It is the present.
September 2, 2000 to be exact. The future, with promises of flying cars and floating sidewalks. Events are going on all over the word, the universe, but we focus on one place in particular. A small nightclub in the heart of New Orleans. Not necessarily the nightclub itself, but the action going on inside the busy hot spot, in the four walls that contain people left and right. There’s barely any walking room, or breathing room for that matter. The air is sticky and humid with the exhales of the youth dancing, drinking, and whatever other activities they’ve thought up to entertain themselves that night. It’s completely dark inside besides the fluorescent lights that line the ceiling, casting a dark purple neon glow over the entire area.
At the entrance, two girls have just arrived.
The entire group of people surrounding the main doors see them, how could they not? The rest of the nightclub sure to follow. Beautiful people are scattered in and around the club, but these two are exceptional. Especially them. Especially the darker one.
The other, a blond, has a traditional all-American look to her. Her shiny blue eyes cast seductive glances at every male that crosses her path, and her flashy, pearly white smile could stop traffic. Her full lips are painted pink that night, her sun died hair up in a loose pony tail. She’s bouncy, she’s energetic, she’s every boys fantasy. Still, her friend is the main attraction.
A mane of pitch black hair falls down the dark girls’ back, wave after wave of a dark abyss to get lost in. Her skin, even from a distance, looks like a caramel silk, untouched by make-up, her cheeks a natural crimson. Then there are her clover eyes that seem to see everything in front of her and maybe even beyond. There’s a certain wisdom in them and also an undefinable sparkle that both men and women notice all around her. Her steps are seductive, but it’s obvious that she doesn’t intend them to be.
Confidence surrounds both girls. It’s clear that they get this reaction everywhere they go. Each person they pass takes a look, some stopping in mid sentence to gawk. There’s just something about them. Especially the darker one.
Most people recognize the girls; they’re hard to forget. They’ve been seen many times all over New Orleans, all over the nation. East Coast knows them well, but they’ve paid visits to California and Mexico also, as if this was a daily job they were tending too. They had only been in New Orleans for a little over 2 months and they had already become wildly popular. In New York they were infamous. In Florida, they were legends.
An overly confident young man decides to step up to this dark hared wonder girl. She’s unbelievable, after all, and he’s seen her before. Tonight he has already decided that she will be his. Others look on as he stops her, the blond one stopping as well, and begins the small talk in order to move on to more important matters.
“Do you want to dance?” he asks.
A charmingly gorgeous smile bestows her face and she shakes her head to him. “No thanks.”
Then she continues on her path with her friend. He stands still and watches her go, his mouth opened widely, as if he hadn’t figured out what had happened yet and was going to go on with the conversation. There was no helping him, he was already in love with her. Even though she had rejected him (nicely, but rejected nonetheless) he’s now totally fixated on her.
She has a face like an angel, but a sprinkle of devil slivered in her genes and into her green eyes. It was the kind of face that could make someone the happiest man in the world, or leave him desperate and miserable forever. It was the kind of face that could haunt a man for the rest of his life until he saw it again.
And that’s exactly what it did.
~~
Rewind.
The year is 1999, the month March, evening settling into the surroundings of the average residence located in Florida. A buzz was in the house, since the 5 extraordinary human beings were paying it the seasonal visit where they were supposedly relaxing and resting. They were doing neither.
While the rest were located on the first floor, one remained upstairs, huddled over the desktop in the sizeable bedroom. The man was concentrating on a picture he was trying to shape with a pair of scissors, his eyebrows burrowing together as he focused on putting the glue onto the back and then placing it directly in a certain spot on the paper before him.
Once the picture was in place, he sat back to glance at his masterpiece. “Perfect.”
“Knock, knock,” a shrill voice came from the other side of the closed door. “Room service.”
“What do you want?” he answered with a tone distracted by the object before him.
The mystery guest laughed and then, without permission, opened the door. “Ouch,” the tall, blue-eyed young man said. “You did a surprisingly good impression of me waking up in the morning there JC.”
He didn’t bother looking up, but grinned anyway. “Hidden talent Justin. We all have them. Yours is singing.”
“Singing is my hidden talent? Say what?”
“Yes.” He finally took the liberty of turning his own pair of pale blue eyes towards his friend. “Through all that whining you do, there’s got to be some kind of talent hidden there somewhere.”
Justin threw him a bitter glance. “You’ve got jokes now, huh? And to think, I was just coming up here to ask you to come out with us tonight. Is that how you treat your longest, bestest friend in the entire world?”
“No. Chris is always welcomed to come and harass me whenever he wants.”
