands.
“He asked her to launder money
Buying diamonds. I think it was a trap.”
I caught on quick.

“He set up the theft?”
In Ravi’s mind was he the only
Rightful owner and
Everyone else a thief?
Verne explained:
“He wanted people around
Who couldn’t get away.”
Why did that sound like such
A perfect description of Verne?

Here’s Mirabel surrounded with
Men wanting to possess her
Utterly. I shuddered.
It made ME long to disappear.
It also made it less likely she escaped
To be with one of them.
“Where’s Mrs. Ravi?”
“He SAYS his wife lives in Paris. But
No one’s ever seen her.”
Could we have two, not just one
Missing brides? Was marriage itself
A disappearance?

As we conversed
Another limo pulled up,
Beaver-coated man rushed out –
Ravi! And off they went.
I made my decision.
“Follow that car.”
Back to Brooklyn!
Obviously that address meant something
After all. “Stop here,” I ordered
At the final turn. Now that we knew
His destination why risk
Confrontation?
“But he lied to us!” Swore Verne.

“Just watch,” I argued,
“He’s one step behind.”
Ravi vaulted from the car
Phone clutched to ear,
Shaking his fist at the darkened sky.
“Look. He’s blowing up her phone.
And see? She’s not answering,”
Unwillingly Verne traversed
My argument. “She’s long gone. Maybe
She kept a vehicle here.”
“She didn’t have a license,” quibbled
Verne. But he seemed oddly cheered
That Ravi didn’t have her, either.
And maybe, even late-arrived
I was his authority on. Mirabel.

That’s not nonsensical
I already felt I knew her
Better than he ever could.
Why bother telling him
How easily fake licenses are obtained –
Girls must have some secrets.
“Maybe it was my mistake to insist
We meet her family.”
He chewed his lip. I saw
His sly technique – HE was responsible
For my presence here, not Mirabel!

He was a liar too.
“Let’s sleep on it,”
I suggested. “Give her a chance
To contact us.” It would take Benedryl
To sleep with all this buzz. I wished
He’d take his hand off my knee
But why say that
Just when we got along
So splendidly?
She wasn’t here. She’d get as far as possible
From anywhere associated
With these two men.
But why WAS I involved?

That’s the deepest mystery here.
Now Verne was trying to hold
My hand, laying his head
Awkwardly along my shoulder.
“You’re such a comfort.
Did you share her sister secrets?”
I could feel him luring
Me to play fake with him.

My parents do it all the time
Begging for that
Opiate of reassurance.
I can’t do it with them
And I couldn’t start now.
“Buck up –“
I braced him, “We’ll
Know more tomorrow.”
He unleashed my hand and
Glared at me distastefully.

“I blame this new androgyny,”
He complained. “Girls have lost the art
Of coquetry.”
And a good thing too, I thought.

Chapter 9 – Bride & Seek

In the elevator Verne commanded:
“Game face only.” I was bemused.
Which game is that?
Bride and Seek – ancient party game –
Does not end well, as I recall.
We decanted at the penthouse floor.
Battle of Rich Men, I thought,
Who forecast how my
Weekend would devolve?

But this man’s apartment seemed really his –
As opposed to Verne’s
Antiseptic rented rooms –
Each gaudy piece was carefully curated,
Trucked in from God knows where;
Art deco friezes,
Naked ebony statues
Bows & arrows
Brass and torchieres.
And that’s just the hall!

Leather paneled, copper nailed door
Broached before we even rang the bell and
A handsome, shorter, older man
stood before us in silk robe and slippers.
Mirabel with this guy?
I froze my face –
What’s the use of beauty
If this is all it gets you –
Verne’s at least good-looking.

“Why, Verne,” he said in a voice even I
Recognized as jovially false:
“What brings you at this hour?
Please come in.” Bizarre foreign accent
I couldn’t place.
He took my hand, mauled it like many
An unbalanced teacher at my School
for Introducing Adolescents to Adult Subject matter
Looooong Before They’re Ready.

