His Substitute Wife... My Sister Book One, Page 2

  Charisse was used to this. “Thank you, Parker, for that assurance, but hopefully by then I’ll figure a way to kill myself,” she said briskly.

  The horror, shock and upset on his face because of her bluntness, almost brought her to smile at her cruel words, but she bit the inside of her lip to stop herself. It was the first in a long time that she had felt real humor at what she had done. Parker would be amusing to rile if he continued to look that upset at the thought of death.

  Without another word, he left the room and Charisse almost released the smile because that was what she wanted to happen. Smiling would mean she was happy about something and Charisse wasn’t happy about anything. Still, she pursed her lips in grimace that came close but even that quickly disappeared.

  It was sickening how she kept looking at all the things that were handsome about him. Chyna had said Parker was a cold man. Never smiled, never had three words to say and never talked about his crazy family.

  Yet the man who had just come in there was far from that. He’d done everything Chyna had said he didn’t.

  Charisse didn’t want to stay with them. Two people watching her. All the time?

  Damn!

  Chapter 2

  The three months at the facility turned into a year and a half because of Charisse’s attempts to kill herself, her resistance to connect with anyone including anyone in the facility and her constant fits when people would look like they were about to touch her. From starving herself, cutting herself or being difficult to the staff, she was put in solitude so many times, her room became her sanctuary. On her twenty-eighth birthday, she was released on the condition that for three months, she had to have someone watching her twenty-four hours a day.

  The money her mother had left her was enough to cover the cost. Charisse could care less. Getting out meant she could really do some damage to herself once all guard was taken off of her.

  The staff packed up her room early that morning. After she took a bath, she was placed handcuffed at the wrist to a chair in the lobby with a small box of her possessions by her feet to wait for pickup.

  After two hours with boredom sinking in, she was about to figure a way to get to the bathroom by herself and swallow as much liquid soap as possible, but a light gold Benz pulled up to the door in the no parking zone and Parker jumped out looking freshly done again. This time he had on a teal suit with matching shoes, an emerald green shirt, tie and shoes.

  Did he have a personal designer dress him daily? No man looked so well put together all the time.

  “I’m so sorry,” he said as soon as he came up to her.

  She hadn’t even stood up when he approached and not because she was strapped down, but because she wanted to stress that nothing he did could affect her.

  “My meeting ran over,” he explained.

  With the most placid look on her face, she stared up at him. He waved his hands in front of her face to see if she was respondent to that, but she didn’t move, blink or speak.

  The annoyed clerk who had been assigned with keeping an eye on Charisse, came over with the discharge paperwork, quickly explaining to Parker the attention Charisse needed and making him sign over for her like she was some kind of pet.

  “Did you drug her?” he asked concerned because her expression had not changed, nor had she moved since he’d approached her.

  The clerk snorted. “We wish we could, but her doctor has always insisted that she is not supposed to be given any kind of medication.”

  “Where are the rest of her things?” Parker asked. “My wife said she sent boxes of items here.”

  “This is it,” the clerk said. “If there was anything else, we sent it back.”

  “She’s been here a year and a half,” he protested. “And I never saw any of those items my wife had come back to us. She should have more things.”

  Seeing Parker getting upset was something new for Charisse. Seeing anyone actually get upset over something that was an injustice for her was new too. No one had fought for her in a long time. It was hard to force herself not to look at Parker’s upset and revel in it.

  “Most times,” the clerk explained, “She was locked in her room and wouldn’t keep her clothes on to avoid anyone talking to her and because of her restrictions, items sent to her was most likely sent back due to possible danger she wanted to do to herself or damage she had done to herself.”

  Charisse sniggered at the reminder.

  The clerk cut her eyes at Charisse sharply, but then returned them back to Parker. “Remember, Mr. Mills. No metal objects can be in her room. Only cotton clothes, no zippers, no heels, no jewelry –“

  He cut the clerk off. “I can read. Can you please release her from the handcuffs, so we can go? I have better things to do.”

  The clerk huffed as she put on cotton gloves, got the keys out and then reached down slowly as if trying not to scare Charisse to unlock the leather cuff around her wrist.

  Parker didn’t look pleased or amused, but took the box and started to reach to help her up.

  She cringed away and he stopped coming closer.

  After a moment, she stood up when she was sure he wouldn’t touch her and walked to the car. He walked ahead of her and opened the front passenger door.

  Charisse deliberately moved past him and sat herself in the back seat.

  Parker gave her this strange look, placing the box on the front seat and then getting in the driver’s seat. By that time, Charisse had secured her seat belt and looked out the window to show that she wasn’t going to speak to him.

  He played an easy listening jazz station and did not say a word to her. She was glad. No conversation meant she didn’t have to enjoy the sound of his voice.

  His cell phone rung and he pushed a button on the steering wheel. The music lowered considerably and the voice of Chyna over a phone came on the front speaker system.

  “You canceled the driver to pick Charisse up?” she asked incredulously. “I just called them to confirm their pick up and drop off and they said you canceled the credit transaction. How could you be so selfish, Parker?”