“Harass? Is that what I’m doing? Need I remind you whose house you used to reside in?”
“This isn’t your house, it’s your mothers’.”
“Point being? I’m her heir.” He lay back on the bed, putting his arms behind his head leisurely. “This will all be mine someday.”
“What a wonderful fortune you plan on inheriting,” JC muttered.
“What are you doing in here anyway?” Justin asked curiously, propping himself up on his elbows to try and look over JC’s shoulders. He noticed the object on the desk and uninterestedly lay back on the bed. “Working on that crap book again.”
“Scrapbook dumbass.”
JC had kept that scrapbook for over 8 years now. It was a Christmas gift from some far off relative he had never met, and at first he thought it to be a waste of gift wrapping paper. But then he was suddenly a mini-celebrity and wanted the good times and bad saved up to look upon when he was old and wrinkled. The scrapbook came to memory and he had dug it out of his closet and began working on it. Now, he couldn’t leave home without it. It was his single most prized possession. Every good moment, every highlight he had experienced, or stepping stone he had jumped was in there, a page dedicated to these scattered memories that made up his past. That’s all life was, after all. A collection of memories.
“So are you going to come or what?”
JC closed the book and twirled in the chair to face Justin. “I’ve got plans.”
“Oh, do you?” The curly head sat up and raised an eyebrow in question. “What are these plans?”
“They involve me, a girl, and most importantly not you.”
“You can’t get enough of me and you know it. So, what girl?”
“Holly.”
“Really?” Justin gave him a devilish grin. “That’s two dates in a row now.”
“You can count!”
“I had no idea that you were so interested in her.”
That was the weird thing about him. JC, even if he truly did care about a girl, didn’t express it to anyone. It wasn’t on purpose, it just didn’t occur to him to do so. That feeling had never possessed him, the one where he simply had to tell everyone and anyone about her. If he was seeing someone of passing or if he was seeing someone serious, the differences between the two girls were never distinguished to the people closest to him or truly even himself.
He unconsciously changed the subject. “Where are you guys going tonight?”
“I don’t know.” Justin sighed. “Chris has some friends that are throwing a massive party, but Lance doesn’t feel up to going.”
“He’s still broken up about the, uh, break-up?”
“Yup. He’s on the mission to find true love but in the wrong business. I think it’s starting to get to him.”
“Lance will be ok,” JC said, but was wondering the solidity of the statement. People were starting to notice that Lance was beginning to have internal problems that he was choosing not to discuss with the rest of them. He assumed Lance would be able to deal with it on his own, like he always did, so didn’t bother him.
The ringing of the doorbell sounded through the house and drifted into the room.
“That must be…Holly.” JC stood and grabbed his jacket from the chair, putting the scrapbook in his unpacked luggage. “Remember, use protection and don’t drink and drive.”
“I’ll try to remember those powerful philosophies. Have fun with Holly.”
JC said nothing and left the room.
~~
Across town there was a prestigious party being thrown at the second largest house in all of Florida. The elite were all there, from movie stars to directors to music giants to political icons. They were all there, mingling together, pretending to enjoy each others company and celebrate yet another business merger and success for the owner of the mansion.
Rama Perne.
The single most powerful and influential man on the east coast. If there were such a think as royalty in America, the Perne dynasty would rule the world. A Middle Eastern man, Rama and his wife Radha escaped to the U.S. over 26 years ago to create a better life for them and their future children. He had started out as a Janitor in a local deli and that’s where his dream for power grew.
He started out by leaving the job at the deli to janitor for a small business corporate a couple of blocks down. After 6 months and 8 advancements in placement later, he bought that deli and invested entirely into it. He was a smart man and new how to manipulate business and eventually the deli become so successful he made three more just like them all over Florida. Then, he moved to the stock market.
There he achieved thousands, then hundreds of thousands, making smart and calculated business moves that were so daring yet so right that some questioned him to be either psychic or a genius. It was the same year that he made his first million, 5 years after he and his attractive wife had relocated to the U.S., that their first child was born.
They named her Kalika.
Three years after that, after much more success and more millions, they had a second daughter, which they called Sita. Kalika was a beautiful baby, but Sita was simply stunning from the moment she had entered the world. Thick black hair topped both heads and green eyes captured visitors and business associates, although both Rama and Radha had brown eyes.
The two sisters were favorites amongst the elite. Each was intelligent, Kalika the top of her class every year, and even winning academic awards starting out with “Best In The Nation”. She grew up quiet and graceful, her manner of someone who had experienced much in her short lifetime, a wisdom in her eyes beyond her years. She was fiercely protective of her younger sister and the two were the best of friends throughout their lives.