I am practiced at mind-closing
Even as they woo me.
“You can only be Mirabel’s lost sister.”
“That’s just it,” I said, “It’s Mirabel who’s lost, not me.”
“I’m Ravi Krutupian,” said the man, refusing to let go.
I felt my first flicker of
Actual fear – I was alone in the world
With two strange men who wore
Compulsive need like designer logos.

I don’t blame Mirabel for
Disappearing rather than marry among this ilk but
Where does that leave me?
Krutupian’s inner rooms weren’t reassuring.
Dark, hand-carved, probably fake
Tree branches projecting from the walls
Displayed a riot of glittering objects.
“Welcome to my enchanted forest,”
Says the man in sleeper gear.

“Please leave your shoes by the door.”
He slid the bolt as
We came through.
“I know it’s late,” Verne began,
Ravi said, “I never watch the time. Drink?
Pot of coffee?”
A steel black kitchen offers coffee from
A wall recess, so why not?
Spiked mine with hot milk and brown lump sugar.

“Where did Mirabel SAY she was going?
Shouldn’t you be on your honeymoon?”
Was that a tinge of glee I heard?
I’m sure Verne heard it too.
He might go off on any moment –
I didn’t think he was coping well
“Game face” was not in evidence.
We sat in an upholstered leather booth
Dragged from some café.
“She didn’t say,” said Verne.

“She was late for dinner,”
I told this strange new man.
“I just arrived at six o’clock.”
“Sisters can be difficult,” said Ravi.
“Or so I’ve heard.
Your relationship was good?”
Wow! Mirabel wasn’t great at giving folks
The basic facts about her family.
Was he implying
Mirabel left because of ME?

Two Marshott girls can’t breathe at once?
I decided not to go there.
“She seemed fine when we tried on clothes together,”
I allowed. I began to feel hopped up on coffee.
Better quit before the shaking hands. I
Banged my mug upon his shiny table.
Verne seemed content to let me
Handle this.

“I heard you knew her well.”
Let him think she’d squealed –
I smiled in a way that forecloses
Further questions and
He blinked at me indulgently.
“I haven’t heard a word
Since her going away party.”
Ripple of surprise from Verne.
“Going-away party” unknown to groom?
Ravi kept smiling.
He had a lot of teeth.

Too many, I’d say. Must be
A rich man thing.
“Maybe she needs a honeymoon alone,”
He offered –
“I heartily recommend
Falling in love with yourself first of all.”
We did not believe him for a minute –
He was needling Verne.
This bad conversation
Kept getting worse.

“She certainly had the means –
I gave a generous parting gift
Then found she helped herself to more.”
His face hardened, steely-eyed.
“I didn’t know until she tried to fence my stones.”
“Mirabel stole from you?” Verne spluttered.
“Who knows what was going through her mind,”
Ravi spread his hands –
“She may have been confused about my gift.
No harm done.
Jacobson returned my stones.”

What did all this mean? Don’t concern yourself with
Mirabel, she’s just a petty thief?
Disappeared from exposure, vanished
From the shame?
I felt surge of prosecutorial passion:
Was it possible to get to the bottom of this?
Never had “game face” seemed so
Dangerous and unappealing.
“She worked for you?”
I tried to clarify.

“She was my scout. She brought me –
Things I might want to buy.”
Verne’s boil burst.
“She never needed cash to flee!”
He sounded ready for a fight
But in defense of his money and his charm and
Not my sister.
Ravi skirted the issue
With old-world politesse.

“Women always keep some expenses private.”
My mother calls it “mad money”.
A hundred-dollar bill tucked inside
Your bra. Verne would never best this man
Except in hotness and
Eligibility. Although someone
Needed to tell him he was plenty
I’m not the one to explain to him.
Instead I pursued my investigation.

“Did she call you?”
Ravi pulled out his phone.
Flicked through content. “I don’t see it.”
“She took a car to the wilds of Brooklyn,”
Verne asserted, coming back up
A feisty Bobo doll.
“Know anything about that?”
He was too combative – this
Wouldn’t get us anywhere.
“What address?”

