Wives and Girlfriends of Kingpins

# Chapter 6: The Weight of Gold

The Glitz boutique on West Paces Ferry smelled like money pretending to be taste.

White marble floors. Racks of silk arranged by color like somebody had time to be that organized. A saleswoman in black offering champagne from a tray. Soft lighting. Softer music. Everything designed to make a woman forget she was spending rent money on a single sleeve.

Irie walked through it like she was underwater.

She'd been there an hour. Maybe two. Time got weird when you were trying to outrun your own brain. She'd touched a blouse she didn't need. Tried on a dress she couldn't wear anywhere. Smiled at the saleswoman like everything was fine.

Nothing was fine.

Kaelen didn't show last night. Again.

He'd texted at nine. Something came up. That was it. No apology. No explanation. No promise to make it up. Just four words that meant she wasn't important enough to warn.

She'd sat in her apartment until midnight in a dress he never saw. Then she'd taken it off, hung it back in the closet, and stared at the ceiling until the sun came up.

Now she was here. Buying things to fill the space where her dignity used to be.

The gold bracelet caught her eye from the display case. Thin. Delicate. Catching the light like it knew it was pretty. She picked it up. Looked at the price tag. Four thousand dollars.

She put it down.

Picked it up again.

The saleswoman watched her from the corner of her eye. Trying to decide if Irie could afford it or if she was just playing dress-up in a store she didn't belong in.

Irie bought it anyway.

The bag felt heavy in her hand. Not because of the weight. Because of what it meant. She was buying herself a consolation prize for a man who didn't even know she was waiting.

She walked deeper into the store. Touched a rack of cashmere she didn't want. Ran her fingers over a row of handbags she'd never carry. The whole place was a museum of things she was using to prove she mattered.

Her phone buzzed in her purse.

She ignored it.

Kept walking. Found a fitting room at the back. Closed the door behind her. The three-way mirror showed her from every angle. She looked good. Hair done. Makeup fresh. Dress expensive. Body right.

She felt nothing.

The dress she'd brought in was emerald green. Silk. Cut low in the back. The kind of thing Kaelen would like. The kind of thing she'd wear to dinner he'd cancel. She stared at her reflection and tried to remember when she stopped being a person and started being an accessory.

Her phone buzzed again.

She pulled it out. Checked the screen.

Anonymous link in her messages. No name. No explanation. Just a preview square and a string of random numbers.

She almost deleted it. Almost. But something made her click.

The video loaded slow. Buffering. Then Talia's face filled the screen.

Irie's stomach dropped.

Talia was laughing. Hair loose. Makeup fresh. Propped up on pillows in a bed Irie recognized. Gray walls. Black headboard. Floor-to-ceiling windows showing the Atlanta skyline at sunset.

The Buckhead condo.

The one Kaelen promised her.

"This is for us," he'd said. "Somewhere private. Somewhere nobody knows about. You can decorate it however you want."

That was two months ago. She'd never gotten a key. Never seen the inside. Never even got a tour.

Now Talia was in that bed, laughing at something off-camera, the emerald necklace catching the light at her throat.

The same necklace Irie had seen in Kaelen's jacket pocket last month. The one he said was "for a client."

The video ended.

Irie stared at her own reflection in the mirror. The dress was expensive. The face was calm. The hands were shaking.

She watched herself breathe. In. Out. In. Out. Like she was practicing being alive.

The fitting room felt small. The mirror felt cruel. The whole store felt like a joke she was the punchline of.

She changed back into her own clothes. Fast. Left the emerald dress hanging on the hook. Walked out of the fitting room with her purse and her shopping bag and her heart beating too loud in her chest.

The saleswoman said something. Irie didn't hear it.

She was already at the register, pulling out her card, trying to look normal while her whole world rearranged itself behind her eyes.

"Will that be all?"

Irie looked down. She'd grabbed another bracelet. Didn't remember doing it. Gold and diamonds. Eight thousand dollars.

"Yeah," she said.

"That's it."

The saleswoman rang it up. Irie signed. Grabbed the bag. Walked toward the door.

She almost made it.

