The Secret Diamond Sisters

chapter 7:

None of them spoke as Adrian led the way down the hall.

Peyton hadn’t expected him to bombard them with bear hugs, but she wasn’t prepared for him to be so formal. He was treating them like they were a business deal instead of his own daughters. He’d even laughed about her throwing the credit card in the trash. What was up with that?

After a silent, uncomfortable elevator ride, Adrian escorted them through the casino to a balconied area with two escalators curving around to the floor below. Peyton felt like she’d been dropped into an alternate universe. Huge chandeliers hung from a high circular ceiling—she guessed there were ten of them in all. They were different shapes and colors, most of them red, orange and yellow. It was like being in a cavern, with chandeliers instead of stalactites. But despite it being beautiful, Peyton made sure to look bored and uninterested. The last thing she wanted was for Adrian to think she was happy to be here.

At the bottom of the escalator, Adrian walked through an archway with the words Five Diamond Steakhouse in cursive on the top. Peyton had never been to a restaurant this fancy. White cloths covered the tables, and silk drapes fell over parts of the burgundy walls. Bronze chandeliers that looked like hanging lamps dropped down from the ceiling, their golden glow bringing the restaurant to life. Not that it needed it. Every table was occupied with people engaged in lively conversation.

The host spotted Adrian and hurried to the four of them. “Good evening, Mr. Diamond,” he said, bowing his head like Adrian was a king. “Your table is ready.”

Most of the people dining looked up at Adrian as he walked by, whispering and pointing as he passed. How many of them knew he was the owner of the hotel? Even if they didn’t, Adrian had an air about him that announced he was someone important. He greeted people as they passed, shaking hands, smiling and joking like he was best friends with everyone. Peyton could see why people liked him. Why couldn’t he act this friendly around his own daughters?

She supposed it made sense, though—dealing with teenagers wasn’t part of his job description, but making hotel guests happy was.

His “regular table” was in the back of the restaurant in the private room he’d mentioned, and the two people he’d warned them about were already seated. One of them was a guy who appeared to be around Peyton’s age, and while he wasn’t as obviously good-looking as Damien, he was attractive. His face was round, and his green eyes had a faraway look, like he was trying to distance himself from the world. He was underdressed in a T-shirt and a black hoodie, but his mom must not have cared enough to tell him to change.

At least Peyton was 99 percent sure that the woman sitting next to him was his mom. She had a young-looking face, with the same high cheekbones as the boy. She’d pulled her hair back in a bun, and the strand of large pearls around her neck gave her a regal appearance. Adrian smiled when he saw her, his eyes becoming soft and loving.

Who was this woman, and why was Adrian looking at her like she was more valuable than any diamond in the world?

“Girls,” Adrian said, “this is my fiancée, Rebecca Carmel, and her son, Brett. They’ll be joining us for dinner this evening.”

Fiancée? Peyton looked at the woman in disbelief.

Rebecca softly cleared her throat and shifted in her seat. She straightened her silverware, and Adrian rested a hand on her shoulder. Peyton couldn’t blame her for being nervous. This was an awkward situation, and Rebecca was now front and center.

“You have a fiancée?” Peyton finally said to Adrian, not caring that the doors to their private room were still open. “And you didn’t think it was important to tell us this first?”

“I didn’t want you to have any preconceived ideas about Rebecca before meeting her,” Adrian said calmly. He motioned to the doors, and the host closed them as he left their room. “Plus, I thought this conversation might be easier for the three of you with a mother figure around.”

“We already have a mother.” Peyton crossed her arms, standing her ground. “We don’t need another one.”

“Maybe we should do this another time....” Rebecca reached for her handbag, and she looked so uncomfortable that Peyton felt a little guilty for being outwardly mean to her.

“No.” Adrian put his hand on top of hers and slid into the seat at the head of the table, looking at her in what seemed like desperation. “It will be best for all of us if you stay.”