Ravi seemed interested.
Luckily Verne recalled it.
“Gravesend.” Ravi agreed impassive.
“I’ve got no information.”
Verne stood up. This felt bad.
“Sure she isn’t hiding here? Using some old key?”
Ravi rose too.
Short but still impressive.

“She never had a key. She couldn’t enter
Without my knowing. I’d rather
My house guests weren’t disturbed.”
Verne veered away. Fisticuffs avoided.
Ravi walked us – still miming helpfulness
Towards the door.
“I suggest missing persons.
Get police involved.”

He seemed to know this would insult Verne further
It did but Verne could shake it off,
Punch-drunk as he was.
“What good are they?”
Ravi pushed his luck.
“Troll the basics – hospitals and morgues.”
Verne’s face melted like a gargoyle.

Turning to me Ravi backtracked –
“Bridal nerves? Their engagement was
So sudden.”
“We’ve been together forever!”
Verne barked. I took his arm.
“Sorry we’ve inconvenienced you.”
Somehow that door got opened.
“No problem. Let me know if she turns up.”

I shoehorned Verne outside.
“You’ll tell us if she calls?”
“If that’s what Mirabel wants.”
I got the door shut before Verne
Attacked him.
“I hate that guy! He’s so disgusting!
How I wish we hadn’t come!”
I thought he might weep.

The elevator opened without being
Summoned. This whole place
Intent on ridding itself of us.
But Verne resisted. “I bet she’s in there.”
He looked back longingly.
“I bet she’s not.” I muscled him
Into the elevator.
“How do you know?”
He looked to consult my
Magic powers.

“He accused Mirabel of stealing!”
Verne blew that off.
“Mirabel’s light-fingered.
He steals from the world, she steals from him.”
He didn’t seem to realize
This philosophy could apply to him.

Why marry someone you can’t trust?
One more thing I still don’t get
About Adult World.
I reassured politely.
“She’s burned that bridge. I could tell.”
Verne taxed me how I knew –
Sneering, “Woman’s intuition?”
Since he couldn’t trust Mirabel
How could he trust me?
Needing me made him hate me.
I would have to manage him
Like a parent. Luckily
He relaxed into the car without fuss.
I said, thoughtlessly – “I’m psychic.”
I say that to my parents because
They’re so clueless about
Others’ vital signs –
If you have to explain the obvious!
His whole face changed. He became
Pathetically excited.
“Of course!” he said.
“The sister thing! It creates
A Psychic link. I have no siblings. So
Tell me what you feel?
Where’d she go?”
The driver also needed to know:
Where to?
We put him on pause while
I equivocate.
“I haven’t seen her in so long,
Our connection’s fogged.”
The only thing I knew for sure was
Mirabel hated Ravi as much as I did.
“I need to get to know her again.”
“Tell me where to go,” said Verne.
Then he spoke the magic words.
“I’ll do anything.”

Chapter 7 – Unavoidably Detained

She must have known we’d come
After – the apartment was empty.
Furniture gazed
Forlornly as I wandered through –
Expensive accommodations crying out
For individuality, for life.
Closets still packed but
Some clothes could have disappeared;
How could I tell?

Bathrooms littered with impersonal cosmetics –
Everything replaceable.
In the long, bare white kitchen I
Ignited a pot of coffee.
The refrigerator was particularly sad: champagne,
A month’s supply of celery juice.

And three kinds of wedding cake in origami boxes.
Mirabel must have returned – however briefly –
Because someone drank the last champagne.
Her dress lay discarded on the floor
One flounce torn, stepped on,
Ground beneath a fleeing heel.
When the coffee was ready
I sampled cake –
Choosing lemon though
Everyone likes coconut and
Some people cleave to raspberry.
Verne was collapsed in the bedroom,
Clutching Mirabel’s dress.