  “The nurse called my office and informed me because you scheduled late, they couldn’t assign anyone until this afternoon, so no one would have been at the home to assist your sister. You didn’t answer your phone and I had to take initiatives. Plus I thought it was a rather cold way to greet your sister back to reality and on her birthday, Chyna.”

  “How could you remember her birthday?”

  “Because mine is tomorrow.”

  “Oh...yeah. You couldn’t leave a message about all this?”

  “Why should I, when you never listen to your voicemail anyway, Chyna? I handled it. I just didn’t feel comfortable with her being dumped at our house like that.”

  “It wasn’t a cold way, Parker,” Chyna said defensively. “I couldn’t miss my hair appointment. You know how difficult it is to get in Shawn’s chair and you said you had an important meeting. Who else was going to get her? You know I couldn’t send Cheyenne, plus she’s refusing to even answer her phone. I think she moved and didn’t tell us. Can you believe that shit? Although I can’t blame her in not wanting this burden anymore.”

  He didn’t respond to her because Chyna obviously didn’t remember he used his interior intercom in the car when answering the phone and anyone could hear his conversation if they were driving with him. “I cut my meeting short and picked her up myself. She’s in the car now.”

  There was a moment’s pause as his wife realized what she had said out loud, before she asked, “You cut your meeting? But I thought this was your biggest client? So you didn’t get the deal?”

  “Actually I did, Chyna. I told him how important it was for me to leave to pick up my sister-in-law and he cut the check personally. He said any man dedicated to family like that was a man who would be dedicated to making sure his company looks good.”

  “Oh goodie! So we can go out and celebrate tonight?!” Chyna asked excitedly. “I just
bought the most gorgeous dress and I’m just dying to check out that new Wolfgang Puck restaurant– “

  He cut her off uncomfortably, “Since it’s Charisse’s first day home, I was thinking we’d spend an evening with her.”

  “We got that nurse for her,” Chyna said obviously. “She minds any attention. She hates interaction with people.”

  He glanced back at Charisse, who was playing possum again. Her chest was expanding and retracting at a normal rate and her pupils stayed steady. He could tell, but he didn’t point it out. “Fine, Chyna, we’ll go.”

  She squealed in delight.

  He changed the subject. “Did the doctor call about your results?”

  “No, but I’ve got to go,” she said abruptly. “I’ll see you tonight darling. Kisses.”

  The line clicked and Parker glanced back at Charisse, who was still playing possum. He took his time perusing her as they drove home.

  Unlike Cheyenne and Chyna, who were twins, Charisse must have looked more like her father. She had strong model facial features, but thick features on her body. Although this last bout in the facility and her constant hunger strikes – according to the doctor who had consulted them for her discharge – had cost Charisse’s body weight, moving her from an eighteen to a lush twelve, which was the size Chyna had been when he married her.

  Yet, for the past seven years she had been in competition with Cheyenne to see how small they could get without going bulimic.

  Charisse possessed thick short hair, which she just combed back. No curls not even a ponytail, she had a band about the front, but the one she wore was old and barely on her head. She wore this calf length dull gray dress that showed nothing of her figure – if she had one –some thick black stockings, and awful dirty brown penny loafers, minus the pennies, that he hadn’t seen on a woman since the eighties. Over her ugly dress, she had this red worn sweater that was filled with holes and looked like it belonged on his dead grandmother.

  Opening up her dark burnt brown large eyes, she cut them to the front of the windshield.

  Parker looked forward with a serious expression on the road, hoping she had not seen him studying her.

  ***

  Forty minutes later they pulled in front of a three story massive home in the Boston Edison District of Detroit’s Westside. These were old homes built so long ago some still had oil lamps on the walls. Often turned into four family flats with taxes so high and heating cost rising, most families couldn’t afford to stay in these. But it had been Chyna’s dream to have one of these homes since she was young.

  And now she had it along with the handsome prince.

  Parker came around in an attempt to open her car door, but Charisse hurried and opened it herself and went straight to the front door of the house.

  He grabbed the box and followed her, letting her inside the home. For a moment he allowed her to marvel at the large foyer, the long hallway and the massive stairs in front of them.

  Chyna had decorated the home to almost perfection. “A palace for his princess,” he remembered saying a very long time ago and gave Chyna all the money she needed in order to make their home perfect.

  Their friends, and even the people who weren’t friends, were jealous of all that he had accomplished.

  Clearing his throat to make Charisse look at him, he said, “Your room’s on the third floor. Did you want to take the elevator?”

  “Do I look that fat and out of shape?” she asked.

  “I didn’t mean to imply– “

  She headed for the oak stairs and Parker stopped speaking, following by taking two stairs at a time to stay casually up with her. If she were fat and out of shape, she hid it quite well because she didn’t break a sweat.

  Chyna always took the elevator if it concerned anything above the second floor - something about scuffing her eight thousand dollar shoes.

  “It’s big,” Charisse said, coming to the top of the spacious third floor.