Although both grew up in the public eye, so to speak, Sita was the center of everyone’s attention. She had a personality all her own. She was outgoing, humorous, completely warmhearted and generous, often found accompanying her father to many charity events. Her beauty seemed to advance as the years passed. She was exotic, she was the girl next door, she was a mystery, she was everybody’s friend, she was everything all rolled into one and desired by many. Never taking herself too seriously, she would laugh when a boy would profess his undying love to her, lavishing her with gifts and compliments and anything else she wanted. It was all a game to her, and everyone wanted to play.
Yes, she was a heartbreaker as well.
She was also daddy’s little girl. Rama loved both of his daughters, but Sita was his pride and joy. She was everything a father could hope for, when he set a task or goal out for her, she would accomplish it and then some. He would joke constantly about entering his daughter for the Miss American beauty pageant.
The swimsuit competition would be no competition at all. Evening gown? Piece of cake. The talent competition? Which talent of hers would you like to pick? How about she amaze you with a poem? Or, better yet, run circles around and slam-dunk you with a one on one game of basketball? No? Then how about she put you to sleep with a mastered piece she wrote on the flute? When asked about helping the environment, not only would she give a sincere answer on her concerns over the o-zone layer and the rain forest, but she would submit her resume of the organization she founded in her high school entitled “Plant A Tree For The Future” campaign. Or did you just want to read the article of how she single handedly managed to save the small patch of woods a couple of streets from her own home by raising over 100,000 dollars in order to buy the property herself and keep the forest standing?
Rama had everything he could have asked for, but was blessed one more time in 1997 when Radha gave him one more child, yet another daughter, named Lalita.
After Lalita’s birth, their family was complete, the three sisters bedazzling everyone they came in contact with and making each of their parents proud and satisfied with life. Rama was certain that in Kalika he would pass on his business, in Lalita his creativity and love for life, and in Sita…well, she was his gift to the world. She would be his mark; she would be his legacy.
She was also running late for the party happening underneath her, in the ballroom of her home.
Rama surveyed the party, nodding and shaking hands with the businessmen and executives that passed his way. He saw a head with long, straight black hair and made his way to it. “Kalika, where are your sisters?”
Kalika was never late, always made it a point to come down and mingle with the powerful businessmen at her father’s parties. Her name was known all over Florida and she had been offered high, important positions in some of the leading companies of the East Coast. This was a girl, people knew, that was going to be something spectacular and everyone wanted a chance at her now.
The girl turned and smiled when she saw her father. She was beautiful, although plain when compared to her sister, her face holding a light of genuine kindness and brilliance. Each time she smiled it was as if the recipient was being given a gift to be cherished. “They’re upstairs father. Would you like me to get them?”
“Would you please?”
“Of course.” He turned to go, but she stopped him midstride. “Oh, father, I want to introduce you to my friend. This is Karen Cooper.”
He hadn’t noticed the blond girl standing next to Kalika. Extending his hand, he shook her own warmly and bowed his head. “Lovely to meet you Karen. Your father being Paul Cooper I presume?”
“That’s Daddy,” she answered, radiantly smiling. “I’m so glad to finally meet you Mr. Perne. Daddy’s always saying such wonderful things about you. He told me to send my regards and apologizes for not attending tonight. My mother fell ill.”
“Your father is a difficult bargainer and a wise businessman. Tell him I said so, and please tell your mother that I hope she feels better soon,” he said sincerely. “I must greet more guest who have just arrived. Excuse me ladies.”
The two girls started for the grand staircase that led to the second floor of the grand mansion, Kalika leading the way and Karen following promptly. They passed through exquisite hallways with classic family portraits mounting the walls, just as in any early 1900’s palace or mansion. The carpets were red, the paintings with a small yellow light shining on them, giving the entire place a museum feel to it. Endless rows of doors made the halls seem never-ending and one was left to wonder what exactly were behind the doors of the fabulously wealthy family, what secrets were kept closed away?
Another flight of stairs greeted them and they went up to the third floor. Immediately one knew that this was the main family floor, this was a place people actually existed on, slept in, breathed in. It was modern, rich, yet comfortable, the doors in these hallways open, inviting. Neither Karen nor Kalika looked very impressed. Each was used to these exact kinds of surroundings.
“Really Kal,” Karen was saying, “You must come out with me tomorrow. You’re one of my closest friends, and yet we’ve still not gone out and mingled with the night life.”
“You’re far to obsessed with the party scene of life.”