Peyton couldn’t believe it. Adrian seemed calm and collected, like he could handle anything. But could he actually be so nervous to be around them that he needed Rebecca there for emotional support?

Her stomach rumbled; the restaurant smelled like fresh bread and perfectly cooked steak, and she hadn’t eaten since breakfast. She took the seat next to Brett, which was as far away from Adrian as possible.

She placed her napkin on her lap and looked at her silverware in confusion. Why did she need two forks and two knives? And why was the spoon so small and above the plate?

“Start at the outside and work in,” Brett whispered to her. “And don’t touch the spoon until dessert.”

“Thanks.” Apparently she’d looked as confused as she’d felt.

Adrian ordered a bottle of champagne after they went through the introductions. No one mentioned that they were underage, and the waiter didn’t care. Brett didn’t seem fazed, either. Peyton accepted a glass—she was nothing like her mom and could handle her alcohol just fine—and Savannah got one, too. Courtney gave Savannah a warning look and said she was fine with water.

Peyton wondered if Courtney would ever let loose and have fun. They weren’t at home anymore—they were as far from it as possible. Not geographically, obviously, but Vegas couldn’t have been more different from Fairfield if it tried. Peyton wasn’t going to let Vegas change her, since she was fine just as she was, but it might not hurt Courtney to live a little.

“I hear you three will be attending Goodman in the fall,” Rebecca said, playing with her pearl necklace as she waited for an answer.

A pit of dread formed in Peyton’s stomach. She recognized the name of the school Damien had mentioned, but she wouldn’t be in Vegas long enough for school to start. Their mom had to get better before September.

If it ended up taking longer and she and her sisters had to do a few weeks at Goodman, no one had told them yet. Anyway, what was the big deal about the school? It wasn’t like they had an option where they would go. How different could this Goodman place be from Fairfield High?

“Yes,” Adrian said. “After I informed the headmaster that I would make a generous contribution toward the new sports center, I mentioned my three daughters were moving to town and hadn’t picked a school yet. Coincidentally, Goodman had three spots waiting to be filled.”

“How wonderful.” Rebecca beamed. Peyton wasn’t sure if she was fake or trying really hard to get them to like her. Judging by how nervous she seemed, she suspected it was the latter. “It’s the best school in the state. Brett goes there. He’ll be a junior in the fall, so he’ll be in Courtney’s year. He can introduce you to the other students this summer so you’ll know people once school begins.”

“Because you know how much I hang out with the prep school crew,” Brett said. Rebecca gave him a look that said, Stop being so insolent, but Brett just smiled and took a sip of water.

“Back up a second,” Peyton said. “Isn’t it too early to worry about school?”

“I know no one wants to think about going back to school when it’s only the beginning of July, but this was late notice,” Adrian said. “Their deadline for applications is January. Luckily for the three of you, they were able to make an exception.”

“That’s not what I mean.” Peyton clenched her fists, angry at how he played head games with his words. “If Mom’s better in a few weeks, by September we’ll be back home and at Fairfield High. We shouldn’t think about school here until we know when she’ll be out of that place.”

“Oh.” Rebecca’s face crumpled, and she looked at Adrian in question. “They don’t know yet?”

“Know what?” Courtney asked softly.

“I would have said something earlier, but my meeting ran late and we had to hurry to dinner,” Adrian said. “Plus, I thought your grandmother would have told you herself before you left....”

“Well, apparently she didn’t.” Peyton couldn’t take this anymore. “So spit it out.”

Adrian took a sip of water and cleared his throat. “Your mother is in an extremely difficult, stressful point in her life,” he said, looking seriously at each of them. “Once she’s released from inpatient treatment, she’ll have many struggles ahead while getting her life back on track. I’ve purchased your grandmother a larger house—she wasn’t happy about it, but she eventually accepted—and your mom will move in with her once she’s released. This way she’ll have your grandmother’s support while recovering. So until the end of the next school year, the three of you will be living here, with me.”