  In one corner was the hospital bed the nurse had required and then there was the ensconced room for the nurse. The doors to the bathroom had been taken off and a semi kitchen was in the other corner.

  No metal was in the room, including the bed.

  He watched as she circled the room and then turned to him.

  “I’m still a prisoner, aren’t I?” she asked miserably.

  He placed the box by the bed and walked up to her. “It was the only way they would agree to release you this time. And I thought you’d enjoy the freedom if we complied.”

  She expected them not to care. She expected them to be care less. Killing herself was going to be harder than she expected.

  “Your nurse won’t be here for six more hours,” he said.

  “Are you going to babysit me until then?”

  “Yes,” he said with that same matter of fact tone she had used earlier. “But we do have an appointment.” He checked his two thousand dollar Movado watch. “Would you like to get freshened up before we leave?”

  “W-Where are we going?”

  “I figured with it being your birthday, I should make special arrangements.” Impatiently, he checked his time again. “Now, if you could please freshen up, I’d appreciate it so we can leave.”

  At first she wanted to be obstinate, but she figured she would need this jerk on her side when it came down to it. Getting him to see her side of it would be easy. Just like her mother had given her the tools and then Cheyenne had stopped caring, she knew if she was to get to this man, it would only be through his sympathy for her situation. In order to do that, she would have to most likely give him the truth.

  She walked to the bathroom and turned to close the door out of habit, but there was no door to close.

  She moved over to the sink and looked around. There was nothing in the bathroom that she could possibly hurt herself with. The towels were too thick to be torn; the soap and bath products were for a child. What kind of nurse was this?

  Staring in the mirror at herself, she even noticed that this had a protective plastic cover on it, so if she tried to break it, it would be next to impossible and only shatter.

  Coming back out the bathroom, Parker had moved to the door and partially turned away like a true gentleman to give her some privacy.

  “I’m ready,” she said.

  “After you,” he said, indicating the door.

  Charisse wanted to stomp like a petulant child, but she didn’t. Instead, she wrapped her arms around her waist as if she were freezing and went back down to the car. He was quick this time and had anticipated her movements.

  Suavely, he blocked the passenger door and opened the front door for her.

  Stopping dead in her tracks inches before getting in the car, she snapped her eyes over to him and grinded her teeth.

  He met her gaze with a triumph gleam, but didn’t move from where he was.

  Sliding in the front making sure she made no physical contact with him, she was so tempted to jump back out of the car while he was walking around to get in the driver’s side.

  Careful not to touch her, Parker got in the car and started it up.

  “Where are we going?”

  “Somewhere to pass the time for six hours and it’s wireless, so I can get some work done.”

  “I don’t work. I don’t have a job,” she said. “I’m too stupid to hold a job.”

  “Who told you that?”

  “Cheyenne.”

  He looked over at her as if shocked she had said that. “That doesn’t sound like her.”

  “Then you don’t know Cheyenne.” She looked forward angrily that she had not gotten her way in sitting in the rear.

  After a few more moments, she asked, “I see you got your little dream up and off the ground.”

  “Little dream?” he asked insulted.

  Charisse explained further. “That’s what Chyna called it when she was over Cheyenne’s house crying about how you quit your job at the plant nine years ago on a hunch.”

 
“It wasn’t a hunch. It was an opportunity if you must know.”

  “So what do you do?”

  “I’m in the crate and laundry business.”

  “That’s silly. What could you possibly do with that?”

  She sounded a lot like Chyna, but he thought maybe he could get Charisse to understand by explaining his vision. “Well it started off with crates. A friend was working for this company that took the crates and disposed of them or resold them, but he was only getting so much a crate. I figured I could get more if I became a supplier instead of a deliverer,” he explained. “It worked. Not only did I start to pick up from the auto plants, but also other warehouses. And they weren’t all wooden. I started on plastic crates. That expanded to stores, grocery chains and so forth. Another friend of mine started complaining about laundry services and I thought I could do better. I did and ended up picking up his business, along with salons, and other small businesses.”

  By this time, she was looking seriously at him, giving him her full attention. “That’s pretty impressive.”

  “I try.”

  “Try? That sounds like you’re a pathetic overachiever,” she said miserably. “Who are you trying to impress?”

  He was again shocked by her response. “I’m not trying to impress anyone. This is self-satisfaction for me. I always wanted to own my own business, get a great gal and have a large home.”

  “You forgot the white picket fence and what about a dozen children?”

  Smartly, he said, “We are trying to have children. We’ve been trying for about five years.”

  “Are you serious?” Charisse asked. “Chyna agreed to have a baby?”

  “Why does that sound strange to you?”

  “Because she isn’t the motherly type. She’s selfish and shallow.” Feeling bad for saying negative things, she decided to apologize. “I’m sorry, that’s really none of my business. Chyna could have changed since I last attempted to kill myself.” But the snort came by just by reflex. It was so hard to lie.

  “Five years ago I would agree, but Chyna has changed a lot and she’s been doing the tests and going through a lot to have a baby.”