"Irie?"

The voice stopped her cold. She knew it. Knew the soft, careful tone. Knew the way it carried just enough warmth to feel like concern.

Camden Mercer.

Irie turned slow. Forced a smile that didn't reach her eyes.

Camden stood in the middle of the aisle, holding a silk blouse like she'd been about to put it back. She looked good. Polished. Expensive. The kind of put-together that came from years of practice.

But her eyes were sharp. Watching. Seeing too much.

"Hey," Irie said.

"Camden. How you doing?"

Camden's smile was careful.

"I'm good. You look..."

She trailed off. Didn't finish the sentence.

Irie knew why. There was no polite way to say you look like you just got hit by a truck.

"I'm fine," Irie said.

"Just shopping."

Camden nodded. Didn't look convinced.

"I saw you come out of the fitting room. You looked... I don't know. Shook."

"I'm fine."

"Okay."

The silence stretched between them. Two women who knew each other through men who didn't respect either of them. Two women who'd never had a real conversation but understood each other perfectly.

Camden stepped closer. Lowered her voice.

"You know you can talk to me, right?"

Irie almost laughed. Almost.

"Talk to you about what?"

"Whatever's got you looking like that."

"Like what?"

"Like you're holding something heavy and don't know where to put it down."

Irie stared at her. Camden stared back. There was no judgment in her face. No pity either. Just recognition. Like she'd been in this same spot before.

"I'm okay," Irie said.

"Really."

Camden held her gaze for a second longer. Then nodded.

"Alright. But if you need to talk, you know where I am."

"I do."

Camden smiled. Small. Sad.

"Take care of yourself, Irie."

"You too."

Camden turned and walked toward the register. Irie watched her go. Watched the way she moved through the store like she belonged there. Like she had a right to be in those rooms.

Because she did. Camden was a wife. A real one. With a ring and a name and a seat at the table.

Irie was just the girlfriend. The one nobody introduced at parties. The one who waited by the phone. The one who bought herself bracelets to feel like she mattered.

She walked out of the store.

The air outside was hot. Thick. Atlanta in the summer. She stood on the sidewalk and let the heat hit her face. Let it burn.

Then she pulled out her phone.

She knew what she had to do. Knew it like she knew her own name. She had to confront him. Had to make him look her in the eye and explain why Talia was in that bed.

She called his office.

It rang four times before a woman answered.

"Valecourt Holdings."

"I need to speak to Kaelen."

"Mr. Valecourt is in a meeting. Can I take a message?"

"It's Irie."

A pause. Then: "One moment."

The line went quiet. Then music. Hold music. Like she was a customer instead of a woman he'd promised a life to.

She waited.

Five minutes.

Ten.

The line clicked back.

"I'm sorry, Mr. Valecourt is unavailable. Would you like to leave a message?"

Irie's jaw tightened.

"Tell him I'm coming to the office."

"I'm sorry, ma'am, but Mr. Valecourt's schedule is—"

"I don't care about his schedule. Tell him I'm coming."

She hung up before the woman could answer.

The drive to Buckhead took twenty minutes. She spent it gripping the steering wheel and trying not to cry. Trying not to think about Talia in that bed. Trying not to think about the necklace. The condo. The promises.

She parked in the garage under his building. Took the elevator to the fifteenth floor. Walked past the receptionist like she owned the place.

"Irie—"

"I'm here to see Kaelen."

The receptionist stood up. Blocked the hallway.

"He's in a meeting. He said no interruptions."

"I don't care what he said."

"Irie, please. I can't let you back there."

"Move."

"I can't."

Irie stared at her. The receptionist stared back. Young. Pretty. Probably one of Kaelen's backups. The thought made Irie's stomach turn.

"Fine," Irie said.

"I'll wait."

She sat down in the lobby. Crossed her legs. Folded her hands in her lap. Looked calm.

Felt like she was drowning.

Thirty minutes passed.

Then forty.

Then an hour.

The receptionist kept glancing at her. Kept checking her phone. Kept looking uncomfortable.

Irie didn't move.

She thought about the video. Talia's laugh. The gray walls. The black headboard. The necklace.