Peyton slammed her hands down on the table. “You’ve got to be kidding me,” she said. “This is going to be my senior year. It’s the last year I’ll have with my friends before we graduate. And now you’re saying I’ll have to spend it here, with total strangers? No way is that happening.” She checked to see if her sisters were just as pissed. Courtney’s face had gone white—she seemed shocked, not angry—and Savannah had the nerve to look excited. What the hell was wrong with them? Didn’t they also want to go home?

“You’ll be staying here for the next year.” Adrian didn’t flinch. “It’s in your mother’s best interest. I understand you’re missing home, but I hope you want to do whatever you can to help her recover. She needs to focus on herself in the upcoming months, and that’s going to be easiest for her if she doesn’t have to worry about taking care of anyone else.”

Peyton pressed her lips together, her breaths coming fast. Way for him to make them feel like an unwanted burden.

“But won’t Mom want us around?” Savannah asked with tears in her eyes. Peyton didn’t want to see her cry, but at least this was better than her being excited about staying in Vegas.

“Once she begins outpatient treatment, you’ll be able to visit her,” Adrian said. Then he got very still, as if what he was about to say was hard for him. “But, while I know this might be difficult for you to believe right now, you’re here because I want you to be here, too.”

Peyton leaned back and crossed her arms. No way would she believe that crap.

At the same time, she wanted her mom to get better, and she refused to do anything that might send her spiraling. If staying in Vegas for the year was what it took, she would tough it out and get through it. But she wouldn’t make it easy for Adrian. He hadn’t wanted them in his life until now, and she wasn’t about to smile and forgive him.

“Fine,” she said. “But Goodman isn’t a private school, is it?”

“Of course it is,” Adrian said. “Where else would you go?”

“Public school.” Peyton said the obvious response. “Like we always have.”

“The Goodman School is the best in the state,” Adrian said, like that should be reason enough.

“It might be,” Peyton replied. “But we don’t need a fancy private school. We’ve been in public school our whole lives, and it’s never been a problem.” No one said anything, so she looked at her sisters for backup. “Right?” she said, expecting support. She wouldn’t fit in with the people who went to private school, and she didn’t want to. They were probably a bunch of stuck-up snobs.

“I don’t know, Peyton,” Courtney said carefully. “It will look better on college applications if we go to a school like Goodman.”

“They have a one-hundred percent college acceptance rate,” Rebecca said proudly. “Last year a fourth of the graduating class went to an Ivy League or similar level school.”

“I’m not going to college.” Peyton smirked. “So there goes that one hundred percent.”

Worry flitted across Rebecca’s face, but Adrian didn’t look concerned. “We’ll see.” He sounded so superior, as if he knew something Peyton didn’t. It made her want to hit something.

Instead she looked at Courtney, betrayed by her sister’s reaction. “You never mentioned wanting to go to private school before,” she said.

Courtney looked down at the tablecloth. “That’s because it was never an option.”

Peyton looked at Savannah for support, but her normally talkative sister didn’t say a word. Was she the only one who hated the idea of going to school with overprivileged snobs who would have nothing in common with her?

“I’m not going to Goodman.” Peyton stood her ground. “I’ll go to the local public school instead.”

“How about we compromise?” Adrian said. “You’ll start at Goodman in the fall. If after three months it’s as awful as you imagine, we can discuss other options.”

Peyton thought about it. “One month,” she countered.

“Two months and you have a deal,” Adrian said, with a hint of a smile.

“Fine.” Peyton nodded. “Two months.” She was going to hate it no matter what, but at least being there for two months was better than the entire year.

Nobody said anything for a few seconds, and Peyton felt like she could cut the tension in the air with a steak knife. Finally the waiter walked through the French doors that led to their private dining room, a bottle of champagne in his hand. Thank God. Peyton didn’t think she could stand one more moment of sitting there with no clue what to say. It was ironic, really. She had so much she wanted to know, but no idea how to start asking her questions. Continuing to talk about their family drama in front of Brett and Rebecca would make dinner more awkward than it already was.