“I didn’t think she’d really do it,”
He said. “I suppose the wedding’s off.”
“Maybe she had an errand,”
I stupidly proposed.
“She’ll be back.”
I bundled the fantasy dress into its slick bag; a glittering
Promise too fragile to stand up to actual wear.
“Don’t you see what’s happened?”

Verne demanded.
“She doesn’t want to marry me.
Probably she never did. All along
There’s been this game. Some other man;
Using me as leverage.”
“What other man?”
Was this the double life he’d mentioned?

Crazy stuff. I sat beside
But not to comfort him.
Let’s get some facts.
“Who?” I demanded.
Those fiancés were bad at facts.
He held his head.
“There were too many.”
Now seemed the time for
Comforting.
“She’ll return – of course she will –
Or why on earth invite me here?”

He turned to me a tear-stained face –
Grabbed my shoulders and
Sucked me into a kiss –
That real “adult” kiss I’d pined for –
Dreamed of –
Oh those lonely nights
After Ricky Stoekels ghosted me –
But not this one –
A probing invasion
Shutting off my air.

I jerked away with so much force
I landed on the floor.
Verne threw himself
On the bed, face down
Wracked with sobs
While I wiped my face
Amazed. Kisses you don’t want
Are no reward.
“Love the one you’re with” –
Isn’t that what Ricky Stoekels says?
“She cheats, you cheat,”
Bastards all. I’d received
No compliment.

“Forgive me,” shuddered Verne,
“I’m out of my mind.
I don’t know what I’m doing.”
Maybe. I recognize excuses.
Having used them.
“Don’t do it again,” I said. “Where would she go?
You have some guy in mind?”
“Maybe,” said Verne.
He looked so childish, shoulders dropped,
Unresponsive iPhone fallen to the floor.

I felt sorry for him but also
Old; sophisticated;
Like he was fourteen and
I was thirty-seven.
I pushed coffee.
Always been my favorite panacea.
He sipped in new docility.
“You know the way I like it.”
I corrected brusquely,
“There is no cream or sugar.”
“I mean strong. I like it
Strong.”

There only was espresso in the house but
Why proceed with this?
Trying to apologize? I muted so
He studied me ironically.
“I suppose you’ll go home to Mama?”
I felt a chill.
Unconsidered horror. After grasping at
Independence –
Something to actually write in my break essay –
I’d return
A powerless teenage nobody.

And there were
Further Problems were
My folks convinced
I’d screwed this up somehow.
Or I could stay here,
Indulge my favorite sport;
Figuring out What The Hell
Is Going On. It’s true that Verne
A loose cannon now but
I could always arm myself and
Lock my door.
Best to grab that bull by his
You Know Where.

“No more kissing. OK?”
He flushed a dirty red.
“No. Hell no.”
“Then I want to stay. Maybe she’s in trouble.”
He shrugged this off.
“Impossible. She’s just a tease.”
But why tease ME?
Did not feel right.

Of course, I don’t know Mirabel – must
Remind myself –
But realizing Verne was Verne he’s
Probably the last to know.
I’m only second-last.
“You really think she’s left you?”
He writhed. “We play hurt
To the top of our bent. This could
Be her winning shot.”

So why keep score?
Did she owe me or –
Did I owe her?
“Well, if she left you
She left me, too.”
Why couldn’t I believe
Mirabel would ghost me?
Wasn’t that what she’d always done?
It seemed different now –
We’d been “sisters” together –
For one split second.

A fresh chill fevered me – what if –
She was handing off her bridegroom?
Those matching dresses were just too weird.
On the other hand, fashion is transgressive –
They always try to break the rules.
No. no. Let’s not go there.
“It’s on till Mirabel calls it off.
This could be nothing.
She might come back.
She’ll call. Let’s sleep. Or try this lemon cake.”
He shuddered grumpily.
“I chose the Hazelnut.”

We ate companionably together.
He’d fed me, now I fed him.
That’s called “relationship”.
He fixed me with
A gnarly eye.
“Did she warn you?
She must have said something.
What did she tell you?
Anything about him?”
I always hated third degree.