She thought about the condo. The one she was supposed to decorate. The one she never got a key to.

She thought about Kaelen. About all the nights he didn't show. All the promises he didn't keep. All the times she told herself it was worth it.

The door to the back hallway opened.

Kaelen stepped out.

He looked good. Expensive suit. Fresh haircut. Face like stone. He walked toward her like she was an inconvenience he had to handle.

"Irie."

"I need to talk to you."

"Now's not a good time."

"It's never a good time."

He stopped in front of her. Looked down. His eyes were cold.

"Not here."

"Then where?"

He glanced at the receptionist. Then back at Irie.

"I'll call you tonight."

"You said that last night."

"And I'll say it again tonight. I'll call you."

Irie stood up. Got in his space. Lowered her voice so only he could hear.

"I saw the video."

Something flickered in his eyes. Just for a second. Then it was gone.

"What video?"

"Talia. In the condo. The one you promised me."

He didn't flinch. Didn't blink. Just stared at her like she was a bug he was deciding whether to step on.

"That's not your concern."

"Not my concern? You told me that condo was for us."

"I told you a lot of things."

The words hit like a slap. Irie felt her face go hot. Felt her hands start shaking again.

"What does that mean?"

"It means you need to go home, Irie. We'll talk later."

"When?"

"Soon."

"That's what you always say."

He stepped closer. His voice dropped to a whisper.

"And you always believe me. So go home. Wait for my call. And don't come to my office again."

He turned and walked back through the door. Didn't look back.

The door clicked shut.

Irie stood in the lobby. The receptionist watched her. The security guard watched her. The whole building watched her.

She walked out.

The elevator ride down was a blur. The parking garage was a blur. The drive home was a blur.

She didn't remember getting back to her apartment. Didn't remember unlocking the door. Didn't remember walking inside.

But she was there. Standing in her living room. Staring at the walls.

She pulled out her phone. Opened the video again. Watched Talia laugh in that bed.

Then she closed it.

She walked to her bedroom. Opened the closet. Pulled out a box she'd been saving. A gift for Kaelen. A watch. Expensive. Custom. Something he'd wanted for months.

She'd been saving it for his birthday.

Now she had a different use for it.

She pulled out her phone again. Opened a browser. Searched for what she needed.

Small. Discreet. High-end.

She found it in ten minutes. Ordered it with next-day shipping.

Then she put the watch back in the box. Closed the lid. Set it on the dresser.

She stared at it for a long time.

Then she picked up her phone and texted Serafina.

I need to see you.

She hit send before she could change her mind.

The reply came back in seconds.

Tomorrow. Same place.

Irie put the phone down. Looked at the box. Looked at her reflection in the mirror.

The woman staring back at her looked different than she had this morning.

Harder.

Colder.

Done waiting.

She walked to the kitchen. Opened the fridge. Stared at nothing inside it.

She wasn't hungry. She was empty. There was a difference.

The apartment felt too big tonight. Too quiet. Every sound echoed. The sound of the AC. The drip of the faucet she'd been meaning to fix for weeks. The buzz of her own blood in her ears.

She closed the fridge. Grabbed a bottle of water she didn't want. Took a sip anyway.

Her phone buzzed again.

She checked it.

Serafina again.

Don't do anything stupid tonight.

Irie stared at the message. Almost laughed. Almost cried. Didn't do either.

She typed back.

Define stupid.

The reply came fast.

Anything that leaves a trail.

Irie put the phone down. Looked at the box on the dresser. The watch inside it. The empty space where the recording device would go tomorrow.

She walked to the window. Looked out at the Atlanta skyline. All those lights. All those buildings. All those people living lives that made sense.

She used to think she was one of them.

Now she knew better.

She was a woman holding a box with a hole in it. Waiting for a man who didn't care enough to fill it.

Tomorrow she would change that.

Tomorrow she would stop waiting.

Tonight she would sit in the dark and let herself feel the pressure of what she was about to do.

She pulled the curtains closed.

Turned off the lights.

Sat on the couch in the dark.

And waited for morning.