She could not have been a day over twenty-three. She was poured into a garish, scarlet Versace dress—or at least, an imitation of one. The plunging neckline and ruched waist screamed of desperate club-hopping, a garment two seasons out of date and likely scavenged from a suburban outlet rack. It bunched awkwardly at her hips, the cheap synthetic blend fighting against her curves.
“Uh… Elena,” Mark stammered, his eyes darting frantically around the room, desperately avoiding mine. He shifted his weight like a guilty toddler. “This is… this is Chloe.”
I remained seated, folding my hands neatly in my lap. I allowed a long, agonizing silence to stretch between us. “Chloe,” I finally repeated, tasting the unfamiliar name. It tasted like cheap saccharine.
“My cousin,” Mark blurted out, the lie tumbling from his mouth with the grace of a falling brick. “A distant cousin. From upstate. She… uh… she missed her regional train back home. The next departure isn’t until tomorrow morning. She was stranded at the station, so I told her she could crash here for the night.”
I analyzed the intruder. Chloe did not resemble a stranded commuter. She carried no luggage, no sensible overnight bag, not even a coat to ward off the October chill. She clutched a microscopic, sequined purse that could barely accommodate a cell phone and a tube of lipstick. Her makeup was thick, baked on for the harsh lighting of a VIP lounge, not the fluorescent glare of a train terminal.
“Good evening,” she drawled. She didn’t offer a polite smile or a hand to shake. Instead, she bypassed Mark entirely and strutted directly into the center of my living space.
She spun slowly on her stilettos, her gaze sweeping over the floor-to-ceiling windows, the black lacquered grand piano, the sprawling Italian linen sofa. The hunger in her eyes was visceral, a naked, grasping greed that she didn’t possess the sophistication to hide.
“Wow,” Chloe breathed out. It wasn’t a compliment; it was an appraisal. “Cousin Mark really stepped in it, didn’t he? You never told me your place was this… massive.”
“Mark applies himself vigorously,” I replied, my voice smooth as glass. I stood up, the silk of my loungewear draping flawlessly. “I wasn’t aware he had extended family visiting the city.”
Chloe sized me up. Her eyes raked over my bare face, my unstyled hair, my understated, label-less clothing. I could see the rudimentary gears turning in her head. She cataloged me as an aging relic, a complacent, boring trophy wife ripe for replacement.