I blush as if I’m guilty.
“She told me nothing,”
I said coldly. “I
“Was invited to a wedding.”
“She’ll never call,” he moaned.
“She’ll keep the tension up
Until the victim dies. That’s her way.”
“Then you should call it off.”
I scraped the rest of my cake
Into the trash – I only
Like the frosting –
Hardening myself against their
Craziness.

Verne rose so decisively
His plate fell to the rug.
“I’m going to find her,”
He said. “Game on.
She chose me. She doesn’t get
Another choice.”
What was the matter with this man?
Physically attractive –
Probably wealthy –
Why so insecure?

The only game is not to play.
Mirabel had always coveted those
She could manipulate. Was
That my own knowledge – or
Did my parents tell me?
That’s the benefit of growing up –
it slowly dawns that
All you’re told is nonsense.
A dose of sense is
Obviously required.
“I think you’re looking at this wrong,
Mirabel’s frightened
Of our dad. He’s your “other man.”

Verne gaped at me,
Focus readjusting as if
He saw me for the first time.
“Explain.”
“Don’t you know the story?
She pretended to go to college but really cashed all
Daddy’s checks and lived the high life.
She got in trouble with student loans,
Forging dox. We haven’t heard from her for
Years and Dad’s still angry.

I thought something was up when
She wanted to come home.”
“I didn’t know. Quite little scamp.”
He seemed cheered.
“Should we wed in church?
I don’t know one marriage that’s survived ten years.”
This man could certainly surprise me.
“Mom and Dad have been married forever,”

It was more than that –
They were unimaginable without each other;
A true team – like Laurel & Hardy or
Abbott & Costello.
I could imagine no other human
Who’d put up with either of them.
How to convey this?
“Maybe you shouldn’t get married
When you are so uncertain,” I suggested.
Would I get kissed or
Slapped for interfering?

Adults don’t like second-guessing but
Mirabel forced my hand.
“All our bridges burned,”
He sighed.
“The only way is forward.”
Depressing thought!
Cheering this guy’s mood is work.

“Let’s figure out where she
Could have possibly gone. Like,
How would she travel?”
Verne sat straight up.
“Car service,” he announced.
“I pay the bills. Let’s track her.”

He worked his phone.
“I’m so glad
“You’re staying. We need you –
Alt-Mirabel.”

Chapter 4 – Cocktailing

I felt played.
It’s what they do to children.
Couldn’t shuck the memory of

My own mother–
Lofty & deceitful –
Briskly turning “road trips” turned into
“Summer camp” and “one night”
Into seven.

I was being “managed”, but
Could I blame Mirabel?
Quoting Mom – again – “ Guests must
Be adaptable, obliging – a guest has
No one to blame but herself
For her bad treatment.”
Was it the expression on my face
When she showed me that dress?
Snarky baby sister punished for it now.

Mirabel had something
Better to do than me.
I was startled by
The driver’s admiration
As the Stanhope – he looked at me
As if I’d matured.
Had I insulted the bride
By overreaching?
I blame those heels –
She must have secretly hated them.

Regretted her choice of bridesmaid.
I was chastened as I joined
Verne in splendor at the bar.
He rose at the sight of me
His face a tribute
To a beauty that I didn’t want –
I felt on the edge of a childish scene.
Why didn’t his jaw set at the sight of me alone?
Were they sick already
Of each other?

His arm was decidedly un-brotherly:
Squiring me away –
He enjoyed them seeing he was meeting
Some strange woman.
“Let’s get you dinner.”
Anything better than a bar
That looked me over like
Some Russian call girl.

As we turned I was confronted
By the mirrors: I looked like
Some Russian call girl.
Blame the champagne that allowed
Mirabel to paint me up.
In my best-guest manner, I said,
“Should we wait for Mirabel?”
He demurred.
“Waiting for Mirabel’s never good.
It only encourages her.”