“Obsessed? Hardly. I’m a young, independent woman. I like to enjoy myself, I like to experience people my age and the things people my age should,” she paused, “And shouldn’t be doing. You’re so stuffy sometimes. You can’t really tell me that you find interest in socializing with the same people as my father.”
“And why can’t I like intellectual company?” she asked, keeping her back turned, focused on the destination. She didn’t ask the question snobbishly, just thoughtfully.
“Simply because of who you are, the people you could be impressing, the men who could be raving over you, the friends you could be making. You can’t seriously be willing to pass all of that up for a nice long chat about stock markets and money. That would be tragic.”
Kalika laughed. “I’m sorry if my personal interests don’t include having people worship me. Men come and go, the public opinion of me is not something I care about, and I do have friends. Maybe not as impressive a list as you, my dear Karen, but a list nonetheless. All of these things that you say I must be doing, I leave up to my sister.”
“I’ve heard quite a bit about your sister, especially lately. I’m surprised I’ve not met her already.”
“So am I.” They turned down another hallway and approached a set of double glass doors, a white sheet covering the inside so as to give the occupant privacy. “You and she would get along splendidly.” She opened the door and peeked her head in, calling out her sister’s name. No one replied. She closed the door and resumed going back down the hallway. “She must be in Lalita’s room.”
“I’ve got to go to the bathroom first,” Karen said. Kalika lead her to one of the doors, gave her directions to continue down the hallway and make a right, and then went along ahead of her friend. She found the room door open and decided to go inside quietly and unannounced.
The room itself was like a medieval princess and a modernized fairy collaborated and designed it. It was large and cluttered with toys, stuffed animals, and oddly enough, art supplies. An easel built specifically for a tiny person rested next to one of the many large windows, included with it miniature paintbrushes and an apron. Simple paintings and drawings covered the light gray wallpaper, hanging unorganized and sloppily, a single piece of tape holding each paper up. The pictures were barely a foot off of ground level.
In the middle of this colorful whirlwind, two people sat.
One was a little girl, barely two years old. A nest of curly black hair covered her precious ears, the bangs hanging above her large, oval shaped green eyes. She had small pink lips and rosy, chubby cheeks, her skin clearly soft, barely touched by the earth she had just entered in. She was dressed like a princess, a satin pink dress with bows at the sleeve and little leather pink shoes, white ruffled socks with little pink bows to match. She had a silver necklace to ornament her look. The little princess of the household.
Her hands were an unusual quality to her. They seemed much older than the rest of her, her fingers slightly longer and thinner than most her age. They were hands that were defined, that could control any object easily in their grip. They now held one of the wooden paintbrushes that had been ordered specifically for them, those large eyes entirely absorbed on the white paper laid before her. She seemed so concentrated, more concentrated than a child should have been, and so quiet. It was odd how the whole room, even the inanimate objects, seemed to be watching her. She created all of the movement with her small arm, she held her audience’s attention with the work she was doing. The tiny person noticed no one and nothing around her.
Not even the much taller and older girl that sat right beside her.
The older one was just as focused as the rest of the room was on the little painter. She watched the work being done like she was watching the creation of man himself, like the whole world was being painted on that simple white paper. Her beautiful face, which many considered to be its own work of art, was totally fascinated. Her own almond shaped green eyes with thick black lashes watched every stroke before her silently.
She wore a long sleeved, sleek black evening gown, her hair partly pinned up by two gold combs that seemed to accentuate the long black waves it helped keep up, making them appear darker than usual. There was an air of mystery and confidence about the young woman, accompanied by the over powering temptation to insist that she tell you every detail about her, that you would have the privilege to know her for the rest of your life. Even before people were formally introduced to her, they knew that there was something about her that not a single other soul owned, that she was special.
Neither took notice of the foreign presence in the room.
“What are we doing?” Kalika asked, the question a formality to start conversation.
Both girls looked up at the other and smiled gaily. Lalita Perne automatically dropped the brush she had seemed to be one with a moment ago and lifted her stout arms in the air. “Kali! Kali!”
“Hello Kal,” the other said, standing. “I’m guessing you’ve come to summon us?”
Kalika dipped down to pick up the little one, squeezing her slightly before turning to her sister. “Father and the rest of the guests impatiently wait for your arrival Sita. Why were you in here, keeping them waiting?”
Sita waved her off. “It’s not like they’ve never seen me before. It’s always the same people anyway. I’m not interested tonight.” There was no arrogance in her tone. She said it simply and with the most honest face imaginable.
“Look at you,” Kalika said, examining Lalita’s dress. “You’re a mess. Mother would kill if we let you down there with all these wrinkles. Do you have another pink dress?”
The child nodded.
“Would you please change yourself?”