Then Peyton realized what she’d thought. Was she worried that something wouldn’t be appropriate to bring up at dinner? The pompous atmosphere of the hotel must be getting to her. Time to change that. She could tell attention made Rebecca uncomfortable, so she might as well start there.

“So,” she started, looking at Rebecca. “How did you two meet? I’m sure our father would have told us, but since he hasn’t bothered to be in our lives until now, we haven’t had much time to talk.” She folded her hands over the table, as though she couldn’t wait to hear the answer to her question.

“Well...” Rebecca lifted her hand to her necklace, looking at Adrian for help.

“Rebecca and I were high-school sweethearts,” Adrian said, his voice confident and strong. He reached for one of Rebecca’s hands and squeezed it. She smiled gratefully at him, and he continued. “But we didn’t go to the same college—she stayed local, while I went to the University of Pennsylvania—and our lives went in different directions. We were in other relationships when I returned to Las Vegas after graduation to invest in my first hotel. Recently we both became single again, and fate brought us back together.”

“How interesting.” Peyton lifted her glass as though making a toast, threw her head back and took a large gulp.

Rebecca reached back to touch her bun, as if a sprayed strand might be out of place. Peyton felt guilty for making Rebecca feel uneasy. She seemed nice, and it did sound like Adrian loved her. It wasn’t her fault that he was a crappy, nonexistent father who was trying to act like he hadn’t overlooked his daughters for their entire lives. The funny thing was, if Adrian and Rebecca were in high school together, that made Rebecca almost ten years older than Peyton’s mother, even though she looked much younger. All that drinking could really age a person.

“Yes,” Adrian said. “But please don’t mention the engagement to anyone. We plan on announcing it at the grand opening on Saturday night.”

Peyton looked at the packed dining room. “The hotel looks open to me.”

“This is the soft opening,” Adrian explained. “Doors opened for both the hotel and residences a month ago, and the time since then has been a test to make sure everything is running smoothly. This way we can work out any kinks ahead of time, so we know nothing will go wrong on the night of the grand opening.”

“Sounds efficient.” Peyton skimmed over the menu as Rebecca ordered her food, zeroing in on the most expensive dish on the menu. Maine lobster—seventy dollars. Perfect. That would do a good job pissing Adrian off. She wasn’t sure if she liked lobster, or how one person could eat seventy dollars’ worth of food in one sitting, but she would find out tonight.

“A fine choice,” Adrian said after she ordered. “I’ll have the same. You girls should consider it, as well,” he said, looking at Courtney and Savannah. “It’s said we have the best lobster on the Strip.”

Savannah found it on the menu, and her eyes bulged. “I guess I’ll have the lobster, too,” she said, closing the menu and handing it to the waiter.

He turned to Courtney next. “The lobster for you, as well?”

“I’m sure it’s delicious, but I’m a vegetarian,” Courtney explained. “I’ll have a Caesar salad, lightly dressed.”

Adrian had asked for a taste of everything for appetizers since “the girls should try it all,” which meant the waiter brought out two three-tiered stands of plates, each one full of food, like the appetizer version of a wedding cake. It was outrageously fancy, with pieces of what appeared to be seafood displayed like art instead of something to eat. Some of the food was still in the shells, and some had been drizzled with orange, yellow and green sauces. This was a far cry from the nachos and wings Peyton and her friends usually got at chain restaurants. She had no idea where to start.

Adrian picked up a shell with a slimy white slug-looking thing on top of it, lifted it to his mouth and tipped it downwards so the slug-thing slid out. He chewed and swallowed. “Oysters on the half-shell,” he said, motioning to the display. “Delicious.”

Curious, Peyton picked one up and lifted it to her mouth. It jiggled in the shell, all lumpy and gross. And it smelled salty, like the ocean. She wrinkled her nose. But she couldn’t back out now, no matter how nasty it looked.