As the headwaiter flashed his menu
Verne snuck angry glances
At his darkened phone.
“Turtle soup’s good here,”
Said Verne: he knew my weakness –
I yearned to sample everything.
I sucked water greedily
As martini-bearing waiters
Smothered and assessed.
I ordered pineapple juice before
Verne could countermand.

He insulted me –
“I heard you were religious.”
I enlightened him.
“Famiglia’s religious but
My life’s my own free choice.”
He breathed relief –
I switched it up –
“What kind of ceremony will you have?”

He seemed stunned I’d propositioned
Then vague. “Some judge. A ballroom.
Mirabel’s in charge of that.”
I teased, I needled –
“Mirabel says you proposed
The first night you met.”
Let him fear our confidence!
He laughed sharply.
“I was waiting for trustees to die.”
Well THAT was tough to follow up.

Verne could switch it up as well.
“Mirabel can be very shattering, can’t she?”
I shirked disloyalty at this
God’s honest truth. Chose vagueness as
He had. “Life comes at us so fast.”
“I tried to free her from the life,” said Verne.
“I don’t believe she really let me.”
This was depressing – parents hoping
For good news, bride and groom stuck
In mutual complaining.

“Mirabel proposed to me.”
He said coldly. “It’s the title.
They all do that.”
I was stung on her behalf – who wants his
Moth-eaten aging royalty?
I almost choked
On sugared juice: doesn’t sugar
Wreck your palate?

I braced myself against Verne’s
Un-subtle desire
To put me in the “wrong”.
Too bad for him –
I was used to disapproval.
“I think people should make themselves,”
I argued everything
Too fiercely.

Soup arrived, bread slathered with
Mozzarella, pesto & tomato. Mini-pizzas!
I sighed ecstatically and felt from him
An answering thaw.
“When you inherit an ancient world,”
He pontificated, “you learn to value the past.”
“Do you have a castle?”
I asked through my full mouth.

Turtle soup OK. Too much sherry –
Too much curry –
He checked his phone.
“It’s a ruin with tourists crawling
Everywhere. Mirabel doesn’t care for it.”
His phone lit up. Mirabel ‘s texts?
I studied mine to be
Companionable. But it was folks again –
Always, with the questions.
“She’s not answering,” he sighed.

“We’re not as charming as
Her double life.”
This jolted me.
“She has a double life?”
“Probably triplicate by now.”
He snorted.
I tried my lawyer father’s ploy;
Let ‘em talk.
“Tell me about it.”
“She’d been so hard to pin down lately.”
Did he blush or blanch? His throat was raw
With pent emotion.

My face betrayed my armoring.
“She seemed so ready
To be a wife. Said my time
Had come to meet the family.”
Did he know of The Great Silence?
Perfidious to squeal yet how else
Could I find out
What was going on?
Beef wellington arrived
But I was full.

“I’m amazed you were real, most frankly.
I thought “the little sister”
Was another of her stories.
Kudos to your parents.”
This – and the beef wellington –
Maybe I’m vegan after all –
Made me gag.
“I was afraid she’d hire stand-ins but,
“You’re just like her yet so
Unspoiled.”

Never had a compliment
Felt more like an insult.
Creepy and revolting.
“Mirabel and I are opposites,” I stressed
Angrily before I thought.
“How can that be?”
He was smug. Superior.
“You’re litter-mates.”
“She cares what others think and
I just don’t.”

That should have stopped him but –
He smiled.
“Sisterhood is powerful.’
Unable to read him,
Know him, change him,
I felt the dawning of
Despair. It makes me hate
The grown-up world.

“I’m becoming vegetarian,” I said.
And pushed my plate away.
I was trying to be polite and now
I’d stopped.
“Americans think food fuss
Makes them interesting,”
He snarled. “It doesn’t.”

But it turned out
His disgust was not for me.
“Imagine that,”
snorted his Lordship scornfully,
Still looking at his phone.

“We’re on our own,
Mirabel can’t make it.
And now her phone is locked!
We’ll see about that!
I’m ordering the car. Time to find out just what
Our bride is playing at.”