The child nodded with more excitement. She was always pleased and willing to do something on her own, a trait that seemed to run in the female side of the family. All three sisters were blaringly independent, they made it clear without intending to do so that they did not need their father or their father’s money to exist and survive and gain success in the world. They could do it all on their own.
Placing the child on the floor, they each watched her run to her own personal walk in closet to find the dress. Kalika faced her sister. “How are you?”
“I’m fine Kal.” She rethought it and added, “I’m always fine.”
She watched Sita carefully, a grin tugging at the corner of her mouth. “Yes, nothing seems to ever bring you down, does it?”
Sita returned the grin and then pointed to her. “You look outstanding. I miss you all the time Kal, I wish you had stayed home. I never have anyone to talk to anymore.”
5 months ago Kalika had moved out of the luxury and into her own large apartment, closer to her college. She had been planning to go to an Ivy League school, any in the nation would have accepted her in a heartbeat, but she couldn’t stand leaving her sisters. Her main goal was to someday make it to Los Angeles where she could dabble into her discovered desire to be a record producer. She loved music; she wanted to create it.
“You have tons of friends,” she said.
“I know I do. But no one will ever be you.”
Kalika looked down at the painting. “She’s excellent. Her technique is baffling and brilliant. Do you think Lali even realizes it?”
“Not in the slightest. All she knows is that it makes her happy so she does it. I could watch her for hours when she paints. It’s the most relaxing thing I’ve ever seen.”
“Kal?”
The two sisters looked up to see Karen enter the room. Immediately Karen took notice of Sita, astonished at the young girl she saw. She had heard of her, but she hadn’t expected the rumors to be true, the girl to live up to every expectation she had set out for her. Karen Cooper was never impressed or intrigued by anyone, but at that moment all of that changed.
“Karen, this is my sister Sita.”
Sita reached out and shook her hand firmly. “Nice to meet you.”
“You too,” Karen said. “I’ve heard so much about you, but I’m sure you get that often.”
“Hopefully good things,” Sita said, smiling. “I don’t know what people could actually have to say though.”
Karen was ready to laugh, but then realized that Sita was being serious. “All good things, don’t worry.”
“Ready,” Lalita, who had reappeared from the closet in a new dress, announced. She bounced over to Kalika who picked her up.
“Shall we join the party?”
The two girls nodded and they all left the room to go downstairs.
~~
J.J. Richards lifted the glass of wine he was holding to his lips and took a sip before laughing to loudly at a joke Rama Perne had said.
J.J. was, as he was so often described to be, a devilishly rich young man who knew it. He had just had his nineteenth birthday in which he received a brand new corvette, set of gold golf clubs, various stocks, and a summer condominium on the beachfront of Hawaii. That was just from his father alone. He was the middle child in the Richards clan, but his older brother was a hidden failure and a well known drunk, while his younger brother was fifteen and still clung to his mother. Yes, he was his father’s pride and joy, he was his father’s trophy, and he would inherit all of his father’s wealth and business.
With light, thick auburn hair, dark brown eyes, and a close to perfect build, he was the elite’s top bachelor, the number one catch for any mother with a respectable daughter. He was a wanted man, he could have his pick of various categories of women, and he had tried them all, but none he desired more than Sita Perne.
Along with all of the gifts, his father had celebrated his son’s birth with a huge party at their home, and it had been attended by all, so exclusive and prestigious that it made the local news. That was where he had first laid eyes on Sita Perne, that was the night he discovered the one and only girl that would be worthy of him.
He had set out instantly to have her, making it a habit to bump into her mother and father at the country club and health spa, joining his father whenever he had a lunch that Rama would be attending, and going out of his way to talk to Sita whenever she accompanied her father or mother to a charity event, business brunches, or any other social occasion.
In the many times he had spoken to her, he had layered on the charm, the compliments, the best smile he could summon. She should have fallen for him weeks ago just as the others had. She should have been putty at his feet.
She wasn’t.
He had asked her out, not too formally, just to join him for a movie in his own private theatre or to spend a day with him horseback riding (which he had learned was one of her favorite hobbies), but she had politely and graciously declined all of his offers. He didn’t understand why she avoided what he felt would be inevitable, how she could resist him. Normally he would have given up by now.
Her attitude, however, only caused him to adore and want her more. His determination was fueled and his goal was set, she would be his. He always got what he wanted. He had a reputation for it. Nothing was going to stop him.
The ballroom suddenly became quiet, although whispers could be heard all around, and J.J. looked up to see what the occasion was.
“Ah,” Rama said. “Here come my true fortunes.”
The Perne sisters were entering the room.