Following Adrian, she tipped the shell toward her mouth and let the oyster slide out, holding her breath so the smell wouldn’t overwhelm her.

It didn’t only look like a slug, it tasted like one, too. Not that Peyton had tasted a slug before, but it was what she thought one would taste like if she had. She forced it down her throat, her eyes watering as she tried not to gag. Once she swallowed, she placed the shell back on her plate and chugged water to get the salty taste out of her mouth.

Those were supposed to be a delicacy? What were these people thinking?

“I suppose oysters aren’t to your taste?” Adrian asked. The corner of his lips twitched up, and he dabbed the side of his mouth with his napkin.

“That was disgusting,” she said, still trying to get the taste out of her mouth. She used the fork and knife closest to her plate for the rest of the appetizers—the ones that according to Brett were for the main course—but if anyone noticed, they didn’t say anything.

Next came the main course. Two and a half pounds wasn’t a huge amount of lobster, especially for being seventy dollars’ worth of food on a single plate. That much money could have fed her family for two weeks.

Savannah and Courtney had involved themselves in a conversation with Rebecca, so Peyton turned to Brett with a brilliant idea—flirt with her future stepbrother. That would surely piss Adrian off. “So, Brett,” Peyton started, using her mini-fork to get some lobster out of the claw. “Do you live here, too?”

“In the Diamond?” He cut into his steak and took a bite.

Peyton nodded. What did he think she meant—Las Vegas?

“Yeah,” he answered. “Mom and Adrian share a condo, so I have one to myself. It’s pretty sweet.”

“You have your own condo?” Peyton leaned closer to him. “You should show it to me sometime. Does it have a Jacuzzi?”

He said yes, and took another bite of his steak.

“We have a Jacuzzi in ours, too.” She batted her eyelashes conspiringly. “You should come over sometime and christen it with me.”

Okay, that was overkill, even for her. But at least it’d gotten a raised eyebrow from Adrian.

“Maybe.” Brett shifted away from her and focused on his food. She could tell she’d made him uncomfortable, and he didn’t say anything more.

She scooted back in her seat and took another bite of lobster. Brett was a total bore.

He turned to Courtney and asked if she’d thought about what colleges she wanted to apply to, since they were both going to be juniors and junior year was when the honor students worried about that stuff. Peyton, on the other hand, meant it when she said she wasn’t going to college. She wanted to get out of boring, stuffy classrooms and into the real world as soon as possible. If she ever changed her mind, she could just sign up for the community college in Fairfield.

But, of course, Courtney perked up at the mention of college plans. “Stanford,” she answered shyly. “What about you?”

“UCLA,” he said. “I’ve wanted to go there since middle school. They have great courses for people interested in careers in the movie industry, so I’m taking an Intro to Film class this summer at UNLV to get ahead and show I’ll be serious about my major.”

“Wow.” Courtney looked impressed. “I want to be an English major, because I love reading and think I would like working in publishing, but I hadn’t thought of taking a summer course. I’ve just been focusing on my grades and SAT scores so I can hopefully get a scholarship.”

“I’ve been working on the SAT this summer, too,” he said. “I have a tutor who comes to my condo twice a week, and he teaches me all these great techniques on how to ‘outsmart standardized tests.’ Maybe you could join in on our sessions.”

“I would like that.” Courtney smiled.

Brett would rather study for the SAT with Courtney than lounge in the Jacuzzi with Peyton? Whatever. She was stuck listening to their nerd-tastic conversation through the rest of the main course, and while she loved her sister and all, it was unbelievable how long Courtney could talk about school. To make it worse, the lobster wasn’t even that amazing. She would have much preferred a cheeseburger.

The busboy cleared the plates once everyone finished their meals, and the waiter approached their table again. “Dessert, coffee or tea?” he asked.

Adrian whispered to Rebecca, then turned to the waiter. “Coffee, please,” he ordered. “Black.” Then he looked at Peyton and her sisters. “Would you all care for anything?”