The Secrets of Cedar Creek

11 : I See Lace

I pause. "I guess now's as good a time as any."

"Wonderful. Meet me at the manor in an hour. Dress nice."

"Are you trying to say I generally have poor taste?" I retort.

"I'm quite sure any selection of clothing would look nicely on you." I can almost see his teasing smirk. "Or lack thereof."

"I'll be there. Later, Iris."

"Farewell, Rose."

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I quickly drop by Auntie's and Uncle's to change and put some makeup on. It's been a while since I've had an event to dress up to. My loaded grandparents bought me some new things when I visited them in Newhaven for the few fundraisers and odd events that Pa was sponsoring. But I didn't expect to be re-wearing anything for a while. Cedar's not really a place to be fancy.

I rummage through my wardrobe and find clothes I haven't worn for years. I grab my favourite – yet retired – collection of little black dresses. They're far too sexy for every day, and I haven't had much use for them since I quit my old job.

I pick up the dress he bought me. I bring the silk fabric to my lips, smelling the faint echo of perfume and cologne. The short, silk dress is embroidered with a lace trim across the low cut neckline and along the hem. It looks more like lingerie than outwear.

I slip the dress over me, swimming through the soft cloth smoothly. I glance over at myself in the mirror. It took me a while to learn about sex appeal – about the power women have. I've always been slim (chubby as a child, but puberty did me well). The chub on my body moved to my hips and breasts, giving me moderate curves, but still a relatively slim figure. I wasn't a confident kid – sadly it took men's validation to teach me to love myself.

I've got big eyes, high cheekbones, long lashes, pouty lips. I exaggerate these features with some soft makeup. I have a tan, European complexion (paler now, a bit sickly even), something sexy and mysterious – I'm often told by strangers. But I'm comfortable in my appearance now. My long, dark waves reach my mid-lower back and almost completely cover my scars.

I pull stockings up my legs, sliding the fabric up my calves, over my thighs. I turn to my cupboard, taking out a long, floor length coat – feeling a little Veronica Lodge vibes. I sprits some perfume onto my neck. Overall: sexy and elegant. Hopefully nice enough for Iris – the pr*ck.

I call out to Auntie Helen, for her approval, but she doesn't answer so I assume she's ducked out of the house to get some groceries or doing some other adult-ing.

I text Uncle if I can take the car for the night and then swiftly whisk off to Shadow River Manor – only running about an hour late. Whoops.

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When I reach Shadow River Manor, Iris is leaning on the front door with a cigarette. He eyes me up and down, from the tip of my heels to my eyes. I keep my distance until he throws his cigarette on the floor and steps on it. "You clean up nice, but punctuality is your downfall," he comments then nods to another car parked in the driveway – an old (extremely sexy) mustang. "Let's get going, shall we?"

The ride begins quiet. The smell of his cologne mixed with his tantalising natural scent filters through the car. I look out the window, watching my breath fog up the glass. The curiosity within me struggles in my throat. "So where are you taking me?"

"A restaurant."

"How about you tell me why you jumped off Deadmen's Drop?"

He chuckles to himself. "Is that what they call it?"

"Cut the bullsh*t, Iris. Why did you jump?" I look over at him.

He runs his hand over the steering wheel, almost lovingly. I can't help to wonder what his hands would feel like over my – "It was a test," he says simply. "I was testing you. You passed with flying colours."

"You're really sick, you know?"

"I think the word you're looking for is inspired."

"Do you test all your assistants like that?"

"Not all of them," he smiles to himself, probably thinking about those other 'assistants'. "Shadow River also has significance to our project."

"How so?"

"Like I said before, I'm writing something set here in Cedar Creek. Have you heard about the Shadow River Manor murders?"

"Not really," I think back to all the rumours I've heard about the manor. The story of the two children that were murdered was a hot topic... back in first grade.

"The remains of the victims were apparently dumped in Shadow River. I thought it would be symbolic to start our journey there."

"I haven't exactly accepted the offer."

"Oh?" He says, taken off guard. For the first time, he peels his eyes off the road and scrutinises me.

"I will accept your offer on two conditions."

"I should have known things weren't going to be easy with you," he laughs lightly again, like he knows me well. Cocky, too. "What do you want? A role in the movie? A publishing deal?"

"F*ck off, I don't want your meaningless fame," I huff.

"What then?"

"Firstly, make it fifty thousand."

"Done," he says quickly. Well that was easy.

"Secondly, don't ever risk your life like that again. It's not worth it – no matter how ingenious you think you are, it's just not worth it."

"What's life without a little risk taking?"

"It's one of my conditions, Iris. I'm in this for the money – I don't want your cheap entertainment. If you want a performance go to a circus, or even better there's a club three blocks that way. I'm not wasting my time on your little insanities, treat your life with respect or I'm out. Putting words on paper doesn't give you the right to act superior and it definitely doesn't make you immortal."

He pauses for a moment, not expecting my little rant.

"Shall I go on? Or are my terms clear?"

"Crystal," he hums, "now where is that club you speak of?"

"Are you serious? Wow." Did he honestly take none of that in? "God, you're infuriating."

"Lead the way, Rose."

I shoot daggers at him with my eyes. "Turn left," I say. F*ck it. It's worth fifty grand.

"Do you mind if I smoke?" He pulls a packet of cigarettes from his pocket.

Don't a quiet voice in my head says. "It's fine," I mumble.

He rolls down the window. "Could you light it for me?" he holds out his hand with a lighter and cigarette.

I eye his palm and take them. A familiar itch tingles at my sides. F*ck. I light it, watching the flame flicker like an exotic dancer, temptingly.

I pass him the cigarette feverishly, like it burns to the touch. He doesn't notice my abhorrence. "Right here," I mutter and he takes a sharp turn.

The smell of smoke barely reaches me, the wind sucking out the air.

"You alright?" Iris says, giving me a quick once over before looking back to the road.

"Peachy," I murmur, watching the smoke drain from his lips.

"Here we are."